Eyes Pried Open
Page 25
I was less than excited to be participating in this final arrest. I was somewhat superstitious about my safety; I had navigated nearly two years of guns, arrests, and danger, and squeezing in “just one more” arrest seemed to be tempting fate. Jennifer showed even less enthusiasm for this development. She wanted me to refuse to participate since I was leaving anyway. But I wanted to end my short career on a positive note, and this arrest would help provide closure not only for this particular case, but for me personally.
We devised a creative plan to arrest this individual safely by employing the help of our friends at the California Highway Patrol, known as “Chippies.” We used a ruse of having the “Chippies” call Lane to tell him that he needed to swing by a CHP substation to fix a problem with his driver’s license and receive a new license. My partner and I waited in the office of a CHP supervisor for the subject to arrive. Once he did, he was directed into the office, and his face immediately fell when he saw us. He gave a valiant and ingenious effort to talk his way out of being arrested, but there was no way we were leaving the building without having him in handcuffs.
I got behind the wheel of my partner’s brand new Chrysler 300 and tried my best to soak in the experience while I drove the subject to the federal prison. I led my last prisoner into the prison in what I hoped would be my last visit to any penitentiary for the rest of my life. The sun had disappeared behind the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean. Although I had a few more administrative days as an agent, I felt my career come to a close as the evening yielded to darkness.
CHAPTER 48
Adios, California; Hello, Texas
My last day as an FBI agent finally arrived, and I had to turn in my badge, credentials, and gun. This was surprisingly not as emotionally draining as I had imagined; I simply handed over these items to my ASAC and signed some paperwork, and I was done. I also turned in a pair of handcuffs, although thanks to my excellent partner agent Janet, who provided a spare set of cuffs to me for this purpose, I was able to keep my personal handcuffs that I had been using from the FBI Academy all the way to my last arrest. These cuffs remain a cherished souvenir of my time in the FBI.
I never lost my sense of humor during my time in the FBI. I decided to leave one last going-away prank for my coworkers. Several days before my final day, I had figured out how to write an email and schedule delivery for a future date using Microsoft Outlook. My inner humor writer kicked in, and I composed an outrageous fictitious story about why I was leaving. My message was delivered a week later when I was back in Texas, and the feedback I received was that most recipients had a tremendous laugh when they read it, but some of the management was not at all pleased that a former employee was somehow able to send out an email on a strictly internal FBI system which I no longer had access to. I was glad to solidify my reputation as being a person with humor and cleverness, one who marches to the beat of his own drum.
As a testament to the good nature of my fellow coworkers and agents, there was a large going-away celebration held for me on my last day. Although I felt like I was abandoning these dedicated people who would continue to fight crime, they still were willing to celebrate my departure. There are no words that can express my appreciation for this. Not only did it make me feel well liked, but it helped me to hold my head high as I departed my life of fighting crime for a new chapter in my life. After a number of handshakes, hugs, and even a few tears, I said goodbye to this incredible group of people who had been my friends and family in California. Although I would never see most of them again, I would also never forget them, nor would I forget the sacrifices that they personally continue to make for the sake of this country. These FBI employees that make a choice every day to sacrifice themselves, be it physically or emotionally, for the benefit of others are true heroes.
Jennifer and I had been packing and preparing for our move back to Texas. We loaded up our animals early on a Saturday morning, the day after my last day in the FBI, and departed San Diego. The view of San Diego in the mirror was a relief but also haunting at the same time. We had driven in on the same highway less than two years earlier, with joy and high hopes for a rewarding life in California. This was truly the end of an era. However, even if this door was closing, another door had opened for us back in Texas, and I was ready to step through that door and begin a new life.
It took less than twenty four hours of leaving the FBI to be reminded that I was no longer part of the law enforcement community. Driving back to Texas, I was pulled over in a stretch of highway in New Mexico for speeding. The speed limit on Interstate 10 was eighty miles per hour, which was a safe speed to travel for the vast and unpopulated stretches that are found throughout the southwestern United States. Thinking that I was obeying the law, I missed seeing a sixty five miles per hour sign in a tiny desert town that consisted of a gas station and a bar. I saw flashing lights, pulled over, and was informed that I was speeding. I had to laugh to myself because as an agent I had sped on countless occasions and never once been pulled over. The cop was cordial, but I had the primal feeling return to me that “cops are the enemy” as he scrawled out a ticket. I was no longer an FBI agent, part of a brotherhood of people who risk their lives to fight crime. I had rejoined the ranks of the average citizens who flash lights to each other when approaching a speed trap, and generally have an “us versus them” attitude towards the police, despite the difficult job and sacrifices that are made by law enforcement every day for the safety and benefit of the public.
