The work is a calling. It demands that type of obsession.
—JOHN POMFRET
ED NEWCOMER WAS ALWAYS SMALL for his age, which can be hard on a kid. He grew up on the wrong side of the tracks in Denver and became an easy target for bullies. He was five years old when his dad walked out. His mom and two sisters were left to raise him. It was 1970, the days when it was difficult for an unmarried woman to get a credit card, much less write a check. His mom worked days as a legal secretary and nights at a second law firm to keep their family afloat. Newcomer was keenly aware of how tight money was and how hard she struggled just to buy necessities. His mother became the queen of jerry-rigging, and he learned the skill from her. That knowledge would impact him for the rest of his life and turn Newcomer into the MacGyver of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.
He was always amazed at how she created toys out of the simplest of things. To Newcomer, it seemed like magic. He once wanted a lasso for a prized cowboy doll. His mom showed him how to take a string, neatly wrap it around three fingers, and tie it off. It not only looked like a lasso but also unrolled like one. Cardboard boxes morphed into houses to shelter his action figures. The best thing was he could always build a new structure if it broke.
Young Ed was a huge fan of Bigfoot. The creature represented everything that was unknown and scary about the world to him as a boy. He’d always have one of his G.I. Joes searching for the creature as he strung complicated adventures together for weeks on end. The careful planning that went into it would prove useful later when it came to undercover work. He now views Bigfoot as the poster child for endangered species.
Ed also imagined people breaking into his home and concocted elaborate schemes to save his family. His fantasies involved devising intricate traps and high-kicking karate fights. He’d painstakingly work out each detail, driving his sisters crazy. But he was deadly serious about his plans. “I know what to do and how to protect us, so just be ready,” he’d warn.
Most of all, he enjoyed pretending to fight for those who couldn’t protect themselves, be they animal or human. In truth, Newcomer was the one who needed help. He was constantly picked on because of his size. Other kids instinctively sensed his anxiety the way that animals smell fear.
Ed attended a Denver inner-city school and quickly learned that things could get rough. Inventing stories was his best way of escaping trouble, and he became a master in the art of fibbing as a means of survival. Even so, he was the perfect bull’s-eye for bullies.
He was pushed against walls, punched, and choked; once he had a screwdriver held to his neck. He walked the halls in fear of what lurked around the next corner. Things were so bad he avoided the bathroom all throughout junior high. It was the most dangerous territory in the entire school system.
His biggest fear was that someone would take his bike and he wouldn’t be able to stop him. Luxuries didn’t come easily, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing a beloved possession. He hated school and was plagued by insecurities. His only escape was pretending to be an action hero. All he wanted to do was grow up.
Ed finally decided enough was enough. He was tired of being a target. It was time to take a stand. He religiously watched the TV show Kung Fu and dreamt of becoming David Carradine’s character. He begged to be allowed to take a martial arts class.
As a Mennonite, his mother was against violence, and it proved to be a hard sell until the day Newcomer walked in after having been beaten up. She promptly went to register him for a summer course in tae kwon do. The YMCA class came complete with torn wrestling mats, dusty curtains, and sometimes no heat in the winter. What it did have was a master tae kwon do instructor. The catch was that the teacher didn’t take children. Try telling that to a woman on a mission. Ed’s mom talked him into giving her son a shot. If he didn’t keep up with the class, then the teacher could simply boot him out.
Ed was instantly hooked. Once he began, he didn’t want to stop. By the ninth grade, he had earned a black belt and a lot more confidence, and kids had stopped picking on him. The worst that would happen was the occasional bump in the hallway. He went on to train with his instructor for the next ten years.
All his childhood hardships eventually played to his advantage. Newcomer proved to be a natural when it came to undercover work. He could bluff his way through almost anything and had learned to roll with the punches. His adolescent role-playing provided the basis for his career, while tae kwon do training made him a tough adversary.
The best undercover agents are always ten steps ahead of their prey, using strategy much like in a chess game. In addition, successful undercover work depends on three fundamentals: remembering what you tell your target, remaining as vague as possible, and all the while continuing to act naturally. Forget one of those rules and your case could quickly fall apart. Newcomer had all of these elements in place.
Having the know-how of MacGyver was also a plus. Fish and Wildlife tends to work on a shoestring, and sophisticated equipment isn’t usually available. Agents will cobble together whatever’s needed for undercover work, building their own covert cameras or creating garments with secret pockets. The job requires creativity, ingenuity, and tremendous perseverance, as well as comfort in working alone.
Since animals can’t talk, many times agents are the only witness to a crime. That makes undercover work essential when it comes to cracking wildlife cases.
Newcomer had one more thing going for him. He looked earnest enough to be an altar boy. It made him all the more lethal. What he didn’t yet know was how addictive undercover work could turn out to be. For most who took on the job, it becomes an obsession.