After the graduation ceremony was over, agents and family members gathered in the Hall of Honor, dedicated to FBI agents who have lost their lives in the line of duty. This was the last opportunity to say goodbye to my classmates, including my roommate and suitemates. It was a time for us to meet the family members of classmates that we had heard so much about. It was an incredibly happy occasion, but it signaled the end for spending time with people I had become so close to. I realized that this small group shared a special, intense bond that nobody else could ever understand. Almost like a group of people who were stranded on an island and finally rescued, nobody wanted to remain, yet goodbyes were difficult. I will never see most of these impressive, dedicated agents again, but they will always live fondly in my memory.
Finally it was time to make one last trek to the firearms area and permanently receive my Glock 22 handgun. As I walked to the armory to see my firearms instructor one last time, my sense of accomplishment and pride continued to swell. After receiving my weapon, I walked alone back to my truck, knowing I was done. Jennifer and I hopped in, I cranked the engine, and I pulled away from the FBI Academy one last time. I was leaving a place that I had grown to hate so much, but I could not help but smile and feel those same goose bumps that I had felt when I drove onto the FBI Academy grounds that first time so many months ago. It was like crossing the finish line of a marathon that after training and working so hard to finish. I felt the intense joy that the event was over, and I realized I had accomplished one the greatest feats I would ever attempt.
CHAPTER 16
Go West
Taxpayers can be assured that FBI funds are not spent wastefully. The FBI has a strict policy that governs an agent’s move to his or her first office. New agents are allowed just five days to pack up all their belongings, sell their house, get their kids into schools, and get established in their new city. Agents are granted some limited travel time, but that evaporates quickly. The expectation that new agents can magically rearrange their lives in a week is completely unreasonable, in my opinion. However, I was thankful that I was no longer doing knuckle pushups or being yelled at by FBI instructors, so with the right perspective, the almost insurmountable task of moving across the country in a week seemed downright enjoyable. I focused on the fact that I was getting a “free cross-country driving vacation” from the FBI.
Jennifer and I headed west after my graduation and worked our way through the beautiful landscapes of the southeastern United States. We did stop for the weekend in Lexington, Virginia, and stayed at a rural one-room cottage. This was a gorgeous place to stay and was the first chance that I had to really spend some quality and quiet time with my new wife. It was sort of a mini-honeymoon; we knew that we wanted to go to France on our “official” honeymoon, but we also knew that would be in the distant future.
Those first few days after graduating from the FBI Academy were memorable in many ways. I carried the pride of finally being a full-fledged, real-life FBI agent. I at last had my credentials and my badge, with my trusty Glock strapped to my side. I remember my first stop at a fast food restaurant in Virginia. I felt powerful and important. I walked in thinking Special Agent Sellers would like a cheeseburger, his wife will have a chicken sandwich, and by the way, have no fear because if there's any trouble just duck because I’m a gunslinger and can handle anything. Thank goodness nothing bad happened, because despite my intense training, I was a completely green rookie not remotely prepared to be a law enforcement hero and save the day.
My brain did frequently switch gears from relaxing to thinking about the details of our pending move from Austin to San Diego. Fortunately, I had been able to sell my house in San Antonio before entering the FBI, but Jennifer and I now had a house in Austin that we needed to do something with. We needed to figure out what we could take to California, knowing that space would be extremely limited in the expensive city of San Diego. We had much to accomplish in a very short time.
After arriving back in Texas, we quickly inventoried our possessions and rented a U-Haul to move some items to my mother's house, located near West, Texas. We had to pack enough items in our own car so that we could survive in a hotel for a limited time while searching for a place to live. I knew that I would be starting work and would be dressing professionally as FBI agents do, so I had to pack a broad assortment of clothing ranging from informal shorts and t-shirts to dress pants, jackets, and ties. Jennifer quit her job at Dell, and we felt fortunate to be in a financial position in which we could afford to do that.
I cannot imagine how difficult the move would have been with children. Some newly-minted FBI families have to deal with the situation presented by the FBI by having one spouse stay behind with the children, while the other spouse moves to another city as an FBI agent until the family can be reunited. That would happen immediately after a new agent had spent months apart from his family while at the FBI Academy. This is nothing compared to the sacrifices that the men and women of the United States military make, but considering that an FBI agent is a career for civilians who frequently come from stable professional backgrounds, the sacrifices that FBI agents make should not be trivialized.
In our case, we had four animals including two Chinese pug dogs, and two long-haired Persian cats. To simplify our move, we decided that the cats could stay with my mother for a few weeks and that we would take our two dogs with us. Another logistical consideration was what to do with my full-sized Chevy truck. Aware of the expenses and parking challenges in California, and knowing that I would be provided a work car by the FBI, we decided to sell my truck.
