I don’t pull guns on cops.
The world is yours. As for everyone else?
They just live in it.
What brought me to Reno, Nevada was an
That which may have very well been destiny,
could have also arguably been a
game a chance.
I may have been born in the Soviet Union,
but I was made in
And it wasn’t long before I realized
that all you gotta do is reach
out and take what you want,
and because time is always working against us, it’s
also behind us,
so I’ve learned to see life in my rear view mirror.
Since from the moment of inception, everything is
already in the past,
that’s why they call it the present.
Because the present is a gift.
this, I was a correctional officer
at a maximum-security prison,
named me “the black dolphin,” your worst nightmare.
Because in my line of work there are
three kinds of people.
Police officers, cops, and then there’s me.
Initially I came to Reno to work as a federal agent
for the US Department of Homeland Security.
training I had previously received was a big help
and got me through a lot of doors, and now it was time to really test the waters.
If anyone calls me with a job,
believe me, the situation can’t be good,
‘cuz I’m the last guy you want to call.
And once again, my skill and trade
has managed to take me down and into another rabbit hole.
Officer Beacon: Charlie 1, dispatch, I’ll be 10-8.
Officer #1: Thank you for leaving the property. Don’t come back for a month.
Officer Beacon: Yea, don’t come back.
Holmes: A month huh?
Officer #1: No. It’s going to be six months, you keep on acting the way you do.
Officer Beacon: Hey, you’re holding up traffic man!
Kyle Wesley Holmes. a.k.a. kWh, a.k.a. Kilowat, a.k.a. Quasimodo.
Habitual scumbag. The kind that makes other homeless people look bad.
The guy’s got a rap sheet about a thick as the Bible.
I mean, every crime in the book, he’s done
From misdemeanors to felonies, and only God knows what else.
Most recently he caught a domestic violence charge after his ex-wife caught him cheating.
He decided it was her fault and not his, so he roughed her up a bit.
And, got sentenced to do a short stint in California state’s finest vacation resort.
And when he was released back
into the outside world,
he went right to the streets, and sub-consequently,
back to the street life.
And, back to using dope again.
It’s sad too, ‘cuz the
guy came from a decent military family.
Could’ve really made something of
himself, you know?
But instead, he became a wanderer. A drifter. An outcast.
A real loser, misery likes company type.
Rummaging through the
streets looking for his next fix.
Staggering around in search of any little
thing he can get his hands on
so he can go sell it to get drugs.
And when he wasn’t
dumpster diving, or scavenging for stuff
or getting drunk or high,
He was either attending psychotherapy,
going around starting fights with people,
or making frequent visits to the hospital due to his anger issues.
When it came to
trouble, the sky was the limit with this guy.
After his divorce, it was all
downhill from there, so what did he care?
He had nothing to
prove and nothing to lose,
and if anybody tried to get in his way
he was ready to run them over.
Officer Beacon: It’s illegal for you to make death threats.
Officer Beacon: Keep walking.
Holmes: [Inaudible]. What you gonna’ do? Call your fucking vagina?
Officer Beacon: [Laugh]. Alright.
Officer Beacon: All he needed to have done is when he said that,
if he would’ve took it one more step forward,
you just take him down, because then he’s acting on it,
he’s not just making threats.
Who would’ve thought the following day
authorities would be investigating Holmes’ death.
Cops showed up at my job to question me,
being Holmes was a frequent flyer at the bus station where I had been assigned a post,
and because I knew the guy since middle school.
What was really strange was they asked me more questions about the mob than they did about Holmes.
Something wasn’t right. The whole ordeal reeked.
It just didn’t sit well with me.
According to the official narrative of the event,
Holmes was drunk off rum and coke when he decided to try and steal the wrong car,
which in the process exploded, with him in it.
Little did Holmes know the vehicle belonged to a local gangster by the name of Goblin,
who was ordered to be killed by a jealous lover
who had hired a hit-man to install a bomb under Goblin’s hatchback.
The whole thing was a mess.
And what made it even worse was the big egos of the guys doing the investigating.
I mean, they had local, state, and federal agents all over the place trying to piece it all together.
But, being that everyone they had couldn’t keep their balls in their pocket,
the investigation turned into a popularity contest of wise guys just standing around measuring dicks.
What a circus.
And in the end, nothing got done
and the thing was mysteriously labeled
an open-and-shut case.
Officials found absolutely nothing
suspicious about the incident nor the
surrounding circumstances. It’s like
everyone was just going through the
motions of gathering together to drink
coffee and take notes, crack a smile
high-five each other, and then be on
their merry way to call it a day.
They didn’t even fingerprint the body they had pulled out of the vehicle.
They said it was so charred that it would be impossible to obtain any prints,
and besides, the cause of death was obvious so the coroner really didn’t see the need.
And for whatever reason unknown, feds decided to set up surveillance on me.
Can you believe it?
I’m still unsure as to why, but it appeared to someone that during the questioning
I was the one asking too many questions.
Go figure. Typical G-men.
These were the best over-salaried spooks taxpayer dollars can buy.
Officer Beacon: Hey partner.
Officer Beacon: What are you doing?
Oscar: [Inaudible]. I was walking around the block and I was getting tired.
Officer Beacon: What’s your name?
Officer Beacon: Oscar?
Officer Beacon: Okay. Where you just pissing right there?
Oscar: No, no. I was fixing my pants.
Officer Beacon: You weren’t pissing? You were just fixing your pants?
Oscar: Yea, I was just fixing my pants.
Officer Beacon: Okay dude.
Just a…this isn’t a hang out spot. Okay?
I understand you might see people walk
through here, but that’s not cool.
Try to go around, try to use the street.
Folks that own the lot, they’re very concerned about people hanging out here.
Officer Beacon: Okay. Alright.
Squirrely guys like that, hate being lectured. They just want to be on their way.
I arrived in Reno about the same time
Donald J. Trump was sworn in President of
the United States of America. Coming
to Reno was risky but I had no other choice.
I had always had a winning streak
in my pursuit of a career doing what I’d
love to do best, and Reno was no
So I took a gamble and let the chips fall where they may.
It was a long shot and I was rolling the dice with everything I had on the line.
But hey, you only live once.
It wasn’t long before Reno became
It was like being in a little miniature Las Vegas.
like Vegas, Reno is a tourist town
full of casinos, nightclubs, and a whole lot of partying.
Weekdays I was at the airport working for the feds, which left my weekends wide open.
And being I get bored easily, I took up a part-time gig bouncing nightclubs at nearby casinos,
and I’d eventually move on to working
But not everything was glitz and glamour. Reno had its fair share of problems.
Poverty, homelessness, crime, etc.
After all, Reno ranked in at number 11 for worst places to live in the United States.
There was even a place not far from downtown called tent city,
which was a whole street full of
homeless people camping out in tents
and makeshift living quarters.
In the months ahead I would get to see a side of life
I never even knew existed. But for the
most part I’d keep to myself.
I was just a salmon swimming upstream.
Officer Beacon: Security.
Creature #1: All heated up and…
Officer Beacon: Heated up and just kicking it.
Officer Beacon: Okay. Just relaxing.
Creature #1: Pulling out of the RV park. One of the yellow signs, I think it’s right over here.
You know what I’m talking about?
I’ve got a lot of enemies.
I was a part of that.
Officer Beacon: You were a Special Agent or were you…
Creature #1: I was a part of it.
15 pounds of meth,
you wanna buy some of this?
I’ve got probably 2…2 and a half a…let’s see…6, 7…
…probably 40 grams of crystal.
Got my shit.
Officer Beacon: [Laughing].
Creature #1: They could be listening to us right now.
Officer Beacon: Well sure, absolutely, I mean technology.
Creature #1: Almost like a TV show.
I don’t look for trouble. I try to just blend in with people,
and uhhh…you know, look for security threats against our nation.
I look for the dust in the ripples.
So you know what that looked like?
Officer Beacon: Did you come down from Colorado or…
Creature #1: I did.
Officer Beacon: Did you? Okay, cool.
Creature #1: I stayed out in the Nevada desert for a month.
Officer Beacon: Really?
Creature#1: And then I didn’t really get to do what I wanted to do.
My last little dig was up at Targy.
I was getting some weed.
Officer Beacon: Sure.
