by Jeff Nania
Ricardo broke the silence.
“Remember, it’s just one theory. There may be nothing to it. The next piece of information is the unfortunate reality. Some of Gunther’s people are on their way here to straighten things out.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“This can’t go any further. We have someone on the inside. If Gunther finds out, he’s dead. He told us people think that maybe Deacon Gunther isn’t taking care of things the way he should be. That this is not a healthy place for him to be.”
“Any idea who or when?” I asked.
“We don’t know who, but it will be soon—very soon,” Ricardo replied.
“Any thoughts on how we should handle this, Anthony?” asked Len.
“The only thing we can do is wait. If I get any more information, I will pass it on right away. In the meantime, I have mugshots and some photos of Gunther’s people that have been sent to you guys. Brief your people and anyone else you think needs to know and make sure they have the pictures. Let them know who they are dealing with. If they show up, your people need to push them as much as they can. We’ll know how serious they are by who Gunther sends.”
That question was answered the next day. The newest member of the Musky Falls Police Department, Kristin Smith, made a traffic stop on the highway just inside the city limits. A dark blue late model SUV was behind a loaded hay wagon being towed by a tractor, and the young patrol officer was behind the SUV. All the vehicles were traveling in a no passing zone three miles long. The SUV driver got impatient and swung out, crossing the double yellow to pass the tractor. An oncoming car took the shoulder to avoid a collision. The officer activated her warning lights, and the tractor and hay wagon pulled over. She quickly caught up with the SUV, and the vehicle pulled over to the road shoulder.
Officer Smith parked her squad in a way that allowed her to approach the SUV safely and also offered protection from passing traffic should a rubbernecker quit paying attention to where they were driving. She called dispatch with the plate number.
Kristin walked up to the driver’s side. The tinted window came down, and she was greeted by a big man with a tangle of tattoos going up his neck and onto the side of his face. Sunglasses hid his eyes. A look around the vehicle showed three others—two big men like the driver and a smaller, skinny one in the front passenger seat.
“I need to see your license, registration, and proof of insurance,” she said.
“I’ll need to get the registration and insurance out of the console. Okay for me to get it?”
This unnerved her, and it dawned on her who these people probably were. She realized this was potentially a dangerous situation. Nevertheless, she kept her cool.
It was common for people to keep their registration in the glove compartment or center console.
“Go ahead,” she responded and put her hand on her weapon. The driver saw the move.
“Officer, there is nothing in the console but paperwork. If you want, I will get out of the car, and you can get what you need,” the big man said.
“No, just hand it to me,” Officer Smith directed.
The driver did as requested. Smith walked back to her squad car. She ran the driver’s license and registration and advised dispatch of who she had stopped.
Dispatch responded, “Officer Smith standby. Backup is on the way.”
The man driving the car was Deacon Gunther, the suspected leader of a drug gang. Gunther came back with a mile-long rap sheet, but he was not wanted nor currently on probation or parole. His driver’s license was valid and registration current.
Backup came fast in the form of Sergeant Kruger and a DNR warden who had been eating lunch at a nearby café. Both were old hands and, upon arrival, positioned themselves to have the advantage if something went down.
Officer Smith issued the citation for the passing violation and started toward the violator’s car when another squad car pulled up behind her with K-9 Unit emblazoned across the side. An officer from a neighboring county got out.
“Officer Smith, could you hold up for a second, please?” the officer called. She stopped and waited.
“If you have no objections, Officer, I would like to take my dog for a short walk. It won’t take long,” said the K-9 officer. He got the dog out of his car, which put everyone on high alert. The conservation warden had armed himself with a rifle and positioned himself behind his truck. The air was thick with tension. The K-9 officer with Officer Smith in tow approached the vehicle.
The dog handler spoke, “Sir, I am going to take my dog on a walk around your vehicle. Before I do, I would like to know if you have any controlled substances in the vehicle. If you do, and you turn them over to me, well, that might work for you down the line. If you don’t tell me and the dog finds something, then we are going to take this pretty car apart piece by piece.”
Gunther’s hands remained locked on the steering wheel. He turned his head toward Officer Smith and the dog handler, giving them a look of pure darkness.
“You don’t have probable cause to search my vehicle. A traffic ticket is not enough. You do a search and find something; it won’t hold up. This is harassment,” Gunther objected. He reached for the door handle to get out of the vehicle.
“Stay in your car,” Officer Smith warned.
Gunther put his hands back on the steering wheel.
The K-9, a German Shepard, began to work its way around the SUV, investigating every crack and cranny with a vacuum cleaner nose. It made one complete loop around the vehicle and then another.
“Did you find what you’re looking for?” Gunther said smugly.
“Mr. Gunther, we’re going to take one more walk around the car if you don’t mind,” the handler replied.
“Be my guest,” Gunther said.
Nothing. The dog didn’t alert on anything.
“If you are done, could you please give me my ticket and let me go?” Gunther said. The K-9 officer nodded to Officer Smith. She gave him the citation and instructions regarding his rights. She started to walk back to her squad when she heard a rude comment directed at her from the front passenger side of Gunther’s car.
