By
Curtis Jackson
On another beautiful day at
FPK, with the scent of barbeque permeating the air, Narco contacted us in the
Tactical Unit, and ask if we would "keep our eyes open" for a very
active heroin dealer and his wife. Their names were Dominguez and they lived in
the North End.
A few weeks later we were
going through arrest reports and noticed Dominguez had been arrested a few days
earlier, for an unrelated charge, and was currently being held at MCJ. On the
booking slip he had listed his home phone number as well as his
"wife's" name. Being a crack investigative team we contacted Narco
and advised them that Dominguez was in custody but his "wife" was
still on the streets and apparently continuing on with the heroin business.
Our plan was to simply call
up the wife and tell her I had been in the same cell with her
"husband". I had just been released and her "old man" had
told me I could call her. She would give me some heroin. I would just have to
convince her I was a fellow user and in a bad way. Maybe she would fall for it.
I knew a little broken Spanish, had a hillbilly accent and was only one step
removed from the Cudahy elite social circle. It might work.
Narco laughed and
"shoo hooed" the idea. They said they've tried undercover buys and
everything else but they hadn't had any success in buying from them. They're to
smart. Not being a quieter I ask, "Just tell me the latest terminology
used for heroin. I knew all the chiva, smack, etc. words but I needed the
latest lingo to add veracity to the call. They agreed and said the latest
street term for getting heroin was to say my "baby needs a new pair of
shoes". As we left they were still snickering.
I immediately placed the
call and as luck would have it the "wife" answered. I told her who I
was. How bad of shape I was in and that her "old man" had giving me
her number. He said, "you would help me get my baby a new pair of
shoes". All this was in my broken Mexican hillbilly accent. The boys in
the Tactical unit were laughing aloud as I was carrying on this serious
conversation. That didn't help the situation much.
She was irate. She said her
"old man" knows better than to give out her phone number. Further
more she couldn't and wouldn't help me under any circumstance. She didn't care
how bad I was hurting and this was no "xxxxxx" shoe store. After a
half hour of trash talking she slowly became receptive and agreed to help me.
She did add she didn't want to see or hear from me again after our exchange and
had some choice words for her "old man". I don't know why she didn't
mention how much the transaction was going to cost. Anyway, she agreed to meet
me in front of her house in 30 minutes. I told her I would be driving an old
gray Fleetwood Caddy. The deal was done!
Brad Wright would drive the
car. I would lay in the rear flood board and jump up and grab her when she
neared. Rich Leaming and John Stacy would be in a back up car and a patrol unit
would be near by. We're rolling! As we neared the house both Brad and I were
laughing so hard it was hard to keep focused. After all, it had been exhausting
being a Mexican hillbilly. As Brad slowed she exited the house with the
"dope" in a brown bag. Brad says "she's got it!". He had to
drive a little past her so she couldn't see him laughing. I don't know why it
was so funny but it was. Seems like everything we did at FPK was funny. Back to
the story. Brad gave me a step by step playbook description of her movements,
e.g. opening the gate fence, walking up the side walk, nearing the car,
approaching the car, etc. The more he talked the harder I laughed.
Brad says, "She's
here!" I jumped up, pushed the rear door open, and grabbed for her in one
smooth motion and fell on my face. She screamed, dropped the dope and bolted
back towards the house. I quickly returned to the standing position. Along with
Brad, Rich and John we were in hot foot pursuit. Over the fence, through the
yard and into the house with her running and screaming at the top of her voice.
As we ran into the house people were exiting through doors and windows with the
same speed and intensity as we were entering. Kind of like cockroaches exiting
when you turn the lights on. It was like fishing at a trout farm with only one
hand. After the smoke cleared we were still able to apprehend our main suspect
along with another guy who had been wedged in the kitchen window. Needles stuck
in walls, cotton balls and caps strewn about the room. It must have been quite
a party. We gathered only some of the residue inside of the house, as we knew
we had the "mother load" in the sack outside.
As we exited the house with
our suspects in tow we retrieved the "dope" package. I believe Rich
opened it up to see our bounty. "A pair of baby shoes!" he exclaims.
Our suspect said "that's what you wanted, didn't you?" I explained no
we really wanted dope. She says” well why didn't you say so. I went to a lot of
trouble getting you those shoes. I've never heard of anybody referring to
heroin as baby shoes." So much for the latest terminology from Narco.
Our suspect begins to
laugh. I look at the other guys. They begin to laugh. I start laughing. I know
there were some sad times at FPK but overall could there ever be a happier or
funnier place to work? I think not.
Oh as a note I told Narco
what had just happened. They start laughing too. They said they had not really
heard of a "baby needs a new pair of shoes" deal themselves. They
just made it up. It was a good laugh. Seems like everyone was happy. Just another
day in the Ghetto.