Creature #1: I got sick and almost died. Had two surgeries.
Officer Beacon: How long did you plan on staying here at this location?
Creature #1: Actually, they were down there looking for me I guess, and I said this is me.
And they said, “Oh good!”
Officer Beacon: You’re the guy we wanted to talk to. [Laughing]
Creature #1: Both of them were like this tall.
I bought some gorilla glue and…
uh…what I was going to tell you is,
I walked out to the end of the corner and took a right, and there were two cop cars there with their lights on,
“Oh shit!” that’s my…my rig.
So I was like “Oh, I know I smell like weed.”
Can’t stay here all night right?
Officer Beacon: No, no, no.
They check their cameras, they check our
reports, we have to document everything.
It’s more of a safety concern for us because it is private property and you have a lot
of homeless folks. Behind, if you go,
okay see that bridge there? If you go
there’s kind of like a roundabout, and
that street right there is sixth Street
you can park on the side. I wouldn’t
advise it, just because a lot of folks
come through there at night and we’ve
had stuff happen there, and it’s just not safe.
And I wouldn’t advise parking
there. You could because it’s a public
street, and chances are nobody’s going to
bother you unless you’re actually on the field.
If you’re on public property we
can’t advise ya…
Creature #1: There’s no way I can sit here until the morning, is there?
Officer Beacon: Not ’till morning, no. I mean, I’m very lenient in terms of
if you need a couple hours to get your stuff together
and figure out where you’re going to go, that’s fine with me, but if we come back
around and we see you here again, which
will be in a few hours,
we’ll re-advise you again, just because
that’s what we get paid to do.
Creature #1: You’ve gotta wear a vest huh?
Is it pretty dangerous Reno?
Officer Beacon: Uh, it can be.
Creature #1: I don’t pull guns on cops dude.
If you have a badge on, I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.
Why is it you wouldn’t let me just stay ’till the morning?
It’s more of a safety concern like I said. Uhm, I’m
pretty lenient. What they would want me to do
is take a picture of you, take a
picture of the car, tell you to get outta here,
it’ll be towed. I’m not gonna do
all that because I’ve got other stuff to do, and…
Creature #1: I’ll go, that’s no problem. I’m not going to argue with you at all.
Officer Beacon: Just a…if you can, you know, just figure out what you want to do, where you need to go and uhm…
we’ll be back nighttime probably around 10. 10 p.m. or something so…
Creature #1: I’m just trying figure out the right direction. I was going to head down south.
He says “well anyway, you can’t park here, you need to leave.”
Officer Beacon: Yea.
Creature #1: We talked for a minute and he said “right down this road to…”
the grand something. That big ass tall building.
Officer Beacon: It’s tough out here, but you can find places where it wont be an issue for you
to be there overnight, it’s just
this isn’t one of those spots.
Creature #1: [Inaudible] in California, fuckin’, draw more money.
Officer Beacon: Yea. For sure.
I’ve caught guys I thought were dead.
Excuse me sir. Sir.
Hello! Wake up! Security!
Back there, and they wake up…
You’re okay, you’re okay.
Needles that they’re sleeping on.
[Slow Motion] Hello! Wake up! Security! Hey. You’re okay, you’re okay.
Creature #1: Yea. I was already approached this morning and offered uhhh…hard drugs, like heroin.
Officer Beacon: It’s bad stuff so, you know, I just caution you being out here. It’s not safe whatsoever.
And a lot of folks may seem like they’re just
wandering, they’re just homeless,
but some of ’em are not.
Creature #1: I try to make good decisions based on my future and welfare.
I’m old, and almost died this winter. I had colon problems.
I have a bad natural valve in my heart.
Officer Beacon: Alright.
Creature #1: I mean, I’ve got a lot of shit going on, so [Inaudible]
Officer Beacon: Well you can take the 80 and it’ll turn into, like, the 580, 395
so if you get on there on the east, you’ll see you can branch off to the right just a few miles up and then
that’ll take you all the way there.
To Carson City, and then get on the 50.
Creature 1#: But if I go back out to where that Wal-Mart was by [Inaudible] 395 South.
Officer Beacon: 395 South. Yep.
Creature #1: Okay.
Officer Beacon: Yes sir. Alright?
Creature 1#: Okay.
Officer Beacon: Okay. Take care, be safe sir. Thank you, take care. Alright.
Now that guy was a grade A asshole.
It’s not often I had to work undercover to expose dickheads like that piece of shit right there.
But on occasion, it had to be done.
I was born in what is now known as the former Soviet Union.
My mother was an actress
and my father was the director of finance for a movie production company.
We resided just minutes away from Red Square. The heart of Moscow.
I was born in the mid-80’s, so I remember the fall of the USSR and the change that was to follow
when the local gangs took over. If it wasn’t for my father’s death, my mother and I
probably wouldn’t have ever have moved
to the United States.
One night my parents went out to
celebrate a business deal my father had
brokered. During those days the country
was up for grabs, the local thugs knew that
which is why there was an emerging
trend of gangs taken down up-and-coming
entrepreneurs. It was nothing personal
but business as usual. Someone wanted my pops
decommissioned so they sent an
assassin to take him out.
The price of life was cheap and there
was always someone there what they’re willing to
collect the ransom. The black market was
thriving. And being it was no longer
illegal to deal in US currency, everybody
was after the greenback.
But like the saying goes, “more money, more problems.” And just like that he was gone.
No one was there to help, even the cops stood by and did nothing. They wanted no part of it.
A single-mother raising a son all on her
own in that country, during a time of
political turmoil, would mean neither one
of us would have a future.
So my mom decided to move to America. Only problem was the thugs controlling the government
had us blacklisted from leaving for the
United States. Those are some really
nasty people. I mean the very idea of
someone else doing well sent chills up
their spine. But where there’s a will
there’s a way.
So what did we do? We took a detour and
got a one-way ticket to Mexico, El Chihuahua.
From there on it was just a matter of
going north and making it to Juarez.
Where we crossed in El Paso, Texas.
During those times the border was wide
open, and it was simply a matter of walking in.
Which is exactly what we did. With
the help of some very special friends of course.
As I remember it, we had to
get across the Rio Grande River,
a highway, and then to a fence of a local
school where we ran across the football field.
From there it was straight to the airport.
This was pre-9/11 so airport
security was lax.
We then caught the first flight from El Paso to Los Angeles. Easy peezy.
We touched down at LAX from where we
then moved to Santa Monica and then Long Beach.
Southern California was great. I
loved it. It was paradise, and a long ways
away from the Soviet Union.
This is the Lockwood landfill. A dumping
ground operated by waste management,
and is just a ten minute drive out from
the city of sparks which is the next
city over from Reno. Trying to get officers to come out here for inspections was like beating a dead horse.
I really didn’t mind coming out here to do patrols. It was actually a beautiful place, and
with kind of a wild west scenery, mainly so do the wild horses.
The entire inspection would generally last about 30 minutes,
with wildfires and thieves being the primary concern.
My first couple days of training, my training officer and I
helped stop a fire near by one of the
streams. I guess some folks were enjoying
Nevada’s outdoors and wildlife so
much they forgot it was fire season and
almost set the whole place ablaze with a
small campfire. The sheriffs and fire
department had to come out and put an
end to that party.
Sir. This is private property. You can’t be here, you’re loitering.
Hey, horse! Hey, I’m talking to you.
He’s non-compliant. Gonna have to call animal control.
Working mobile patrol was the greatest
job ever. Most of it was community patrol.
Officer presence type stuff.
Drive around, smile, and wave at people, and say hello.
As long as I made my rounds, the
boss didn’t care, so long as we got the
work done. The job took me just about
everywhere, from wealthy gated
communities to ghetto apartment
complexes. It sure was a hell of a way to
get out, explore and see the city. There
wasn’t a place in Reno I didn’t patrol,
or at the very least pass by during my
route. And it was easy,
everything was GPS tracked, so I’d get to
my destination, do my inspection, chase
away any vagrants and undesirables,
GPS ping the location, note anything out of
the ordinary in the computer, scan a QR
Barcode, and bada-bing bada-boom, I was off
to the next stop. Every once in a while I’d
respond to the occasional burglary
alarm, or the late night noise
disturbance which was usually just
college kids partying, or your regular
domestic. You add up the rare, every once
in a blue moon, VIP escorts for ATM technicians, where
all I had to do was stand around with a
gun on my hip and keep lookout while a
repairman worked to fix a broken
automated teller machine, and that was
pretty much it. That was the nature of my
job. On a typical workday I would visit
some 30 to 40 various locations, or as we
called them, “patrol hits.” I had the keys
to every door and the combination
pass code to every gate. Parking garages
and parking lots, business offices, shopping
centers, retirement homes, our company had
contracts with everyone, including the US
Post Office. We did it all.
