Cartels Fear Him

Some say he is brave, others believe he is just plan crazy. Regardless of your belief Cartels fear him.

Thursday night I sat in a closed off room at Morton’s Steak and Chop. It's walls were cherry wood, 700 thread count table linen, “silver wear” and body guards at the door. We were there to celebrate the 50th birthday of a colleague. During the dinner cop stories were swapped allowing you to gaze into the soul.

Teo is the head of a drug cartel in Tijuana backed by Sinaloa. His brutal enforcer, el Muletas, turned Tijuana into a blood bath. Muletas went on a murderous rant killing hundreds of people, hanging naked people form bridges during rush hour traffic with their testicles tied around their necks and decapitating scores after torturing them to death. He is worse than the Taliban. Even beautiful young women, beauty queens, who partied with these murders, could not escape this terror. All funded by the voracious American appetite for Marijuana, Methamphetamine, Cocaine and Heroin, Teo ruled this border city of 2 million with impunity…until the muey loco one arrived.

Julian’s reputation grew as gun battles with cartels leaked out. A former Army Colonel, Julian had seen conflict before. He understands guerilla warfare. During one incident where one of his officers was killed while saving a pedestrian caught in the crossfire of automatic weapons, local TV crews captured him punching the dead corpse of the man who killed his officers. Sudden and emotional rage took over him as he mourned the loss of a man who gave his life to save another. Dirty politicians and bought off media personalities called for his head. The slap heard around Mexico sent a message: I’m not afraid of you; I care about my troops and am committed to stopping cartels carnage at all costs.

As the director of Public Safety for the greater Baja North area, he goes out on patrol armed with an M-4. He leads from the front like a WWII General. “I had to show my men we do not have to fear the cartels but we can fight them and win.” But it took time. Once while on patrol he spotted a caravan of six SUV’s gassing up. It appeared to be cartel. The Chief went to investigate.

“Driver, turn around and check out those cars at the gas station.” The lumbering SUV more than twice the weight of a normal SUV headed back toward the gas station. Gas in Mexico is like human lives, cheap. As they neared the gas station the caravan passed going the opposite direction. The front passengers in the cars traveling the opposite directions looked at one another and instantly recognized their foe. It was Muletas and Teo with 5 other cars of heavily armed body guards. Julian should know them; they have tried to kill him three times. The cagey director escaped unharmed. He has tried to arrest them numerous times. They were always a step a head due to warnings from corrupt officials.

As they passed they pointed at each other and mouthed, “You!” All five SUV’s loaded down with murders and automatic weapons pivoted like a basketball player in the 3 second key. The chase was on! Bombing through the streets of Tijuana they tried to kill the Director of Public Safety. Yelling orders to those in the car in the event Muletas was able to catch up to and surround them, the fields of fire were set in order. It was their best chance of survival.

100 MPH through the main streets of this metropolitan city the cars knifed through the darkness. Teo’s crew vastly out numbering the Director tried to surround them. All the while a radio operator screamed for cover. No cover came, except for one lonely patrol officer. You have to understand policing. When an officers calls for cover everyone goes. There are no options. No matter how dangerous, deadly or violent it is, you go! Laying down your life for your fellow officer is a duty each cops knows he/she may have to make. When policing becomes too dangerous the rule of law breaks down, government is weakened and society falters. It goes from a democracy to a narco-terrorist state. The gun battle raged. Still no cover. After some of the cartel vehicles peeled off, three shooters bailed from the narco car and the foot chase was on. Between houses and over fences the officers chased the assigns’. They jumped over a tall fence and the TJ Municipal cops did a quick peak. It was a steep canyon with heavy brush on the other side. It was the perfect location for a triangulated ambush. They returned to the car where three others had been taken into custody.

A short while later Julian and his men took La Perra into custody. The hooded police officers surrounded him coming out of a gym. He screamed at the cops with growing confidence, “You know who I am?” I can have you killed! Put those guns down and walk away. Julian was sitting in a car and walked up behind La Perra. He touched him on the shoulder and Perra spun around angrily. Seeing the man he chased and tried to kill, believing that he is crazy caused him to defecate himself. He went from intimidation to subjugation in a matter of one sentence. He confessed without Miranda.

As I drove home from dinner and a time of breaking bread, I thought about Julian. In Mexico one can never be sure who is aligned with whom. This I do know about Julian, he is a little crazy and a lot brave. Most importantly he is willing to lay down his life for the betterment of his fellow countrymen. He sees a higher priority.

This Easter season it also reminded me a man who willingly submitted himself to torture and death. He had the authority and power to prevent this pain and humiliation but chose to suffer, so that I might find forgiveness, peace with God and membership of a larger community to people who believe in Him. Please take a few minutes and read the account of Jesus the Messiah as told by Matthew 27 and 28. “I know that you are here looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; he is risen, just as he said.”