Officer Kristin Smith may have been a rookie on the force, and some people might take her for someone who could be easily pushed around. Her easygoing manner probably contributed to that. All those people who thought that thought wrong. Besides being one of Musky Fall’s finest, Officer Kristin Smith was also a nationally competitive “Lumber Jill” specializing in the single bucksaw, underhand chop, and other events. All require constant training and great upper body strength. It was this Kristin Smith who approached the passenger’s window, which had been lowered.
The trooper and warden moved up.
“Did you have something to say to me?” she asked.
The passenger was covered with tattoos and meth-head skinny. Her question was met with a cackle. “I just had a question, you know, just a little question to ask you.”
“Weasel, shut your mouth,” the driver barked.
“Oh, come on, Deac. I just want to ask her a question. It is a real honest-to-goodness question. Nothing bad.”
“Weasel, I mean it. Shut up.”
Weasel responded with a cackling laugh. Deacon Gunther ignored him.
“Officer, I want to apologize for that guy. He’s not right. Since I have my ticket, is it okay for me to go?”
You could see the gears turning in Officer Smith’s head. She wanted nothing better than to grab Weasel by the neck, drag him out of the car, and bounce his head off the pavement. But she didn’t. She did what countless law enforcement officers did every day—she let it go.
“You are free to go, Mr. Gunther,” she said. This triggered another cackling laugh from Weasel.
Gunther started the SUV and slowly drove off, making sure to use his directional when he pulled off the shoulder back into traffic.
Then and only then did Officer Smith draw a full breath. She had met the enemy of her community.
She hoped to see them again.
Officer Smith called Chief Bork immediately and filled him in.
In turn, Len Bork called me. “John, they have arrived, at least four of them. I’ll try Ricardo and see if I can get him. We should talk things over.”
We met with Ricardo outside of town on a dead-end side road.
“Well, boys, the ‘A’ team is here. Deacon Gunther himself, a truly bad man if there ever was one. That was a stupid move passing in a no passing zone. If Gunther had been thinking, he never would have done it,” Ricardo said.
“What relation is Deacon Gunther to Jesse Gunther?” I asked.
“Cousins or something like that,” Ricardo answered.
“What about the guy, Weasel?” Len asked.
“His real name is Larry Sweet, and he is as squirrely as can be. He is a real instigator and dangerous. When something bad goes down, he always seems to be part of it,” Ricardo explained. “Chief, any idea where they went after Officer Smith cut them loose?”
“The trooper that backed up Smith watched them. They filled up with gas at Northern Co-op and headed north out of town. He followed them to the county line, where they pulled into that rathole tavern Outlaws.”
I asked the obvious question, “So what’s our plan?”
“Well, Sheriff, thanks to your call to Lt. Malone, we have additional people in the area, and they are already working this thing. Gunther and company are going to need to hook up with somebody. They didn’t come for a joy ride. They are going to talk with their connections, see where things stand. They will also try to get whatever intel their people have. These guys are street smart. They are going to want to know everything they can about the opposition. So, our people are watching for them and who they connect with. I think we have this pegged right. It’s a turf war. I bet Gunther and his guys won’t do anything until they know everything they can know. Now we just wait.” •
23
I drove some backroads and pulled into my cabin at the same time Julie was getting out of her car with a large Tommy’s deluxe pizza and a six-pack of beer made at a small local brewery.
We sat at the kitchen table, and she filled me in on her day. Much like police work, her day-to-day activities changed constantly.
“How is Amber doing?” I asked.
“She seems better every day. I have worked with families before where the child raises the parent. The kids don’t know anything better, and they just incrementally acquire more responsibility as time goes on. In Amber’s case, she did almost all the household chores, besides taking care of her mother when she fell off the wagon. It seems like a lot, but in reality, kids get used to it. Then the parent gets clean or, in this case, dies, and the caretaker suddenly doesn’t know who they really are. Ed and Stella are helping her through it all in the most positive way possible. Amber lost her mom, but they lost their child. They will have to work through this together. She comes to school with a lunch packed and excited and ready to be a part of our activities. Ed and Stella volunteer nearly every field day, and she seems to like that.”
The next morning, Julie woke first, and I came down to the kitchen to find her cooking ham and scrambling eggs. Her hair was tousled, and she still had sleep in her eyes. She turned to me with that thousand-watt smile, and I again saw the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.
“I had the urge to cook up a big breakfast. I’ve got a big day at school and will probably be late. With all that you have going on, who knows when you might get to eat.”
The eggs were delicious, local smokehouse ham the best. We both lingered as long as we could. Then Julie jumped up and announced she had to shake a leg, or she would be late. While she was in the shower, I washed dishes. I was sure to treat her prize cast iron frying pan just right—no soap, no water, just a good wipe down. She taught me a properly seasoned cast iron pan cleaned up just as easily as any miracle coatings.
She came down the stairs with a bounce in her step, hair still wet but dressed for school. I helped her carry her stuff to the car. We stepped out the door and were greeted by the sharp crispness of the cold air. We loaded her car, and after a quick kiss goodbye, she drove out.
Back in the cabin, I finished wiping down the counters and set the dishes in the drying rack. I started to head upstairs for a shower when my pager went off, and a minute later the landline rang.
