Behind the Badge

ATF joins Coudersport’s celebration of Special Agent Eliot Ness’s 100th law enforcement career anniversary, Saturday, August 22

2026-08-14T20:36:59.409-07:00

PHILADELPHIA – ATF Philadelphia Field Division will join the Coudersport community to celebrate Special Agent Eliot Ness’s 100th Law Enforcement Career Anniversary, with the Eliot Ness Museum, Borough of Coudersport, Potter County Historical Society, Cleveland Police Historical Society & Museum and more.

Saturday, August 22

Downtown Coudersport, Pa.

www.visitpottertioga.com/event/eliot-ness-day

Special Agent Eliot Ness was sworn in to the Bureau of Prohibition, August 2026. At the conclusion of Prohibition, the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax Division was developed with the added responsibility of enforcing federal firearms laws. In 1972, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms was created with its current mission of preventing violent crimes through the enforcement of firearms and explosives laws.

ATF Philadelphia’s Field Division is responsible for ATF criminal enforcement and industry regulatory activities in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. Our dedicated work force is comprised of special agents, investigators, canine handlers, auditors, technicians, legal counsel and support staff.

Father whose toddler fatally shot himself charged federally for illegally possessing firearm as previously convicted felon

2026-07-17T16:26:25.006-07:00

U.S. Attorney's Office, Southern District of Ohio

COLUMBUS, Ohio – A previously convicted felon whose toddler died by gunshot wound from an unsecured gun now faces a federal charge for illegally possessing a firearm.

Deshawn Levelle Butler, 35, of Columbus, was arrested by federal agents earlier today and appeared in federal court in Columbus at 1:30pm.

“As a previously convicted felon, Butler was prohibited from possessing firearms and ammunition at the time of this incident,” said U.S. Attorney Dominick S. Gerace II. “Nothing can bring back the toddler who tragically died at the hands of Butler’s weapon, but we will use every federal tool at our disposal to ensure justice is accomplished in this matter.”

According to charging documents, on July 11, Columbus police officers responded to a report of a shooting on Quinby Drive in Columbus. When officers arrived, they located a 21-month-old child suffering from an apparent gunshot wound and were told the child had accidentally shot himself. The victim was transported to Mount Carmel East Hospital and later pronounced deceased.

An affidavit details that Butler was allegedly with the child during the shooting and had fled the scene prior to law enforcement officials’ arrival.

Butler turned himself in the next morning to Columbus police headquarters, where he allegedly told officers his son had discovered Butler’s 9mm handgun in an open safe in a bedroom.

Butler was previously convicted of aggravated burglary and, as a result, is legally prohibited from possessing a firearm or ammunition. Butler also had outstanding warrants for misdemeanor domestic violence charges.

Possessing a firearm as a convicted felon is punishable by up to 15 years in prison.

Dominick S. Gerace II, United States Attorney for the Southern District of Ohio; Jorge Rosendo, Special Agent in Charge, U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms & Explosives (ATF), and Columbus Police Chief Elaine Bryant announced the charges. Assistant United States Attorney Elizabeth A. Geraghty is representing the United States in this case.

A criminal complaint merely contains allegations, and defendants are presumed innocent unless proven guilty in a court of law.

Officer Down... Sort Of

2026-07-12T18:20:18.711-07:00

Rain changes a city.

Most people think of Los Angeles as sunshine and palm trees. Cops know a different Los Angeles. Sometime around three in the morning, after a winter rain, downtown became another world. The streets glistened beneath the streetlights. Storefronts shimmered in the wet pavement. There were no pedestrians, no traffic, and almost no sound beyond the occasional hiss of tires somewhere blocks away. In the mid-1980s, very few people actually lived downtown. Once the businesses closed, much of Central Division became a ghost town.

On nights like that, Wayne and I traded our foot beat for a radio car.

The call was a Code 30—a silent commercial burglary alarm on the fifteenth floor of an office building near the Jewelry District. Burglary alarms were funny things. They were dispatched as low-priority calls because most turned out to be nothing. Rain leaked into alarm systems. Thunder rattled windows. Electrical contacts failed. You could spend an entire rainy shift answering false alarms.

The mistake was assuming they were always false.

Commercial burglaries were common in Central Division, and many of the professionals didn't bother with doors or windows. They came through the roof.

Normally we'd ask Air Support to check it. Piper Technical Center—Piper Tech to everyone on the street—was only a few minutes away on the north end of the division and housed what was then the world's largest rooftop heliport. But after a rainy night, especially around three in the morning, helicopters weren't always flying.

If you wanted the roof checked, sometimes you checked it yourself.

Some officers carried grappling hooks in the trunk of their black-and-whites, tossing them over roof parapets and climbing hand over hand to the top. I never got quite that ambitious, but I'd climbed more than one telephone pole after parking on the sidewalk so I could reach the utility pegs and step onto a warehouse roof.

This building offered something easier.

As we pulled into the alley behind it, we found the exterior fire escape hanging just low enough that, standing on the hood of the patrol car, we could pull the bottom section down.

Someone could have used it.

That was enough for me.

We started climbing.

I took the lead while Wayne followed a few steps behind. The old steel fire escape had probably been hanging on the side of that building since Roosevelt was president. Every step echoed through the metal.

About four floors up Wayne called out.

"You're walking too heavy."

I stopped and looked down.

"What do you mean I'm walking too heavy?"

"You're making the whole damn thing shake."

Sure enough, every step sent a shiver through the old fire escape.

So, naturally, when I reached the next landing, I jumped.

I landed as hard as I could.

The entire fire escape exploded into rattles, bangs, and vibrations that seemed to travel all the way to the sidewalk fifteen stories below.

There was a moment of silence.

Then Wayne yelled, "You're an asshole!"

Another pause.

"You can go the rest of the way yourself."

I laughed.

What I didn't appreciate at the time was that Wayne wasn't just irritated.

He didn't like heights.

To him, that ancient fire escape wasn't just making a little noise. It was announcing its intention to tear itself off the side of the building with both of us attached to it.

He climbed back down.

I climbed the remaining ten stories alone.

By the time I reached the roof, I was breathing hard. My heavy LAPD bomber jacket—with its synthetic shell and thick wool collar—felt like it had doubled in weight after fifteen flights of stairs. Add in the leather Sam Browne belt, revolver, spare ammunition, handcuffs, baton, portable radio, and flashlight, and every step had become a workout.

The roof was empty.

I swept it with my Streamlight. It wasn't department-issued; I'd bought it with my own money. Streamlights were expensive enough that owning one was almost a point of pride. The replacement bulbs alone cost nearly a day's pay. That's one reason I always smiled when someone claimed cops routinely hit people with their flashlights. Maybe somebody did somewhere, but not with a Streamlight. Breaking that bulb would have cost you close to a hundred dollars in 1980s money.

No burglars.

No tools.

No fresh footprints.

I switched my portable radio to the partner channel, the little toggle that let us talk without the dispatcher hearing.

"Hey, Wayne. Nothing up here. I'll be heading back down."

I switched back and walked toward the fire escape.

That's when I noticed the trash bag.

It was a large black plastic trash bag lying near the edge of the roof.

An idea immediately presented itself.

I dragged the bag over to the fire escape and stepped onto the top landing.

"Hey, Wayne!" I shouted.

"I'm coming down!"

A second later I yelled, "I slipped!"

Then I screamed.

"Ahhhhh!"

At the same time, I hurled the trash bag over the side.

From Wayne's position on the ground, all he could see was my flashlight suddenly bouncing wildly across the side of the building, hear me screaming, and watch a large dark object tumble fifteen stories toward the patrol car.

The bag hit the hood with a tremendous smack and burst open in every direction.

Wayne was convinced he'd just watched his partner fall to his death.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his microphone.

"Officer needs help!"

Then he requested an ambulance.

Still standing safely on the fire escape, I grabbed my radio.

"Wayne... cancel it."

Silence.

"Wayne... cancel it."

A long pause.

"You son of a bitch..."

By the time I reached the sidewalk, I was laughing so hard I could barely stand.

Wayne wasn't.

Not even a little.

In the space of about three seconds, he'd gone from irritated...to terrified...to furious.

Nearly twenty years later I introduced him to my wife.

She smiled and said, "Oh...you're that Wayne."

He looked at me.

Then at her.

Then back at me.

"I still haven't forgiven him."

Police officers remember shootings.

They remember pursuits.

They remember the calls that almost got them killed.

Wayne remembered the rainy night he thought his partner had fallen fifteen stories to his death because that partner happened to be the biggest smart-ass in Central Division.

ATF Offers Additional $7,500 Seeking Information Regarding an Explosion

2026-07-06T12:39:41.399-07:00

The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF), in coordination with the New York Police Department (NYPD) Crime Stoppers is seeking the public’s assistance in locating the person responsible for the July 3, 2016 explosion in Central Park. The NYPD Crime Stoppers is offering $3,500 for information leading to the arrest and indictment of the individual responsible.

Upon arrest and conviction, the NYPD Crime Stoppers is offering an additional $6,500 and ATF $7,500. The explosion critically injured a victim, resulting in the traumatic amputation of the victim’s leg. The NYPD and ATF are seeking information about the bag pictured below and the explosion.

Anyone wanting to provide information should contact NYPD Crime Stoppers at 1-800-577-TIPS (1-800-577-8477) or www.p3tips.com. ATF, New York Field Division, Reward Notice New York Field Division

Somebody Quit

2026-07-01T16:01:39.816-07:00

There were a couple of times during the process of becoming a Los Angeles police officer when I honestly did not think I was going to make it. Looking back now, after a career that lasted almost a quarter of a century, it is easy to make the whole thing sound inevitable, as if one thing naturally led to another and I was always going to end up wearing that badge. That is not how it felt at the time. At the time, it felt like a long, paper-driven obstacle course, where every step might be the one where somebody finally looked at my file, shook his head, and said, “No, not this one.”

The hiring process in the late 1970s was long, or at least it seemed long to a nineteen-year-old who wanted the job more than he probably understood. There were no computers in the way we think of them now, no online application portal, no email update, no little progress bar telling you where you stood. Everything was paper and pencil. Files were actual files. Folders were actual folders. Notices came in the mail. If someone had to reach you quickly, they called the house, and if you were not there, you hoped somebody wrote the message down correctly. The whole thing moved at the speed of government, paper, postage, and whatever stack your manila folder happened to be sitting in that week.

I applied when I was nineteen, probably nineteen and a half, because I wanted to give the process plenty of time. You had to be twenty-one to be appointed, and I figured if I started early enough, all the testing and investigating and interviewing would line up about right. The written test came first, and from what I remember, it was not exactly the California Bar Exam. It felt like an SAT test written for an eighth grader, and I may be giving it too much credit. Then came the oral interview. I have no idea whether I did well enough that I would get hired today. Maybe I did. Maybe I did not. But in the late 1970s, I did well enough to keep moving.

The first time I really started to wonder whether I was in trouble was during the background investigation, and that took me back to Parker Center. I had been to Parker Center once before, when I was in about the third grade, on a school field trip sometime around 1967. Back then, Parker Center was still fairly new. It had opened in 1955 and was named after William H. Parker, the LAPD chief who was considered the great reform chief, the man credited with taking the department into the modern era. By the time I first walked through it as a little kid, it had only been open about twelve years. It must have looked impressive to me then, although what I mostly remember is that feeling kids have when they are taken into a serious adult building and told to stay together, keep quiet, and not touch anything.

When I walked back into Parker Center as a police applicant, the building had been standing for almost twenty-five years, and they'd been twenty-five hard years. Police buildings age differently than other buildings. They absorb cigarette smoke, bad coffee, floor wax, radio traffic, long nights, hard decisions, and thousands of cops carrying pieces of the city through their hallways. To a twenty-year-old kid trying to get hired, Parker Center wasn't just another city building. It was where cops came from. Every name I'd ever heard my father mention seemed to pass through that building. Promotions happened there. Investigations started there. Careers began there. Looking back now, I realize I wasn't just walking into headquarters. I was walking into the place where my own career might begin—or end.

