Book Sneak Peak- Controlled Delivery

A new concept approach from ARGunners present you with a 130 page teaser of one of our favorite books and author, Nick Jacobellis’s – Controlled Delivery

This should give our readers an excellent idea of what this true story is about and possibly make them interested in purchasing Book One and Book Two ,available at amazon.com, here. 

Controlled Delivery follows:

NICK JACOBELLIS, SENIOR SPECIAL AGENTU.S. CUSTOMS SERVICE, RETIREDBYCovert OperationsIn the War on DrugsA True StoryBOOK ONEControlled Delivery, Book ICopyright ©2018 by Nick JacobellisISBN 978-0-9982956-4-0 (print)ISBN 978-0-9982956-5-7 (ebook)All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereofmay not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoeverwithout the express written permission of the publisherexcept for the use of brief quotations in a book review.Book design by www.StoriesToTellBooks.comEmail: badgepublishing@gmail.com

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Controlled Delivery Book I iFOREWORDA controlled delivery is the ultimate sting operation. In the 1980s and 1990s,undercover operations known as a controlled delivery became an effective tacticto use to dismantle Colombian based smuggling organizations.The story Controlled Delivery is not your ordinary police procedural and depictsthe actions of one of the most unique undercover operations ever mounted bythe United States Customs Service. In addition to being the author of this book,I am also the U.S. Customs Agent who initiated, directed and participated in theundercover operation that is the main focus of this two-part true story.While serving in an undercover capacity, my colleagues and I waged a secretwar on the drug merchants who threatened our borders on a regular basis.Whenever we went operational, we became the portable front lines of The DrugWar and achieved a victory for our side. The undercover personnel featured inthis book were The Dirty Dozen With Wings, a group of self trained covertoperators, who performed a mission that most people of sound mind wouldshy away from.ii Nick JacobellisIn order to understand how this true story came about, I need to take youback in time, to when I was a kid growing up in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn.It was during this period of time, that I had two dreams in life. One was tobecome a federal agent and the other was to learn how to fly. To be more specific,whenever I thought about the future, I always imagined myself wearing a militarystyle flight suit and being involved in a law enforcement aviation pursuit of somekind.After years of wondering how this vision of the future would materialize, Iknew exactly how I was going to achieve my goals, when I read a magazine articleabout the missions that were performed by the U.S. Customs Service. The moreI learned how this federal agency used uniformed officers, a special agent forceand a fleet of vessels and aircraft to combat acts of smuggling, I knew exactlywhat I wanted to do for a career. After getting a college degree and working incity and state law enforcement positions, the day finally came when I was hiredby the U.S. Customs Service.After being assigned to the Resident Agent in Charge (RAC) Office at JFKAirport and the RAC Long Island, I requested a transfer to the front lines ofThe Drug War in South Florida. While the main focus of our efforts were inthe ports of entry and along our borders, some of us also aggressively pursuedsmugglers beyond our shores.My first assignment when I arrived in Miami was to serve as a member of theFreighter Intelligence Search Team aka FIST. FIST was the unit that interdictedControlled Delivery Book I iiiacts of smuggling along the Miami River, as well as in the Port of Miami. Oncertain occasions, we also conducted vessel boarding operations in CustomsWaters (within 12 miles of the shoreline).After serving in the Miami Freighter Intelligence Team, I experienced dejavous in megaton proportions when I received my wings and I became a U.S.Customs Air Officer. As an Air Officer, I flew interdiction missions throughoutthe Caribbean, in search of smugglers who used private aircraft and high speed“go fast” boats, to smuggle drug contraband into the United States.While residents and tourists enjoyed South Florida beaches and nightlife,an armada of U.S. interdiction assets engaged drug smugglers on a daily basisthroughout the Caribbean. In time, the blue and green water of the Bahamasbecame littered with the rusting hulks of smuggling aircraft that didn’t make itto their intended destination. Contraband occasionally washed up on the beachand the thunder of high-speed boats could always be heard rumbling off shorethroughout the night.After being promoted to the rank of Special Agent, I was assigned to thenewly formed Miami Air Smuggling Investigations Group 7. Group 7 waslocated in a trailer complex behind the Miami Air Branch facility at HomesteadAir Force Base. After a successful run at making several significant cases, I setmy sights on more elusive targets.During the period that I refer to as The Miami Vice Era of The Drug War,smugglers used various methods to penetrate our Southeast border at all hoursiv Nick Jacobellisof the day and night. While their goal was to “shotgun” as many drug shipmentsas possible into the United States, our mission was to stop them from doing so.By the late 1980s and early 1990s, U.S. and Bahamian drug interdictionforces were very effective in forcing air and marine smugglers to operate furtheraway from our shores. At the same time, it became more challenging for U.S.interdiction forces to operate farther away from their bases. Before our successin the Caribbean, the smugglers came to us, sometimes in droves. In fact, thesmugglers seemed to subscribe to the theory, “If you throw enough shit againstthe wall, some of it was bound to stick.”During the period of time that it took to drive the smugglers away fromSouth Florida and various locations in the Bahamas, smuggling organizationssuffered significant losses of planes, vessels and crews. This was a serious blowto their operations, because transportation is the key element in any act ofsmuggling. As a result, without transportation, the smugglers were unable tobring their products to market.While serving in this successful interdiction effort, I saw an opportunity fora group of undercover operatives to offer their services to unsuspecting violators(criminals). In order to conduct a successful infiltration operation, we had toconvince our “clients” that we had ability to smuggle drug shipments into theCONUS (Continental United States), while avoiding U.S. interdiction assets.However, this plan would only work, if we utilized private aircraft that couldcarry large shipments of drug contraband. These planes also had to be capableControlled Delivery Book I vof flying long distances without needing to be refueled.In the last two decades of the 20th Century, South Florida was a labyrinth ofintrigue that included a large number of informants, domestic drug traffickers,smugglers and law enforcement officers in the local population. As a result, mycolleagues and I were in the right place at the right time to put our feelers outand draw attention to ourselves. Our targets were Colombian based smugglingorganizations and their stateside representatives/receivers. My plan was to strikedeep into the heart of the enemy through the effective use of covert operations.In order to fund this operation, I intended to use the “front money” aka theexpense money that was given to us by our Colombian “clients.” This moneywould be used to pay the expenses that we incurred, when we provided thetransportation services to “smuggle” drug shipments from Colombia to the UnitedStates. Once we were “hired” by a smuggling organization and we picked up adrug shipment in Colombia, we would maintain complete “control” over thecontraband at all times. This included when we executed the “delivery” phase ofevery operation. It is also important to note, that whenever we went operational,my colleagues and I had to act like real smugglers without breaking the law.Once an undercover aircraft and crew