Corrupt City. Tra Verdejo

let’s start from the beginning. Take us back and tell us about your first day in Operation Clean House.”

      Lucky reached for the cold water in front of him and slowly sipped it, hoping it would prevent the sweat from pouring down his face. He was about to commit suicide by testifying against his former employers. He finished the glass, cleared his throat, sat up, and began talking.

      “I remember my first day on the job. I received mixed feelings from my new partners because I was the only Black guy on the team. They didn’t hide how they felt about my presence either. I extended my hand out to all four men in that room, and only one of them shook my hand, Detective Michael “Tango” Scott. Tango became my closest friend on the squad, but died in the line of duty. His cover was blown in one of our many dangerous assignments. My other partners are all sitting right there.” Lucky pointed at the defense table. “Captain William ‘Tuna’ Youngstown, Steve ‘Loose Cannon’ Stanley, and Jeffrey ‘Speedy’ Winston.”

      Captain William “Tuna” Youngstown had been in the police force for close to forty years. He was six foot three and weighed two hundred and ninety pounds. He had long blond hair, which he kept in a ponytail, and evil dark brown eyes. He looked more like a bouncer at a nightclub than a police captain.

      Detective Jeffrey “Speedy” Winston, a ten-year veteran, was five feet nine and barely weighed a hundred and sixty pounds. He was built more like a sprinter than an officer. His low-cut hair and clean-cut attitude gave away his military upbringing.

      Detective Steve “Loose Cannon” Stanley, a seventeen-year veteran with tattoos all over his body, didn’t look like a cop. Just less than six feet tall, he looked more like a biker or the leader of a dangerous gang.

      “My first assignment was taking down a notorious heroin gang called M&M, which stood for Murderers and Millionaires. The captain wanted to throw me in the fire quickly and test my ability. Since we were going after a Black gang, I was made the lead detective, even though I was basically a rookie on the team. I guess they wanted me to fail and throw me off the team.

      “Michael and Jeffrey were going in as undercover drug addicts, and my job was to infiltrate their operations. M&M was making about twenty to fifty-thousand dollars a day in the Bronx. They called their product ‘cliffhanger.’ Fiends were dying off this powerful drug. There was no cut—straight, raw dope. A violent drug war started behind the success of cliffhanger. Bodies were dropping daily because other drug dealers were losing profit. The city was losing control on the war. The mayor called our captain and told us to take down M&M at whatever cost.”

      “The mayor of this city said, ‘at whatever cost’?” Johnson interrupted.

      “I object, Your Honor. That’s hearsay, third-party speculation.”

      “Sustained. The jury will ignore that last question. Counsels approach.”

      After counsels approached the bench, the judge said, “Don’t you dare implicate our great mayor through a third-person statement, Mr. Johnson. Your action could lead to contempt of court, and you could be disbarred in the State of New York. Are we clear?”

      “We’re clear.”

      Johnson didn’t like that the judge came down hard on him, but he understood. This case wasn’t about the mayor. He walked back to the center of the courtroom and proceeded.

      “Let’s get back to M&M. Please continue, Mr. Gibson.”

      “M&M was a gang that was well organized. Their leader, Money Mike, was a smart criminal. We label these individuals as organized thugs. He ran his operation out of one building on 139th Street and Third Avenue. He had so many lookouts, his team barely got arrested. Tango and Speedy, I mean Michael and Jeffrey, never got a chance to buy from the dealers directly. M&M would have the neighborhood kids deliver the drugs back and forth from the building and serve the addicts.

      “These kids were making anywhere from one to three hundred dollars a night. That’s more than what an average cop makes today, or even their own parents. These kids were not going to school. M&M basically ran a twenty-four-hour operation. Anyway, after ten months of surveillance, we had nothing on M&M, not one wiretap, only a few photos. We arrested a few members with bogus charges, but they didn’t talk. That was strange because usually there is always one who wants to talk, but not this crew. Not even the little kids we arrested would talk. We were up against one of the most loyal organizations in history.

      “This made our job a lot harder because we rely on information to solve at least ninety percent of our cases. From the intelligence we gathered on M&M, we only knew who was calling the shots, but there were six to seven other members who were still a mystery. We didn’t know their ranks or true identities. Truth be told, we could have been wrong about who was calling the shots. We needed to come up with a better strategy. Meanwhile, the crime rate was rising like the sun. This is when I first learned that our department worked under a different set of rules.”

      “What do you mean by ‘a different set of rules’?”

      “We did as we pleased. We didn’t report to no one. Don’t get me wrong, we were good at our jobs. We just took the law into our own hands, even if that meant planting drugs, tampering with evidence, assault, or murder. Whatever it took to get the job done, we did it.”

      “Murder? Do you mean others besides Perry were innocently murdered as well?”

      “Yes.”

      You could hear the oohs and ahhs all across the courtroom.

      “The only reason why this case is getting national attention is because Perry didn’t have a criminal record and was a working parent. Had he had one felony, forget about it.”

      Matthew quickly stood up. “I object. The witness is using the stand as his personal platform to speak for his personal feelings. I move that the witness be removed, and I ask that his testimony be made inadmissible. It is obvious his intent is personal.”

      “Overruled.”

      “Your Honor, but this witness has a personal vendetta against my clients.”

      “I said overruled,” Judge Lewis shot back in a slow, loud voice. “Your objection was heard and denied.”

      “Okay, let’s get back to M&M. Donald, please continue,” Johnson said.

      “Since we couldn’t get close to M&M, we decided to set up one of their key members. M&M ran Patterson Projects, but they had beef with their neighbors, Mott Haven Projects. We did a sweep one night in Mott Haven Projects and locked up about ten members of the RSB, which stood for Red Slab Boys, a crack gang. That same night, we pulled over Money Mike’s black Mercedes Benz, and one of M&M’s key members happened to be driving his car.

      “We later learned he was the captain of the crew. His name was Derek Bailey, better known as Thirty-eight. He loved and used his .38 handgun so much, that became his nickname.

      “That night when we pulled him over, we didn’t care about the gun or drugs. Around that time, a gun charge against a high-profile criminal was like a misdemeanor charge. Money Mike would have spent good money on attorneys to get his captain out and charges dropped. All we wanted was for Thirty-eight to spend one night in jail, so we made up a story about an arrest warrant, took him to Central Booking, and we locked him up. I was undercover in the cell waiting for him, so were the ten RSB members we picked up. The plan was to drop Thirty-eight off in the cell, and when all hell broke loose, I’d jump in and help him out.

      “The plan was perfect because not a minute went by after the CO closed that cell before one of the Red Slab Boys approached Thirty-eight and started swinging. Ten against one is no match for any one, so within seconds, Thirty-eight was on the floor getting stomped. Since they all had their back toward me, I jumped toward them and pushed the whole pile toward the metal bars, and Thirty-eight was able to get back on his feet. We were both swinging to save our lives. After the correction officers saved our butts, the RSB boys were moved to a different cell, and Thirty-eight thanked me. He wanted to