Some places would even hire us to come out and to open and lock their businesses, which
was just a matter of locking and
unlocking entrances, turn on the lights,
snap picture or two to confirm that I was
there, and that’s it.
We even provided security services to
storage facilities, dumping grounds,
recycling centers, properties which were under development, and abandoned
buildings, where we’d get homeless
squatters on occasion so I’d have to
clear the vacant buildings in
pitch-black darkness with my sidearm.
Good times. I’ve had a few close calls
where I’ve been attacked and almost had
to shoot the assailant. It came with the
territory. A dirty job, but somebody’s gotta do it.
In all of my experience working
security, I’ve seen some interesting
things, but nothing was like the city
dump during night time.
The land fill was about 20 minutes out from the city. Away from the smog and the light pollution.
And if you drive to the very top, you
could see the starry sky. It was the most
beautiful and the most smelliest place
[Rapping] I was born a free man, the traveler, I feel like Moses, back in Egypt
Let my people go, innie minie miny moe, the streets ain’t safe, body bags and tagged toes,
I push a thin blue line until they’re nauseous , ‘cuz in my kind of work, I’ve learned to be cautious,
Gotta look both ways just in case, the other day I almost caught a hot one, right in my chest,
So I keep my gun chambered, and wear a bulletproof vest as I walk down the valley of the shadow of death,
Huh, yea, or no shadows at all, with my back to the walls but who do you call,
And every time I stop I think I might have found a body,
The city slums are overrun by John Gottis,
So everyday I pray and say to God I need a way out, the game of chess I call life has never been a safe house,
The game of chess I call life has never been a safe house.
You see what you want to see, cognitive bias, under-covers wearing wires for cons and liars,
Cops rolling lights and sires, tweakers with pliers, where every other one is Michael Myers starting fires,
Get your head out your ass and free your mind, free your speech,
And unleash the beast, on the beat seven days a weak,
I keep the peace and stride while the weak seek to start a war, Bobby Fischer, 21 chess moves, Art of War.
Reno made me feel like I was right at
home. It was different, but not by far
from what I was used to. You got to
always look at the pros and cons of an
environment. I had a lot of work to get
done, so it was best did I get a head
start because you got always stay
several points ahead in the game.
I was already making a name for myself as “The Security Guy,” but that wasn’t enough.
It never is. I wanted more. I don’t view myself as one
of the yuppies content with the mundane
and measly things like in life. Yes Men.
Getting inline to only become another brick in the wall. In situations like that
you gotta always ask yourself, “What is your legacy, and what are you willing to do to
improve and better yourself to get where
you need to be?”
Some days I couldn’t wait to get to work, and other days, I’d get to work and I couldn’t wait to get home.
While conducting routine patrol, I
had received an anonymous tip from a
Confidential Human Source. Now I’ve been around the block before so this wasn’t
my first rodeo, so I had done encountered
some foul situations during my time
as a security officer, but this had topped them all.
I was informed that a subject by the name of Melissa Bowman had knowledge of Holmes’ death.
Melissa was a meth addict junkie. Real unfit mentally defective misfit,
who liked to hang around local crack houses.
Now, this girl was a cold piece of work. She
knew everything and everyone, who was who
and into what. And she didn’t give a
shit, she’d do anything to get paid.
All she cared about was supporting her drug habit.
She didn’t care about anything or anyone
else. She didn’t care about her health,
she didn’t care about the law or that she
was on probation, she didn’t even care
about her newborn son whom she used as
an excuse for everything going wrong in
her life. She was getting everyone knocked,
even her baby’s daddy, whom she had
arrested after he denied that he was the
father of her child.
She was great for law enforcement. She provided so much Intel, the police department had to
designate an entire room devoted to her.
They had boxes of paperwork stacked up to the ceiling.
Rumor was, she got involved with a dirty
detective from out of town,
Michael was his name, and the two had
been partying together. The guy was a
useless cop, a no good investigator.
So he began extorting Melissa that she
gathered information for him.
Creating crime was Michael’s job
security, and I guess that’s how Melissa got
into doing reconnaissance work. The guy must have really held her feet to the fire
‘cuz her Intel led the SWAT’s team
yellow doing raids back-to-back.
For the dope dealers it was a sign of the
times. Mid to low-level peddlers were
going down on the daily. Only problem was,
Michael had vice so he could never do the
job straight up. He had to always cut
corners and take a little extra for
himself. The city was hot and crawling
It was great. All the dirt-bags
scattered like cockroaches, and because
there was so many, it was non-stop. There was always something going on. Always.
I wasn’t the only one to take interest in
Holmes’ death. There was a senior
investigator by the name of Terry who
reopened the case and was working it day
and night. When he wasn’t putting his
foot up asses of course.
Gals like Melissa made the perfect
informants, but even then it was a hit
or miss. I mean, she had the attention
span of a goldfish so it was hard for
her to keep her story straight, even when
she was telling the truth.
But if you could get information out of her,
whatever the cost, it was priceless.
She knew everything. From the money side
of things, to the type of merchandise
shipment, the quantity and the quality.
She even knew the weight down to a T,
the origin and destination of travel, and
means of transport. She even knew that
shipments were coming up the 93, from
Arizona and into a small trucker town in
central Nevada. From there, it was going
to Salt Lake City Utah, up through Idaho
and to the Canadian border, and, you guessed it…
Reno City Nevada, a known high intensity
drug trafficking area. Then it was either
going to Oregon or Northern California.
There’s something about cities in the desert that give them an edge. Almost as if the lack of scenery
makes the environment feel more desolate. Bringing out people’s wild side. And Reno City was
no Beverly Hills or Hampton’s. Drugs were
a huge problem. And with that, followed
criminal activities. Most of which were
fueled by drug addiction.
Holmes knew something, and so did Melissa. She didn’t specify what it was, but it was something big.
And as Melissa explained, Holmes had
talked about skipping town just prior to the incident.
There’s a certain
occupational hazard that comes with
being in my line of work which is
usually inherited with the more you
learn, and being that I knew my way
around, I learned something new every day.
I had patrolled every nook and cranny.
There wasn’t a place in the Reno City
area I wasn’t familiar with. Exchanges
were going on daily, and even the pee-ons
were making a profit hand-over-fist.
And with as much law enforcement
activity as you had, there was almost
always some kind of hanky-panky going on
with someone turning to look the other
It was about then that work was
picking up and I was moving through the
streets like chess pieces.
I was a part of the action,
playing cat-and-mouse with the bad guys. Yeah, it was a bunch of Yahoo’s playing cowboys and Indians,
and everyone had their own
definition of law and order, but what would
you expect from a casino town. It was all
ego, and all about lights, camera, action.
Some cases come a dime a dozen, but this
particular one was a needle in a haystack.
I hate to be the one to tell
people I told you so, but don’t say that I didn’t.
As I began gathering records on Holmes, the more info I obtained, the more questions I had.
It all started with a news article,
then came the death certificate,
coroner’s report, criminal history, credit
and financial records, history of
residency, and so on. I became so obsessed working this case that I even gathered
information on Holmes’ relatives, girlfriends, ex-girlfriends, you name it.
Anyone and everyone, including Holmes, was under my microscope.
I’ve never really cared much for peoples opinions and assumptions, since my assumptions were always better,
and usually more accurate.
I began making phone calls. Maybe, just maybe, someone can pull some strings for me,
and get a hold of the photographs from the crime scene.
But what I came to find out is that, when the going gets tough, the tough really do get going.
Nobody wanted to help in investigating Holmes’ death.
I had consulted with Sergeants, Lieutenants, and Captains of various police departments.