returned to the CONUS, my planwas to use the drug shipment as bait, to lure out as many drug smugglers andstateside receivers as possible. To add insult to injury, my colleagues and I wouldwait until we were paid a sizable amount of drug money for services rendered,before we agreed to deliver any of the contraband. Once the delivery was made,vi Nick Jacobellisa small army of U.S. Customs Agents and other law enforcement officers wouldmove in and arrest the subjects of our investigation. If everything went accordingto plan, the undercover operatives would ride off into the sunset, devise a newcover story, get introduced to another group of unsuspecting smugglers andrepeat the same process as many times as possible.Because we could not confide in the Colombian government, it was imperativefor us to utilize the services of contract aircrews and sources of information tooperate covertly on foreign soil. To be more specific, due to the risks involved,sworn law enforcement officers were not allowed to operate in an undercovercapacity in places like Colombia. This policy necessitated the use of non-sworncivilian personnel, who were formally documented as confidential sources ofinformation and contract employees.In order to make my idea a reality, I turned to my most trusted network ofairport contacts and documented sources of information. Up until this time inmy career, my sources of information had helped me make a number of cases andseizures. The day I approached my private aviation contacts, they all agreed toserve and provide me with planes, crews, hangars, mechanics and office space. AllI needed now was authorization from my superiors and we would be in business.In October of 1988, I requested permission to form an undercover air unitthat would be responsible to infiltrate smuggling organizations, for the purposeof executing as many controlled deliveries as possible. After presenting my plan tothe Special Agent in Charge (SAC) in Miami and the Regional Commissioner,Controlled Delivery Book I viimy “Trojan Horse” operation was approved. Clearly, at that time, the U.S.Customs Service was an agency that encouraged individual initiative.With no prior military experience and an expired student pilot’s license inhand, I became the ad hoc commanding officer of my very own undercover airunit. Looking back, I was probably the last person who should have been putin charge of a covert air operation, considering the fact that I only had abouta dozen hours of flight training and three solo flights under my belt in singleengine aircraft. The simple truth is, I got this job because it was my idea and noone else apparently wanted to assume the responsibility.Having authorization to do anything in federal service was more importantthan anything else. Fortunately, a recent change in federal law allowed federallaw enforcement agencies to establish proprietary corporations and create phonybank accounts, in the same way that intelligence agencies are known to operate.In addition, this new law authorized agencies to use trafficker directed funds,or money that was provided by violators (criminals) during undercover stingoperations, as expense money to conduct undercover operations. This meant,that we could react to situations without delay, because we did not have to applyfor traditional government funding through normal channels. While conducting these high risk undercover operations, every penny that we recovered fromour drug smuggling “clients” would be deposited in a certified undercover bankaccount and would be strictly controlled.In order to go operational, I recruited a cadre of contract personnel who wereviii Nick Jacobelliswilling to play by the rules, despite the fact that on the surface we had to actlike the smugglers we were targeting. Our contract crews included, war heroes,convicted felons, three defendant informants, a former Colombian drug cartelpilot, experienced private pilots, commercial airline pilots and a smuggler whonever got caught.While mounting these highly specialized covert operations, we assembledan impressive fleet of undercover aircraft that were “leased” to the U.S. CustomsService on a case-by-case basis. Because some of my contacts were aircraft brokers, we were able to rent any aircraft that we needed that we did not have in“inventory.”Officially, we were assigned to the U.S. Customs Service Miami AirSmuggling Investigations Group 7. After we completed our first mission, webecame known as The Blade Runner Squadron, a nickname that we adoptedbecause we flew on the edge. The original logo for this operation depicted anundercover aircraft taking off on the edge of a knife blade; the same knife thatwould be used to execute our crews, if their real identities became known toour adversaries.When I wasn’t working alone, I had at least one special agent, sometimes twoor three, assigned to help me run this rather unorthodox covert air operation.When we went operational, we teamed up with other special agents from Group7, from other Customs units in Miami, as well as with special agents from otheragencies and from other Customs offices throughout the country.Controlled Delivery Book I ixIn the process of executing a succession of transportation cases aka controlleddeliveries, we made history on a number of occasions. The stakes were alwaysvery high and despite what one of our critics had to say, we took calculated risksbecause we were in a risky business, but we never took chances and believe methere’s a difference between the two. Everyone who worked for us also proved tobe incredibly trustworthy. This is evident by the fact, that we transported tonsof cocaine and handled millions in untraceable cash without experiencing anyintegrity problems.As you can imagine, participating in undercover operations involvingmulti-hundred and multi-thousand kilogram shipments of cocaine would proveto be a very dangerous and demanding experience. What was even more bizarrewas that none of us were specially trained to do what we did. You see, despite thefact that controlled deliveries were the “meat and potatoes” of the U.S. CustomsService, there was no formal training available, that prepared us to mount safeand successful covert operations using undercover aircraft.To be more specific, there was no specialized training program entitledControlled Delivery 101. The undercover school that did exist provided verybasic training at best. Worse yet, a number of special agents who were stationedin South Florida, weren’t sent to undercover school in a timely fashion. As anexample, I wasn’t sent to undercover school until September of 1991. This meantthat my colleagues and I were largely self-taught and learned our trade in thefield. We learned how smugglers conducted business and how they behaved, byx Nick Jacobellisinvestigating acts of smuggling and interdicting smugglers in the act of violatingthe law. Working with reliable informants and documented sources of information also helped us to hone our skills as undercover operatives. The next hurdlewas to learn how to negotiate smuggling ventures and drive hard bargains withColombian based smugglers and their stateside representatives.In order to learn the business of directing undercover air operations, I reliedon my experience as a U.S. Customs Air Officer and what little training andexperience that I had as a student pilot. Just like I was a self-taught undercoveragent, I was a self-taught director of flight operations as well. Since no schoolexisted that could train me to serve in this capacity, I spent my spare time devouring flight manuals and talking to U.S. Customs Pilots and private pilots, to learnabout the flying characteristics of different types of aircraft. In doing so, I learnedhow far different aircraft could fly, while carrying the required crew complimentand various amounts of fuel and cargo.I also became well versed on the capabilities of different types of aircraft,to safely land and take off on different kinds of runways. This included whiletaking off with a “full bag” of fuel and a cargo bay bulging with drug contraband.I also had to become familiar with seaplane operations. In addition, I learnedhow to navigate and plot courses on a