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The most unlikely undercover drug bust of my career

Telling this story never gets old.

By Daniel Linskey

I had been in the drug unit for about three weeks trying to learn my role as an undercover officer.

Bobby Pieroway and I were in the office catching up on paperwork. I was going through the latest tip sheet. I saw a tip about a Columbian cocaine dealer. It read:

“There is a Columbian guy selling cocaine out of apt. 2 at 89 Queensberry St. His name is Ecardio and his phone number is [555-5555]. He sells eight balls. You guys have to get him. He’s ruining my brother’s life.”

“Hey Bobby, I’m going to call this guy and give it a shot.”

Bobby laughed, “Danny, there is no way a Columbian is going to sell you coke at 10:30 on a Sunday morning. They’re superstitious and religious. They don’t deal dope on Sundays. Plus, Columbian dealers are very leery of selling to a stranger. You need an intro to get in.”

“He’ll sell to me. I’ll show you.” I said, already punching the number into the phone. He picked up right away. “Hey Ecardio, what’s up man? It’s Danny. What’s going on, did I wake you?”

In broken English, the voice on the other end of the phone asked, “Who is this?”

“It’s Danny. You know me. I want to get an eight ball.”

Bobby was shaking his head, whispering, “You’re wasting your time. I’ll buy you a beer if he goes through with it.”

“Who, Who, Who?” the dealer stammered.

I said, “It’s Danny, Bobby’s friend. I need an eight ball. I can be there in ten minutes.”

“Bobby’s friend?” he asked.

“Yeah, you know me.”

He then said, “OK, ten minutes.”

I hung up the phone, excited that it looked like it was happening. Now what the hell do we do?

We called our boss, Stanley Philbin, and told him what just happened. “Baloney, no Columbian is going to sell coke to you on a Sunday morning, cold call.”

“Maybe he’ll back out at the door, but I’m going to try it.”

In those days there were no elaborate plans. We kind of flew by the seat of our pants. Stan, Bobby and I drove to the location in Stan’s car. I took my gun and stuck it way down the back of my pants. Bobby came along with me, but instead of a gun he carried a radio in the back of his pants. Lloyd “The Wiz” Wizard was our backup along with Stan. There were no body-wires. Once inside we were on our own.

I rang the bell at the outside hallway. I could see through the glass as Ecardio opened the door to his apartment and stepped out to see us. He needed to buzz a second door to let us in. He buzzed the other door before getting a good look. After getting a clear look at us I could tell he was having second thoughts. He realized he had no idea who we were.

“Ecardio, it’s me, Danny – Danny and Bobby. It’s cool, Ecardio. Were you that f***ed up that you forgot me?”

I just dazzled him with bull until he reluctantly buzzed us in. He was very apprehensive, but let us into his apartment. He kept trying to go over my story of how we met and how we knew each other. I powered through and just kept talking.

I said, “Man you’re not very good at this dealing thing. This place has almost no furniture and you don’t even have cable.” I kept s***ing on his apartment, telling him he needed to buy some more stuff with his profits. “Come on Ecardio, where’s the coke?”

He responded, “My friend has it. If you guys are cool, I’ll call him.”

I chatted him up for ten more minutes, making up names and stories about doing crazy things when high. He finally felt comfortable and asked, “OK, how much?”

“We want an eight ball.”

I could not believe my eyes when he walked over to the kitchen, opened the cabinet, and took out a kilo of cocaine. It was the most coke I had ever seen. Our plan was to make a buy or two, walk away, find out more about him, and come back with a search warrant. But there was no way we were going to walk away from a kilo of coke. As he cut off our purchase. I said to Bobby in my best Pig Latin, “You abegray okecay, I abegray himeykay.”

Bobby nodded. As he handed me the coke and took the money, I grabbed him in an arm bar and took him to the floor.

Bobby yelled, “Boston Police!”

I got my gun out and put it to his head. “Don’t you move! Policia!”

He complied, and Bobby radioed for our backup. Stan and Wyzard came in and were shocked. Ecardio was totally compliant, requesting to eat before we took him. We cuffed him to the radiator as he ate his cereal. We were regrouping, trying to figure out who was going to type the search warrant so we could search the entire apartment.

Then suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It must be an accomplice, I thought. You’d need a key to get through the front two doors. I opened the door and came face-to-face with a guy wearing a cowboy hat, pulling a nine-millimeter out of his pants. I yelled, “Gun!”

Stan and Wiz had their guns out already. I grabbed his arm and we began struggling for his gun. The fight was on with the four of us against him. I got the gun out of his hands, and after a good beef, we got him in cuffs.

Trying to catch my breath I asked, “Ecardio you know this guy?”

“Si.”

“You know what he was going to do?”

“Si, shoot Ecardio and take cocaine.”

I guess, in a way, this was Ecardio’s lucky day...although he probably didn’t see it that way.

Foot Note: We tried to flip Ecardio, but to no avail. He was very thankful that we prevented him from getting robbed and most likely shot, but he feared for his family in Columbia so he would not cooperate. He told us his goal was to hopefully get out on bail, stop dealing, and disappear. He defaulted and was on the lamb from 1989 until 2012 when he got picked up again. The DA called me, asking if I remembered the case at all. You bet I do. After Ecardio defaulted, he got out of the business and kept his nose clean for over 20 years. In light of that, we gave him probation and credit for time served.

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