I spent 15 years with the DEA without ever having been in the line of fire. I can’t say the same thing for my work with the private sector.
I was working with local law enforcement on behalf of one of our company’s clients on an operation against 64 targets selling counterfeit electrical parts and supplies. The location was a huge covered market spanning an entire downtown city block.
Because crowds usually flocked to the market during the day, the federal prosecutor running the operation decided we should conduct the enforcement action in the wee hours, thereby min- imizing the risk of disruption or uprising, whether among the workers, the merchants, their operatives or the general public.
We arrived at the location shortly before the designated time with the prosecutor, six assistant prosecutors and 115 riot police. Using bolt cutters, we unlocked the main door and entered the market. We quickly discovered, however, that we could not turn on the interior lights because the building’s power used a password-protected timer. Resorting to flashlights, we proceeded to execute the search warrants on the targeted stands, finding large quantities of counterfeit goods. Most of the items were sitting inside the small shops, but others had been placed in an attic loft, stacked precariously among the rafters.
About 45 minutes into the operation, an angry mob of about 50 men suddenly appeared. Alerted to our presence by hidden security cameras, they had broken through a side entrance of the market and were carrying rocks, bottles and other makeshift pro- jectiles, which they began hurling at us.
Despite the large police presence, the mob continued their advance, picking up and throwing chairs and other loose items along the way. Instead of standing their ground, the police, in full riot gear, turned tail and ran toward the exits. Not expecting this, I was a little slow to react. But not wanting to face the angry mob on my own, I took off after the police, bringing up the rear.
Still about a hundred feet from the main exit, the police began deploying tear gas, slowing the mob (and my) advance. The officer directly in front of me panicked, unholstered his weapon and began shooting blindly over his shoulder as he ran – placing me directly in the line of fire. Lucky for me, the officer squeezed off only three rounds before making it out the door and onto a waiting bus. All three shots landed harmlessly against nearby shops, and no one was injured. But the incident gave me an extra jolt of adrenaline I didn’t need.
Most of the raiding party made it out the front door, but the mob captured the lead prosecutor and two of her assistants. Apparently, the police commander felt no concern for the prosecutor, because he and his men finished piling into the waiting buses and were preparing to leave. I caught up with him and told him that the prosecutor was still inside, but the commander told me he would not risk sending his men back into the building because shots had been fired.
When I explained that his own man had fired the shots, he became angry and responded that if I mentioned this to anyone he would throw me in jail for lying. I informed him that if he did not order his men to rescue the prosecutor and her assistants I would contact every newspaper and radio station in the country and elsewhere and tell them what had happened on this night.
The threat worked. The commander, who was pissed, ordered a team back into the market building. After negotiating with the mob, they rescued the hostages without injuries, but in exchange, left behind the seized products.
I returned to my hotel, packed and checked out quickly, headed to the airport and took the next flight home. When I landed, I noted several phone messages from the police commander, again warning me to keep quiet about the errant shots fired. He also made threats of arresting me the next time that I came into town for endangering his officers, which was obviously ridiculous.
The prosecutor also had left me a message, and I returned her call immediately. She thanked me profusely for insisting that the police send a rescue team. She said she and her colleagues were repeatedly assaulted verbally and physically, and she had feared the worst until the team arrived. She told me her biggest concern was being left behind to fend for herself, which would have happened had I not intervened. The prosecutor was angry that the officers who were sworn to protect her had given so little thought to her safety.
And speaking of safety, the last thing that I needed was to get shot from a stray bullet fired by a poorly trained police officer. But as anybody who has ever executed a search warrant knows, even the best laid the plans go out the window the second you hit the door.