map/air chart so I could plan operationsdown the last gallon of aviation fuel. Last but not least, I also learned aboutthe weather and other factors that related to the safe operation of aircraft. Thisincluded learning how to successfully penetrate Colombian airspace undetected.Controlled Delivery Book I xiLuckily, I was a people person. This made it easy for me to recruit, direct andcontrol an eclectic group of the informants, sources of information and contractpersonnel. Even though there were times when I felt like the headmaster of aschool for wayward boys, I accepted the antics of our “hired hands” as a way tolet their hair down before going in harm’s way.While directing and participating in this undercover operation, I came tobelieve that pilots are a special breed, because each and every time they gotairborne they defied gravity. I also believe that because I tried my hand at flying, Ielevated my standing a notch or two with the experienced pilots that I recruitedto serve in our UC OP.Looking back, this dream of mine was only a success because I had the bestpeople imaginable working by my side. In time, I saw us gel into an effectiveundercover force that never compromised its integrity and was able to fly underthe most adverse conditions imaginable without experiencing the loss of life.We had close calls, but fortunately for us, being close only counts while playinghorseshoes and throwing hand-grenades.Everyone who agreed to work with us was treated with respect, regardlessof their past mistakes and crimes against society. The special agents who wereinvolved in this operation received a few quality step increases and monetaryawards amounting to a few thousand dollars. A few of the Group 7 SpecialAgents who were actively involved in this certified undercover operation wereeventually promoted and became Senior Special Agents. None of us asked for,xii Nick Jacobellis

or received any medals and none were handed out, even though many of the

things that we did warranted being formally decorated.In order to receive substantial monetary payments, a person had to be directlyresponsible for helping U.S. Customs Agents arrest major violators and seizesignificant amounts of contraband, drug money and valuable assets. If necessary,sources of information and contract personnel also had to be prepared to testify,if that’s what it took to prosecute a case in federal court.From the time that I started investigating acts of smuggling in South Floridauntil our undercover operation was disbanded, I was authorized to pay mysources of information and contract aircrews approximately $2.5 million dollarsfor services rendered. That figure alone should give you some idea of how successful we were. I say this, because the federal government does not authorizethis amount of money to be paid to informants, sources of information andcontract personnel unless they provide a very valuable service.During this undercover operation, my colleagues and I provided the specialized assistance necessary that enabled U.S. Customs Agents, FBI Agentsand DEA Agents, to arrest dozens of major violators and seize a number ofmulti-hundred and multi-thousand kilogram shipments of cocaine, thousandsof pounds of marijuana and large quantities of drug money. In addition to helping me seize a number of drug smuggling aircraft, my cadre of informants andsources of information also made it possible for me and other agents to seizeover thirty vehicles, two go fast vessels, dozens of firearms and other drug assetsControlled Delivery Book I xiiivalued in the millions of dollars. Clearly, whatever amount of money we paidour “hired hands” was only a fraction of what they enabled the government toseize. In fact, in some respects, it is difficult to put a price on certain aspects ofour success.When these operations were being conducted, we never released any information that explained how these major drug seizures and arrests were actuallymade. When the media wanted to know more, our response was, “No comment.”To their credit, the reporters who covered our press conferences didn’t push formore clarification.After reading this true story, some of you might ask why I never walked awayfrom this incredibly stressful and dangerous assignment, in order to become aso-called “regular agent.” One reason is because this operation was my idea. Ishould also mention that this operation didn’t happen overnight. As you willread, it took several years of participating in interdiction missions and conductingdifferent types of smuggling investigations, before I requested permission toform an undercover unit that specialized in executing controlled deliveries usingprivate aircraft. By the time we completed our first high risk controlled delivery,I was hooked and wanted to stay in the game as long as possible. Quite frankly,I always believed that I would know when it was time to move on. Until thatday came, I had every intention of honing my own skills and developing thecapabilities of The Blade Runner Squadron.One of the reasons I was drawn to covert operations, was because everyxiv Nick Jacobelliscontrolled delivery required a great deal of “Yankee” ingenuity. I was also seducedby the taste of the hunt and the challenge of participating in the ultimate stingoperation. I also enjoyed the adrenaline rush that was always present whileworking in high risk drug enforcement operations.To give you an idea of where I am coming from, consider that one of myfavorite movies is The Dirty Dozen. The theme of this unusual war movie shouldgive you a better idea of what made me tick as a human being. The idea of takinga dozen misfits, eccentrics and social outcasts and grooming them to becomea force to be reckoned with, was something that got my creative juices flowingand made it worthwhile for me to get out of bed in the morning.As a result of my Catholic upbringing, I also believed in forgiveness. Havingthis mindset enabled me to treat the informants, sources of information andcontract personnel who had a “tainted” past with respect, providing they followedthe rules and served with distinction. In fact, one of my sources of informationwho was a convicted felon, performed so admirably, I would have gladly giventhis guy a full pardon, if I had the authority to do so. I also worked with certaindefendant informants, who I thought deserved to be formally pardoned.From a professional standpoint, running the undercover operation that is themain subject matter of this book was the high point of my entire law enforcementcareer. In fact, nothing that I did before was as exciting and nothing I wouldever do in the future, would peg my intrigue meter more, than being involvedin covert air and marine operations.Controlled Delivery Book I xvThere was also a bit of the rebel in me, who hated wearing suits and ties andworking 9 to 5 as a “regular” agent. Call me crazy, but I preferred to make myown hours and work 12 to 18 hours days, instead of working 8 hours a day inan office pushing paper. If maintaining this level of activity meant that I hadto work with little or no quality time off, then so be it. I was also a bit of aneccentric, who preferred working with other eccentrics.I also liked the idea of cultivating my own cases, instead of being handeda stack of cases to investigate. In this regard I loved being proactive. I also likebeing creative and what was more creative than concocting cover stories andinvading Colombia. I was also very loyal to the U.S. Customs Service and sawmy involvement in cutting edge undercover operations, as a way to help keep myagency on the front page of the national news. In this regard, I was no differentthan any other professional, who did his best to make his team look good.In order for us to get to the point where we were ready to go operational,my colleagues and I spent many days and nights learning the ropes of runningsuccessful undercover operations. We also learned early on, that failure to coversome small detail could result in the loss of life and a variety of other problems.Any federal agent, who needed an undercover crew to infiltrate a smugglingorganization and successfully transport a shipment of drug contraband, had tobelieve in our