I went in through the front because I did not know any better. Eventually I made my way up to the background investigator, and he took me into a small interview room. The room was dark, or at least that is how I remember it. There was a single light in the ceiling, a wooden bench, and two wooden chairs set across from each other. It had that worn government-building look, where nothing was designed to be comfortable and nothing had been replaced until it absolutely had to be. The place smelled like old walls, cigarette smoke, and coffee. It was not designed as an interrogation room, but when you are nineteen or twenty and hoping somebody lets you become a police officer, almost any small room with a man holding your future in a folder feels like an interrogation room.

The background investigator was a slight man, almost spider-like in his thinness and in the way he moved. He had greasy black hair and a mustache that was thin in shape, not thin because it lacked hair, just drawn across his upper lip like a line. At the time I thought he was about sixty years old. Looking back, he was probably in his thirties. He had one manila folder with a few sheets of paper in it, maybe five or six, and he had a mechanical pencil that he kept clicking. He clicked it when he needed more lead, and he clicked it when he did not need more lead. I think it was a nervous habit, although at the time I thought maybe he did it to bother people.

He also had a cup of coffee in one of those paper cups that came out of vending machines, the ones with playing cards printed around the side and the hidden card underneath the bottom, so you could play poker with your coffee cup after the coffee was gone. That cup had a very particular smell, a mixture of weak vending-machine coffee and hot paper. He was smoking a cigarette because, of course, you could still smoke inside the police building. He sat there across from me, cigarette burning, ashtray nearby, coffee cup on the table, mechanical pencil clicking in his hand, and he started going through his questions.

What I did not know at the time was that he had been my father’s partner in Vice. My father was a police officer for more than thirty years, and someday I will tell the story of the years when he and I were both on the department at the same time, because my first ten years were essentially his last ten years. But sitting in that room, I did not know this man knew my father. I did not know he and Dad had worked together. I just knew he had my folder, and he was asking me questions, and I needed to get through the interview without saying something stupid.

The questions went along. Nothing too dramatic at first. Background questions. Personal questions. Things designed to find out whether you were honest, whether you had done something they needed to know about, whether you were hiding some disaster in your past. Then, without much change in expression, he looked at me and asked:

“Have you ever had sex with an animal?”

I paused. Not because I had to think through my history with livestock, but because I was not sure if it was a trick question. Human beings are animals, right? That is what went through my mind. I was young, I was nervous, and I was trying to answer the question correctly.

So I asked a clarifying question.

“You mean like people?”

He looked right at me.

“No. Like chickens. You ever fuck a chicken?”

That was the high point or the low point of the interview, depending on how you want to look at it. The answer stumbled out of me before I could do anything with it.

“No. No chickens. No, no chickens.”

I have to admit, of all the answers I'd rehearsed on the drive to Parker Center, none of them involved chickens.

He seemed satisfied with that. He moved on, and eventually the interview ended, but I walked out of Parker Center wondering what kind of person he thought I was. I did not know then that questions like that, or versions of them, were part of the process. I certainly did not know they could be that specific. Chickens seemed unnecessarily precise. I left there thinking my background might be questionable, although I was not entirely sure what part of my life suggested poultry was going to be an issue.

Eventually, though, I moved forward in the process and was sent to Central Receiving Hospital for the physical. Central Receiving Hospital was another one of those places that belonged to the old Los Angeles police world. Its history went back a long way, all the way to the early days of the city’s emergency medical system. The original receiving hospital system had its roots in the nineteenth century, and over the years it moved through different locations as the city grew and changed. There had been the old Georgia Street Police Station connection, and I remember that building too, because the old-timers talked about it and because it was part of the history of the police ambulance service. Georgia Street eventually became something else, like so many old civic buildings do. The place I reported to was the Central Receiving Hospital at Sixth Street and Loma Drive, the one that had opened after the move from Georgia Street in the 1950s.

For cops of that era, these places mattered. Parker Center mattered. Central Receiving mattered. Georgia Street mattered. They were not just addresses; they were shared reference points. Generations of officers passed through them, got examined in them, waited in them, stood in hallways in them, and remembered them later with the strange affection people develop for uncomfortable places that marked important turns in their lives. Central Receiving had the look and feel of an old government medical building. There was linoleum, metal desks, paper forms, nurses who knew exactly what they were doing, and that institutional smell of disinfectant, old paint, and bureaucracy. It was not glamorous, but it was part of the gate you had to pass through.

The physical examination went fine, at least as far as I knew. When it was over, before I left, a nurse asked me if I had time to take the psychological test. I had set the whole day aside, so I said sure. I was not in charge of anything. If they told me to sit somewhere, I sat. If they handed me papers, I filled them out. If they gave me a test, I took the test.

The test was long. I think now it may have been the MMPI, the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory, but I cannot swear to that. I just remember a long personality test with question after question after question. Some of them were simple. Some were odd. Some seemed so ordinary you wondered why anyone would ask them. I have a good appetite. I wake up fresh and restored most mornings. I think I would enjoy the work of a librarian. My father is a good man. I feel anxious. I do not feel as smart as other people. I like dogs. I like cats. I think Jesus is coming back. There were a ton of them, and after a while the questions started to feel like they were circling back on themselves, asking the same thing from another direction to see if you would contradict yourself.

I answered all the questions and went home. Later, I received a postcard in the mail giving me a date for my psychological interview. So I went back to Central Receiving Hospital, checked in, and the nurse said they needed to give me the test. I did not know it was going to be the same test. I just said okay. I was twenty years old, and if they were giving me a test, I was taking the test. That was the relationship. They had the job. I wanted the job.

Once I started, the test seemed familiar. Then it seemed very familiar. I remember thinking, I believe this is the same test I already took. But I did not know the protocol. Maybe they gave it twice. Maybe one was for scoring and one was for comparison. Maybe I was wrong. I had no idea. So I sat there and took the test again. I did not march up to the desk and announce that the system had made a mistake. I was not there to supervise the Los Angeles Police Department’s hiring process. I was there to become part of it, if they would let me.

After I finished, I waited maybe fifteen minutes, and then they called me into a room. It looked like a hospital doctor’s office, or at least the government version of one. I remember the green linoleum floor and a large metal desk, the kind of big gray government desk you would see in a police station, a military office, or some forgotten city department. The desk was covered with papers. Not arranged papers. Covered. Files, forms, stacks, notes, and whatever else was part of the work of deciding whether young men like me were mentally suitable to carry a badge and a gun.

The psychologist sat across from me. He had sandy brown hair and sideburns, which I remember for some reason. Some images stick because you were under stress when you saw them, and his face, hair, desk, and that green floor stayed with me. He looked at me and asked:

“Why did you take the test a second time?”

I did not understand the question.

“I didn’t know I took the test a second time.”

He looked at me like that was not an acceptable answer.

“You didn’t know you took it twice?”

“You mean the test I just took?”

“Yes. You took it twice.”

“Yeah, you guys gave it to me twice. I didn’t ask for it.”

He kept pressing.

“Why did you take it twice?”

“I told you. They gave it to me. I didn’t know what it was going to be. There’s no way I would know.”

Then he asked me:

“Are you a tap dancer?”

Now I was really confused. I did not know whether he meant actual tap dancing, or whether this was some psychological phrase I had never heard before, or whether he thought I was trying to dance around his questions. I looked at him and said:

“I don’t understand what you’re saying to me.”

He said, “I think you tried to give me the answers you thought I wanted to hear.”

Maybe people do that on tests like that. Maybe everyone does it a little. Maybe some of the questions are designed to find out whether you are trying to make yourself sound better than you are. I do not know. What I knew in that moment was that I was getting angry. Not out-of-control angry, but irritated, frustrated, and insulted. I had not asked to take the test twice. I had not designed the process. I had done what they told me to do, and now the man across the desk seemed to be suggesting that I was somehow manipulating the process by following instructions.

Then he shifted to another question.

“When you get mad, do you ever break things?”

Because I was young, and because I was a smartass, and because by then I was tired of being treated like I was doing something wrong, I asked:

“Whose things?”

He looked at me.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I wouldn’t break my own things. I can tell you that much.”

He asked if I ever got that mad. I told him I got mad. Sure, I got mad. Everybody gets mad. I got frustrated. I got irritated. But no, I did not go around breaking things. That seemed to be enough for him. He said I could go. There was no reassurance, no explanation, no indication of how I had done. Just, okay, you can go. So I left Central Receiving Hospital thinking I had failed the psychological evaluation. Between the chicken question at Parker Center and the tap-dancer question at Central Receiving, I figured my chances were not looking good.

I walked out and started heading home, but I did not get far before I stopped near Sixth Street toward the Harbor Freeway and found a pay phone. That is another thing that belongs to the old city. A pay phone. No cell phone in your pocket. No text to your father. No quick call from the car. If you needed to talk to somebody, you found a pay phone, dropped a dime in the slot, and hoped they answered. I called my dad and told him I thought I had failed.

I told him first about the background interview, including the chicken question. He was not concerned.

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I know that guy.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I talked to him about it.”

That surprised me. I had no idea they knew each other, let alone that they had talked. Dad told me they had worked together, and that the background investigator was not a problem. That made me feel a little better, although only a little, because I still had the psychological interview sitting in my head like a bad verdict waiting to be announced.

I told him about the psychologist and the test and being asked why I took it twice and whether I was a tap dancer. Dad did not know that guy. He could not tell me it was fine. What he said was probably the only thing he could say.

“Don’t worry about it. There’s nothing that can be done. You did what you did.”

That was true, but it was not especially comforting. I hung up the phone and walked away thinking maybe I was not going to become a police officer after all. There was nothing to appeal, nothing to correct, nothing to explain. The process was the process. Somewhere, somebody would decide whether I moved on.

About a month later, the background investigator called and told me I was going to the Police Academy in February 1980. I believe that would have been the 280 class, and if anybody from that class ever reads this, that is what they told me. I had made it. At least that is what I thought. After all the tests, the interviews, the physical, the background, and the psychological, I was finally going to the Academy.

Then, on the Friday before the Monday I was supposed to report, the background investigator called again.

“Are you twenty-one?”

It was a strange question, because my birth date was in the paperwork. It had been in the paperwork from the beginning.

“No,” I said. “I’m not twenty-one until March.”

There was a problem. You could not go to the Academy until you were twenty-one. I was only a few weeks short, but a few weeks short was still short. The way he said it made it sound almost like I had tried to pull something, although I had not hidden anything. I had applied early because the process took time. They had my age. They had my birthday. They had my file. None of this should have been a surprise.

He told me he would call me back and maybe there would be a class in April. Maybe they could get me in then. So I did not go to the Academy in February. I waited again.

By April I was finally twenty-one. On Friday, April 18—or at least that's how I remember the timing—the background investigator called again. He told me there was an academy class starting Monday.

"Show up," he said.

I asked if I was in the class.

"No," he said. "You're not in the class. But show up anyway. If somebody quits, you'll get the job."

It sounded so strange that I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly. The whole idea seemed impossible. Show up to the Police Academy, even though I wasn't in the class, and hope somebody quit? That's not how jobs worked.

In fact, I believed him so little that I didn't even quit the job I already had. I simply didn't show up for work that Monday. I figured if this police academy thing didn't happen, I'd just go back to work on Tuesday with some excuse about a family emergency or a misunderstanding. It seemed like the safer bet.

So Monday morning, I reported to the Police Academy anyway.

They called the class roster, and my name was not on it. The drill instructor looked at me and asked who I was. I told him, “Sir, I was told that if somebody quit, I could have their job.”