And you would think with a high-profile case like this, someone would try to make their career
with it by getting involved. But they
didn’t. Nobody cared. At face value and upon
first impression, I would say the case
was one of a conspiracy. But a conspiracy for what?
What was the motive, really? Nothing was adding up, which is great if you’re looking at ask more questions.
But would have been better if I was coming up with just as many answers.
I remember spending days on the phone with FBI agents,
arguing back and forth as to what I believed really happened, and getting laughed at.
The only person at that time to take me seriously was a Secret Service guy out of Riverside.
But even then, nothing. Investigators just didn’t want to get involved. The case sounded absurd,
and nobody wanted to risk the
I’ve always had a talent in back engineering and reconstructing situations and scenarios in my mind’s eye,
and the theories I was coming up with were
ridiculous, but likely true, one way or another
And as much as I tend to
exaggerate, the reality of my speculation
is usually much worse than originally theorized.
That’s why with cases like this, I hope I’m wrong. I’d rather be a kooky conspiracy theorist
then actually come to learn I’m a great
investigator, or even worse, clairvoyant.
These kinds of situations are always
time-sensitive, so you’ve got to move fast,
or miss out on crucial
opportunities and important clues.
I’ve always had a way with words. That’s how I size up situations. The better our vocabulary,
the better we can put imagery in
perspective with words, and piece puzzles together.
It’s like painting a picture, or
like the saying goes, “a picture’s worth a
thousand words,” written out on a nice big fat affidavit. My logic is that,
I always expect the worst-case scenario but hope for the best. And when I go out on a hunch,
I treat my inference as factual. Even if
it’s not, I know it is because I don’t
know that it isn’t. That’s how I test my
silly ass theories. Like a good scientist
working to validate, or invalidate, his
hypotheses by conducting
Officer Beacon: Excuse me. How you doing?
Creature #2: I’m good honey, how are you? [Dog barking]
Officer Beacon: Good. What are you doing, just hanging out?
Creature #2: Yea. Why?
Officer Beacon: Because you can’t be hanging out here, it’s private property.
This whole entire lot.
Creature #2: I’m just like, reading the news.
Officer Beacon: Yea, that’s fine. Well, you can go and read it somewhere else, like Kmart or something.
You just can’t do it here.
Creature #2: Oh wow.
Officer Beacon: Okay? Alright. Yep.
Now, the City of Reno was something else. It was unlike any other town in which I had previously resided.
It was a dynamic town. I’ll say that much. It’s easy to be pessimistic and simply noticed the negative
and overlook the positive, but
if we’re talking about the ugly side of
things, Reno had plenty. And because I
done enough traveling and moving around,
this wasn’t my first rung up the ladder.
From the freaks to the weirdos, the scum,
the spooks, the goons, the misfits, crazies,
Looney Tunes, toothless wonders, wackos,
crooks, criminals, thugs and gangsters,
peeping Tom’s and prowlers, the place was
rich in opportunists looking to exploit
others for their own personal gain.
Most crimes were property crimes
fueled by substance abuse.
I don’t know how the police managed but they did, and did a great job doing so.
When I wasn’t chasing undesirables, and running up and down stairs and clearing buildings with my gun out,
I was cruising the streets, which was usually during the night shift. The night life taught me that, there is a
whole other world out there which most
people don’t even know exists. It’s like
every other night there I was driving
past a crime scene. From burglaries to
petty thefts, domestic violence cases,
vandalism, battery and assaults, and your
occasional robberies. Car thefts were
big too and car thieves were getting so
good that they were using smart phones
to hack their way into vehicles. It was a
dog-eat-dog world and you couldn’t trust
anyone, but then again I never did, since
I was taught to always be cautious. Still
the problem which plagued Reno
persisted. Something most people didn’t want to admit, but it was obvious.
Remember Michael, Melissa’s dirty cop friend?
For some strange reason he took a particular interest in me. Now I wasn’t great at
anything, but I was okay at a lot of
things, and apparently pissing off dirt balls
was one of ’em. Now I’m unsure as
to what I said to get this guy all fired
up about me, but he was hot on my trail
and wanted to know what I knew about
Holmes’ death. It was about that time
that I had obtained all the security
experience I possibly could and had
worked every security job and post
there was in Reno. From surveillance to
security and passenger screening at the
airport, where I became an expert at
detecting groin anomalies. Now that was
one heck of a job, you know? Being at the
front line of Homeland Security and all.
Besides that, I’d even done work as an
armed truck driver-money messenger
where I’d almost flipped over an armored truck I was driving on my way back from Fernley.
Hey, I had been pulling a 16-hour shift, so
don’t make fun of me okay.
But nothing was like mobile patrol. I got more experience from working 6 months of
Patrol than most people will get in
And all jokes aside, most of the folks
I dealt with on a day-to-day basis
were good folks who just lost their way.
It was a humbling experience and I
learned and never looked down on anyone
I wasn’t willing to help up, unless they
really got out of line, at which point
it was beyond my control,
and above my pay grade. I remember one
night, I got caught up in an undercover
operation feds were running downtown at a
property I was patrolling on foot.
One of their guys was dressed up like he was homeless, thought I was someone else and tried to attack
me with a metal pipe to see how I’d
react. Luckily, I responded accordingly,
before placing him in my handcuffs.
Sheesh. What a mix up. But eventually
everything turned out fine. Just a little
misunderstanding is all.
My job was like playing pacman in real life. You go here, go there, spot an Octopi or two.
Woop. I think I got something over there.
Seems like we got a couple of sleepers
lounging. Let’s go take a closer look and
see if we can make contact. Sleepers were
frequent at this location, something
that’s expected in what is a common
place for loitering and tress-pass activity.
After a while, you get tired of issuing tress-pass advisement’s.
I mean, these folks don’t have anywhere to go. You tell them to leave, they will.
But when you’re not around, they’ll be back.
Officer Beacon: What’s going on guys? How you doing? Hey.
You guys just…
Creature #3: [Inaudible]
Officer Beacon: No. I understand that, but it is private property.
So, the whole thing is, whether you’re camping out or you’re not, you’re just laying down for a moment,
it’s not okay with the folks that own the lot and the next lot over. They’ve got an issue with that.
Just because it’s private property. Yep.
Okay. Alright. I appreciate it, thank you.
Alright, you folks have a nice day.
Now what was thought to be an Octopi, turned out to be a Picachu. Another case of mistaken identity I guess.
Now that was pretty standard procedure. One of the first few times I visited this property,
I actually had a guy camping out nearby. He was carrying an enormous dagger
’bout the size of a machete. You think I got out of my patrol car to talk to him?
Think again. I may be stupid, but I ain’t that stupid.
In that type of situation, you just stay put in your patrol vehicle and shout verbal advisement’s out
window and hope they listen. I’ve caught so many folks hiding in the bushes here, it really makes you
wonder. How you can have an empty field
that will likely never be put to use,
yet, someone continues to pay for
security to stop by and make sure no
one’s out here sleeping.
Now let me tell you about this pig pen.
You wanna talk about draining the swamp,
this was it. This was the source of
everything wrong with the city and where
all the city’s problems had stemmed from.
It wasn’t the thugs or the druggies that
made Reno a zoo. It was this place. The
epicenter. I called it the Emerald City
of Oz, and Virginia Street was the golden
brick road. This was the easiest security
post I had ever worked. All I did was eat, do
surveillance, and a foot patrol every
couple hours. I got so much online
training done while at work that they
should have made me the Director of the FBI. Everyone there loved me, even the Monarch.
One day, when I was helping her carry money bags of funds embezzled from the public out the back door,
she looked me in the eyes, shook my hand, and said thank you.
Good job boys. Now let me hear everybody say “money!” [Laugh] Let me hear you say “not guilty!” [Laugh]
What law? What Grand Jury? [Laugh]
Believe it or not, corruption wasn’t the best word to use to describe the place.
I can’t help but think about the vast
differences between the haves and the
have-nots, and how the everyday things
which most of us take for granted
are unobtainable to the folks who live
on the streets, only to become victims who
have succumb to the obstacles of their
very own environment. It never made me
feel good, or as though I was somehow
“winning” when I would see others suffer
under such harsh conditions and
unfavorable circumstances. And the more I
worked patrol, the more I realized that
there is something really wrong with our
society. I have went down some of the most darkest, coldest, and loneliest streets,
and alleyways, that exist in America.