Cracks Kill

He is 6’3”, 235 pounds and a phenomenal basketball player. He played hoops for a small Mid-West college where he ran track and pole vaulted as well. He may have even set a record to two. Unusually handsome, Joel modeled for Abercrombie and Fitch, but now is dressed down to fit into the area of 14th and J street. Wearing baggy pants, a skull cap to hide a shaved head, Joel wears an oversized t-shit and boots. He climbed out of the undercover car with a micro recording device, hidden gun and cell phone in the area known as the bottoms. The photo copied $20 dollar bill was stuffed in his pocket. That would be evidence if he was successful.

The first time you go undercover it’s hard to even get spit in your mouth. You are trying to be non-nervous, casual and fit into a community with which you have zero in common. It’s all consuming and nerve racking. You are trying to get someone to commit a crime that will land them in prison or jail without entrapping them. I remember the first time I tried to pick up a hooker as a UC. He (you are reading correctly) leaned into the car, got his giant face within spitting distance and said, “You a cop!” No, I’m not, why would a cop pick you up? “If you ain’t a cop, then suck on my tongue.” I explained, I was a cop and even if I wasn’t one what kind of idiot would get anywhere near his mouth. He laughed and walked away, my cover units who pointed him out to me laughed and drove away, my UC career was short.

Joel walked by the transients and hustlers in the shadow of Petco Park. He walked up to a likely drug dealer and the slinger threw out the obligatory dope sellers greeting. “You looking?” An old man is rolling by with his walker with tennis balls on the two front pegs. It looks like he got the walker with the seat off of an infomercial by Billy Mays…kind of ironic, a walker sold by a guy who died of cocaine intoxication.

Yeah, can you hook me up with a 2-0? That is street slang for $20 dollars worth of rock cocaine. Yeah, wait here. The guy pushing the walker does a 180 and stops in front of the undercover officer. I got one for you sonny. He pulls a $20 rock out of his mouth (better than his butt cheeks) and lays it on the walker seat. Joel hands him the $20 and the old man shuffles off for the next victim. The close cover detectives laugh as they are ceased to be amazed. This one would not be a foot pursuit. The scoop unit rolls in once the UC is safely away and arrests the hard core drug dealer with a Billy Mays walker. He offered little resistance.

When Joel told me the story we got a good laugh out of it. White boys from south central Michigan don’t do that well as undercover operatives although Joel has far exceeded by experience.

Here is the issue. Many of us are trapped in a norm, culture or style that inhibits us from reaching out to others. We act, dress, talk, think alike as a group. I see this as cops in general and even specific to individual units within the department. I also see it as political parties, religious institution and social movements. As a Christian I don’t believe this is healthy. When we engage in group behavior (other than what’s Biblically ascribed) we limit those who are on the outside. How can they be part of this exclusive club who stands at the appropriate time, prays the same way and uses a similar vernacular? Our social influence on the Christian movement limits those on the outside from joining.

The question becomes who am I when all the outside veneer is stripped away? Listen to the Apostle Paul Ephesians 4: “…I urge you to live a life worth of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace…” The best way to tell if we are people of faith, followers of the Savior…live in peace with one another. Now that’s attractive to a life filled with stress and conflict. People who get along.

Rescued by the least likely source

It started with a party that mocked African American students, even though it was sponsored by a black rap artist and party promoter. It escalated from there. Student protests, UCSD administrators capitulating and appealing for calm, meetings at churches in SE San Diego communities. People spoke out against racism. Then it happened, two additional incidents…a noose hung in the library and a white hood put on a statute. People became passionate and hurt, rightfully so. It was black history week.

The state of California trying to stop the bleeding of our fiscal resources jacked up the tuition on UC system students by 32% in one year. Thousands of students walked off campus and descended on Balboa Park where they marched to the Governor’s office to send a message, enough is enough. Black, White, Asian, Indian, Hipster, Geek, Professor, Students, Union Organizers, Communist Agitators, 60’s rejects and everyday students crammed into the park. Some had drums and others tambourines. Many carried signs exercising their free speech. We inserted four undercover detectives into the crowd to monitor the mood and temperament of the crowd and spot those who may want to express their ideas through violence. It was a peaceful crowd, well for the most part.

Its amazing how one sees things differently when not in uniform. A young Hispanic man walked in and out of the crowd wearing a brown bandana. The looked at Tom and me and walked by. Maybe we were too old or he suspected we were cops. He went to the group in front of us and said, “Want some tabs?” (Trying to sell ecstasy) The kids declined and kept chanting, “Yes we can in Spanish.” The man’s description was texted to some patrol cops who would track him down if he reached the edge of the crowd. No sense starting a riot.