He looked at me like, well, all right, because it was 1980 and strange things still happened in person, on paper, and over telephones. There was no computer system instantly settling the matter. There was no email trail. There was just me standing there, not on the roster, saying I had been told to report.

They let me stay. I went everywhere the class went that morning, even though I technically was not in the class. I was attached to them without belonging to them. I followed along, did what I was told, and waited. At noon, they broke for lunch. We were in the gymnasium, sitting on the floor with everybody else, when lunch ended and somebody did not come back.

Then I heard them calling my name.

Somebody had quit. Or somebody had left. Or somebody had decided before the first full day was over that the Los Angeles Police Academy was not for him. I do not know who he was. I do not know why he left. I do not know whether he had second thoughts, found something better, got scared, got mad, or simply understood before the rest of us did that this was not the life he wanted. All I know is that he did not come back from lunch, and because he did not come back, there was suddenly an empty place.

They gave that place to me.

The drill instructor or one of the staff told me, in effect, “Somebody quit, so you’re in.”

That was how I got the job.

For most of the process, I was never entirely sure I was going to make it. There were moments when I thought my background was going to sink me, moments when I thought the psychologist had decided I was too clever, too angry, or too something to become a cop, and moments when the department itself seemed unable to figure out whether I was old enough, ready enough, or actually in the class. But in the end, none of those doubts mattered. One young man left at lunch. I stayed. He walked out of the story, and I walked into it.

I never learned the name of the recruit who didn't come back after lunch. Maybe policing wasn't for him. Maybe another opportunity came along. Maybe he simply changed his mind. Whatever the reason, his decision changed my life.

Every patrol car I ever drove.

Every radio call I answered.

Every partner I worked with.

Every promotion I received.

Every story I've written about policing in Los Angeles.

They all trace back to one ordinary Monday in April 1980, when another young man stood up at lunch...

...and never came back

The Dangerous Cat

2026-06-22T21:11:38.361-07:00

Summer nights in Southwest Los Angeles were usually my favorite time to work. By then I had three or four years on the job and was already a training officer working graveyard shift in Southwest Area. Graveyard ran from about eleven at night until seven in the morning, and whenever I was in patrol, I was almost always working either graves or swings. Those were the hours I liked. The city felt different after midnight. The air was cooler, but the city certainly wasn't quieter. If anything, it was busier. The people who lived normal lives were asleep, and another Los Angeles had come alive.

Except during heat waves.

This was one of those late August or early September stretches when some high-pressure system settled over the basin and refused to move. The days were hot, but the nights were worse. The air got heavy and wet. The whole city felt like it had been wrapped in a damp blanket. In a wool uniform and a bulletproof vest, you sweat like a pig.

Which, under the circumstances, seemed appropriate.

At roll call we learned about a series of hot-prowl burglaries. Most people say their house got robbed, but cops don't use the words that way. Robbery is taking property from a person by force or fear. Burglary is entering a structure to steal something. A hot prowl is worse because the burglar is entering occupied homes while people are inside, usually asleep.

I'm not a psychologist, but this always struck me as something more than a property crime. This guy wasn't just stealing purses. He was sneaking into houses while people slept a few feet away. There seemed to be a thrill component to it, like he got a kick out of being inside somebody's home and walking around while they were there. That kind of person always seemed unstable to me and liable to do just about anything if something went wrong. To my way of thinking, this was a real dangerous cat.

There had already been at least a dozen of them in about five days. It was summertime, and people were sleeping with their windows open. Sometimes the suspect appeared to be reaching through an open window and grabbing a purse from a chair or table. Other times he was going all the way inside. Nobody knew how many homes he had actually entered. They only knew about the ones where someone discovered something missing.

That bothered me.

The next morning I went to detectives and got copies of the reports. They had an old map, but I wanted to look at the pattern myself. I pulled out a Thomas Guide, which some of you will remember, and started plotting the locations. What jumped out was that the burglaries weren't spread all over Southwest. They were concentrated in a very small area, roughly from Coliseum north toward 39th and Martin Luther King Boulevard, and from Norton on the west to somewhere around Westside or Welland on the east. It wasn't a big hunting ground. Maybe eight blocks wide and a block or two deep.

That night I went to the watch commander.

Lieutenant Marion Hellenkamp was working the night watch out of Southwest. She had a way of communicating entire conversations with a look. One look meant, "If you say that again, something bad is going to happen to you." The other look meant, "You're clever," or, "You're a good boy." I usually knew which one was coming because it depended almost entirely on my own conduct.

"Give me a shift," I told her. "I'll catch him."

She gave me one of those looks.

Then she asked, "What are you going to do?"

I told her the plan. This guy was taking women's purses. Sometimes from outside the window, sometimes from inside the house. He had been too consistent. To me, it looked like a compulsion. He wasn't taking nights off. He was going to be out there again.

When I finished, she said, "Okay. One shift. Off the books. Off the radio. No calls. Work the problem."

That was all I needed.

My partner David and I got into our black-and-white and headed for the neighborhood. The car was an old Matador with a bench seat, one of those old-style patrol cars that feels prehistoric now. We didn't have portable radios on our belts yet. Southwest hadn't issued them to us. Everything depended on the car radio.

We turned the radio all the way down. Not low. Down. You could not hear it at all. We didn't want any sound coming from the car. The radio was only on in case I had to grab the microphone and broadcast.

Then we rolled all four windows down.

Those cars had a little switch hidden up under the dashboard, to the left of the steering wheel. You had to hunch forward to find it. If you held it while braking, the brake lights didn't come on. You couldn't just flip it and leave it off. You had to hold it. But with the headlights off and that little switch held down, you could move through a neighborhood completely dark.

So that's what we did.

For hours, we rolled through those streets in darkness. No headlights. No brake lights. No radio. The only sounds were the low hum of the engine, the tires moving slowly over the pavement, and our own breathing. We'd ease down a block in the gutter, turn a corner, stop and listen. Then we'd move again. Street after street. Block after block.

The little brake-light kill switch was tucked so far up under the dashboard that I couldn't sit normally while holding it. I had to stay hunched forward in the seat, one hand on the wheel and one hand holding that switch. After a while my back started aching. My shoulder started aching. My neck started aching. There was no comfortable position.

The windows were all down, but we were moving so slowly there wasn't much air coming through the car. The heat just sat there with us. The humidity wrapped itself around you and stayed. Sweat ran down my back and soaked through my uniform shirt. The wool uniform trapped the heat. The vest trapped even more. Every few minutes I'd shift around trying to find a more comfortable position, but there wasn't one.

Neither of us talked much.

You couldn't. Not if you wanted to hear what was happening around you.

A barking dog.

A screen door.

Footsteps.

A voice somewhere down the block.

The sound of somebody moving through a yard.

Every noise mattered.

We were relying on each other to keep our heads on a swivel. While I watched one side of the street, David watched the other. Every parked car. Every alley. Every shadow. Every figure walking down the sidewalk. We had spent enough time reading the reports to know exactly who we were looking for.

I'm not saying the guy was armed. We didn't know that. But anybody willing to sneak into occupied homes in the middle of the night while people were sleeping was dangerous enough. If a homeowner woke up. If somebody confronted him. If something went wrong. Who knew what he'd do? That's one of the reasons these crimes bothered me so much.

The longer the night went on, the more it felt like sitting in a hunting blind.

Except our blind rolled.

Slowly.

Silently.

Through the darkness.

We weren't just driving around looking for a burglar anymore. We were hunting a prowler.

And I knew he was out there.

Sometime deep into the shift we were rolling south on Degnan. The streets in that part of Southwest don't all run clean and straight. Some of them curve toward each other and form little triangles and pockets around Edgehill and Norton. We crossed 39th and kept moving slowly, the car blacked out and quiet.

Then I heard David's door open.

After hours of silence, the sound was like a gunshot.

For hours we had been moving through the neighborhood without talking, listening to every sound around us, staring into the darkness, watching shadows and doorways and parked cars. The hunt had become almost hypnotic. The opening of that door shattered all of it. We'd worked together long enough that neither of us needed an explanation. The sound told me everything I needed to know. There was no discussion. There was only action.

I looked over and he was already halfway out of the car.

Standing right there, only a few feet away, was a man about six foot six inches tall. He had a woman's purse in each hand, and not little purses either. These were big grandma purses, the kind that probably wouldn't qualify as carry-on luggage at the airport.

His eyes were wide open.

For a second, nobody moved.

Then David moved.

The suspect turned and ran.

I reached down, grabbed the microphone, and at the same time threw the car into reverse. The passenger door was still open as I accelerated backward down the street. I broadcast that my partner was in foot pursuit westbound through the houses from Degnan, south of 39th. I shoved the microphone down between the seat cushion and the seatback so it wouldn't fly around or disappear, then slammed the transmission into drive and accelerated forward.

As I crossed Degnan, I looked down the street and saw David still running west. That meant the suspect had already crossed ahead of him. I kept moving, trying to get around them. Then I realized I couldn't hear anything from the radio because we had turned it all the way down. I cranked the volume up and the car suddenly filled with radio traffic.

I turned onto Norton, and just as I did, the suspect popped out from between two houses.

I broadcast again, threw the car into park, jumped out, and joined the chase.

We chased him through yards and over walls. At one point he went over a wall into another yard, but there was a dog on that side, and the dog made it clear that the suspect had selected poorly. He came back over onto our side.

By then the cavalry was coming.

You could hear the sirens closing in. The helicopter came over the neighborhood and bit into the sky above us. Lights were flashing in the distance, but we didn't have portable radios, so once we were out of the car, we couldn't tell anybody exactly where we were.

The suspect finally stopped and put his hands up.

I drew my gun and ordered him to the ground. David put the hooks on him. Hooks are handcuffs, for those who didn't grow up speaking police.

We walked him out to Norton, and that's when the helicopter spotted us. The light came down, and everybody knew we had him in custody.

That was the guy.

The hot-prowl burglaries stopped.

Back at the station, we confirmed he was six foot six. Then I ran him for warrants and criminal history. That's when I found out he had been arrested 108 times.

Lieutenant Hellenkamp came back in and looked at him.

"Does he have a record?" she asked.

"Lieutenant," I said, "he doesn't have a record. He's got an album."

I thought that was pretty funny at the time.

Her look suggested I was not as funny as I thought I was.

Several months later, I got a subpoena to testify at trial at 210 West Temple. By then there had already been a preliminary hearing, and the case was going to jury trial. I don't remember whether David and I discussed it or whether the prosecutor just decided, but I was the one who was going to testify.

Whenever I testified in a jury trial as a patrol officer, I liked to show up in uniform. Some officers wore suits, and that was fine. But if you're telling a jury a story about working patrol, I think the uniform matters. It helps them see you in the role. If your gear is squared away and your shoes are shined and you look like a patrol officer, it becomes part of the story. It gives the jury something to believe in visually.

I walked into the courtroom and immediately noticed something strange. There was only one person at the defense table.

I must have had a quizzical look on my face because the judge leaned toward me and said, "The defendant is representing himself, Officer."

"Oh my," I said out loud.

The district attorney examined me first. I told the story of the surveillance, the blacked-out car, seeing the suspect, the foot pursuit, and the arrest. Then the defendant stood up to cross-examine me.

His first question was, "You testified you saw a man coming out from between two buildings."

"No, sir," I said. "I testified that I saw you coming out from between two buildings."

He tried to object that I wasn't being responsive.

The judge overruled him.

From the judge's tone, I got the feeling this had been going on for a while.

The defendant kept going, line by line. We went through the chase yard by yard, wall by wall, turn by turn. He was trying to challenge every detail. Then we got near the end.

"And then you testified that I jumped over the wall," he said.

"Yes," I said.

"No, I didn't," he said. "I turned around and came back to you."

The courtroom froze.

The jury smiled.

The prosecutor smiled.

I didn't need to say anything.

The defendant had just corrected my testimony by admitting he was the man we had chased through the yards.