capabilities. In order to develop and maintain a favorable reputation, we had to execute every mission without making any mistakes, or causingan international incident. This was critically important, because making mistakesxvi Nick Jacobellisand creating international incidents were not tolerated. In this regard, only timewould tell if my colleagues and I would always have the so called “right stuff.”In the late 1980s and the early 1990s, the U.S. Customs Service was evolving into an agency that was heavily involved in certified undercover operations.High ranking Customs managers liked having investigative groups under theircommand involved in successful covert operations for two main reasons. As Ibriefly mentioned before, one reason for this, was because successful UC opsgenerated the money aka trafficker funds that enabled agents to pay for a variety of legitimate expenses. In our case, this included rental fees for undercovervehicles, aircraft and vessels, as well as paying fuel bills, cell phone bills andtravel expenses. In order to document every legitimate expense that we made,my colleagues and I obtained receipts whenever possible. In fact, we becameso judicious about documenting our legitimate expenses, our unofficial mottobecame, “GET A RECEIPT!”Having access to this outside source of revenue made local SAC and RACOffices less dependent on headquarters for funding. Because the U.S. CustomsService had a knack for running successful undercover operations or specialops, annual cash awards and Quality Step Increases (QSI Awards), that weremini promotions, were handed out to the most active agents, as well as to theirsuperiors. Naturally, the bosses received the larger cash awards, while the smalleramounts went to the worker bees.Controlled Delivery Book I xviiIt is also important to note, that in my opinion, the statistics generated duringThe Drug War should be viewed as being even more impressive, when youconsider that a smaller number of agents were actually responsible for initiatingthe most significant cases. The bulk of the remaining agents provided valuablesupport, with some agents doing as little as possible. In other words, the heaviestload was actually carried by a smaller number of agents than you are aware of.I say this because, when a major case breaks on the local or national news andyou hear that fifty federal agents were involved in an enforcement action, thiscase was probably made by one or two hard charging special agents, but fortyeight others were needed to conduct surveillance’s and execute search and arrestwarrants. Like it or not, that’s the way it was.xviii Nick JacobellisINTRODUCTIONI started writing this book in February of 1989. From the inception of thisrather unusual undercover operation, I documented our adventures, trials andtribulations as they occurred, with the hope of one day sharing these events withthe general public. With the exception of periodic editing, I wrote this true storywhile I was actively involved in directing and participating in drug interdictionmissions, smuggling investigations and undercover operations. One reason whyit took so long for me to publish Controlled Delivery Book I and II, is becausethis is not an easy story for me to tell.Whether boarding tall ships in New York Harbor during the early days ofour country, or preventing the smuggling of different types of contraband inmore modern times, the agency known as the U.S. Customs Service had anoutstanding reputation for protecting the revenue and the national security ofthe United States. After the terrorist attacks on 9/11/01, the U.S. CustomsService that I worked for was merged with the Immigration and NaturalizationService (INS) and transferred from the Treasury Department to the newlyformed Department of Homeland Security. Today, an agency called U.S.Customs and Border Protection (CBP) represents the uniformed side of theControlled Delivery Book I xixoriginal or “Legacy” U.S. Customs Service and the “Legacy” INS. An agencycalled Homeland Security Investigations (HSI) and U.S. Immigration andCustoms Enforcement (ICE) are the entities that perform a combined Customs/Immigration and DHS enforcement and investigative mission. This is strictly myopinion, but I hope the day comes when ICE/HSI are merged into CBP. Doingso, would enable us to have ONE federal agency that performs every Customsand Immigration mission.For the purposes of contributing to the amazing history of the “Legacy”U.S. Customs Service, I will keep things as they once were and use the agencyname that dates back to 1789 when I tell this true story. Putting the presentsituation aside, the U.S. Customs Service is often the last agency to capturethe mind of the average person, when one considers the contribution made bythe federal government in undercover drug enforcement operations. Far toomany people believe that Customs “Agents” are the folks who go through yourluggage at the airport when you return from a trip overseas. Although uniformedCustoms Inspectors (now called CBP Officers) perform a necessary and at timesa dangerous job, they are not part of the investigative side of the house. OnlySpecial Agents and certain Customs Officers conducted criminal investigationsand worked undercover. Hopefully, this book will shed some light, on one of themissions of the “Legacy” U.S. Customs Service that very few people are aware of.The story Controlled Delivery takes you through several years of adventureand intrigue as seen through my eyes, while performing the duties of a U.S.Customs Patrol Officer, Air Officer, Special Agent and Senior Special Agent.xx Nick JacobellisIn the beginning of this true story, I’ll take you on the same journey that I took,when I graduated from the ranks of being a more traditional law enforcementofficer and I became an undercover agent.For security reasons, this story could not be told when these undercoveroperations were being conducted. After waiting over two decades to tell thisstory, the time has come to let the world know, how a relatively small group ofundercover operatives executed a number of highly successful controlled deliveryoperations, that resulted in the seizure of over 22,000 pounds of cocaine, 11,000pounds of marijuana, the arrest of dozens of major violators and the recoveryof approximately $3 million dollars in trafficker directed funds (drug money).Of all the individuals who were arrested and sentenced as a result of our stingoperations, two major violators received life sentences in federal prison for their“Drug War” crimes. I decided to go with a figure of 22,000 plus pounds ofcocaine, because this is the amount that was transported on our undercover aircraft. An additional quantity of cocaine was air dropped to an undercover vessel,by the Colombian based targets of a Miami Group 7 investigation. This airdropoccurred after one of our undercover aircraft picked up an initial shipment of500 kilos. This case is included in Controlled Delivery Book I.While working in an undercover capacity, my colleagues and I maderecord-breaking drug seizures in different locations and broke our own recordfour times in the New England area alone. As you will read, our efforts were notwithout sacrifice. The question is, why have so many law enforcement officersControlled Delivery Book I xxigiven so much, for what at times seems to be such a hopeless cause? First, I thinkthat we all respectively love our jobs. Our strong work ethic and upbringingmolded us into people who are not afraid of a little hard work, even when theodds are against us. Second, I believe that we live in a world of extremes and areattracted to a combative existence when the cause is noble and just.Law enforcement officers also enjoy protecting society from harm. In fact, oneof the most gratifying aspects of our job was to seize a large drug shipment, or asignificant amount of drug money. To put things in a more modern perspective,law enforcement officers from my generation considered drug smugglers to be no

different than the terrorists that we are fighting today. Simply put, drug smugglers