So I’ve seen the homelessness, the gangs,
crime, and vice, and conversely been
places on the other side where the grass
really is greener. Working Patrol was a
lonely job, in that I spent most of the
time in my own thoughts, which really
gave me a new perspective on life
because I would reflect on and
question those many elements which were
pertinent to my surroundings. Around
every corner, there was a new adventure
awaiting, a life lesson to be learned, and
knowledge and wisdom to be gained.
There is a thin red line between love and hate, and when faced with real-life dilemmas all
the little things which we worry about
seem to fade, and we realize who and
what it is in our lives that really
matters. Call it an awakening, moving into
the light, an epiphany, or whatever you
want to call it. Life really has no
road map, and every day is another day we
venture into uncharted territory, to be
tried and tested by the time and space
And a work of art in the making, made
possible by our imagination. If only we
had more leaders who capitalized less on
keeping people in the dark, we’d start off
on the right foot, and with more
knowledge for building blocks for us to
build on. Thus, would arrive at the same
conclusion, but much sooner. Saving
ourselves all the pain and heartache.
Things still wouldn’t be easy, but life
would be so much easier. But then again, I
guess it’s easier said than done.
To quote American comedian Bill Hicks, “if
we took all the money we spent on the
military every year and put it to use to
feed and clothe the poor of this world,
which it would do many times over, then
we can explore space, inner and outer,
together as one race.”
I grew up in Southern California. The greater Los Angeles area to be more specific.
And growing up, I was the little thug, or at the very least a wannabe, so for me to wind up working a job which
required me to wear a uniform was
unimaginable. I’ve done been jumped,
had people pull knives on me, take shots at me, you name it. And I wasn’t the type to run
the other way, ‘cuz I would always
run towards the danger. I’ve been through
just about every set and neighborhood there was in L.A., I ran those streets day and night.
Nevada was different. It had its
own aura and environment. Most folks are
friendly and welcoming, while others, not so much. But if it wasn’t for the mob back in
the days, we wouldn’t have the Nevada we
have today. And even till this day, Nevada
ranks second for mortgage fraud.
Florida’s number one. So you can imagine
the kind of numbers we’re talking about
here. White-collar crime is big business
everywhere nowadays, and this place
happened to fit the bill to some extent.
Word on the streets was, the Hoover Dam
was getting ready to break.
Now the Monarch of Reno was planning a coup to secede from the union in an attempt to usher in
an egalitarian utopia. That’s how the
feds got involved, and they meant business.
To quote Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson.
“With the feds, you do 80% of the time, so if you get hit with 10, you’ll damn near do 9.”
Now some say Vegas was central to all
the dirt going on in Nevada, which
simply wasn’t so. Vegas was truly a
tourist town, thus, is known as critical
to US infrastructure, which makes it
hot ‘cuz it’s always in the public’s eye,
domestically and internationally.
Yea, sure, there are things going on in Vegas which
shouldn’t be, but much of that is
exaggerated. Every big city has its flaws,
that’s just the nature of our society.
But the places you really gotta watch
out for are midsize towns which are
just big enough to be relevant and
facilitate constant activity, but just
small enough to stay off the radar.
Reno wasn’t the butt crack of Nevada,
that would be Battle Mountain. And it
wasn’t the armpit, because that would be
Ely. Reno was somewhere in between,
which made it the bellybutton. Hence the
saying, “in the belly of the beast.”
When I wasn’t working, I was working on making my next move my best move, so I would try
out for various law enforcement agencies.
From written exams, psychological tests,
physicals, interviews, and even polygraphs, and I was
always training non-stop. Training was my
thing, that’s what I did.
I even tested for US Customs and Border
Patrol, but didn’t get the job because
the hiring agent said I was
overqualified. [Laugh] And they wonder why
they’re understaffed. When I wasn’t doing
that, reading books and studying,
I was up nights late, either developing mobile applications, or working on computer code.
Which, I love computer code, I could
program all day and night.
Ethical hacking, penetration testing, hunting for bug bounties, recording hip-hop music,
trading Crypto, and doing hobbyist tech
stuff. Things I enjoy, like messing
around with my Raspberry Pi, and talking
to my Alexa. Oh, and editing this
documentary of course, which has been
years in the making.
Things were going well, and most days I had no complaints. Life was good. I did what I wanted to,
put in my hours at work. Then come home, kick off my boots and relax, and have a drink
or two, or six, or twelve. And, I enjoyed my job the work was right up my alley.
I got to help people and play the protector and defender of my community, travel around
and visit new places, and look like a
bad-ass doing it. And the way I did things, set
me aside from other officers. As I
handled matters by taking a slightly
different approach. I must say, I was on
the right track but couldn’t see the
bump in the road coming up ahead, which
would later prove to be a turning point
in my journey.
Officer Beacon: Not sure if you are aware of this, but this is private property, so is the next lot over.
Okay. So anytime folks are
hanging out, I have to come out and I
have to give these advisement’s, because
the owners of the lot are very concerned
that we got traffic and people coming
through, hanging out, camping out
overnight. Okay. So I just got to give you
that advisement. Were you waiting for
Creature #4: Yea, I was waiting for a friend, but I could wait [Inaudible].
Officer Beacon: Okay. Alright. Cool. Appreciate it. Thank you sir. Alright.
Hey Terry. Thanks for checking in.
Uhm. I just had a question for you regarding Pioneer Plaza. I was here yesterday
and I had a male subject who I gave an
advised to in the back of the strip
mall in the alleyway there, and I wasn’t
able to document it ‘cuz the patrol live had
shut out on me after I took his picture,
but I seen him here today, I’m here right
now, and as I arrived on scene he was
sleeping in the same spot, or just about
in the same spot where I talked to him yesterday.
I think he seen me and he might have went into the restroom. I’m gonna check it out right now.
Our environment tends to reflect back on
our psychology at the very least, there
has always been the argument of nature
versus nurture, that is, do people come
into the world as they are, and are thus
predisposed to certain characteristics
and psychological traits? or do people
inherit such from their environment?
Research suggests both nature and
nurture play equal roles in shaping and
molding or we are. If I say “look at this
place, look at how messed up the
environment has become,” someone can
counter argue and say beauty is in the
eye of the beholder. Or, label me as
pessimistic for simply making a keen
observation. Is the glass half empty, or
half full? Or, the chicken and egg analogy.
I guess we could spend all our days
speculating in procrastination, or we
can look at the bigger picture and take
responsibility for our communities and
become the good change which we desire
to see in the world.
The choice is up to you. In other words,
don’t persecute the messenger.
With all the surveillance, security, and police presence,
you would think we’d be living in a perfect utopia, but by the looks of it, we don’t.
Now this was something you
would expect to only see in third-world
countries. “Oh look, those devious
diabetics left their insulin needles lying
all over the floor again.” In the land of
the blind, he with one eye is king, and I
had a pretty good grasp on where most of
this crap originated from. When we think
about how the drug trade and drug use has
been mis-portrayed and sensationalized
by the mainstream, what we’re really
seeing is the aesthetics of
entertainment. But when you go out into
the streets and the communities, you get
to see things from behind the scenes, and
a side of that world nobody wants to
talk about or advertise. It’s a
totally different ballgame.
“What’s that you say? Another insulin
overdose? Gosh darn-it.” It’s all become so
routine that I understand how cops and
first responders can become desensitized
over time to all the drama and nonsense
they have to put up with. And people do
make their own choices, so in most cases,
people can’t really blame anyone but
themselves. However, there are those who
profit from other’s misery. Which really
makes you wonder, which came first, the
chicken or the egg? It’s almost
unavoidable. So, be happy. Everything is okay. Besides, if you want to fix this mess, think again,
because the casino slot machine odds are against you,
and the house always wins.
The Holmes case turned out to be much
worse than I had anticipated, and in the
process, I learned of a Ponzi scheme. By
now it was no secret that certain people
who had a stronghold or locally where the
root cause to the environment being what
it was. Believe what you want, but some
facets to the biggest little city
spelled out a racket. The more I
investigated, the more roadblocks I
encountered. This is exactly why you can
never lose your sense of humor. ‘Cuz when
you got all the odds going against
you, that’s all you’ve really got. Which
is why they can’t keep a good clown down.