That's why you shouldn't be your own lawyer.

He was convicted and got sixty-five years in prison. For all I know, he may still be in prison, or he may have died there. Later, I remember getting a call from the detective.

"He got sixty-five years," the detective said.

"Who?" I asked. "The defendant or the lawyer?"

Danger! Illegal “M-Device” Explosives Injure, Kill, and Threaten Our Neighborhoods

2026-06-22T10:54:37.153-07:00

ATF Urges Pennsylvanians To Not Use or Buy Them and To Report Their Manufacture and Sale

PHILADELPHIA – With Independence Day approaching, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF) Philadelphia Field Division warns Pennsylvanians of the dangers of illegal explosive devices and encourages the public to report their manufacture and sales to protect their community.

“Illegal explosives are extremely volatile and dangerous,” said Eric DeGree, Special Agent in Charge of the ATF Philadelphia Field Division. “You put yourself and anyone around at risk of injury or death by just handling them because they can explode on their own.”

“Their manufacture, storage and handling can lead to deadly explosions and fire,” DeGree added. “When you buy them, you’re supporting dangerous criminal activity.”

These dangerous devices, sometimes called M-80s, M-100, M-250, etc., are a particular concern in Pennsylvania, which accounted for more than 15% of all ATF illegal explosive device investigations nation-wide since 2020.

To tackle the problem ATF Philadelphia works with state and local fire and police agencies as well as federal law enforcement agencies like the U.S. Postal Inspection Service to prevent manufacture and sales of illegal explosive devices, and to hold perpetrators accountable.

“Too many people have suffered life altering or deadly explosions because of these dangerous explosives,” said Tim Brooks, a Certified Explosive Specialist Bomb Technician from the Philadelphia Police Department Bomb Disposal Unit assigned to the ATF Philadelphia Arson and Explosives Task Force. He is all too familiar with the danger posed by these devices, whose misuse can be deadly. “These devices are manufactured without safety oversight or quality control. The fillers inside occasionally contain small rocks that when bumped together can cause the slightest spark and set these off!”

As part of its core mission, ATF actively regulates and investigates the illegal use of explosives. Under federal explosives law, it is illegal to manufacture, store, distribute, receive or transport explosive materials without a federal explosives license or permit. Violations are punishable with up to 10 years in federal prison.

It is important to distinguish illegal explosives from regular consumer fireworks. Here are some signs that a device may be an illegal explosive device:

They are sold in a non-commercial location, such as out of a vehicle or residence.
The person with the device has no evidence of a receipt or commercial packaging, or they cannot tell you where they originally purchased it.
The device is often 1-6 inches long and up to an inch or more in diameter.
The casing resembles a roll of coins with a fuse. Some outer shells are made of cardboard tubes.
The outer covering is red, silver or brown in color.
The device looks oddly shaped and wrapped in brown paper that may be filled with an explosive material.

These devices should not be handled if you have or find one. Anyone with such explosives (or items they think may be explosives) should act with extreme care and contact their police or fire departments for guidance. Either call the ATF tip line below or 911 to turn it over. The authorities will coordinate for proper safe handling and disposal.

To protect yourself and your community, ATF urges the public to report manufacturing or sales to your local police or ATF tip line at 888-ATF-TIPS (283-8477), ATFTips@atf.gov, www.atf.gov/contact/atf-tips, or via the ReportIt® app.

“I wish everyone a happy and safe Independence Day,” said DeGree.

For further information on illegal explosives, visit ATF’s Illegal Explosives page.

What's Your Trip, Bitch?

2026-06-21T19:35:14.980-07:00

It was late August 1980, brutally hot, the kind of Los Angeles heat that made the pavement shimmer and turned a wool uniform into a portable furnace.

I was still in the Police Academy, about a month away from graduation, and I was closer to 21 than 22 years old.

That afternoon I was wearing a brand-new LAPD uniform: wool pants, a long-sleeved wool shirt, a tie, polished shoes, and brass that gleamed in the sunlight. Every crease was sharp. Every stitch was exactly where it was supposed to be. Everything met academy standards. I looked like a police officer, but I just wasn't one yet.

This was my first academy ride-along.

I reported to Newton Division for the PM watch. Roll call began at 2:45 p.m. for a watch that officially started at 3:30. During roll call I was assigned to 13A55 with two senior officers. The training officer drove. Another experienced officer rode in the front passenger seat. I occupied the back seat, there to observe and learn what police work was really like.

Newton Station sat on Newton Street directly across from the Coca-Cola plant. The massive building was designed to resemble an ocean liner. Even today, I remember thinking it looked as though somebody had picked up a giant ship and dropped it in the middle of an industrial district filled with warehouses, loading docks, railroad tracks, and endless stretches of concrete.

We had barely cleared the station parking lot when the radio came alive.

"Ambulance shooting, 42nd and Central. Code 3."

I knew what a shooting was, and I knew what an ambulance was, but I didn't yet understand what "ambulance shooting" meant.

The training officer immediately activated the lights and siren.

Our black-and-white was a 1978 Plymouth Fury, one of the muscle cars of the 1960s and 1970s repurposed as a police car. It had white doors, a black body, and "To Protect and To Serve" painted on the side. Mounted on the roof were two light canisters, one over the driver and one over the passenger. Each displayed solid red lights forward and flashing amber lights to the rear. Between them sat the siren. We called the lights mouse ears because they looked like Mickey Mouse ears sitting on top of the car.

The mouse ears came alive, the siren wound up, and we rolled onto Newton Street before turning south onto Central Avenue. From there it was almost a straight shot to 42nd Street, roughly 30 blocks away.

The training officer furiously drove through traffic while the siren echoed off buildings and cars scrambled out of our way. Every lane change threw me across the vinyl rear seat. I bounced from one side to the other, grabbing whatever I could hold onto while trying to look like I belonged there. The ride seemed to take forever and no time at all.

Then we arrived. In my memory, there were thousands of people. Realistically, it was probably hundreds. But to a young academy recruit, closer to 21 than 22, wearing a brand-new uniform and seeing his first shooting victim, it looked like the entire city had gathered at 42nd and Central.

People filled the sidewalks. They spilled into the street. They crowded parking lots and storefronts. The August heat hung over everything, and the air was thick with exhaust, sweat, hot asphalt, and fear.

In the middle of all that was a river of dark red blood. Not a puddle. A river. So much blood that it looked as though there should have been four bodies instead of one. I had never seen anything remotely like it—not in the academy, not in training films, not anywhere.

The victim lay face down in the gutter, unconscious.

The ambulance and fire department arrived almost simultaneously. Paramedics immediately rolled him over and began working on him. CPR started at once. While one paramedic compressed his chest, others worked around him, preparing equipment and getting him onto a gurney.

The crowd pressed closer. The heat was oppressive. The noise was constant. The scene felt completely out of control. Then the training officer grabbed me by the arm and pulled me close and said, "Get in the ambulance. Write down anything he says."

He was sending me to take a dying declaration. If the victim regained consciousness and identified his attacker, his words could become evidence. My job was simple: listen and write. So I climbed into the back of the ambulance.

CPR continued throughout the entire trip to the hospital. The victim never regained consciousness.

I was less than thirty minutes into my first shift ride-along and already on my second ride with lights and siren. Looking back, that was extraordinarily unusual, but then everything about that afternoon was unusual.

One paramedic worked over him continuously while another managed equipment and medications. The ambulance raced through traffic Code 3, rocking violently through intersections and around corners. Equipment rattled. Radios crackled. Orders were shouted over the siren. I sat where I could, trying to stay out of the way while watching everything unfold. Outside was heat, noise, and movement. Inside was urgency. Through it all, the victim never opened his eyes, said a word, or did anything to show he was conscious of his surroundings.

When we reached the hospital, the rear doors flew open. The paramedics jumped out and started rolling the gurney toward the emergency room, and I followed right behind them. The transition was immediate. One moment we were in the suffocating August heat surrounded by an uncontrolled crowd. The next we stepped into the cold, sterile air of the emergency room.

The contrast was startling. Outside, the chaos had been raw and emotional. Inside, the chaos was disciplined. Doctors, nurses, technicians, and paramedics moved rapidly in every direction, but every movement had purpose. Orders were given calmly. Equipment appeared instantly. People flowed around one another with practiced precision.

The victim was rushed into a trauma room. CPR continued. No signs of life. I followed and took a position against the wall with my notebook ready.

The medical team began preparing for an open-heart massage. Instruments were brought in. Staff prepared the victim's chest. Antiseptic solution was applied. Equipment was arranged and checked. Everyone was moving quickly. Then a nurse stepped forward carrying a catheter.

As God is my witness, the moment she began inserting it, the victim suddenly sat bolt upright. His eyes opened wide. He reached out and grabbed the nurse by the wrist. In a perfectly clear voice, he said: "What's your trip, bitch?"

Then he collapsed backward onto the bed. For a fraction of a second, the room seemed to freeze. Then everyone went right back to work. Moments later, the doctors opened his chest with rib spreaders and began performing open-heart massage.

They did everything they could. The victim never regained consciousness. He never spoke another word. And despite every effort in that room, he died. Standing against that wall, I wrote down exactly what he had said.

Those words became the first entry in the first officer's notebook I ever carried.

More than two decades later, on the day I retired, I still had that notebook.

The first thing I had ever written down as a police officer was still there, preserved in fading pencil on aging paper:

"What's your trip, bitch?"

Those were not the most important words I would hear during my career. They were not the saddest. They were not the last.

But they were the first.

And they were my introduction to policing.

Stagecoaching

2026-06-20T21:16:49.553-07:00

We called it the Stagecoach.

The Stagecoach wasn't a horse-drawn wagon crossing the frontier. It was an RTD bus rattling through downtown Los Angeles in the middle of the night. Yet somehow the name made perfect sense.

To understand why, you have to understand something about police culture in the 1980s.

People often think policing influenced popular culture, and it certainly did. Television shows, movies, and novels borrowed heavily from police stories, police language, and police personalities. But the influence ran both ways. Popular culture shaped police officers as much as police officers shaped popular culture.

When I was a young officer, I read Joseph Wambaugh's The Blue Knight. Like many cops of my generation, I wanted some of the experiences I had read about. Not because I wanted danger or excitement, but because those stories helped define what police work was supposed to look like. The books, the movies, and the television shows created a shared mythology that became part of police culture.

In 1981, Fort Apache, The Bronx brought the imagery of the American frontier back into policing. The precinct house became a fort. Patrol officers became cavalrymen. The streets became hostile territory. The movie didn't invent those comparisons, but it gave them new life at a time when many of us were just beginning our careers.

So when officers referred to riding the RTD bus as "taking the Stagecoach," nobody thought it sounded strange. It fit naturally into the language and traditions of the job. Whether the term came from an old-timer, a movie, or some long-forgotten story, I never knew. My partner used it, and before long I did too.

That's how police culture works.

Stories become language. Language becomes tradition. Eventually nobody remembers where it started.

We simply called it the Stagecoach.

In the mid-1980s, I worked a foot beat in downtown Los Angeles. It covered a single block on Fifth Street between Spring and Broadway. On paper it didn't sound like much. In reality, it was one of the busiest and most fascinating pieces of sidewalk in the city.

The beat was anchored by the Alexander Hotel on the northeast corner of Spring and Fifth. At the other end stood Broadway, lined with theaters, cheap hotels, storefronts, and an endless stream of humanity moving through the heart of downtown.

I worked both night watch and graveyard shifts. The graveyard shift began around eleven o'clock at night and continued until dawn.

When you worked a foot beat, you walked. There was no patrol car waiting for you. To get from Central Division to the beat meant crossing several city blocks. Rather than make the walk, we'd leave through the back door of the station, head down to Fifth Street, and board the RTD bus.

Officially, it was public transportation.

Unofficially, it was the Stagecoach.

The bus carried us to the beat and often carried us back again. Sometimes it carried our prisoners.