were the enemy and we engaged them to the best of our ability on a daily basis.As a result, we enjoyed being in a profession where we could bring major violatorsto justice and make them trade their Rolex watches, for an inexpensive pair ofSmith & Wesson handcuffs.All good things come to an end and as such, our operation did not lastforever. The sanctioned undercover operation that was unofficially known asThe Blade Runner Squadron was disbanded on May 12, 1993. Looking back,there was never a dull moment. I also have to state for the record, that I wasactually grateful when I was transferred to other duties. I felt this way, becauseI had no more to give and I needed a change in scenery.During my law enforcement career I was a chain-smoking workaholic, whowould have preferred to work twenty-four hours a day if such a thing wasxxii Nick Jacobellispossible. I guess you can say that I was an adrenaline junkie, who eagerly raninto harm’s way each and every time an opportunity presented itself. By the timeI joined the U.S. Customs Service and transferred to Miami, I lived by the mottothat was made famous by Operation Greenback Agents (a money launderingoperation in Miami); “So many Colombians, so little time.”As a result of my involvement in covert operations, I learned that beingan undercover agent is a lot like being a stand-up comic, in a place where theaudience gets to kill you if your jokes aren’t funny. I also learned that workingundercover can make the Grand Canyon look more like a shallow grave than aNational Treasure.Even after my line of duty spinal injuries got worse, I pushed myself as hardas humanly possible. I knew plenty of other law enforcement officers who wouldhave gladly traded places with me and retired early, until the first time they wereunable to walk right, or were in excruciating pain. After I turned down the firstoffer to medically retire, I used prescription medication and a cane to help mestay on the job and get around when my injuries flared up. In the process, a badsituation made worse, when I was re-injured for a third time in the line of duty.After a long and very successful law enforcement career, I was forced tomedically retire after I failed a medical fitness for duty examination. Since Ihad no say in the matter, I graciously accepted the set of retired special agent’scredentials that came in the mail to my home. It was time for me to move on tothe next phase of my life.Controlled Delivery Book I xxiiiOnce I retired, I went from doing 100 miles an hour in a 25 mile an hourspeed limit, to a crawl. While it took some time to get used to a much slowerpace, I eventually saw my situation as a blessing in disguise instead of a curse.As a retired agent, I used my free time to immerse myself in the lives of myfamily members. You might say that I made up for lost time, even though timeis something that you can never really make up.The first step that I took to accomplish this was to apologize to my two sonsfor being away so much. Even when I was technically off duty and at home, all ofour lives were constantly interrupted by phone calls and emergencies that causedme to return to work. The day I made this apology, my youngest son Michael,who was 10 years old at the time, responded with all of the innocence of a childwhen he looked up at me and said, “Don’t worry, Dad. You were fighting forour country.” I still get choked up to this day whenever I think of my youngestson’s kind words.The story Controlled Delivery takes you back to a time when a relatively smallnumber of U.S. Customs Agents and private contractors took the fight to theenemy through covert means. Whether my colleagues and I were very lucky, orgood at what we did, is up to you to decide. Personally, I believe that God wasour Co Pilot and that my colleagues and I were protected by a higher authoritywhenever we went operational. If you doubt this is true, I suggest you read on.I also sincerely hope that you will find the information in this book to be evenmore interesting, because it was written by a special agent and not by a journalistxxiv Nick Jacobelliswho tagged along and documented these events through inexperienced eyes. Itis also my hope, that after reading Controlled Delivery, you will have a greaterinsight into the efforts that were made by a few good men to successfully engagea very elusive enemy. Enjoy!Controlled Delivery Book I xxvA NOTE FROM THE AUTHORDue to the volume of information that I received written authorization topublish, I decided to divide the true story Controlled Delivery into two parts.Doing so enabled me to include some additional information, that provides amore detailed description of what it was like to serve during The Miami ViceEra of The Drug War.In order to conceal the identities of the government personnel that I workedwith, I used their first name, followed by the first letter of their last name toidentify them. I also used nicknames to identify the contract pilots, crew chiefs,informants and sources of information who helped us accomplish our mission.The bad guy’s identities have also been changed, as are some of the details ofcertain events to protect trade craft.When I decided to write this book, I sought immediate direction from theOffice of Regional Counsel in 1988, regarding the publication of written materialby a U.S. Customs Officer/Agent. In order to comply with agency policy andobtain written permission to publish the story Controlled Delivery, manuscriptsthat contained additional information were provided to the U.S. Customs Servicexxvi Nick Jacobellisfor official review. The first letter of authorization that I received from an agencyadministrator is dated March 19, 1991, the second is dated July 15, 1994 andthe third letter is dated June 10, 1996.The photographs that are included in CD Book I and II were taken by variousagents and undercover operatives in the field and were provided to me over thecourse of several years. *Copies of documents that authenticate the informationin this book will be posted on my website: badgepublishing.com.The story Controlled Delivery was written from my perspective and isbased on what I did, what I observed, what I was told and what I documentedwhen these events occurred. This includes, when I performed certain duties onmy own and with other law enforcement officers, as well as when I recruited,debriefed, directed and worked with various informants, sources of informationand contract personnel. I also made sure to give credit where credit was due, byacknowledging the contribution that was made by the law enforcement officers,contract personnel and sources of information, who served with great distinctionduring various enforcement actions, investigations and sanctioned undercoveroperations. When it was appropriate to do so, I also included my opinion andsome personal information. I also left a few things out of this story, in order tocomply with certain instructions that were relayed to me by the U.S. CustomsService. Regardless, I promise you won’t be disappointed.I should also mention, that documenting what we did was easy, compared tothe process of editing the mountain of raw material that I was given authorizationControlled Delivery Book I xxviito publish. While I continued to prepare this story for publication, I also sanitized the contents well beyond what was required. This process included deletingand sanitizing certain information that I was previously authorized to publish.In the years that I waited to publish CD Book I and CD Book II, I furtherdeveloped my skills as a freelance writer, by publishing over 170 magazine articles

and two historical fiction books; The Frontline Fugitives Book I, The Khaki Cops

