No Angel: My undercover journey to the dark heart of the Hells Angels by Johnson-Shelton Nils & Dobyns Jay

Author:Johnson-Shelton, Nils & Dobyns, Jay [Johnson-Shelton, Nils]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: ebook, book
ISBN: 9781921776359
Publisher: Text Publishing
Published: 2010-05-16T04:00:00+00:00

23 INHALE . . . EXHALE . . .

INHALE . . . EXHALE . . .

DECEMBER 2002

TIMMY, JJ, AND I stayed up late that night, smoking cigs on the back porch while Hank and Eric crashed inside. It had been a hell of a day for all of us, but for JJ especially. She’d learned a lot. Mainly, she’d learned that she’d be keeping any drugs in her boot from then on, since it was the one place the cops didn’t bother checking. Timmy laughed at how I’d gotten stomped by the local police, and said he was happy he hadn’t missed it. I smiled and told him to go fuck himself in the ear.

The next day, JJ flew home to visit her family for a couple weeks. She’d put in for the time before she’d come over with us, so it was fine, but we were sorry to see her go. I told her we didn’t need her around too much because we’d all be away for the holidays soon enough. I told her things would be slow for a while, so take the time to chill. She said she would.

The end of 2002 had delivered Black Biscuit to an operational crossroads. Most of the hours we logged in December were spent discussing the direction of the case and planning our next steps, not hanging out with the Angels (we explained our absence to them with the white lie that we were traveling on club business, spending time in Mexico and SoCal, and that my Vegas connection, Big Lou, had invited me out to Miami to lounge around on his yacht and pinch some South Beach ass).

As we took stock of our progress, we drew up a list of case positives and case negatives so we could analyze our positions and objectives.

The main positive was that we’d been hugely successful in a short period of time. We’d gotten in quicker and deeper than we’d thought possible in a mere six months. The downside to this was that things were blurred. We’d moved so quickly from one day to the next— sometimes covering the length of the state in a single day, over three hundred miles, always in role—that it was hard to tell what we were doing. We were drunk on danger and adrenaline.

This led us to the main negative: We were running in place. We didn’t need to do any more gun deals with Doug or Hank. We didn’t need Bad Bob to broker any more petty drug buys. We didn’t need more evidence that Smitty acted like a local gangster, or that Dennis, while no longer cooking, clearly had a fluid and consistent source of meth. I was sick of these minor deals, Slats was sick of processing them and presenting them to the suits. He wanted dealers, not users. The case was supposed to be bigger—it was bigger—we just hadn’t figured out how to crack it.

Our frustration led to the beginning of a division within the task force.

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