When we made an arrest, transportation was always a consideration. We could walk someone back to the station, although that wasn't usually practical. We could call for an aid unit to transport the prisoner. Occasionally we could get the B-Wagon—the old paddy wagon—to pick them up.

But every now and then the simplest solution was to board the RTD bus with the prisoner and ride four blocks back to Central.

Nobody thought much about it. It was simply another part of working downtown.

The Stagecoach also served another purpose.

Sometimes we'd ride right past our stop.

Instead of getting off, we'd remain seated and let the bus roll slowly through the block while we watched the street through the windows.

You'd be surprised what you could see from a city bus.

People who disappeared when they spotted uniformed officers suddenly became visible when they thought we weren't around. Drug dealers relaxed. Wanted suspects emerged from doorways. People who owed us conversations wandered into view.

One night we watched a chain snatch occur right in front of us. What looked like a quick theft was actually a robbery unfolding in real time. The victim screamed, the suspect ran, and before the bus had gone half a block we were already moving.

The Stagecoach gave us something every foot-beat officer values: a chance to observe before being observed.

And that block was worth observing.

Every street has a personality. Fifth Street had an entire ecosystem.

Some nights the air carried the smell of kimchi from nearby restaurants. Other nights the city sanitation crews would steam-clean the sidewalks and the street would fill with the scent of hot water, detergent, and decades of accumulated grime. Sometimes the smell of urine hung in the air. Most nights it was a mixture of everything.

The sidewalks never stopped moving.

Street prostitutes drifted between doorways.

Heroin addicts searched for their next fix.

Homeless men pushed shopping carts containing everything they owned.

Residents from the old hotels came downstairs simply to get out of their rooms for a few minutes.

The Alexander Hotel and the surrounding single-room occupancy hotels housed people trying to survive difficult circumstances. Some lived alone. Others somehow managed to raise families inside rooms barely large enough for a bed. Parents stepped outside for a cigarette. Workers returned from late shifts. Children peered from windows overlooking the street below.

Crime lived there.

But so did ordinary life.

That's what outsiders often failed to understand.

At four o'clock in the morning, one of the movie theaters on Broadway would empty out. Hundreds of people would emerge carrying blankets, bags, and bundles of clothing. Many had spent the night inside because a movie ticket was safer, warmer, and cheaper than spending the night on the sidewalk.

For a few minutes the entire block changed.

People flowed onto the street and moved in every direction. Some headed toward missions. Some returned to hotels. Others drifted toward bus stops, coffee shops, or wherever the day would take them.

Then, as dawn approached, the balance shifted again.

Factory workers appeared.

Janitors.

Restaurant employees.

People heading to jobs that started before sunrise.

The prostitutes and addicts didn't disappear, but they became part of a different crowd. The character of the street changed as another day began.

Standing on that block night after night taught me that a city breathes.

It inhales.

It exhales.

The people change. The smells change. The sounds change.

Yet the street remains.

And somewhere near the beginning and end of every shift, the Stagecoach would rumble down Fifth Street.

Just a city bus.

Yet for a pair of foot-beat cops working downtown Los Angeles, it was transportation, observation post, occasional prisoner transport, and a small piece of police culture.

A relic of a time when cops borrowed language from novels and movies, just as novels and movies borrowed stories from cops.

The Stagecoach.

A simple name for a city bus, and a reminder that the line between police culture and popular culture has always run both ways.

Armed Felon Charged after Allegedly Shooting Fort Lauderdale Police K-9

2026-06-12T19:49:17.643-07:00

MIAMI – A grand jury returned an indictment Thursday charging a Fort Lauderdale man with possession of a firearm by a convicted felon after allegedly firing at a police K-9 during a pursuit in Fort Lauderdale.

According to court records, on April 18, law enforcement responded to a residential burglary in which a firearm had been stolen. Officers established a perimeter and, with assistance from aviation and K-9 units, located Christian Bouie, 30, of Fort Lauderdale, hiding in a tree in a nearby yard. When ordered to come down, Bouie fled, scaled a fence, and ran into an adjacent property.

As a police K-9 pursued him, Bouie allegedly pulled out a firearm and fired two rounds at the dog, striking the dog. Bouie continued fleeing before officers ultimately apprehended him. After taking Bouie into custody, officers recovered a firearm from his pocket.

“Police K-9s protect our officers, our neighborhoods, and our families,” said U.S. Attorney Jason A. Reding Quiñones for the Southern District of Florida. “This indictment alleges that a convicted felon unlawfully possessed a firearm and fired at a police K-9 during a pursuit in Fort Lauderdale. When armed felons allegedly endanger law enforcement and the public, our Office will prosecute those cases to the fullest extent of federal law.”

Bouie has prior felony convictions, including a conviction for robbery with a firearm, and is prohibited from possessing a firearm under federal law.

If convicted, Bouie faces up to 15 years in federal prison. A federal district court judge will determine any sentence after considering the U.S. Sentencing Guidelines and other statutory factors.

U.S. Attorney Reding Quiñones and Special Agent in Charge Jason Stankiewicz of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives (ATF), Miami Field Division, made the announcement.

ATF Miami Field Division is investigating the case, with assistance from the Fort Lauderdale Police Department.

Assistant U.S. Attorney James M. Ustynoski is prosecuting the case.

An indictment is merely an allegation. All defendants are presumed innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt in a court of law.

Stolen Guns Are Crime Guns: ATF Philadelphia Field Division Provides Tips for Safe Storage To Protect Your Community

2026-05-29T18:04:23.111-07:00

Philadelphia – Agents of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF) have seen this pattern repeatedly: unsecured firearms stolen from lawful owners, recycled through violent offenders, and used again and again to commit serious crimes. These incidents often escalate in severity, placing innocent bystanders at risk—frequently in ordinary places, in the middle of the day.

For example, Giante Hilliard of West Mifflin was prohibited from owning a firearm because of his multiple felony conviction, including aggravated assault and terroristic threats. In 2023, he was captured on surveillance video during a dangerous gunfire exchange outside a McKees Rocks bar.

Two months later, during a traffic stop, the driver of the car Hilliard was riding in rammed three police vehicles while attempting to escape. After abandoning the disabled vehicle, Hilliard was seen on surveillance video hiding a black bag under a dumpster. Police recovered the bag and found a loaded Smith & Wesson handgun that had been reported stolen, along with approximately 300 doses of a heroin-fentanyl mixture. Ballistic testing confirmed the firearm was the same gun Hilliard used in the McKees Rocks shootout.

The stolen Smith & Wesson handgun used in the 2023 shootout outside a McKees Rocks bar.

While Hilliard was sentenced to more than 16 years in prison in January 2025, many stolen firearms remain in the hands of criminals. And this is not just a big-city problem; in Altoona, 15-year-old Devon Pfirsching was killed in 2020 with a stolen gun that was reportedly purchased through Snapchat.

“When a gun is stolen, it’s not just a loss—it’s a threat to our communities,” said Walter Shaw, special agent with the ATF Pittsburgh Field Office. For ATF agents, investigating gun violence often means responding after serious injuries or death has already occurred. While agents work every day to identify shooters, trace firearms, and disrupt criminal networks, many cases share a troubling starting point: a firearm that was stolen before it was ever used in a crime.

“This is the part of the job we know doesn’t have to happen,” Shaw said. “We can’t always stop someone who is determined to commit violence, but we can prevent many of the guns criminals use from ever getting into their hands.”

Shaw explained that investigators frequently trace violent crimes back to firearms taken from homes or vehicles where they were left unsecured, sometimes only briefly. Once stolen, those firearms often move quickly through illegal networks, making recovery more difficult and increasing the likelihood they will be used in multiple crimes.

“When we recover a stolen gun at a crime scene, we’re already past the point where prevention was possible,” Shaw said. “Secure storage is one of the few points where lawful gun owners can directly interrupt that chain before it starts.”

From an enforcement perspective, secure storage is not about regulation or restriction, it is about eliminating one of the most predictable sources of crime guns. Every firearm that is properly secured is one less opportunity for theft, diversion, and preventable violence.

In fact, most crime guns recovered in Pennsylvania were originally purchased legally within the state. In 2023 for example, ATF traced 17,027 firearms recovered during criminal investigations in Pennsylvania. Of those, nearly 10,000—approximately 59 percent—were originally sold in in our state.

Stolen firearms are a major source of the illegal firearms market. Nationally, 95 percent of stolen firearms are taken from private citizens. Pennsylvania recovery data shows that 94.8 percent of stolen firearms remain in-state. While Pennsylvania ranks as the nation’s ninth most common source for firearms trafficking, stolen firearms predominantly remain a threat to our own neighborhoods.

“These examples show that stolen firearms rarely remain ‘lost,’” Shaw noted. “Instead, they often resurface in violent crimes that hurt Pennsylvania communities.”

Best Practices at Home

“Secure storage is essential,” Shaw warned. “Guns left unattended in homes, vehicles, or unsecured storage areas provide an easy path for theft and diversion into criminal hands. Firearms should be treated as potential community risks—any gun can be used in a crime if it falls into the wrong hands.”

“If you own a firearm, lock it in a safe or secure lockbox, store ammunition separately when possible, inventory and secure all firearms, and report any loss or theft immediately.”

The National Shooting Sports Foundation (NSSF) encourages all gun owners to review their firearm storage practices and take steps to ensure firearms are properly secured. NSSF recommends using a combination of safety tools and educating family members on the core rules of gun safety and proper firearm handling.

CABLE LOCK: Can be used on most firearms, allows for relatively quick access in an emergency, and provides basic protection from theft.
GUN CASE: An affordable option to conceal, protect, or legally transport a registered firearm.
LOCK BOX: Integrated locking mechanisms provide reliable protection and allow for legal transport outside the home.
ELECTRONIC LOCK BOX: Prevents unauthorized access and allows only the individual with the code to access the firearm.
FULL-SIZE AND BIOMETRIC GUN SAFES: Provide protection from theft and environmental damage while allowing safe storage of multiple firearms.

Download ATF’s safety and security guide for firearms owners.

Theft From Cars

According to national FBI data, firearm thefts from vehicles have been increasing, particularly in rural areas and parking garages. About half of all firearm thefts from vehicles occur when cars are parked at the owner’s residence.

Locking vehicle doors does not provide secure firearm storage. Glove compartments and center consoles—even when lockable—are not secure and can be easily pried open. Firearms should never be left accessible to children.

If you must store a firearm in your vehicle, take the following steps:

Always check—and double-check—that firearms are unloaded.
Use a secure storage device that keeps the firearm out of sight.
Avoid leaving firearms unattended for extended periods.
Remove the firearm from the vehicle and return it to secure home storage as soon as you arrive home.

Consider using a lockable gun case or lock box in your vehicle, preferably one secured to the vehicle itself to prevent theft.

Vehicle storage options vary widely in price and design. Some manufacturers offer custom solutions for specific vehicle models, including:

CAR CONSOLE STORAGE: Custom-fitted units that provide concealment and deter theft.
VEHICLE CARGO AREA STORAGE: Designed for transporting firearms to the range or field.
CABLE LOCKS: Can be effective when secured to the vehicle and kept out of sight.

View resources for secure firearms storage in your vehicle

My Gun's Been Stolen!

If your firearm is lost or stolen, immediately contact your local law enforcement agency to report the incident. The “time-to-crime”—how quickly a stolen firearm is used in a criminal act—can be alarmingly short.

Providing a complete and accurate description of the firearm is critical for law enforcement investigations, insurance claims, and recovery of the firearm.

ATF strongly recommends maintaining a Personal Firearms Record stored separately from firearms. ATF Publication 3312.8 can be obtained from your local ATF office or downloaded as a fillable PDF from the ATF website. This record is for personal use only and is not collected or maintained by ATF or any other federal agency.