and The Frontline Fugitives Book II, Cops In A Combat Zone. Currently, TheFrontline Fugitives Book III and The Frontline Fugitives Book IV are in their finalstages and will be published in 2018.ContentsForeword iIntroduction xviiiA Note from the Author xxvAcknowledgments xxx1 In the Beginning 12 A Dream Come True 193 Air Ops 334 The Air War over the Bahamas 365 Pursuing Air Smugglers on the Ground 536 Making the Transition to Undercover Agent 787 Breaking Away from the Pack 888 Operation White Christmas 969 Our First Mission 10510 Open for Business in Miami 12311 The Very Thin Blue Line 13112 Necessity is the Mother of Invention 13513 The Greed Factor 13914 General Puma 14215 Informants 19316 The Greatest Show on Earth 19917 Standing By to Stand By 20818 Ready, Set, Go! 21619 Shaken Not Stirred 22720 Anchors Away 24521 Victory at Sea 25422 Welcome to Colombia 27023 Born to Be Wild 28124 Go West Young Man Go West 29125 Mayday Mayday We’re Going Down 302A Preview of Controlled Delivery Book II 326ACKNOWLEDGMENTSControlled Delivery Book I and Book II are dedicated to my wife, mysons, the members of The Blade Runner Squadron, as well as to theU.S. Customs Agents, U.S. Customs Pilots, U.S. Customs Officers, FBIAgents, DEA Agents, police officers, sheriff’s department detectives,federal prosecutors and U.S. military personnel who participated in theinvestigations, enforcement actions and undercover operations describedin this true story.THE BLADE RUNNER SQUADRON MOTTOWe fly at night if the price is right, no load too great, no distance too far,I’m the man for your contraband, one plane in, one plane out, last call!Controlled Delivery Book I 1CHAPTER 1IN THE BEGINNINGS ome of the reasons why I decided to become a law enforcement officerare simple, while others are more complex. For starters, I think a lot of ithad to do with my fascination with secrets and my religious upbringing.As an Italian American I was raised in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn, NewYork where I went to Catholic School and majored in guilt. Whether I wantedto go or not, my parents dragged me and my four younger brothers to HolyCross Church every Sunday to attend Mass. Like clockwork, the priest woulduse a loud and authoritative voice, to order everyone who stood in the aisles andthe back of the church to find seats; everyone except the New York City PoliceOfficers, who were attending part of the Mass before they went back on patrol.Seeing this happen week after week, made me realize at an early age, that policeofficers were special people in the eyes of God.I also realized something interesting about the police, when I was a youngboy growing up in Brooklyn and I observed two detectives arrest a man on thestreet where I lived. A crowd formed and everyone whispered back and forthtrying to speculate why the police were taking our neighbor into custody. Themoment I observed the two detectives in action, I realized that only they knew2 Nick Jacobelliswhy they were on East 29th Street. From that moment on, I knew that the policelived in their own world and that anyone who wasn’t a cop was an outsider. If youwanted to know the secrets you had to be a victim, a perpetrator, or a policeman.For obvious reasons, I decided never to be a victim and didn’t want to know thesecrets bad enough to get myself arrested. Instead, I wanted to become one ofthem, a member of the secret society that carried a badge and gun.My first career break came when I was in high school and I managed to gethired in a part time Neighborhood Youth Corps position at the 17th Precinctin Manhattan. When a wave of police corruption resulted in the creation ofthe Knapp Commission, I decided to re-consider my career options and see ifthere were any other agencies where I might like to serve, besides the N.Y.P.D.As I said earlier, my quest for a career ended when I learned about the missions that were performed by the U.S. Customs Service. Since I was still in highschool at the time, I decided to ask my father, if I could take flying lessons witha buddy of mine, who later became an Air Force Pilot. When my request wasdenied, I waited to graduate, so I could enlist in the Marines and train to becomea helicopter pilot. Since my father was a World War II veteran, I thought for surethat he would approve. I was wrong. As far as my father was concerned, therewas no reason for me to enlist, when the War in Vietnam was winding downand almost over. Unless my lottery number was selected, I was going to college.Fortunately, a brand new city university called John Jay College of CriminalJustice was taking applications from students who wanted to pursue a career inControlled Delivery Book I 3law enforcement. After receiving a Bachelor of Science Degree in Police Science, Ispent several years working in different city and state law enforcement positions,while I waited to be hired by the U.S. Customs Service.A Twist Of FateAs I look back over my career as a police officer and federal agent, I can remembera number of times when I risked my life, never giving it a second thought untillater on. Taking action when you’re on duty is dangerous business. Gettinginvolved in a hair-raising situation when you are off duty is a horse of a completely different color.After working a 3×11 tour of duty in the Bronx as a New York State ParkPolice Officer, I decided to drive through Manhattan and stop for a cold one onthe way home. Actually, I was doing what a lot of cops did back then when theygot off duty, especially after getting off duty late at night. Rather than go hometo a dark house, cops were famous for doing a little bar hopping to unwind.Right or wrong, this was the way it was.As a native New Yorker, I always thought Manhattan was especially spectacular at night, when the city was virtually empty of pedestrians and vehicles.Once the masses of people went home, you could cruise through the mountainsof well-lit skyscrapers with the greatest of ease and enjoy the sights as if you werea tourist with special privileges. Toss in a light dusting of snow in Manhattan atnight and you have the perfect Christmas.4 Nick JacobellisThe last thing that I expected to run into, while I was cruising aroundManhattan was a robbery in progress. The moment I turned my brand new fireengine red diesel powered VW Rabbit eastbound on East 47th Street, I spottedtwo young Hispanic men leave a brownstone building and enter a yellow cab. Icannot explain how or why, but I knew these guys were “dirty” and a crime hadjust been committed.While the cab sped away, I pulled up to the building, just as a well dressedman frantically ran out to the street and started yelling that he had been robbed.As I rolled the window down and identified myself, I could see the look of reliefon the man’s face, when he realized that an off duty cop had come to his rescue.While I kept one eye on the yellow cab as it stopped at the traffic light on thecorner, I listened to the victim report that two Hispanic males just robbed himand that they had a gun. The moment I spotted the taxi cab start to pass throughthe intersection, I put my car in gear and told the victim to call the police.As I worked my way through the gears, I went in hot pursuit as fast as mylittle diesel engine was able to propel me down the street. At first, my hopeswere high that I would spot a police car and get some help. After driving a fewblocks cross-town, I was beginning to wonder where the entire midnight tourhad gone off too.I knew that cops were known to doze off on a late tour, but what were theodds that every cop in Manhattan was sound asleep before 1AM. Simply put, Icouldn’t help but shake my head when I realized that there is never a cop aroundControlled Delivery Book I 5when you needed one. Since I had not taken any action yet, there was still timeto get some help. Rather than give up, I continued to look in all directions for apassing police car, while I followed the bad guys cross-town.As the cab approached Rockefeller Center, the two Hispanic bad guys turnedand looked right at me. The cat was out of the bag as they say. So much forthe element of surprise. The good news was, that even though the two perps(perpetrators) knew that they were being followed, they did not leap out of thecab and haul ass. The bad news was that I was still alone. As I prepared to takethese guys down, I spotted one of the holdup men lean over and instruct thecab driver to pull over. This was it, show time, I thought to myself, as I preparedto go into action.When the cab pulled over to the curb, both perps remained in the back seatand kept an eye on me rather than get out. Rather than appear overly concernedor hesitant to take action, I decided to come on like gangbusters. I immediatelyjammed on the brakes and exited my car the same way I would if I was at work.As I came across