What lies up ahead is often unknown.
Some of us are enticed by mystery and a seeking to know, while others are frightened by the very idea
knowledge, in which case ignorance is bliss.
I was coming up with names of all sorts. These people
were working hard, but the question was
who were they working for? ‘Cuz it wasn’t in
the best interest of the people, I could
say that much. I’ve looked over every
piece of evidence in relation to Holmes
and knew that I was onto something.
And it doesn’t matter the
humiliation. When you believe in
something, you go all the way and stand
your ground and don’t back down, ‘cuz it
will all be worth your while eventually.
When people chase fantasies they wind
up chasing their own tail, like a silly
dog, and I wasn’t chasing anything, or anyone.
But seeking Justice. It’s the only way to maintain balance and equilibrium.
Officer Beacon: Hey, what’s up? What’s up? What are you doing?
Officer Beacon: Just chillin’?
I’ve talked to him before. The fella in the green. What’s your name?
Officer Beacon: Scott. Okay Scott.
I know we’ve talked before, about this property and the folks that own it don’t want anybody hanging out,
so that’s why I’m here, just a friendly kind reminder.
Creature #7: [Inaudible]
Officer Beacon: Yea. Yea. If you’re just passing through. But every-time I come through here I always see
somebody hanging out, so I got to give everybody the same advisement’s.
Ok. So, whether it’s you or the next guy,
whoever, I have to give the same advisement’s to everyone.
[Cell Phone Ring]
Okay, thank you sir. Bye.
Creature #7: I’ve been trying to fucking leave for like the last 10 minutes. [Laughing]
Officer Beacon: [Laugh] You got stuck, or what? Jeez.
Creature #7: That’s what happens when you’re smoking pot sometimes.
Officer Beacon: Well, it’s legal now, so you know?
Marry legal pot day.
Officer Beacon: What’s up man?
Creature #8: Odele essey?
Creature #9: Hey vato!
Officer Beacon: Hey partner.
Excuse me sir?
How you doing?
Creature 10#: Ahhh.
Officer Beacon: It is private property. You’re welcome to go anywhere else, but this lot here, next lot over,
and behind there, that empty field, it’s private property, and the folks that own it ask for us to come around
and give these advisement’s.
Creature #10: Alright.
Officer Beacon: I appreciate it. Thank you sir.
Officer Beacon: Excuse me sir. Sir. Hello.Wake up, security!
Hey. You’re okay, you’re okay.
All right. This is private property and
it’s not a safe place for you to be
sleeping, okay? All right, so I’d really
appreciate it if you uhm…got a vacate, just
keep in mind, that lot and this lot here…
private property. If you go to that
bridge right there, that’s fine. Okay?
Appreciate it. Thank you sir.
I wonder how many times he’s heard that one before?
Probably as many, if not more times, than I’ve had to say it.
Hey Terry. I’m at Keystone investments.
And if I understand correctly it’s not
just that empty field that’s ours,
but also the one across from it. Okay, so
you know where the freeway is and
there’s kind of like that hole in the
ground. Okay. All right. Yeah, sewer area.
Exactly. So if they’re there
trespass them as well?
Yea, I got someone over here. I mean, they
literally have like a whole camp set up.
A tent and everything. So, and I just
vacated another fella who’s sleeping
with a hypodermic needle next to him.
These are no sanitary living conditions
for any human being to live in. But hey,
what can you do? Not like the monarch
cares or is wiling to make a genuine
effort in giving the town a makeover.
And yes, I even worked security for
McDonald’s. I guess after a McDonald’s
worker messed up an order for a customer,
that customer decided it would be wise
to pull one of the workers through the
drive-through window to teach them a
lesson. It was after that incident that
McDonald’s decided to hire security
officers to assign all of their
locations in Reno and sparks.
Officer Beacon: How you doing tonight?
Creature #11: [Inaudible] seven million years old [Inaudible].
Officer Beacon: You’re seven million years old?
Creature #11: I’m seven, a class two you know? Like my brother [Inaudible], my brother Jesus.
He’s a number one.
Officer Beacon: You’re brother Jesus is number one?
Creature #11: [Inaudible] but, I gotta take care of New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day.
2016 inspections [Inaudible].
Officer Beacon: Alright.
Creature #11: [Inaudible]
Officer Beacon: Okay. Alright.
Oooh, oooh. Me first, me first. Gimme, gimmie, gimmie.
I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date,
no time to say hello, goodbye, I’m late,
I’m late, I’m late. Now hurry up and give me
my overpriced mocha latte with cream and
fireworks ‘cuz I’ve got a meeting with
people who are more important than you.
Oh my fur and whiskers.
For the uninitiated. If you don’t have a line of sight, you can’t hear what they’re really saying.
Out in these streets, you’re
either incredibly smart, or incredibly stupid.
‘Cuz for as hard as you work to
get what you want, you’ve got to work twice
as hard to keep what you have once
you’ve got it. Because there’s always
someone working twice as hard to take
what you’ve earned. They say you shouldn’t
burn bridges, but I say, if you find
yourself doing the same thing over and
over, driving yourself in circles and
expecting a different outcome each time,
burning a bridge to never look back behind you may be your best bet if it yields a
change in your direction for the better.
For the three plus combined years
I’ve worked security, law enforcement, and
public safety, I’ve had an invaluable
experience and learned more than some
folks will learn in their entire careers.
Efficiency, you gotta make the most of
your learning experiences. That is, don’t
count the time, but make the time count.Take what you’ve learned, and
apply it elsewhere to better serve your
needs. My entrepreneurial spirit was
calling me to change trajectory. I had to get
out of this place.
Things just weren’t safe anymore. And me
being nosy, or as I prefer to call it,
inquisitive, only generated that much
more interest in attention from unwanted
sources. By now it was safe to assume I
was an alright security officer, and even
more so of an investigator, and that’s
just it, once I master the work, I get
bored easily and start looking for other
ways to keep myself preoccupied. The
true definition of a workaholic. The
thing about success, or what makes a
person successful, is that once you
arrive at a milestone you’ve got to
start working towards your next goal.
It’s our short-term goals that help us
achieve long-term success, which is why I
try and focus on the work. Everything
else is just a distraction. No more
preaching and trying to teach others the
way in which they should go. You’ve got
to focus on you, and don’t cast pearls
before swine, lest they trample them
under their feet and turn to tear you in pieces.
Officer Beacon: Hello. Excuse me. Wake up.
Hey. Sir. Sir. Security.
Sir. Wake up. You’re on private property.
Creature #12: Ah, ror real? Alright.
Officer Beacon: Yep. Gotta get up and gotta vacate.
Alright, what’s your name? What’s your name? What’s your name?
Don’t have a name. Okay.
It’s private property. Please don’t come back here, alright?
It’s not a safe place to be
for you, and the folks that own this lot
don’t want anyone here. So, for future
reference, if you keep coming back here
you’re gonna keep seeing us. All right?
[Phone Dial Tone Ringing]
Your call has been forwarded to an
automated voice-messaging system,
“King Ding-a-Ling” is not available. At the tone, please record your message. When you finish recording,
you may hang up or press one for more
Ah, yes, Anton, Special Agent Anuse. As
previously discussed, I’ll be waiting to
meet with you at the downtown Reno city bus station today, at ohhh…1400 hours. I’ll be expecting you.
Until then. Bye.
Anytime you walk into a room full of cigar smoke when there’s a no smoking sign posted just right outside
the door, you know something is up. And once again, as usual, I pissed somebody off big time.
And it wasn’t anything particular I did, but
more so that my behavior got a lot of
attention from persons of interest. And I
was onto something big in regards to
Holmes’ investigation, which brought a
lot of heat. This wasn’t the first time I
had a sit down meeting with a Special
Agent and it wouldn’t be my last either.
Secret meetings with mysterious figures
in strange places I guess. I’ve always
had a theory that the best strategy is
no strategy, and the best plan is no plan
at all. It’s like using a plain canvas
as a road map you, just fill it in as you
go along, or, as the saying goes, “cross that
bridge when you get there.” I had come to a fork
in the road. And all though Reno was good to me for the time being. I was no longer welcome.