After an intense three days of furiously packing, we set off for California. As we began to work our way west through the Texas hill country, I felt like Frodo or Bilbo from Middle Earth setting off on a great quest that would be filled with adventure. I had a sense of excitement, tempered with an underlying gritty knowledge of the profession I had chosen. It was getting close to show time for me as an FBI agent. There was no more training; it was time for the real deal. The bad guys would be real, and they would be firing real bullets. No whistles or instructors would stop the action in a tight spot. Expectations would be high. A small screw-up could result in immediately getting fired, a medium screw-up could mean the difference between life and death for me or others, and a major screw-up could have disastrous consequences for the FBI and for our country. The phrase, “Be careful what you ask for, because you just might get it,” played through my head numerous times and seemed to be stuck on repeat the entire time that I served as an FBI agent. But overall I tried not to think negatively rather to enjoy each moment.
We had sunny skies, good tunes, and good times heading west. We took three days to drive to San Diego from Austin. We stopped overnight in El Paso and Tucson. Along the way we saw vast desert landscapes and stopped to see Saguaro National Park. It was enjoyable but could have been more fun if we did not have the uncertainty and stress awaiting us at the other end of the move.
Our hectic move to San Diego is more evidence that the life of FBI agents is best suited for people without significant others. In the 2007 movie Breach, which was filmed during my time at the FBI Academy, Laura Linney stars as an FBI supervisor over a terrorism squad that figures out that there is an internal mole who heads up the FBI’s Soviet counterterrorism division. This true story is fascinating, and the movie is faithful to the facts with minimal artistic license. In the movie, the Laura Linney character, whom I would later meet in San Diego when she became the Assistant Special Agent in charge, was shown as having no personal life, being forced to eat TV dinners, without enough personal time or stability even to have a cat. This is an accurate depiction that is commonplace for many agents. However, at this early point in my FBI career, I was still optimistic that the FBI would be a good family organization, although I knew that my violent crime squad assignment was going to pose a challen
ge to that.
We finally entered the state of California and made our way across the desert floor, over the Colorado River, past the giant sand dunes, and along the Mexican border on Interstate 8 all the way to El Centro, California. As I had learned at the FBI Academy when ranking my desired cities to be assigned, El Centro is one of the satellite offices out of the main San Diego FBI office. Sometimes agents, including new ones, have the unlucky draw of being assigned to El Centro. El Centro resembled every other small border town that I had seen along the Mexican border. Signs of poverty were evident. As something of an outdoorsman and former motocross racer, I could have managed to be happy in El Centro by myself by riding in the sand dunes and exploring the desert, at least for a limited time. However, I imagined that the lack of luxurious grocery stores, the scarcity of restaurants, and the few entertainment options would have quickly eroded the small amount of enjoyment that El Centro could offer. I felt thankful that I had wound up in the city of San Diego, because if I had been assigned to the El Centro office, my wife and I would have felt confined and dissatisfied.
After a brief stop in El Centro, we began winding our way up through the mountain range that separates the desert from San Diego and the Pacific Ocean. The temperatures were cool, and elevation quickly rose from sea level up to 5000 feet. The mountains were pretty but not beautiful, displaying a rugged, arid quality. Trees were small and scrubby, and there were no waterfalls or rivers. When we finally arrived on the outskirts of San Diego, Interstate 8 widened to five or six lanes, and I began to feel like I was really in California. Palm trees became plentiful; the scenery continued to improve. We crossed over more hills, passed by the University of San Diego, and made our way into the Mission Valley area of San Diego where our hotel, Mission Valley Resort, was located. This hotel was one of the few that claimed to be pet friendly yet was somewhat affordable. The FBI did have a small travel allowance, but it did not quite cover our stay at the Mission Valley resort, which was really a 1950s style hotel, and was dated and somewhat rundown.
The beauty of San Diego exceeded our high expectations, revealing numerous hills and trees. We already loved it, without even having seen a beach. We familiarized ourselves with San Diego for the next couple of days and searched for apartments that were within a couple of miles of the beach. San Diego beaches are beautiful, although these areas tend to attract transient residents. Beach bums young and old are prevalent, and we had to ask ourselves if we were willing to tolerate this crowd along with unbelievably high prices, just to live near the beach. We finally decided that we really are not “beach people,” and that we would not mind a fifteen minute drive to get to the ocean.
We finally settled on living in an area called Tierrasanta, known as “the island in the hills,” which happened to be conveniently located across the Interstate from the San Diego main FBI office, which is where the majority of agents and squads in San Diego are based. I knew my initial assignment in San Diego would be working downtown in a small office, but I thought that it could not hurt being located somewhat close to the main office in case I was moved to another squad. We settled on an apartment complex that had a policy that allowed for two pets and had ample green grass, so we decided that our dogs would be happy there. Once the kitties arrived with my mother, who would visit in another month, we planned to keep them hidden; I did feel some guilt in being an FBI agent who was willing to be deceitful, even for something as harmless as going over the limit for the number of pets at an apartment. Not unlike most criminal minds, I was able to rationalize my behavior: FBI agents ultimately need to be practical and have common sense.
The apartments we settled on were attractive in appearance, but were older units, most without air conditioning. We paid an additional sum for air conditioning, which amounted to a window unit placed in a hole that was cut in the living room wall. This two bedroom apartment, with a size of approximately 700 square feet, cost $1700 per month. Clearly we were not in Texas anymore, where the same quality of accommodations would cost about half that amount.