the hood with my revolver in hand, I identified myself as apolice officer and ordered both men to freeze.The words, “Police! Don’t Move!” were never said with more authority. Muchto my amazement both perps complied. Without giving it a second thought Icharged their position. With my five shot .38 Special S&W .Model 36 revolverin hand, I quickly approached the rear of the taxi and ordered the two perps toexit the vehicle and assume the position up against the side of the yellow cab.6 Nick JacobellisWhen the shorter perp hesitated and tried to get back into the cab, I becamevery concerned about him taking the cab driver hostage. As I screamed as loudas I could, I aimed my off duty revolver at the second perp and yelled, “Get out!Let’s go, move it!”I was still in control. My commands must have hit home. The shorter onelistened and joined his partner outside by the side of the Checker cab. Whilesounding as calm as possible, I told the cab driver to call his dispatcher and getme some help. While the old cabby picked up his radio, I turned my full attentionback to the Hispanic version of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.When the shorter of the two perps started whining, “My wife’s in the hospital.She’s bleeding bad, man,” and his plea fell on deaf ears, he became aggressive andyelled, “What’s your problem?” While I continued to hold them at gunpoint, Iresponded in a raised voice and said, “There’s been a robbery and someone saidyou two did it!”While I listened for the sound of police sirens, the seconds passed like hours.I never felt more alone in my life. The next one to comment was the taller perp.“We’re leaving.” A second later the shorter one with the big mouth remarked,“I’ll sue your ass.”I didn’t flinch, even though I must admit that I felt as if the situation wasabout to go from bad to worse. In fact, all I could think about was being on thefront page of the newspaper, after I shot one or both of these assholes whenthey jumped me.Controlled Delivery Book I 7While I continued to cover them with my revolver, I decided it was time toraise my voice in a last ditch effort to exert control. The second I yelled, “Don’tmove!” the two perps said something to each other in a low voice before theyturned on me. As they advanced toward my position, I took a defensive step backwith my right foot and tucked my revolver close to my side.I was just about to open fire, when I pointed to the ground with my lefthand, while I screamed at the top of my lungs and said, “You see that fuckingline? Step over it and I’ll fucking shoot! Come on you mother fuckers! Comeon! One more step!” As the two perps froze, they actually looked down at theimaginary line that I warned them not to cross.During this encounter I felt like a cave man facing a pair of saber tooth tigerswith a club in his hand. On top of being very concerned about my personal safety,I was literally a breath away from pulling the trigger. It was almost as if I couldsee the temptation in their eyes deciding whether or not they should continueto lunge at me and attack. As soon as they looked at each other, I felt the threatdiminish a bit, when they reeled back around and went back up against the sideof the cab. Just about the time that I thought they were complying with mycommands, I heard the one with the big mouth say, “He won’t shoot us in theback.” With that they were off and running.As I took off after them, I remember commenting under my breath that Ihate to run. When the two bad guys reached 6th Avenue, one went south andthe one with the big mouth went north. Great! Now what?8 Nick JacobellisIt is truly amazing how your mind can compute information in a matter ofseconds, to give you the answers that you need when you are in a dangeroussituation. I decided to forget about pursuing the taller one, because he raninto a subway station. Instead, I opted to go after Mr. Big Mouth, because hewas heading uptown where the streets were well lit. Then, out of nowhere, anunmarked car pulled up next to me and I heard the crackle of a police radio.As I turned to my right, I saw two guys in plainclothes who looked like cops.A split second later on of them called out and said, “Hey, are you the off-dutycop who needs help?My response was quick and to the point, “Yea!”After hearing what I had to say, one of them called out, “Get in, we’reRockefeller Center Security.”Without hesitation I jumped into the unmarked security car and was quicklyintroduced to two Retired New York City cops who were now working for theRockefeller Center security force. “Make a right,” I said as their car reached thecorner. As we drove toward the next traffic light, I scanned the streets and lockedin on my target. There he was, Mr. Big Mouth standing on the corner nervouslylooking around for me.The security car was still rolling to a stop when I leaped out and ran towardMr. Big Mouth. Thank God he did not see me until I was right on top of him.Everything I learned in the police academy and on the street came pouring outof me, as I threw myself on top of this guy like a cheap suit. The second I flippedControlled Delivery Book I 9the robbery suspect to the ground we were engaged in a fierce street fight.As crazy as this may sound, the effects of tunnel vision prevented me fromfeeling any of this bad guy’s punches, while I focused my mind on one thing, mysurvival. Things started to really get ugly when I began to get tired of fightingand I realized that this particular perpetrator was trying to grab my revolver.With my life clearly on the line, I rallied every ounce of strength that I had leftand poured it on until I heard someone yelling from behind, “It’s OK, he’s givingup!” When I turned around, I saw a sea of New York City Police Officers andthe two security officers standing over and all around me.While I sat on top of the perp and pushed his face against the concrete, Ilocked his hands behind his back and extended my free hand like a doctor inan operating room when I asked someone for a pair of handcuffs. As soon assomeone slapped a pair in my hands, I had the “bracelets” on Mr. Big Mouth.As I started to slowly come out of the effects of tunnel vision, I could hear andsee more that was going on all around me. Even though the cavalry was a littlelate coming to the rescue, the presence of such a large number of cops and policecars on scene was a very impressive sight to behold.Since I was too tired to pick my prisoner off the ground, I literally draggedthe perp over to the curb and deposited him in the back of the closest RMP(New York City Police Radio Motor Patrol car). The moment I heard a policeradio broadcast the call to disregard the report of a Signal 10-13 Assist PoliceOfficer, I wondered if my brand new VW was still parked where I left it. “Holy10 Nick Jacobellisshit, my car,” I said to the cop who was driving. As soon as I told the two copsthat I left my car in the middle of the street with the engine running, the driversaid, “Let’s go.” A split second later I was being taken back to Rockefeller Plazaso I could recover my car.After racing over to Rockefeller Plaza, I was amazed to see that my brandspanking new fire engine red Volkswagen Rabbit was still running with thedriver’s door wide open and the headlights on. I guess no self respecting carthief would want to admit, that he stole a VW with a diesel engine that was leftrunning in the middle of the street with the door open. This could only happenin New York City.No matter how hard I tried I could not give this arrest away. When anNYPD Lieutenant told me that this collar (arrest) was too good to give away,I was forced to process the arrest. Personally, I didn’t care about getting creditfor this arrest, because I had three days off and wanted to get away from NewYork for some R&R.To make a long story short, Mr. Big Mouth wanted to cooperate, but I had nointentions of listening. Finally, two New York City Police Detectives convincedme to speak to my prisoner. The next day I went to the Manhattan DistrictAttorney’s Office and after testifying in the Grand Jury I was given an arrestwarrant for the bad guy who got away.After visiting the local police precinct and getting some plainclothes copsto give me