To me, everything is a coin toss. And as Agent Anuse put the picture in perspective for me,
he gave me a heads up about a couple of rouge renegades with badges who were riding my coat tail.
And Michael, the dirty detective, was one of them.
He said they were either pirates looking to steal my investigation, crooked cops who were worried
I knew too much, or they were simply looking for a fall guy for something. You know. A scapegoat.
I was right on the money about Holmes. I had hit a bulls eye, but didn’t have all the information just yet
to draw a concrete conclusion as to what the hell really happened, but I was close.
Some people look for a way in, I was looking for a way out. I had my back to the ropes, and I was ready
to sock it to ’em with all I got.
Like a big ass tidal wave. It was all
or nothing. With everything on the table. I was going for corner pocket, you see.
The funny thing about time is that it’s always working against us,
so you’ve got to stay several
points ahead in the game.
I had already gone back to the drawing board from the time I had set foot in Reno.
Contemplating my next step. I needed a
make over. A fresh start with a clean
slate. It was about time for me to get
out of there and pursue a path of prosperity.
A better life, you know? It was time for
Knowledge is the key. That’s why I read.
And writing helps me gather my thoughts
and refine the things I’ve learned.
Not to sound too cynical, but I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth,
so the superficial things were never my
cup of tea, because fads fade away but
perseverance is forever.
Now I’m not gonna say the job was getting to me,
but I was getting tired. Especially having to
put up with all the thuggery and hoodlum
activities. Don’t get me wrong. Kicking
ass and taking names could be fun,
but even that gets old after awhile.
And there was a shift in the surrounding energy and environment, and as the days progressed,
I became more watchful as the tensions built.
I can’t confirm, nor deny,
the content of information Special Agent and I had discussed,
but we had reached an agreement. And he suggested an offer which I could not refuse,
And leaving town was paramount to our common understanding.
Human empathy. It’s a strange thing. When
you go places you’ve never been and meet
people from all different walks of life,
you come to realize how much our
differences are what make is so much
similar. It’s a paradox. An enigma.
The suffering people endured can happen to anyone,
rich or poor. There really is no class in
the brotherhood of man, just a work,
and a service expected from us to contribute to the family of humanity.
Each one bringing forth a living stone according to their faith and ability, to place
where they fit, in hopes that our part
helps complete the Great Pyramid, which
is the great work in which we are all
the cornerstone. From street corners
to alleyways, to the suburban life of gated
communities. I think we’re all seeking
answers to what life on Earth is all
about and our place in the universe.
And I don’t think we’re there yet, but it’s
hidden in plain sight. Right in front of us.
And we may joke and laugh, and
entertain, but all in all, we can’t forget
and lose sight of what’s important, who we
are, free from fear and free to be, lest
we look down and lose our balance and
fall off the tightrope. Mankind has always aspired
to ascend in knowledge. Fueled by a
desire to know, to come from up under and
rise like the Sun, in all of its splendor shining brightly, and through grace attain the wisdom sought out,
which helped lead our forefathers out of the caverns and caves of Plato.
And then, you have this guy. He knows when it’s the right time to come out.
Look at him. He’s like, “Eh, what are you looking at? What do you want from me, huh?”
And that’s what working security in Reno was like. That is, everyday was Groundhog’s Day.
Officer Beacon: Hang on. I guess we gotta turn our cars off now.
P.D. told me their shit got stolen a while a go.
Security Officer #1: No way.
Officer Beacon: Yea.
I swear you told me Plaza 800. And that’s where I was at looking for you.
But ah, that’s alright.
He hasn’t talked or anything?
Security Officer #1: No.
Officer Beacon: We’re gonna get a picture. We’re gonna formally advise him that he’s trespassed, and next time
we will call the cops, and he will go to jail.
Hey. Hey partner. Hey, wake up dude. What’s going on why are you constantly coming back here after
being told you can’t be here?
This gentleman, my partner, has told you
numerous times not to be here. You’ve
been caught here several times and
you’re told not to be on this property
loitering. Why are you here?
Do you have your ID?
Creature #13: No.
Officer Beacon: You don’t have your
ID. What’s your name?
Scott: My name’s Scott.
Scott. You’re formally being trespassed. We’re gonna take your picture. If you come back here
you will go to jail. We will have you
arrested next time you come back here.
This is not a hangout spot. Not back
there, not out front here. Okay?
Scott: May I put my hat on?
Okay. He’s gonna take your picture right
now. Got it? Alright. You’re formally trespassed.
Security Officer #1: Call the cops?
Officer Beacon: Yeah. Next time just call the cops.
Officer Beacon: What?
What was that?
I heard you say something.
Scott: I said I wasn’t even doing anything wrong.
Officer Beacon: Ok. You were sleeping. You were sleeping here on private property.
Folks that pay us to come around here ask us to give these kinds of advisement’s
‘cuz nobody’s supposed to be sleeping out here.
If you’re sleeping out here and you get
hurt, or some shit happens, it’s gonna
fall back on the property owner, and they
don’t want liability, so that’s why we
have to come out here and tell you these
Scott: Someone assaulted me.
Officer Beacon: Okay, there you go, see, we don’t want that here.
Scott: I was even spending money.
Officer Beacon: You were sleeping. Were you spending money to sleep here?
Scott: As long as you don’t think I’m some disrespectful…
Officer Beacon: I think it’s disrespectful when you had
multiple advisement’s and you keep coming back. You should know better.
You seem like a reasonable person. You
understand what I’m saying. I don’t
think that you’re not a reasonable
person, so if you understand what I’m
saying, why is it we have to give you multiple advisement’s?
Does that make sense? You’re not…I
know you’re not out of it, like you’re
not a crazy person I can tell, right?
So you should understand. So if, yeah,
we’re giving you these advisement’s. You understand
English, and you understand these
advisement’s, so you should not be coming
back here. I should not have to come out
here to talk to you.
Officer Beacon: Okay.
I’m just pissed off I went all the way to Plaza fucking 800, fucking I was like…
Somebody finally listened, which means
they read my affidavit. Now FBI agents
from DC are agents of a whole different
breed. They are the cornerstone of the
Bureau, but you can’t just be any geek
off the street, you gotta be savvy and
have all your wits about you. Gotta earn
Now here’s where things get really
interesting. Even the local agents here
weren’t too fond of their own kind who
are out-of-towners. And with an agency as
prestigious as the Bureau, everything’s a
secret. Even if you have the clearance
it’s like pulling teeth trying to get
these guys to be straightforward, and now
I understand why. I lit a gas under
someone’s ass, which must have rattled
their cage, because certain characters
weren’t too happy about the agents coming
all the way from headquarters to ask
questions. They didn’t like outsiders
coming into their territory to conduct
investigations, for whatever reason,
it either made them feel as though they’re subjects, or they were just disgruntled they
weren’t being let in on the action. I had
spent endless hours on research in my
investigation. And Lady Justice may be
blind, but she is real, and continues to
hold the scales. And I was as relentless and persistent as J. Edgar Hoover. Now I had a breakthrough
in the investigation when I managed to
obtain Holmes’ coroner’s report.
If it wasn’t for that document, the case would have hit a dead end. Keep in mind, I was
already under surveillance locally, which
made this new law enforcement presence unwanted.
As it through a monkey wrench into what was already going on in the background, thus, changed everything.
The US Attorney’s office in Maryland
took note when I had placed a FOIA
request with the Justice Department in
regards to Holmes. There was a
discrepancy between federal and state
records, which prompted a further review.
Neither the prosecutor, nor the judge, had
ever encountered a scenario that was
anything like this before. It didn’t matter that the investigators from DC were inquiring into something
that had nothing to do with Reno, or Nevada, but when the feds start making these kinds of inquiries,
it becomes an opportunity for them to get into everything, and that raised some serious concerns
for some folks, because these kinds of situations always have a domino effect. It’s simply inevitable.
Whatever the rhyme or reason, I’m usually mellow and keep my composure,
even in times of turmoil, but can turn up
on the drop of a dime when necessary to
assert myself. This was where the rubber
meats the road.
I had already agreed to leave Reno
behind, and this was a clear indicator
that I was almost ready to make the move,
and the white surveillance van hidden in
plain sight was my cue to get going.
Officer Beacon: He’s gonna…I think he’s having a fit.
