Eddie’s Bust

We made the bust in a single-family ranch house on the edge of town. It was not very high tech bust, nor a very high drama bust, at least at the start. We’d gotten a warrant issued that afternoon based on what we told the court was reliable informant information. And, in fact, it was good information and the warrant was good for twenty-four hours. We went in at night, around 2:00 P.M., in plain clothes, with our guns drawn. The man and the woman were asleep in a double bed. We flipped on the bedroom light, “Police,” I yelled, “don’t move or you’re dead.” And they didn’t.

The guy said “what the fuck.”

The girl said, “Oh my god.”

I said, “Not another word, not one fucking word, unless I ask you a question, got it.” I displayed my badge. I had my weapon pointed at their heads. They nodded yes.

Eddie went into the kitchen and gathered up a scale and about a pound of pot in a plastic bag in a shoebox. He came back into the bedroom with the items proudly displayed in each hand.

“Lookie, lookie,” he said. “This is more than enough marijuana to support distribution and we are, my friends, well within a thousand yards of a school zone, hence I would say that each of you is about to do a mandatory deuce and a half, no time off for good behavior, serving every day by day by miserable fucking day in state prison. Too bad, too bad, my darlings, no more sex, no more pot, no more Starbucks. Now don’t make uncle Eddie work too hard, where’s the weapons and where’s the cash?”

“There are no weapons, I swear to Christ,” said the guy. “The cash is in my pants, and a sock in the middle draw, and Angie’s purse. Cut us some slack guys, please.”

“Okay, rule one, if I find cash anywhere else I’m gonna hurt you.”

“No no, I’ve told you the truth, just cut us some slack.”

“You are each under arrest,” I said, “you have the right to remain silent, you have the right to a lawyer, if you cannot afford a lawyer a lawyer will be appointed to represent you. Anything you say can and will be used against you. Got it? Good. Speak at your own peril. Where’d you get the dope?”

“Some guy in a car. I don’t know who he is. It was set up for me by a guy I know.”

“Okay, but not very helpful, why not get dressed, both of you, and take a little ride with us downtown.”

“Come on, man, cut us a little slack.”

“And why might we do that? I mean what have you done for us lately. A bust’s a bust. We get brownie points in our jackets. We get promoted.”

“Hey, just take the shit but don’t take us. Pull the weed off the street, smoke a little yourselves if it’s your trip, jack us off for the money, but leave us alone. We’ll leave town. We’ll not say word one. ‘The bust was a bust’ you’ll say.”

He laughed at his own joke. He was cool and smooth and there was nothing about him I liked. The woman looked pathetic, smushed down hair, no make up, bathrobe, hung over, haggard.

Eddie gathered up the cash. He counted out over two thousand dollars. I was ready to roust them. “Get dressed and then I’m going to cuff you,” I said.

“Check this out,” the guy continued. “We go to trial and I say it was all her shit, that I was just knowingly present, which is not a crime the last time I looked. She says ‘it was all his shit,’ that she’d just gotten here to spend the night. The prosecutor argues joint venture. The defense attorney argues reasonable doubt. It’s a coin toss. Why bother?”

I hate this weasel. I really do, but Eddie is waving at me with his firearm, like get over here closer so we can talk.

“I say we let ‘em go. Who gives a fuck,” he says to me.

“I don’t get it partner. What’s the point? Why are we doing it?”

Eddie shakes the box of dope, the sock with the money. He winks.

“Boys and girls,” he says, “here’s the deal. First you give us the name rank and serial number of the guy who helped you set up this buy. Where we can find him. What he looks like. Everything you know about him, and not any ‘just some guy’ bullshit. Second, we hold this evidence in a very safe place, this evidence with both of your prints all over it, for a long time. Any time we want to make you, you’re ours. Any time. You understand that, right? So in light of that exposure to consequences too dire to risk, you do both in fact leave our lovely town. And I don’t mean casually or over time. I mean you pack your bags, you take what money you have out of the bank, you do not kiss your friends and relatives goodbye, you just leave. People will understand. They know who you are. Call from the road. Say what comes naturally. But do not set foot in this town again. Ever. ‘Cause if we see you here, out comes the evidence and away you go. Understood?”

They nod. The guy says, “I need a little cash, man.” The woman said, “I got kids. I need time.”

Eddie says to me, “Fuck them, Guiseppe, they don’t seem to comprehend the generosity of our offer or the gravity of their circumstances, they’re too fuckin’ stupid to save, cuff ‘em and let’s just take ‘em downtown.”

“Okay, okay,” says the guy. “Angie, please, we’ll set up in Florida. It’s warm there. We’ll send for the kids. Please, Angie, I can’t do time again. Please.”

She was crying. “You really are a stupid shit,” she says.

He gives us his seller’s name, rank and serial number. If it’s true and accurate or not no one knows. Yet.

“You will be out of this house before noon. You will be out of this town before sundown. If I see either of your sorry asses, ever, I will bust you no questions asked and take you down. Hard. No further questions asked, no further questions answered,” Eddie says. “Now we’re out of here. You best pray we never see you again.”

Eddie and I walk out of the door into the cool of night. We get into the car. Eddie drives. We leave the neighborhood and are out onto East Fifth moving in light to negligible traffic.

“What was that,” I yelled at him. “What did we just do and how are we going to undo it? I just don’t get it. I don’t get you. That’s not our M.O. It’s certainly not my M.O. You’ve compromised me. You’ve put me in a terrible place. You showed ridiculous judgment. I can’t understand how I went along with that stupid play. What were you thinking?” It reminded me of things that would happen to me as a kid, but not as an adult, not as a cop. I was Mr. Clean, Mr. Straight and Narrow. It’s how I kept things together. I didn’t do things that could get me in trouble or that broke the rules. I was nervous and pissed off.

Eddie sat there quietly with his eyes on the road, but you could tell he was excited and alert. After a minute he said, “I figured it all out, Roger. It’s simple and I want your help. We just made an extra thousand dollars each. I need the money. I’m throwing the dope in the river. The scumbags are out of town and not likely to return. The dope is not smoked or sold to little kids or grandmothers. You and I are a thousand dollars tax free richer and the world is a better place. No harm. No foul.”

“You are a stupid shit, amigo. You broke the law. You compromised me. It is a nightmare to me, a lose lose situation, a situation in which I have to pay for your fucking stupidity. I am appalled at you, Eddie. No shit. Appalled. No friend treats another friend like that. You are a bullshit guy, a coercive, impulsive shit. Just go fuck yourself, ‘cause you’ve already fucked me.” What really pisses me off is that there is no sweet or easy out and I know it. It is like the fox with his leg caught in the steel jawed trap. I’m gonna have to chew off my own foot to have any prayer of getting out alive. I sit in the car. The city passes by at night and in the mist.

(… explain why )