We finally crossed the Texas state line, and Jennifer and I felt a sense of excitement and relief. We stopped at a Texas Roadhouse restaurant, and the food and service could not have been better. We were in high spirits, and elated to be back in the state we considered our home. I cannot adequately describe the sense of relief knowing that I truly would no longer have to answer middle-of-the-night emergency phone calls. There would be no more interruptions of our weekend or vacation plans. I would not be thrust into a spur-of-the-moment situation where it was up to me to use my gun to try to stop a deadly encounter. I was back to being a normal guy, and could now focus on enjoying my family life. My mind would no longer need to work continuously on trying to solve life-or-death puzzles. I was free.
Part V
Epilogue
An agent once told me that being in the FBI was something like finding out about the true nature of our reality, a theme depicted in science fiction, including the movie The Matrix. Most people in life just take the “blue pill.” They live in their own little universe, blind to many of the forces that drive the world, both good and bad. But when an agent joins the FBI, he or she is swallowing a “red pill.” He or she learns about things that he or she could have never imagined. Many of those things are bad. Our eyes are pried open. Things are never quite the same once a person looks under the hood of the world with the perspective of an FBI agent. But to some degree, time has eroded my undesirable memories about the worst parts of our society, and I have returned to having a generally positive outlook about people and the world we live in.
I now work for the State of Texas and perform long-term strategic planning for IT systems and operations. My IT job certainly does not have the excitement or prestige in the public’s eye that my former FBI job had. When introducing myself to someone, the phrase “I’m a TOGAF certified Enterprise Architect” somehow does not have the same effect as “I’m an FBI agent.” I love my job, but when describing my work I tend to elicit yawns from the recipients of my conversation. However, I know that my contributions to society with my current job exceed what I did as an FBI agent. My skillset is much better used. I am a much happier person. I enjoy every day; I enjoy life. And I make a difference for the citizens of the state, even if I do not see the results directly like I did in the FBI.
I have never forgotten the words of the FBI Defensive Tactics instructor who had allowed me
to pass the pushups portion of my fitness test, but pulled me aside and told me to never settle for anything less than my best effort. With an inner drive to continue to challenge myself, and with encouragement from my niece in Chicago, I decided to register for the Chicago marathon. On September 1, 2010, in preparation for the race, I was enjoying a long training run around Ladybird Lake in Austin, Texas. I rounded a corner on the trail by the water and came across a gathering of nearly twenty people staring at the lake. Aside from the sound of traffic on the nearby Lamar Bridge, there was silence. Silence, that is, until I heard a woman’s screams coming from the lake, which were then cut off because her head disappeared underwater.
She was drowning. Nobody was helping. I immediately ripped my music player and headphones off, jumped in the lake, and swam about thirty yards out to the woman in distress. I reached her while she was still near the surface, and despite her desperately flailing arms, I managed to lift her head out of the water enough that she could get some air. In the meantime, two other men swam out to help. The three of us were able to successfully pull the thrashing woman back to shore and out of the water to the safety of dry land, where she coughed up some water but was otherwise physically ok. On that day I contributed to saving the life of a person, and I didn’t even need a badge or gun to do so.
The world turns because of all types of people in different professions. The FBI is really not adding “value” to the economy, at least not in the same way that workers add to the Gross Domestic Product when building cars, designing football stadiums, or programming smartphone applications. Agents stamp out problems caused by criminals, but if one looks ahead optimistically towards the United States having a good workforce and a more productive society, many years down the road, need for FBI agents could cease to exist. An unarmed man or woman sitting in a corporate cube can make more of a difference than a machine gun-toting FBI agent to society. The FBI has heroes, but so do the cube-filled corporate and government halls throughout America. Doctors, nurses, marketing managers, sanitation truck drivers, real estate agents, salespeople, and McDonald’s employees all help drive the economy and make our country the best in the world. Sometimes people only need to understand that their impact may not be directly seen. We are all small cogs in a big machine, but those cogs are critical to the nation, our economy, and our way of life.
If asked what my advice would be to someone who is interested in becoming an agent, I would reply, “Be bold and fearless, and if your dream is to be an FBI agent, by all means give it a shot.” But when people apply to be in the FBI and they do not make it in, they should know that life may have even bigger, better, and more important roles in store for them. We all should try to make the most of every single day, and remember that as John Lennon sang, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
THE END
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