After completing the administrative on-boarding, and while awaiting to head off to DEA’s Basic Agent Training at the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia, I was assigned to the Denver Field Division’s Group 2.
Group 2 consisted of 8 agents all involved in conducting major investigations against primarily cocaine and methamphetamine organizations. Like most DEA groups, Group 2 agents had a mix of both experience and time on the job, with most averaging 3-4 years, two senior agents with more than 7 years each, and a couple of new agents with less than a year or two on the job. I fell into the latter category.
Being one of the “young” agents, I was assigned to assist one of the senior agents with his cases. My second day on the job, the agent handed me a stack of subpoenas, tossed me his car keys, and told me to serve the subjects. He also stated that all had to be served that same day.
I had no former law enforcement experience prior to joining DEA, and had no clue as to the purpose of a subpoena, much less how to serve one. So, I asked my friend Dave who had started the week before I had, but was a former Mississippi State Trooper. Dave explained the basics – that I had to physically hand the subpoena to the subject and have him sign a receipt, if cooperative. If not, I was to sign an affidavit stating the time, date, location and name of who I had served. Simple enough. Armed with this basic knowledge and a street map, I set off to serve the subpoenas.
I should mention that, for good reasons, new agents are not provided their badge or credentials, much less a weapon, until after completing basic agent training. So here I was off on my own going into some of the worst neighborhoods of Denver and basically walking up and knocking on doors.
The first few went well. An older couple whose son was dealing crack, a woman who used to date the dealer and a few other similar associates, all of whom cooperated and even signed receipts for the subpoenas. I was doing well, and getting a bit cocky, until fate stepped in and reminded me to never relax.
The 4th or 5th person that I attempted to serve was the uncle of the crack dealer. Unbeknownst to me, he was also working for his nephew and wanted no part of being served. After parking the Crown Vic out in front of his house, I was walking up the short path to his house when all of a sudden, he burst out the front door and started barreling right towards me. Now, I would like to say that I did the perfect Jason Bourne move, stepping aside and then pummeling him as he flew past, but things went a little differently.
The gentleman was about 5 feet 4 inches on a good day and weighed at least 300 lbs, none of which could remotely be considered as muscle. As he came barreling out of the house yelling at me wearing only shorts and flip flops, I jumped back, stumbling and barely able to keep my balance. He, on the other hand, caught a flip flop on a crack in the walkway and did a face plant right on the cement in front of me, splitting open a cut over his left eye and cracking a tooth in the process. He was struggling to get up but was so winded that he fell back down on the ground panting. Even in that state, he was still throwing out insults and threatening to kill me.
By this time, a few neighbors had wandered out of their houses to see what was happening, so I dropped the subpoena on his belly and told him that he had been served. When he appeared in court the following week, he claimed that I had assaulted him when serving the subpoena, but neighbor statements quickly put that accusation to rest.
My day was not over yet, though, as I still had one more property to visit, which turned out to be the crack house itself.
Upon arrival at the house, there were 3 angry dogs tied up in the front yard pulling at the ropes tied around their massive heads. I had no doubt that if they had gotten loose, they would have ripped me to shreds. My only weapon was my ballpoint pen, which might have been good enough for Mr. Bourne, but would be worthless for me against those monsters. Luckily, the ropes held.
There were bars and metal screens on all of the windows and doors of the house, and nobody hanging out outside. I’m guessing the Crown Vic might have temporarily scared off any potential customers in the area. So, I walked up and banged on the door, with no answer. I banged several more times on the door, again with no response, before turning to leave.
Worried that I was not going to live up to the expectations of the senior agent, I got back into the car and left the area for about 15 minutes before returning and parking a few blocks away. I got out and went back to the address on foot. As I approached, I saw a “client” hand money through a cutout in one of the windows, but the cutout was quickly slammed shut as the person inside saw me. I walked right up to the door and started pounding again, joined by the “client” who had turned over his money, but had not received his product.
As expected, nobody answered the door once again. I returned to the office, somewhat dejected, only to find the senior agent waiting for me.
When I told him what happened, he asked me if I had really tried to serve the crack house, stating that he had put that in there but never expected me to try. He stated that I was lucky that I had not gotten myself shot. He also asked me if the dealer’s uncle tried to hit me, stating that “I knew he would”. More than a little annoyed, I asked him why he hadn’t at least warned me about both locations, to which he responded that if he had, I would have learned nothing. He snatched the car keys from my hand and left.
Asshole aside, I did learn a lot. I never again served a subpoena alone. I also never drove right up to the property, choosing instead to stop a prudent distance away and sit and observe a bit before getting out. I also opted for taking a less cop-like car.
For the rest of the two weeks that I was assigned to the senior agent, though, I was always on guard. Never again did I take anything that he said at face value. And I always checked with the other senior agent and Group Supervisor first before following orders.