We got moved in and tried to get settled. At that point our possessions consisted of only what we had packed in the car. We brought an air mattress, which we used as our bed for a few days. I had to start my job at the FBI before the movers arrived with our remaining possessions, including furniture and clothing. I am the type of person who likes to have everything in place and organized before I can really concentrate on anything else. It was difficult for me to start work knowing that my life at home was in a state of limbo. But the business of the FBI does not stop and wait for agents to get their personal lives arranged. Welcome to the San Diego FBI.
Part II
Adjusting to Life as a New Agent
CHAPTER 17
Street Agent Day One
My first day in the San Diego field office was Monday, May 1, 2006. I did not sleep well the night before; I was extremely nervous. I knew that my violent crime assignment would be dangerous and that the job could be all-consuming. This would prove to be an accurate prediction.
Jennifer dropped me off in front of the main FBI field office in San Diego at 8:00 a.m., and I approached the gate with my credentials in hand. A uniformed, armed guard at the entry point told me to wait, and then I was greeted by a friendly female agent, Special Agent Sarah Ely, who was about my age. She was warm and personable; I could tell that she could identify with the difficulties and anguish associated with an agent’s first real day on the job. She introduced me to people and helped me get established with a new photo ID card, passwords, and equipment. With any job most individuals can expect to feel some apprehension when meeting new people and learning new things. The FBI experience is a highly magnified, intense version of a “first day at work.”
When touring the main office, I learned about security protocols for the San Diego FBI Division, along with the location of the bathrooms, interview rooms, file rooms, squad areas, and the evidence room location. Little did I know how many times I would frequent the evidence room in the coming months. I was issued an FBI car, commonly referred to a “bu-car,” which stands for Bureau car. I quickly learned that the stereotype of the FBI driving American sedans proved to be true. The FBI parking lot was packed with Crown Victorias, Suburbans, and other assorted American makes and models. My assigned car was a five-year-old Buick with nearly 100,000 miles on the odometer. The car had enough wear on it to make me wonder if the odometer had previously flipped the 100,000 mark and perhaps the car was 200,000 or even 300,000 miles old. The vehicle had no window tint, which gave me immediate concern about how I would be able to conduct surveillance. At first glance I was less than thrilled about my ride. However, once I climbed in and discovered how to turn on a completely dazzling assortment of colorful flashing strobe lights, a siren, and bullhorn, I was as excited as a five-year-old who just received his or her first bicycle.
After introductions, orientation, and processing at the main San Diego field office, it was time to head downtown to meet my new supervisor and squad mates. Much to my amazement, our downtown San Diego satellite office, located in an office building near the United States Attorney's office, did not have permanent parking spaces allocated to the FBI. So rather than parking in a location with immediate proximity to the office, we were issued a magnetic card which would allow us to park in a nearby mall parking garage. I learned that each morning I would have to park at the mall, walk through the mall, and then cross the street to my building. A fifteen story elevator ride and a few winding corridors later, I would finally be at my office. This amazed me, because depending on factors such as traffic, elevator availability, and available mall parking spots, ten minutes could easily pass before making it to a vehicle when responding to an urgent call, including in-progress bank robberies. This did not seem to be a brilliant idea for a location for the FBI’s violent crime squad, where agents are expected to drop everythin
g and immediately react when crimes occur.
However, I personally enjoyed being located in downtown San Diego and parking in a mall. Shops, waterfront eats, and places to walk and get fresh air were everywhere. This was my first experience working in a downtown environment, which was a pleasant change from the dull suburban corporate office parks that I had previously worked in.
My new supervisor, Supervisory Special Agent Harry Norris, was a young, vibrant, and practical agent whom I came to greatly respect and enjoy working for during my early days in the Bureau. Meeting SSA Norris for the first time, I explained that my household goods had not even reached San Diego. He told me that I had several more days to arrange my personal affairs as needed, and had an understanding that it is difficult to perform professionally when one’s personal life is not in order. Immediately, I could see that the people on the front lines of the FBI in field offices have a human side and try to make an incredibly difficult job as manageable as possible. However, despite the best efforts of seasoned veterans in the FBI, I would soon find that working on an all-consuming violent crime squad would not mesh well with personal time or family life, despite my best attempts not to be pulled into a nearly 24/7 work schedule.
I was also introduced to my training agent, the person officially assigned to help mentor me as a new agent for my first two years in the FBI. This is the person that new agents can direct questions to, and they have responsibility to make sure that new agents gain relevant professional experiences. They also ensure that the new agent’s experiences are recorded in a training manual to demonstrate successful on-the-job completion of a variety of basic skills that FBI agents need to possess. I was assigned to Special Agent Daniel Easton, who also served as the bank robbery coordinator for the FBI in the Southern California San Diego area. SA Easton had a fantastic range of experience through working eighteen years of cases, with many involving violent crime. I knew that I was in good company and that in any situation I would have an excellent support person to consult for advice and direction. Throughout the FBI, most experienced agents are compassionate, understanding, and helpful by nature and prove to be invaluable assets for new agents.
Eyes Pried Open_Rookie FBI Agent Page 8