I answered on the second ring.
“Sheriff, it’s Ricardo. I got something, and I would like to meet with you and the chief.”
“Where do you want to meet?” I asked.
“I hate to impose, but how about your cabin in an hour?”
“That’ll work. I’ll check in with Len. If he can’t make it, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, and one more thing. Could you get Lieutenant Malone to join us by phone?”
“I will take care of it. Do you want anything else?”
“Well, a cup of that good coffee you make would be great.”
Ricardo and Len arrived at the same time, and Malone’s smiling mug showed up on the computer screen. Coffee was poured, and we all sat around the kitchen table.
Ricardo wasted no time getting started. “Locally, there has been a shortage of dope available until yesterday. Now all of a sudden, there is dope everywhere. The dealers are raking it in. They are being a little more careless than usual. We made a half dozen buys as soon as the stuff hit the street. We’re putting together solid cases. So far, they’re all locals. As far as we know, though, they are all hooked up with Gunther. Lieutenant, for your information, one of Musky Falls’ finest made a solid traffic stop on a vehicle driven by none other than Deacon Gunther. A deputy showed up with a canine and walked the dog around, and the dog didn’t indicate. We don’t know who brought the drugs, but they must have come in a second vehicle. Anyway, all the junkies and dealers are happy at the moment. We won’t act on our cases until we know what’s going on. Maybe one of them will have some solid information they will give us in trade for a get-out-of-jail-free card. Lt. Malone, I have a question for you.”
“How can I help you, Agent Ricardo,” Bear growled.
“Do you have anything on the status of the eastern Europeans who were running the drug operation out of Superior Shipping and Container?”
“Well, I’ll tell you what I know. The joint operation took them down hard. The big bosses have been identified, but they took off before the raid. As you are aware, they killed Mary Beth Summers, a federal agent. The Organized Crime Task Force, FBI, and DEA took them apart—every nut, every bolt. Everyone caught and charged is either in prison or on their way. Some were illegals, and they have been sent back home. The authorities in their countries were advised of what they were involved in here, and from what we know, they were not treated well upon their return. Some had outstanding warrants, and they were turned over to the proper authorities. All the property and assets of Superior Shipping and Container have been seized. The business has ceased operation. As far as I know, if they aren’t dead, they are dying. Every acronym in the country is still hot after them—FBI, ICE, DEA, IRS, HS—and they are not going to let up until they run them all to ground.”
“Is it possible that some of them fell through the cracks and got away?” Ricardo asked.
“Not just possible, but likely. I am sure some low-level thugs are out on the street doing what they do. I mean, crooks are crooks. That is how they make their living. Agent Ricardo, do you have anything that indicates they are back in business?” Bear said.
“No, but I think it’s a strong possibility. I mean, someone is trying to shut down these guys. It makes sense that it is a rival drug gang killing off the competition. They are just a bit more sophisticated in their methods, but the result is the same.”
Then the light went on for Bear. He didn’t rise to the commander’s position on the Organized Crime Task Force because he lacked brains or courage. One of his greatest attributes is an incredible memory. It’s like he has two separate brains: one i
s doing the everyday work, and the other is in the background sorting through information. When the sorting through information part comes up with something, Bear puts it out.
“Vyhazet. It’s a Czech word for get rid of everything unnecessary or unwanted. They have used this before, and I have reviewed a couple of cases. What they do is take out all the competition. They don’t run them out of town; they kill them. They make it so dangerous that the ones left alive take off for greener pastures. If they come back, they’re dead. It’s worked well because, like it or not, we law enforcement types don’t put drug gang-related homicides at the top of our priority list. Not like we would if the church lady next door gets knocked off,” Bear said.
“I’ve heard of this before,” Ricardo interjected, “never here, but I’ve heard of it.”
“So if Deacon Gunther’s there, he must be figuring on doing something,” said Bear.
“That’s what we think,” I replied.
“Sheriff Cabrelli, Chief Bork, how do you want to play this?” asked Ricardo.
“John, what do you think?” asked Len.
“We get our people together, get them geared up, and hit the street doing what we do. Let them know that we know who they are and why they are here. If we can make a case, we’ll take them down,” I suggested.
Bear growled, “Everybody stand by.”
It was five minutes before he came back to the phone.
“Big news, boys. La Crosse PD just made one hell of a big bust. They got three convicted felons, guns, cash, and enough fentanyl to OD everyone in northern Wisconsin. Sounds like they did a good job with the case—sharp outfit La Crosse PD is. The load was going to make a stop in La Crosse County and then was headed to the great Northwoods. My guess is Namekagon or surrounding counties. I will reach out to them and see if there is any connection between our bad guys and theirs.”
The meeting broke up, and I got in my squad and followed Len into town. On the way, each contacted our respective administrative staff and asked them to have all officers and deputies, working or off shift, on vacation or not, to come in for a briefing. Most of them beat us to the office. We gathered both city officers and county deputies in the conference room, assembling our total force of sworn people. In addition, the administrative staff that is the backbone of any law enforcement agency was present. Only the dispatchers in the communications center stayed at their station. They would be briefed later.