Look Left, Look Right, Step Up by the Gent

In 1977, I was assigned to the Criminal, Immoral, and Narcotics section of the United States Immigration and Naturalization Service in the Department of Justice (C.I.N. for short). A Federal Strike Force headed by the F.B.I. was assembled in the mid-town Manhattan office of D.E.A. (Drug Enforcement Administration) to enforce a citywide “hit” on notorious locations where drug dealers resided and kept their “stash.” It was called “Operation Banshee.” It was quite an assembly of law enforcement agencies. F.B.I., D.E.A., NYCPD, A.T.F., U.S.I.N.S., NYST. In those days, there were stringent requirements, regulations, and testing before you became a law enforcement officer. It was a super gathering of law enforcement at its best.

Each agent was assigned a partner from a different agency. The administration knew there would be plenty of temptation.

Four of us were assigned to “hit” a house somewhere on 71st street in Jackson Heights, Queens. All the “hit locations” were synchronized. It all had to go down at the same time. We had our warrant and waited for a “go” on our walkie-talkie radio. The “go” came down. My partner and I went to the front door the other two agents covered the alley and back of the house. We knocked, but there was no answer, waited a bit, and “boom!” Through the door, we went. There was a Colombian national man and woman sitting in the living room. There was a 357 Magnum hidden in the couch but no hostility, just glazed looks on their face with their hands in the air. They were handcuffed and asked who was the owner of the house. Their answer was, “they didn`t know.” Why were they there? They said, “…a friend dropped them off and told them to wait inside.” We decided to look around. There was hardly any furniture, a couch, a few chairs, two single beds, a nightstand, and a bureau. The other rooms were eerily vacant. One particular closet was another story! There was a large closed cardboard box in it and when opened was full of 1s, 5s, 10s, and 20s. We asked the couple if they knew anything about the box full of money. Their answer was, “What box?”

Temptations come in all ways, shapes, and sizes. We reported and processed the money. The Federal Treasury eventually got it. After taking their information (they knew nothing about the gun), the couple was released. Ironically, a year and a half later, the woman shot the man in a jealous rage at a different location in Queens. The boyfriend survived and eventually became a confidential informant. Part of the twists and turns of life.

That all happened some 45 years ago. The F.B.I. and D.E.A. would have similar operations in later years but to what real end?

In 2008 I lost my son, Gerard, due to an overdose. Today, drugs are more prevalent than ever. Billions of dollars spent and still, last reported, 91 people die from opioids every day. We`ve lost the war on drugs. More individuals and families have been destroyed these past 45 years than in any of our nation's other conflicts. Will this “drug invasion” ever end? Can it ever end?