Security Officer #2: Is that P.D. over there? Tell them that he’s over here.
Officer Beacon: He’s gonna try to…He might try to lunge at one of us.
[German Radio Chatter]
Officer Beacon: What?
Officer Beacon: Hey, you gotta leave. You’re trespassing. You already…you threatened us.
Alright. Get outta here.
Officer Beacon: You gotta get out of here.
Officer Beacon: You gotta get out of here.
Officer Beacon: You gotta get out of here.
Officer Beacon: You gotta leave.
Officer Beacon: Hey, get off the property.
Holmes: You’re a liar from hell.
Officer Beacon: Hey, you gotta get out of here.
Holmes: [Inaudible] can’t get a drink of water in there. I outta blow your brains for you man.
Officer Beacon: Hey, hey, hey, hey. Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up, leave…
…back up, [Inaudible] back up, back up, leave, you’re trespassing…
…leave right now, walk away, walk away, stop threatening me…
…walk away, get back, get back, walk away…
Holmes: I’ll kill you!
Officer Beacon: Get back, get back, I’m telling you right now, get back…
…start walking, start walking, you’re going to go to jail…
Holmes: Shut the fuck up!
Officer Beacon: You’re trespassing, stop threatening me, get back, get outta here, start walking…
…leave now, leave now, stop threatening me, leave, get-get outta here…I’m telling you right now!
You better calm down.
Holmes: I got a drink of water and [Inaudible] pursuing me, [Inaudible] a drink of water.
[Inaudible] I got a drink of water and he pursue me like a devil.
So you go ahead and arrest me.
They pursue me for a drink of water, I’m God damn sick of it. Everyday.
Security Officer #2: [Inaudible]
Well, you know what? I got a drink of water…in there, and you’re gonna pursue me like a terrorist.
I’m sick of it. Why are you so small [Inaudible] I’m standing here.
I came back on my own freewill, ‘cuz ya’ll stupid. Pepper spray in my face for a drink of water.
Security Officer #2: Nobody pepper sprayed you.
Holmes: He raised it in his hand.
Officer Beacon: It’s ‘cuz you said you were going to kill him, that’s why.
Holmes: Oh, oh yea. I sure did, didn’t I?
Officer Beacon: You did. I was there, I heard it.
At times I’m not sure as to what kind of games we’re all playing. It was the bottom of the ninth and I
would have struck out had I not been on
the ball. And even though I had been
throwing a curve this whole time, all
that did was help me adjust my game plan.
I wasn’t about to give up and let
someone else bat for me, that just didn’t
seem like a viable option. I had to step
up and swing for the fences. This was
Major League. Some say competition is a sin, which is why I don’t compete.
I just work on improving myself. I had gathered enough information
in the Holmes investigation to compile
and submit a report which would secure a
Grand Jury indictment. And in the blink
of an eye, just like that, I had managed
to hit a home run and out the ballpark.
The feds already knew this since they
responded to the initial copy of my
affidavit requesting an investigation.
And, as it turned out Holmes’ death was
just the tip of the iceberg.
Sometimes the empirical evidence in an
investigation can yield clues to more
evidence and to crimes being committed
which might be unrelated or separate
from the original inquiry. You know. Small
things lead to big things. And what the
Holmes incident revealed was a
operation. Rico status. Run by a mini mob.
What weren’t they doing? For law enforcement,
Christmas came early. It was going down,
from Reno to Southern California.
And apparently, Holmes’ sister was a
hotshot in SoCal and worked for the city,
and was part of the whole ordeal. You
want to talk about a chain reaction, this
thing was big. ‘Cuz when those tactical
police uniforms and jackets with yellow
lettering come out, you know that you
know what just hit the fan. It’s like
J. Edgar Hoover rose out of his grave to
make a comeback for a special encore
presentation. To quote Christopher Priest,
author of The Prestige. Every great
magic trick consists of three parts, or acts.
The pledge, were the magician shows you
something ordinary, like a deck of cards.
The second act is called the turn, where
the magician takes the ordinary
something and makes it extraordinary.
Now you’re looking for the secret, but
you won’t find it because you’re not
really looking. You don’t really want to
know because you want to be fooled,
and you won’t clap yet because making
something disappear isn’t enough.
You have to bring it back, which is why every magic trick has a third act.
The hardest part. Which is called The
Prestige. Holmes was the magician. A real
Harry Houdini. But what do you call the
one who learns of, and exposes the
magician’s secret, which brings the show
to an end? It was Abrahadabra time, no ifs
ands, buts, or maybys. And the force didn’t discriminate. Justice had dawned and was on the horizon.
Luke 8:17, for nothing is hidden that will not be made manifest,
nor is anything secret that will not be
known and come to light. The press was
gonna have a field day with this. A real
media frenzy, and some of those people
won’t see the light of day.
The eye in the sky was always watching,
no doubt. And I really hope those folks
like wearing orange and living in gated
communities ‘cuz that’s all that was
in their future, ‘cuz they all had
one-way tickets to the federal vacation resort.
The FBI exhumed what was believed to be
Holmes’ body and learned that it
wasn’t, and was that of a John Doe, which
meant that Holmes was still out there
somewhere and was now the prime suspect in his own death. As it turned out,
Holmes wasn’t even really homeless. That was just all an act. A facade. Smoke and mirrors.
The motive as to why he would faked his
death is still unknown at this time, but
it’s suspected that there are a
multitude of contributing factors, like
insurance money, organ trafficking, and
Holmes may have been connected to other
serious crimes from which he didn’t want
to face punishment, so he forced someone
else to take his place. Which to him was,
“one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”
As for Michael the dirty cop? He
was a rookie looking to make a name
for himself, which is why he got sloppy.
The whole time he was conducting
surveillance, he was also being
surveilled, which is how he got caught.
And Melissa? Well, she eventually flipped on Michael and
turn him into Internal Affairs. She
thought she was gonna get off easy
playing a single mob card but things
went south real quick when she started
making demands, which resulted in her
losing custody of her son, getting hit
with fines, and community service. Which she loved,
since she was already servicing the community for free in one way or another.
Michael lost his badge and got off on probation, but he won’t ever work as a cop again, I can tell you that much.
It’s a tangled web we weave when we conspired to deceive. And even though, the bigger the lie
the more likely people are to believe it, that house of cards has to come down eventually.
Information is on a need-to-know basis,
and somebody needed to know.
Credibility and integrity, it’s the only currency that matters in this kind of playing field.
I hold these truths to be self-evident. And as it’s been proven over and over again, the pen is mightier than the sword.
Which in this case, the pen was a laptop
Bobby Fisher, the greatest chess player of all time became known for his 21 move brilliancy after winning
a chess game in 21 moves.
I managed to do it in 17.
Mathew 10:8. Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, drive out demons,
freely you have received, freely give.
Now this was a story about a man whose story is yet to be told.
And a security guard who cared and just so happened to stumble across a clue
in his pursuit of justice which led
to the discovery of a crime against a
man known as John Doe. At first
authorities refused to investigate the
case and laughed at the idea that Holmes
could have faked his death.
And I told them then, that they wouldn’t have a choice but to investigate.
They’re not laughing anymore. The only questions that remain are who did Holmes murder?
And where his Holmes now? And was the FBI willing to play “Where’s Waldo” to try and find him.
Some say Holmes was a rogue mercenary. A double agent of some sort.
A freelance terrorist even. I don’t know,
sounds a bit too far-fetched to me.
Besides, that’s above my pay grade. But
what I do know is that between then and
now, all the studying, training, and hard
work finally paid off, and sometimes
that’s just what it takes to crack a
case. Hey, after all, I learned from the best
that the Federal Bureau has to offer,
which is why I can understand both sides
of an argument. The feds have always had
a funny way of making friends, which is
why every once in a while you got to
make them come to you. And when you open up
Pandora’s box, it’s no longer a matter
if, but a matter of when, time tells the story as it really is.
And in my heart, I knew all along that if
I was consistent and believed in my
“uneducated” guess, someone would hear
what I had to say, and the investigation
would come into fruition.
They say every good story has a good ending, and this particular story, only has a beginning.
So on that note, Yippee ki-yay, Y-eehaw, and
Dasvidaniya! Singing off, yours truly…
The White Rabbit