A Personal Firearms Record can help recovery when a firearm is lost or stolen.

By completing and maintaining this record in a safe location, separate from your firearms, you help protect your property and take an important step toward keeping firearms out of the hands of criminals.

“Responsible firearm ownership does not end at the point of purchase,” Shaw emphasized. “Secure storage is not just about preventing unauthorized access in the home—it is about preventing predictable, preventable harm when stolen guns fall into the hands of individuals willing to use them.”

ATF Raises the Reward to $10,000 for Information To Help Identify Person(s) Responsible for Setting Fire to the Home of Adair County Sheriff

2026-05-29T17:42:54.790-07:00

Dallas — The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives and Adair County Sheriff’s Office are requesting the public’s help for information that could lead to the identification and/or arrest of the suspect(s) responsible for setting fire to the home of Adair County Sheriff, Jason Ritchie.

On May 19, a fire was reported at the residence of Adair County Sheriff Jason Ritchie. Special agents from the ATF Muskogee Field Office responded and found evidence of forced entry and detected an ignitable liquid. Special agents are pursuing multiple leads; however, no suspects have been identified at this time.

“Fire, when used as a tool of violence, can ruin lives, property, and the American sense of security. ATF has a longstanding working relationship with the Adair County Sheriff’s Office and is determined to locate the individual(s) responsible for this reckless act and hold them accountable. We will continue working alongside our law enforcement partners to protect the community and ensure those who endanger public safety are brought to justice” stated ATF Special Agent in Charge Brian Garner.

Anyone with any information about this crime should contact ATF Muskogee Office at 918-594-1800, Adair County Sheriff’s Office at 918-696-2106 or ATF at 1-888-ATF-TIPS. Information can also be sent to ATFTips@atf.gov or through ATF’s website at www.atf.gov/contact/atftips.

ATF is the federal law enforcement agency primarily responsible for administering and enforcing the criminal provisions of the Federal laws pertaining to arson. More information about ATF and its programs is available at www.atf.gov.

Fitchburg Detective Honored With Hometown Hero Award

2026-05-22T15:50:39.353-07:00

MADISON, WIS. – The U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Western District of Wisconsin proudly announces that Detective Jordan Trundle of the Fitchburg Police Department has been awarded the inaugural Hometown Hero Award sponsored by the U.S. Department of Justice in honor of America’s 250th birthday.

In a ceremony today, U.S. Attorney Chadwick M. Elgersma presented Detective Trundle the award in recognition of his outstanding work as a Task Force Officer with ATF Madison’s Crime Gun Task Force. The task force was formed to reduce gun violence by removing handguns from felons, drug traffickers, and other prohibited persons. The task force also aims to eliminate dangerous machine guns and machine gun conversion devices from Wisconsin communities.

Since joining the task force in July 2024, Detective Trundle has worked tirelessly to make the Fitchburg Police Department a model agency for processing crime guns. Detective Trundle has worked to streamline his department’s procedures for documenting and analyzing firearms used in the commission of federal and state crimes. Detective Trundle has also led in service training sessions to ensure his fellow officers are educated on the new procedures. Through his efforts, Detective Trundle has personally opened approximately two dozen federal firearms cases which have led to eighteen indictments.

In addition to his contributions to the Crime Gun Task Force, Detective Trundle was recognized in May 2024 by the Fitchburg Police Department for his outstanding service during a shots fired incident. He has participated in training for the department’s Citizens Academy, including conducting demonstrations on building clearing tactics and K9 apprehension.

“Today we honor one of our absolute best,” said U.S. Attorney Elgersma. “The Western District of Wisconsin is proud to recognize Detective Trundle for his exceptional work and service to his fellow Wisconsinites. He is an extraordinary example of what a law enforcement officer can be, and I am grateful for his continued service.”

The Hometown Hero Award was created in honor of the 250th birthday of the United States of America. The U.S. Department of Justice is proud to honor law enforcement across the country with recognition of the extraordinary service to their fellow citizens.

MAN CHARGED FOR UNLAWFUL POSSESSION OF A FIREARM AFTER SHOOTING AT GRAND PRAIRIE POLICE OFFICERS.

2026-05-22T15:43:44.305-07:00

A previously convicted felon who shot at Grand Prairie Police Department (GPPD) officers during a domestic violence investigation was charged with unlawful possession of a firearm announced United States Attorney for the Northern District of Texas Ryan Raybould.

“The Chief in Grand Prairie has been a great friend to this office and to our collective efforts in rooting out violent crime in North Texas. I told him when I met with him months ago that we would stand up for the men and women under his charge. Today I’m keeping my promise. We will always go after those who try to intimidate and harm our great law enforcement officers in North Texas.”

The complaint alleges that on May 2, 2026, GPPD officers were dispatched to investigate a domestic disturbance after a child called to report that things had gotten “physical” while their mom and her boyfriend were arguing. Upon arrival at the scene, GPPD officers encountered Malik Williams sitting in a silver Altima. Upon seeing the mother in a blood-stained shirt, officers told Williams that he was not free to leave. Williams immediately sped off in the Altima and officers pursued with their lights and sirens activated. Eventually, a GPPD officer executed a Precision Immobilization Technique (PIT) maneuver to force Williams’ car to stop and block the driver’s door so that Williams could not escape.

As the officer got out of his patrol vehicle, Williams shot at him with an AR-15 rifle. A second officer then returned fire. Williams surrendered after he was struck and injured. He was then taken to a hospital. Investigators later learned that Williams was on parole for six prior felonies—five of them involving domestic violence against the same domestic violence victim in this case.

The Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Dallas Field Office, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives, and the Grand Prairie Police Department conducted the investigation. Assistant U.S. Attorney Walt Junker is prosecuting the case.

U.S. Attorney’s Office Honors Law Enforcement Partners and “Hometown Heroes” During National Police Week

2026-05-22T15:27:10.335-07:00

INDIANAPOLIS- On May 15, 2026, United States Attorney Tom Wheeler recognized more than 160 individuals from 33 federal, state, and local law enforcement agencies during the Office’s annual awards ceremony at the Indiana War Memorial & Museum in downtown Indianapolis. Held during National Police Week, the ceremony honored law enforcement professionals whose exceptional work safeguarded communities across Indiana in cases concluded in 2025.

In commemoration of America’s 250th anniversary, the U.S. Attorney’s Office named Matt and Laurie Shahnavaz—Founders of the Remember Officer Noah Foundation—as the 2026 Hometown Heroes. This award honors the enduring American ideals of liberty, service, and civic responsibility. Matt and Laurie were recognized for their extraordinary service, unwavering devotion to their community, and steadfast support of law enforcement in carrying forward the mission and legacy of fallen Elwood Police Officer Noah Jacob Shahnavaz.

Case Awards:

Outstanding Collaborative Investigation

Recognizes cases demonstrating exceptional teamwork and the ability to overcome significant challenges through multi‑agency coordination.

Awarded to: U.S. v. Carranza, et al and U.S. v. Patients Choice Labs

Project Safe Childhood – Shield of Innocence

Honors those who provide extraordinary assistance to victims of federal child sexual abuse crimes, including sustained emotional support, extensive off‑duty dedication, detailed financial analysis to secure restitution, and resolving complex investigative challenges.

Awarded to: U.S. v. Austin Ryan Lauless, U.S. v. Bryan Lee Fish, and U.S. v. Moises Bojorquez

L.E.A.T.H Heroism Award

Presented to a case demonstrating extraordinary commitment and fortitude in pursuing justice for domestic violence victims. The award honors IMPD Officer Breann Leath, who was killed in the line of duty while responding to a domestic disturbance. The LEATH Initiative—led by ATF, IMPD, and the U.S. Attorney’s Office—focuses on domestic violence offenders who illegally possess firearms or have significant violent criminal histories.

Awarded to: U.S. v. Pedro Zuniga-Lopez

Investigative Excellence Award

Recognizes cases that significantly advanced the mission of the U.S. Attorney’s Office and the Department of Justice through complex, thorough, and proactive evidence analysis.

Awarded to: U.S. v. Julian Green, et al and U.S. v. Freire-Pifferrer, et al

Excellence in the Pursuit of Justice

Presented to a case in which local, state, and federal officials achieved extraordinary results in preventing crime, enhancing community safety, and seeking justice.

Awarded to: U.S. v. James Henley, et al

Community Impact

Recognizes a case that produced widespread, positive impact on constituents, strengthened law enforcement relationships, and contributed to the lasting legacy of the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Southern District of Indiana.

Awarded to: U.S. v. Desha Morris, U.S. v. Aaron Strong and U.S. v. Kristopher McDonald

Outstanding Agency Service

Presented to cases that substantially contributed to the mission of the U.S. Attorney’s Office and the Department of Justice.

Awarded to: U.S. v. Lawrence Taylor, U.S. v. Otha Watkins II, U.S. v. Jeremy Mack, U.S. v. Mitchell Gibson and Quaylan Anderson v. United States.

Excellence in Appellate Practice

Recognizes an appellate case exemplifying excellence in legal writing, issue preservation, and advocacy before the appellate courts, contributing meaningfully to the development of the law and the protection of the United States’ interests.

Awarded to: U.S. v. Fenner, et al

Participating Agencies

Honorees represented the following 33 agencies:

Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives
Drug Enforcement Administration
Federal Bureau of Investigation – Indianapolis and Tampa
Federal Bureau of Prisons – FCC Terre Haute
Homeland Security Investigations – Indianapolis and Cleveland
IRS–Criminal Investigation
U.S. Attorney’s Office, District of Maryland
U.S. Department of Agriculture, Office of Inspector General
U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, Office of Inspector General
U.S. Department of Justice, Civil Frauds Section
U.S. Department of Justice, Civil Rights Division
U.S. Department of Labor, Office of Inspector General
U.S. Postal Inspection Service
Indiana Attorney General’s Homeowner Protection Unit
Indiana Family and Social Services Administration
Indiana State Police
Charlestown Police Department
Clarksville Police Department
Cleveland, Ohio Police Department
Evansville Police Department
Fishers Police Department
Hamilton County Sheriff’s Office
Henry County Sheriff’s Office
Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Department
Jeffersonville Police Department
Lawrence County Prosecutor’s Office
Morgan County Sheriff’s Office
New Castle Police Department
Plainfield Police Department
Princeton Police Department
Richmond Police Department
Vanderburgh County Sheriff’s Office
Zionsville Police Department

Liberty County felon sentenced to 14 years in federal prison after taking firearm from law enforcement officers during courtroom scuffle

2026-05-15T14:32:08.329-07:00

BEAUMONT, Texas – A Liberty convicted felon has been sentenced to 14 years in federal prison for a firearms violation in the Eastern District of Texas, announced U.S. Attorney Jay R. Combs.

Allen Joe Fregia, Sr., 48, pleaded guilty to possession of a firearm by a prohibited person and was sentenced to 168 months in federal prison by U.S. District Judge Marcia Crone on May 14, 2026.

According to information presented in court, on April 29, 2025, Fregia was a defendant in a Liberty County courtroom where he had just been sentenced to prison by a State District Judge. As he was being escorted out of the courtroom by several law enforcement officers, Fregia became enraged and noncompliant, and a scuffle ensued. During the altercation, Fregia removed a firearm from an officer’s gun holster. The officer was able to retrieve the firearm as other officers were able to subdue Fregia. During the altercation, an officer suffered injuries that required medical attention. Fregia, a previously convicted felon, was prohibited from possessing the firearm.

This case is part of Operation Take Back America, a nationwide initiative that marshals the full resources of the Department of Justice to repel the invasion of illegal immigration, achieve the total elimination of cartels and transnational criminal organizations (TCOs), and protect our communities from the perpetrators of violent crime.

This case was investigated by the Texas Rangers, Liberty County Sheriff’s Office and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives and prosecuted by Special Assistant U.S. Attorney Tommy Coleman.