One man in particular caught our attention. He was 6’3” and thin. He was followed by a kid, maybe 18 years carrying a backpack. The tall skinny kid walked up to people in the crowd screaming obscenities at them. “F*&%K you! This is my park.” He looked at Tom and me and with good (although impaired) judgment decided to keep walking and yell at other people. He picked on the weak and those unwilling or incapable of fighting back. I called the uniformed guys to alert them of the problem. Some patrol cops evaluated the man for being under the influence of drugs. They got him off to the side and two minutes later he walked away to continue his rants. He became more animated clearly violating the personal space rule. It was a chilly day but the sweat was splashing onto the victims of his torrents. More than one person wiped spit from their eyes.

The speaker using a PA system said, “Let’s send a message to the governor.” More than 1,500 people spilled into the rush hour traffic clogging commuters. So did our problem. He continued with his excited delirium, running between people as the event security guards tried to contain him. He bolted into traffic running south in the north bound lanes. A city bus approached at a slow but uncompromising speed. He ran within 20 feet of the accelerating bus and dove out of the way at the last second. This maniac had to be stopped.

Tom and I stopped into a Del Taco to go the bathroom. When we came out the lumbering crowd was a street east of us and the maniac was a block south of us. He was circumventing the crowd to create more problems. The smart corner is approaching. This is a 30 story light commercial - residential complex the trolley runs through the middle of. It is beautiful. Tom pinged the other two cops on the cell phone as the maniac ran through the crowd bumping into people. A plan was hatched to get this guy off to the side and get him out of the crowd. The crowd turned right onto Broadway as the maniac zig zagged through the rows of marchers.

As he popped out the north side of the crowd the cops who were there to monitor the crowd became their unexpected protectors. The maniac ran directly into Vernon and three other cops who escorted him into the 7-11 doorway. He was swiftly taken to the grown and cuffed. Screaming and kicking he tried to draw a crowd of trolley riders, some of whom pulled out cell phones set on video hoping to sell it to Channel 17,10, 9, 8, 7 6 or 5. The parade marched on paying little attention to the commotion. The maniac now running in air as he was escorted to a waiting caged patrol car screamed like a possessed man. It struck me, sometimes protection comes from the least likely sources.

Esther was selected as the Queen of the Med/Persian Empire under King Xerxes because of her extraordinary beauty. The Jews were in captivity at the time. Her adopted father Mordecai through intelligence gathering was able to stop an assignation attempt on the king. But he refused to bow to Haman, the king’s friend and a man who saw an opportunity to make money by killing Jews. Haman lobbied the king to issue a decree to pay a bounty for anyone willing to kill Jews. He did so not knowing Esther was Jewish. Esther at Mordecai’s direction and great personal risk manipulated the situation and Haman wound up being hung for his crimes. Eventually Mordecai was elevated to second in command.

Who is it that God has put into your life to rescue? Like Esther, God has a plan to further His kingdom and if we are aware and in tune with His needs, I think we will spot the opportunity to whisk someone out of the crowd or sharing the plan of salvation with those who need to be saved from themselves like King Xerxes.

Relentless...fugitive tracker

Detectives surrounded the house as forward observers for SWAT. When a search warrant is considered “High Risk,” you bring in the boys with the toys. The police use, Time, Talk and Tactics. In other words the police are in no hurry to rush in a house with a barricaded gunman. Talk to the suspects out you can over a period of time and if not gas the crap out of them. As the detectives sat watching through long eyes, the earth shook as the SWAT team lumbered down the road in a caravan of armored personnel carriers, tucks and vans. Snipers, containment and control elements, react team, command and control, logistics and security team, it’s a big operation.

One of the detectives called out, “S-1 is out of the house.” Too late, S-1 was in the car and backing out of the driveway as the train of SWAT vehicles rounded the corner. William saw the tank looking vehicles and realized it was for him. He jamed his new Corvette into gear and accelerated away. Smoke and rubber was all that was left of this drug dealing arms trafficker. Two black and whites accompanying the slow moving caravan bypassed the group rolling Code. The heavy weapons became useless in the rearview mirror of the Corvette. Speeds reached 100 on surface streets and the officers terminated the pursuit. There is always another day, especially when telephone poles go by like picket fences. William vanished into the murky underworld of his network of drug dealers and users. He is a fugitive from justice.

Tim F is a former college football player that had the heart but not the size to make it in the NFL. Known as a hard hitting linebacker, he fooled around with some minor league teams but all he has to show for it are the scars from knee surgery. Now he is my full contact fugitive tracker. And Tim is good. The last guy you want on your tail if you have committed murder, violent assault or rape is Tim. He is relentless, tireless and methodical. William is no match for Tim. With a pinch of chew between his lower lip and gums, Tim rolls out in his pick up truck equipped as a mobile tracking command post. “I’ll have him in a few hours boss. This will be a good one.” I walked into the sally port thinking, Hummmm, wonder what he means this will be a good one.

