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Las Vegas, Nevada
It was Las Vegas after all. The city and nearby Henderson boasted some of the best costume rental stores in the region. Achmed Al Hami experienced no difficulty in assembling the few items he required. Later, in full costume, he boarded the RTC bus serving West Flamingo Road. Following an uneventful twenty-minute ride he alighted several store fronts away from the private postal store. Entering the store, he made his way past the packing materials in the front to the private mailboxes at the rear.
Later, FBI Agents scanning the video recording would see a light skinned African American with an Afro haircut and beard in a colorful dashiki visit mailbox 86 and leave with a small package. The image may have been a bit retro, but it was Las Vegas after all.
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Chicago, Illinois
Todd Adams befriended the young teen several months earlier. The boy’s father was the building superintendent living in a two-bedroom apartment the father could never afford but came with the job. The kid was eager to run errands, wash a car, or any other task where he could earn the pocket money to buy weed. Adams initially used the boy for low risk tasks and subsequently to dropping-off and picking-up his laundry paying him $20 for the service. The kid was bowled over by Adams’ generosity and checked almost daily to be of further service.
After tasking the kid to pick up his groceries—all items delivered—he gave the kid $200 and sent him to purchase cell phones. Adams was clear in his directions: Buy two phones and the kid could keep the remaining funds. “Burner phones okay?” the kid asked. Adams took the chance the kid knew what a “burner” was, and where he could buy them. With one additional set of instructions, he handed over the funds in $20 bills and sent the kid on his way.
FBI Agents knew urban gangs always sent their youngest members to buy the burners that made inner city drug commerce successful and difficult to trace. The small stores stocking these phones knew they were destined for gang members and criminals. They also knew the straw purchasers hid the identity of the true buyers which was fine with them. Burner phones were high margin items. There was nothing seasonal about them. In fact, keeping enough of them in stock was an ongoing challenge.
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Las Vegas, Nevada
After returning the rented items and getting back to his home, Al Hami removed the inexpensive telephone from the seal-a-meal bag inside the box in which it was shipped. He powered on the unit and navigated to the phone menu. The fifth item was the phone’s contact list. Pressing the five key the phone displayed a single ten-digit telephone number belonging to “Butch.”
Bringing the phone to his ear he waited for someone to answer at the other end of the call. His patience was rewarded on the sixth ring. “Hey, Butch.”
In the conversation that followed, the two agreed on the method of transport and the address to which the items would be shipped.
At the end of the call, Al Hami opened the back cover removing the SIM card and battery. Lowering the phone to his patio, he crushed the device with the heel of his boot. Much later, he dropped each of the items in different dumpsters at the rear of the nearby strip shopping center. He exercised care to be certain no one saw him.
It was Las Vegas after all.
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Chicago, Illinois
Dad wasn’t happy. As a single father, he dedicated the time to be both father and mother to the boy. Single parenthood was a struggle, sometimes more than others, depending on who was demanding what among the building’s well-heeled residents.
The kid must think he was stupid. He didn’t begrudge the kid some of the experiences of growing up in the city. Dad knew he couldn’t protect the kid from everything. Life had a way of intruding. At least he didn’t have to contend with girlfriends, yet.
Dad didn’t mind the kid’s occasional use of the family PC to surf the porn sites. He even overlooked the time the kid returned home smelling like a weed factory. But lately, the kid reeked from weed all the time.
The one thing that scared Dad was the prospect his son would fall in with the wrong type of kid, or worse yet, a gang. Even a prestige address in a top-class building wasn’t a moat protecting his kid from the bad elements in Chicago.
“Son, take a seat. We need to have a chat.”
The kid knew that tone of voice. Knew an inquisition and a lecture was heading his way at the speed of light. The kid was smart and knew better than to bluff his father. His dad asked, he gave a straightforward set of answers. Dad should have been pleased. He wasn’t. Instead, Dad was frightened.