Long Beach Man Sentenced to 2½ Years in Federal Prison for Possessing Molotov Cocktail at Anti-ICE Protest Last Year in Downtown L.A.

2026-05-09T13:09:00.000-07:00

LOS ANGELES – A Long Beach man who possessed a Molotov cocktail during an anti-immigration enforcement protest in downtown Los Angeles last year was sentenced today to 30 months in federal prison.

Wrackkie Quiogue, 28, was sentenced by United States District Judge Anne Hwang.

Quiogue pleaded guilty in November 2025 to one count of possession of an unregistered destructive device. He has been in federal custody since June 2025.

In June 2025, federal law enforcement officials began conducting immigration enforcement operations throughout the greater Los Angeles area. During and following those operations, protests occurred in and around Los Angeles County. While many of the protestors peacefully exercised their First Amendment rights, some individuals directly engaged in violent actions to obstruct, impede, or injure law enforcement officers.

One such protest that turned violent occurred on June 8, 2025, in the Civic Center area of downtown Los Angeles. Members of the crowd threw rocks and bottles at law enforcement officials. The Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD) declared an unlawful assembly.

One police officer witnessed Quiogue possessing a Molotov cocktail. The glass bottle he held contained a flammable liquid (ethanol) and a source of ignition, namely a yellow piece of cloth soaked in ethanol, which acted as a wick.

Fearing that Quiogue would light the Molotov cocktail and throw it at the officers, police approached Quiogue, causing him to attempt to flee. As the LAPD officers pursued him, Quiogue threw the unlit Molotov cocktail into the air. LAPD officers subdued and arrested Quiogue, who was holding a lighter in his right hand.

Quiogue admitted to knowingly possessing the destructive device and that he had not registered it with the National Firearms Registration and Transfer Record as required by federal law.

“Unlike many of the individuals in the crowd, who were gathered to peacefully exercise their First Amendment rights and protest immigration enforcement operations, [Quiogue] came prepared to instigate violence and inflict harm on the law enforcement officers assigned to protect the Roybal Federal Building,” prosecutors argued in a sentencing memorandum. “[Quiogue]’s premeditated actions endangered the law enforcement officers protecting Roybal Federal Building and the civilians who gathered to peacefully protest.”

The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives investigated this matter with the assistance of the Los Angeles Police Department.

Assistant United States Attorney David C. Lachman of the Major Frauds Section prosecuted this case.

Star Prairie Sporting Goods Store Burglarized, $10,000 Reward Offered

2026-05-01T11:44:00.000-07:00

STAR PRAIRIE, Wis. – The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF), in partnership with the National Shooting Sports Foundation (NSSF), is offering a reward of up to $10,000 for information leading to the arrest and conviction of those responsible for a February 12, 2026, burglary of a federally licensed firearms dealer in Star Prairie, Wisconsin.

The St. Croix County Sheriff’s Office and ATF are investigating the early-morning break-in, during which a suspect entered through a window and stole nearly 50 firearms and a large quantity of ammunition.

Anyone with information is asked to call the St. Croix County Sheriff’s Office at 715-386-4701 or email tipline@sccwi.gov

Former Dallas Police Department Sergeant Sentenced to 28 Months in Federal Prison for Selling Stolen Service Weapons

2026-05-01T11:27:00.000-07:00

A former Dallas Police Department sergeant who sold stolen service weapons was sentenced to 28 months in federal prison, announced United States Attorney for the Northern District of Texas Ryan Raybould.

Thomas Fry, 53, of Royse City, Texas, was sentenced on Wednesday, April 22, 2026, by United States District Judge Brantley Starr for possession and sale of a stolen firearm.

“This police officer violated his oath and the public’s trust when he chose to commit a crime,” said U.S. Attorney Ryan Raybould. “Our law enforcement partners work day and night to keep us safe and enforce the law, and our trust and faith in them will not waiver. We will work tirelessly with our law enforcement partners to root out the few bad apples among their ranks.”

“This case strikes at the core of public trust,” said Brian Garner Special Agent in Charge of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives Dallas Field Division. “The very individuals entrusted to safeguard our communities must be held to the highest standard. When that trust is violated through the theft and illegal sale of firearms, it endangers the public and undermines the integrity of law enforcement. This 28-month federal sentence sends a clear message: no one is above the law, and those who abuse their authority will be held accountable. ATF remains committed to working alongside our partners to protect our communities and prevent illegal firearms trafficking.

Court records reveal that Fry, who at the time was a sergeant with the Dallas Police Department, admitted to three separate instances of taking a firearm owned by the Dallas Police Department, knowing that the firearms were stolen, and selling them to an Oklahoma pawn shop in June and July of 2022.

The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms & Explosives and the Dallas Police Department conducted the investigation. Assistant U.S. Attorney Marty Basu prosecuted the case.

Pensacola Man Sentenced to Federal Prison for Threatening a Pensacola Police Department Detective

2026-04-24T12:14:00.000-07:00

Pensacola, Florida – Tamal W. Jenkins, 20, of Pensacola, Florida, was sentenced to 20 months in federal prison for interstate threatening communication with intent to extort. The sentence was announced by John P. Heekin, United States Attorney for the Northern District of Florida.

U.S. Attorney Heekin said: “My office stands shoulder-to-shoulder with the brave men and women of law enforcement who are on the front lines in the fight against crime. They deserve our gratitude and respect for placing themselves in harm’s way every day to keep our communities safe. As this case demonstrates, anyone who harms or threatens to harm a law enforcement officer will be aggressively prosecuted by my office and held accountable.”

Court documents reveal that, in July 2025, the Pensacola Police Department arrested suspects during a homicide investigation. Within days of the arrest, one of the responsible Pensacola Police Detectives received an electronic text message threatening to kill the Detective if she did not release the suspects who are now facing homicide charges. Through legal process and electronic investigative techniques, law enforcement identified Jenkins as the person who made the threat against the Detective for acting in the course of her official duties.

Jenkins imprisonment will be followed by three years of federal supervised release. Jenkins also faces a violation of prior state-ordered probation for firearm and drug offenses.

Pensacola Police Chief Eric Winstrom said: “Threats of violence against those upholding the law cannot be tolerated. The Pensacola Police Department is grateful to our federal partners for recognizing the gravity of this incident and ensuring Mr. Jenkins is held accountable.”

The case involved a joint investigation by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms & Explosives and the Pensacola Police Department. The case was prosecuted by Assistant United States Attorney David L. Goldberg.

The Anatomy of Elder Fraud: Ten Scams Every Family Should Recognize

2026-04-19T18:44:00.000-07:00

Financial crimes against older adults are not isolated incidents. They are structured, repeatable, and increasingly sophisticated. What appears to be a single deceptive phone call or email is often part of a broader pattern of exploitation that targets trust, urgency, and vulnerability.

The scope of the problem is significant. Each year, an estimated one in ten adults age 60 and older experience some form of abuse, including financial exploitation, with many cases going unreported (Sill & Haskins, 2025) . Financial fraud alone has resulted in billions of dollars in losses among older Americans, with over $3.4 billion reported lost to scams targeting individuals aged 60 and older in 2023 (Federal Bureau of Investigation [FBI], 2024). These figures likely underrepresent the true scale due to underreporting driven by embarrassment, fear, or lack of awareness (Federal Trade Commission [FTC], 2023).

Understanding how these scams operate is essential. What follows is a breakdown of ten of the most common schemes and how they are carried out.

Tech Support Scams

The victim receives a pop-up message, email, or phone call claiming their computer is infected or compromised. The scammer impersonates a legitimate company and instructs the victim to grant remote access. Once inside the system, the offender may install malware, access financial information, or demand payment for fake repairs. These scams rely on fear and technical confusion to gain control (FBI, 2024).

Government Impersonation Scams

Scammers pose as representatives of agencies such as the IRS or Social Security Administration. Victims are told they owe money or face legal consequences. Payment is demanded immediately, often through untraceable methods like gift cards. These scams exploit authority and urgency, two factors shown to increase compliance (FTC, 2023).

Grandparent Scams

The offender impersonates a grandchild or relative in distress, often claiming arrest or injury. The victim is urged to send money quickly and not inform others. This tactic relies on emotional manipulation and family loyalty, which are particularly effective among older adults (FBI, 2024).

Romance Scams

Offenders build relationships through online platforms, gaining trust over time. Eventually, they request money for emergencies or opportunities. In 2023, romance scams accounted for some of the highest financial losses among fraud categories, particularly affecting older victims (FBI, 2024). These scams succeed because they exploit emotional connection rather than immediate deception.

Lottery and Sweepstakes Scams

Victims are told they have won a prize but must pay fees or taxes to receive it. The promise of a reward is paired with urgency, discouraging verification. The FTC reports that such scams continue to target older adults despite longstanding public awareness campaigns (FTC, 2023).

Investment Scams

These schemes promise high returns with little risk, often involving cryptocurrency or real estate. Victims are persuaded to invest large sums. According to the FBI, investment scams resulted in the highest reported financial losses among fraud types in 2023 (FBI, 2024). These scams exploit financial security concerns and the desire for stability in retirement.

Phishing and Email Scams

Fraudulent messages impersonate legitimate institutions, directing victims to fake websites or requesting credentials. Once access is obtained, accounts are compromised. The increasing digital engagement of older adults has expanded exposure to these tactics (Internet Crime Complaint Center [IC3], 2024).

Charity Scams

Following disasters or crises, scammers pose as charitable organizations and solicit donations. Victims are pressured to act quickly. The National Council on Aging notes that older adults are particularly vulnerable due to their higher likelihood of charitable giving (National Council on Aging [NCOA], 2023).

Home Repair and Contractor Fraud

Scammers approach homeowners offering urgent or discounted repairs. Payment is requested upfront, and work is either incomplete or never performed. Older adults are targeted due to higher rates of homeownership and a desire to maintain independence (Consumer Financial Protection Bureau [CFPB], 2022).

Business Email Compromise and Account Takeover

Scammers gain access to email accounts and impersonate trusted contacts. They request transfers or redirect payments. These schemes are highly effective because they leverage existing relationships rather than creating new ones (IC3, 2024).

The Pattern Beneath the Scams

Despite differences in execution, these scams share common elements: exploitation of trust, creation of urgency, and limitation of verification. Older adults are disproportionately targeted due to factors such as social isolation, cognitive decline, and financial stability (Sill & Haskins, 2025) . Research indicates that financial exploitation often occurs within relationships of trust, further complicating detection and reporting (CFPB, 2022).

What Families Can Do

Prevention requires more than awareness. It requires structure and involvement. Families play a critical role in reducing risk.

Maintain consistent communication
Regular contact reduces isolation, a known risk factor for exploitation (NCOA, 2023).
Encourage verification of financial requests
Creating a habit of pausing and confirming requests can disrupt scam attempts (FTC, 2023).
Monitor financial activity when appropriate
Early detection of unusual transactions is key to limiting losses (CFPB, 2022).
Educate about common scam tactics
Awareness of patterns increases resistance to manipulation (FBI, 2024).
Establish trusted advisors or contacts
Having a designated person to consult before financial decisions adds a layer of protection (NCOA, 2023).

Conclusion

Elder fraud is not simply a collection of isolated crimes. It is a system of exploitation built on predictable human factors. As the population ages and technology evolves, these schemes will continue to adapt.

Understanding how these scams work is essential, but it is not sufficient. Protection depends on relationships, communication, and the presence of trusted systems that reduce isolation and increase accountability.

The challenge is not eliminating risk entirely. It is ensuring that when risk appears, it is met with awareness, structure, and support.

References

Consumer Financial Protection Bureau. (2022). Suspicious activity reports on elder financial exploitation.

Federal Bureau of Investigation. (2024). Internet crime report 2023.

Federal Trade Commission. (2023). Protecting older consumers report.

Internet Crime Complaint Center. (2024). Elder fraud report.