It took a few days for me to find out. 1145 hours on Friday: I got a text message from Darrell while I was on a run. We are back out in the Rancho San Diego area. We are narrowing William’s location down. Technology (Signals) and human intelligence (HUMIT) helped us narrow it down to a big valley. But it was too big, they needed a little more. One of the detectives spotted William’s girlfriend car. She parked at the mall and went into a store. Note to self: If you are wanted never let your girl go to the mall. Tommy slipped a tracker on the car.

The girl fired up the car and the detective’s fire up the computer. No signal. What’s wrong? The tracker was turned on, it was placed well and still no signal. The air card. Did anyone pay for the air card? Silence. $ 9 dollars was all that’s needed. Too late. She is moving and weaving hard and fast through traffic. The detectives scramble to keep up. They catch a break. A red light and the team resets. Through the countryside of east county, over hills and though valleys they took turns leap fogging the target vehicle. She led them to the prize. Down a one lane street past the well kept lawns of suburbia and the parsonage of a large east county church, she arrived at the lair. Through technology Tim confirmed the suspect was there. HUMIT confirmed it as well. The tension grows. Tommy got out on foot, acting like a 40 year old skater. Baggy shorts, sideways Osiris hat and over sized t-shirt hiding a gun and radio he skated by the house. 1924 delta it’s a 5,000 square foot house with multiple levels on a couple of acres. It’s a tactical nightmare. They have the high ground. Neighbors are close by and in the line of fire. Lighting is terrible. Dusk is coming. Time is crucial.

Darrell took over the incident. Move in and set a perimeter on the house. GST you are the arrest team. Detectives take up a perimeter around the house so William doesn’t escape again. We’ll call the house when you’re set. Tim called the house. The owner answered. Tim convinced them to quietly walkout the front door. Officers debriefed them. The suspect was in the basement.

Tim called Williams cell phone. Dude, this is Detective Tim. Look out the window. What do you see? Black and whites, officers with automatic weapons, body amour and ballistic helmets. All sides of the house are covered. Just come on out. William hangs up the phone and starts shutting the blinds. He’s fortifying the house to give himself the advantage. The decision is made. Beep, Beep, Beep. Code 10. Code 10, all SWAT officers respond to 10000 Vista Verde, Radio I Tac 12.. SWAT guys/gals from all over the city drop their reports and arrests, move east to join the fun. Curious cops from all over the city flip to Investigative Tac 12 to listen in.

Tim is back on the phone, Darrell and I stood close by. Tim psychologically works the guy before Hostage (ENT) negotiators arrive. Come on dude. Just man up and come out. This is not difficult. Just walk out the front door. Williams is crying and screaming at Tim. William you’re acting like a sissy. You are this big arms dealer, take it like a man. I thought you are supposed to be a tough guy. Just take off your shirt, keep your hands visible and the officers will treat you right. I promise. Bail, Bail, who cares! Yeah, I’ll let you make some phone calls. You can even use my cell phone to call your dad. This isn’t that big of a deal. Bail is minimal. (That is a matter of perspective) All you did was traffic some dope and guns. Big deal. It’s not like you killed someone. William, you didn’t kill someone did you?

Darrell whispers into the portable radio…standby he is coming out the front door. The police helicopter hover’s overhead beaming pictures of the house to a portable receiver via microwave. SWAT officers study the pictures to prepare a plan of attack. William chickens out again as SWAT officers begin replacing patrol officers. The heavy SWAT vehicles have arrived and the game is ratcheted up a few notches. William calls Tim.

I wanna to talk to Whitie. (A parolee friend)
I’ll call him but you have to come out of the house.
I want to talk to Whitie and my dad first.
No, William. You can talk to Whitie. Your dad only after you come out.
Tim dials White and they do a three way phone call.
Whitie I’m scared and I don’t trust the cops.
That’s the meth talking. Tim is straight you can trust him as much as you can trust any cop.
You sure?
Yeah he put me in prison three times and he always told me the truth.
William…just come on out before SWAT has to come in and get you. They will get you.
Okay I’m coming out.

William walked out of the front door, no shirt, cell phone in hand to surrender to officers. He cried.

There are areas of my life that are like William and others like Tim. In some ways I try to hide who I am from others and an all knowing God. The reality is I don’t fool either. That is why it is critical I don’t become a William who was afforded the best in life; a dad, education, money…2 Timothy 3:16 is a method of keeping me straight, cleaning out the corners of my thought process. The scriptures is God’s way of teaching, rebuking, correcting and training for righteousness.

I want to be more like Tim, spiritually that is. Relentless! Look what the Apostle Paul wrote, “I am being poured out like a drink offering…I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith! Paul was relentless. (2 Timothy 4) Whether we are chasing crooks or living for God, I’d rather be Tim than William. Relentless.