National Council on Aging. (2023). Top scams targeting older adults.

Sill, K., & Haskins, P. A. (2025). Studies of mistreatment of older adults offer solutions to an urgent and growing societal problem. National Institute of Justice Journal.

Baltimore Man Sentenced for Armed Robberies, Carjacking, Assaulting Federal Officer

2026-04-17T13:33:21.290-07:00

Baltimore, Maryland – A Baltimore man is headed to federal prison for his role in robbing multiple local commercial businesses and then later assaulting a Deputy U.S. Marshal while at the U.S. Courthouse in Baltimore.

U.S. District Court Judge Ellen L. Hollander sentenced Sharif Northington, 23, of Baltimore, to 10 years in prison for interfering with commerce by robbery, and using, carrying, and brandishing a firearm during and in relation to a crime of violence. Northington also received one year in prison, consecutive to the 10-year sentence, for intentionally assaulting an officer and employee of the United States. In September 2024, following a court proceeding at the U.S. Courthouse in Baltimore, Northington threatened and then assaulted the Deputy U.S. Marshals escorting him to his cell.

Kelly O. Hayes, U.S. Attorney for the District of Maryland, announced the sentence with Special Agent in Charge Charles Doerrer, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF); Clinton J. Fuchs, U.S. Marshal for the District of Maryland (USMS); Commissioner Richard Worley, Baltimore Police Department (BPD); and Chief Robert McCullough, Baltimore County Police Department (BCPD).

According to court documents, in November 2022, Northington conspired with co-conspirators Devin Grimes, 27, of Baltimore, and John Hyman, 21, of Baltimore, to commit armed commercial robberies and at least one armed carjacking. During each robbery and carjacking, the co-conspirators used a firearm while demanding money, a vehicle, and/or other items.

On November 29, Northington, Grimes, and Hyman — who were wearing masks and hoods — entered a Northeast Baltimore 7-Eleven convenience store. Grimes brandished a handgun and then proceeded to rob the store with Northington and Hyman. The suspects stole money from the cash register and then fled the store. But unknown to the suspects, the stolen cash included a money tracker which helped law enforcement officers track their movements. In response, both BPD and BCPD dispatched officers, detectives, and aviation squads to locate the suspects.

The co-conspirators then went to a carry-out restaurant, less than a mile away. Upon entering, Grimes went to the back of the restaurant and brandished a handgun. He then confronted a delivery driver and robbed the man of the keys in his pocket. Then Grimes returned to the register and demanded the cashier open the register. Grimes then removed money from the register before the three co-conspirators fled the store in the delivery man’s vehicle.

BPD and BCPD aviation units soon located and apprehended the co-conspirators. During the arrests, law enforcement recovered a loaded Smith & Wesson .40 caliber pistol, money, and a money tracker from Grimes. Law enforcement also discovered additional cash in the vehicle.

In December 2024, Judge Hollander sentenced Grimes to 10 years in federal prison. Then in September 2025, Judge Hollander sentenced Hyman to 10 years in prison for his role in the crimes.

U.S. Attorney Kelly O. Hayes commended the ATF, USMS, BPD, and BCPD for their work in the investigation. Ms. Hayes also thanked Assistant U.S. Attorney John Sippel who prosecuted this federal case.

Brooklyn Man Pleads Guilty to Setting NYPD Vehicles Ablaze

2026-04-10T15:54:00.000-07:00

Earlier today, at the federal courthouse in Brooklyn, Jakhi McCray pleaded guilty to committing arson of 10 New York City Police Department (NYPD) vehicles and one trailer in Brooklyn, New York. The proceeding was held before United States Magistrate Judge Seth D. Eichenholtz. When sentenced, McCray faces a mandatory minimum sentence of five years in prison and a maximum of 20 years’ imprisonment, as well as a fine and restitution in an amount to be determined by the Court.

Joseph Nocella, Jr., United States Attorney for the Eastern District of New York, Bryan DiGirolamo, Special Agent in Charge, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, New York Division (ATF), and Jessica S. Tisch, Commissioner, NYPD, announced the guilty plea.

“The defendant’s actions were not only dangerous, but they were also a direct attack on public safety and the rule of law,” stated United States Attorney Nocella. “By deliberately setting fire to multiple police vehicles in the pre-dawn hours, the defendant put at risk the lives of first responders and residents asleep in their beds nearby, and ultimately, strained resources meant to protect the community. Today’s guilty plea ensures accountability and sends a clear message that acts of violence and destruction against law enforcement will be met with serious consequences.”

“This defendant’s actions—setting fire to multiple NYPD vehicles and causing significant damage—demonstrates a blatant disregard for public safety and the rule of law. Arson is not a form of protest—it is a dangerous crime that puts lives at risk,” stated ATF Special Agent in Charge DiGirolamo. “The swift work of the ATF New York Arson and Explosives Task Force, comprised of ATF, NYPD, and FDNY personnel, underscores the strength of our coordinated response to violent crime. We remain committed to working alongside our partners to protect our communities and ensure those who commit violent acts are brought to justice.”

As detailed in court filings and facts presented during the plea proceeding, on June 12, 2025, McCray scaled a fence into a secure, private lot on DeKalb Avenue between Wilson Avenue and Central Avenue in the Bushwick section of Brooklyn that housed NYPD vehicles, and intentionally set on fire 10 NYPD vehicles and one trailer. Shortly thereafter, an NYPD officer assigned to inspect the lot saw the fire and observed McCray escaping through a hole in the fence. McCray ultimately self-surrendered on July 21, 2025. NYPD estimates the arson caused over $800,000 in damages. The arson was committed two days before protests were scheduled to be conducted over the June 14-15, 2025 weekend, compromising NYPD resources to protect and secure the public.

The government’s case is being handled by the Office’s General Crimes Section. Assistant United States Attorney Rebecca M. Urquiola is in charge of the prosecution.

The Defendant:

JAKHI MCCRAY
Age: 22
Brooklyn, New York

E.D.N.Y. Docket No. 26-CR-68 (ENV)

Contact

John Marzulli
Denise Taylor
United States Attorney’s Office
(718) 254-6323

U.S. Attorney’s Office Charges Three Men With Attempting To Rob Undercover Federal Agent in Chicago

2026-04-10T15:47:33.361-07:00

CHICAGO — The U.S. Attorney’s Office today charged three men with attempting to rob a federal agent during an undercover firearm transaction in Chicago.

JEREMY JONES, CHRISTOPHER DENSMORE, and CARMELL MASSEY attempted to rob an agent from the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives on Thursday morning, according to a criminal complaint filed in U.S. District Court in Chicago. The agent was working undercover when the agent met with the defendants in a parking lot on the South Side of Chicago for the purpose of buying two firearms from them, the complaint states. During the meeting, the defendants attempted to rob the agent of $600 in government funds that the agent planned to use to purchase the guns, the complaint states. When Jones pointed a firearm at the undercover agent, the agent responded by firing a shot at him, the complaint states. Jones and the two other defendants attempted to flee the area, but law enforcement quickly arrested all three defendants, the complaint states.

The complaint charges Jones, 19, Densmore, 22, and Massey, 20, all of Chicago, with one count of attempted robbery and one count of brandishing a firearm during a crime of violence. The firearm charge is punishable by a mandatory minimum sentence of seven years in federal prison and a maximum of life. The attempted robbery charge is punishable by a maximum of 25 years. The defendants were scheduled to make initial appearances in federal court in Chicago this afternoon.

The complaint was announced by Andrew S. Boutros, United States Attorney for the Northern District of Illinois, and Christopher Amon, Special Agent-in-Charge of the Chicago Field Division of the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives. The Chicago Police Department provided valuable assistance. The government is represented by Assistant U.S. Attorney Rachel Gurley.

“Each and every day in Chicago, ATF agents put their lives on the line to fight violent crime and make our city safer,” said U.S. Attorney Boutros. “The undercover agent in this case demonstrated the utmost bravery, courage, and skill, all of which are the hallmarks of our nation’s dedicated ATF agents. Any crimes against law enforcement—especially violent crimes—are direct assaults on the rule of law. Through these serious federal charges, the Chicago U.S. Attorney’s Office will seek to hold these violent offenders accountable.”

“During an undercover firearms trafficking operation yesterday, the offenders arrived with the intention of conducting a robbery,” said ATF SAC Amon. “They did not realize they were targeting highly trained agents who immediately took action to take the offenders into custody and protect their own. I am proud of the professionalism and bravery demonstrated by our undercover law enforcement officers, ATF agents, and Task Force Officers on the scene. These professionals risk their lives day in and day out to target violent criminals and their sources of crime guns. Once the radio call went out, the Chicago Police Department immediately responded and provided critical investigative support, and I am grateful for their work. To be very clear, the conduct of these offenders will not be tolerated, and I want to thank U.S. Attorney Boutros and his team for swiftly bringing federal charges in this case.”

The public is reminded that a complaint is not evidence of guilt. The defendants are presumed innocent and entitled to a fair trial at which the government has the burden of proving guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.

Pensacola Man Sentenced to 30 Years in Federal Prison For Attempting To Kill an Escambia County Sheriff’s Deputy

2026-04-03T14:44:00.000-07:00

Pensacola, Florida – Darrion K. Finley, 22, of Pensacola, Florida, has been sentenced in federal court on charges related to a shooting incident in late 2024. John P. Heekin, United States Attorney for the Northern District of Florida announced the sentencing.

The Indictment charged Finley with possession of a firearm by a convicted felon, attempting to kill an Escambia County Sheriff’s Deputy to prevent certain communications, and discharging a firearm during and in relation to a crime of violence.

U.S. Attorney Heekin said: “This case shows the deadly threats our brave men and women in law enforcement face every day as they fight to remove violent criminals from our communities. My office remains firmly committed to aggressively prosecuting those violent offenders, and we will stand shoulder to shoulder with our law enforcement partners in the fight to keep our streets safe. Let me be clear: anyone who threatens, shoots at, or in any way harms a law enforcement officer in the Northern District of Florida will face the full might of the Department of Justice.”

Court documents reveal that on December 17, 2024, the defendant was driving in Pensacola in a stolen vehicle. When the Escambia County Sheriff’s Office attempted to conduct a traffic stop of the defendant, he accelerated and law enforcement began its vehicle pursuit. One of the pursuing deputies executed a PIT maneuver to immobilize Finley’s vehicle, after which Finley fired a 9-millimeter pistol at the Deputy’s vehicle, striking the passenger side door of the patrol vehicle. As the Deputy and his K9 approached the defendant’s vehicle, Finley exited the car armed with the pistol, and began pointing it at the officer. The Deputy released his K9, which lunged at Finley and prevented him from firing the pistol, after which Finley attempted to flee on foot but was immobilized and detained. Upon recovering Finley’s handgun, it was discovered that a live round had lodged in the ejection port, indicating the defendant had tried to fire the weapon a second time at the Deputy but it malfunctioned.

“Darrion Finley’s brazen attempt to murder one of our deputies during a routine traffic stop highlights the extreme dangers our officers face every single day,” said Escambia County Sheriff Simmons. “Thanks to the quick thinking and bravery of our deputy and his K9 partner, a dangerous felon is now off our streets for decades. We will continue working shoulder-to-shoulder with our federal partners to hold violent criminals accountable and keep Escambia County safe.”

“Escambia County residents are better off with this violent man behind bars,” said Tampa Field Division’s Special Agent in Change Kirk Howard. “The suspect shot at law enforcement with complete disregard for the community and this sentencing sends a clear message that acts of violence against law enforcement and our community will not be tolerated.”

The case was jointly investigated by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives, the Escambia County Sheriff’s Office, the State Attorney’s Office for the First Judicial Circuit, and the Florida Department of Law Enforcement. The case was prosecuted by Assistant United States Attorneys David L. Goldberg and Jessica S. Etherton.