a hand, we raided a fleabag apartment building on the west side andControlled Delivery Book I 11arrested the second robber. I will never forget the look on this guy’s face, whenhe saw me standing in the open doorway to his shithole of an apartment, whilearmed with something a little more substantial than a five shot thirty-eight.As a result of this particular off duty arrest, I met Mario Cozzi, the AssistantChief Investigator for the New York (Manhattan) District Attorney’s Office.At the time, I was on my way to visit a friend from college who worked in theDA’s Office, when I heard a cranky voice blurt out, “Hey, Trooper, where’s yourhorse?” Since New York State Park Police Officers wore the same snappy grayuniforms as State Troopers, it was common to be referred to us as a cowboy ofsome kind, especially since we also wore those light coffee colored Stetson hats.The second I turned around to see who was talking to me, I spotted an oldergentleman sitting behind a pile of reports. Since the sign on his door identifiedMario as the Assistant Chief Investigator, I walked over and introduced myself.The moment we met, Mario asked me what I was up to. After I gave him a briefrundown of the off-duty incident that I was involved in, Mr. Cozzi leaned acrosshis cluttered desk and asked if I liked being a uniformed cop, which I did.When Mario asked me if I had any other aspirations, I responded withouthesitation and said that my dream in life was to become a U.S. Customs Agent.As soon as I told Mr. Cozzi what my long term career goal was, he smiled wideas he reached into his shirt pocket and removed a black leather commissionbook, like the type that federal agents carried. After accepting the worn leatherID case I flipped it open and almost died.12 Nick JacobellisWhile I examined the retired credentials, Mario told me about his twentyplus years of service as a U.S. Customs Agent, which included time as an Attachéat our Embassy in Italy. I couldn’t believe it. Here I was sitting across the deskfrom a man who retired from the job that I wanted in the worst way.“Hey, you want to be a detective in the meantime?” he blurted out.“Sure,” I said as I sat back still in shock.“OK, fill this out, send it to me and we’ll be in touch,” he said as he fumbledfor a wrinkled application form and passed it to me.That day I left the Manhattan DAs office totally amazed and more convincedthan ever, that there was a God and that he liked policemen. Some three monthslater, while working another 3X11 tour in the Bronx, I received a phone call rightafter roll call. As soon as I took the call, I heard the scratchy and overpoweringvoice of Mario Cozzi almost yelling as he said, “Hey, hey, you start Monday. Seeya!” As I hung up the phone, I smiled and thought to myself, what a colorful guy.That Monday I sat across from his cluttered desk and watched Mr. Cozzirummage through a desk drawer, while he asked me what badge number I liked.Not knowing what to say, I sat patiently as Mr. Cozzi held up a gold investigatorsshield displaying the number 109 before he tossed it over to me and said, “Hey,you like that one?” As I admired the gold badge, I responded and said, “Yes,Sir.” In that instant I became an Investigator for the famous New York DistrictAttorney’s Office. As I left Mario’s office to get my ID card photograph taken,it felt like I just received a battlefield commission.Controlled Delivery Book I 13MY FIRST LOOK AT THE BIG PICTUREWhile working with an informant who was purchasing illegal firearms inManhattan, my partner Ralph M. and I were told that an Arab social club ownerwanted some assistance in kidnapping a wealthy New York businessman. Themain reason why this businessman was targeted was because he was Jewish. (Ishould mention that our informant was a real character. When we documentedthis guy and told him that he was officially known as CI 6, he immediately askedwhat happened to CI 5.)Once CI 6 briefed us about his conversation with the Arab social club owner,my partner Ralph M. and I eagerly volunteered to go undercover as the Mafia hitmen that the subject of our investigation was looking to hire. However, beforemy partner and I went undercover, we needed to get the recorded conversationsbetween our informant and the subject of our investigation “officially” translatedfrom Arabic into English. In order to accomplish this, arrangements were madethrough our superiors at the DA’s Office for me to meet an official from theIsraeli government at the Lexington Hotel.While I sat across from this Israeli official, I instinctively knew that I was inthe presence of a very interesting and intelligent man. Even though this Israelioperative was much older than I was, he gave me the distinct impression thathe was no stranger to a good fight.Being a true professional, this Israeli official paid very close attention toeverything that I said, when I briefed him about our investigation. He seemed14 Nick Jacobellisto be especially interested in the part of the story that involved the Arab socialclub owner’s vendetta against a wealthy New York businessman, because hewas Jewish. Just like in the movies, I turned the tapes over to the Israeli official,shook his hand and left the room.Shortly after my meeting with a representative of the Israeli government, Iwas contacted by an Israeli Police General stationed at the United Nations. Eventhough General Y.M. and his men were very busy, he personally made sure thatI had every recorded conversation transcribed in time for my partner and I tomake our next move.MY FIRST UNDERCOVER RODEOGoing undercover as a young Mafia hit man was easy for me, because I had avivid imagination and years of growing up in New York City under my belt.It also helped that I was a full blooded Italian American, who had plenty ofopportunities as a kid to observe the local mobsters in action. I say this becauseback in the day, you would have to be deaf, dumb and blind, not to notice thetraditional organized crime mobsters, who operated in New York City when Iwas a kid. In those days the mob guys were everywhere. Almost every aspect oflife back then was in some way, shape, or form influenced by the Mafia, or soit seemed. What made them amazing characters, was how blatant they couldbe when they wanted to telegraph their presence, which of course was most ofthe time.Controlled Delivery Book I 15(All four of my grandparents immigrated from Italy to the United States inthe early 1900s. My real family name is Iacobellis and is pronounced Yacobellis.Personally I regret that it was ever “Americanized” and changed to Jacobellis.)In order to give you an idea of how I received my education about traditionalorganized crime aka The Mafia, permit me to take you back in time to the 1960s.I began learning about the Mafia and the impact that their activities had on lifein New York City, when I walked into my aunt’s house and I spotted a brandnew color TV in the corner of the living room. While I admired this magnificentpiece of “modern” technology, the nearby dining room table was filled with familymembers. Before I continue, you have to understand that back in the early tomid 1960s, it was quite common for middle class families to own a black andwhite television set. In other words, to own a color television set at that timewas a big deal.As I slowly extended my index finger, to touch the largest color televisionset that I ever laid eyes on, my father called out to me and said something abouthow the TV was a little warm and that I should be careful not to touch it, orI would burn my fingers. Of course everyone had a laugh at my naive expense.As I looked at my father with young innocent eyes, I wondered what hemeant, because my aunt’s brand new color TV wasn’t emitting any heat at all. Iwas twice as confused when my father called out, “It fell off a truck, son. Don’tworry about it.”I was even more perplexed when I examined the brand new color TV and I16 Nick Jacobelliswas unable to find a scratch on it, let alone the type of damage that one wouldexpect to see, if a television set fell off the back of a truck when it was beingdelivered. I was also surprised to hear, that my aunt and uncle would buy a TVthat fell off the back of a delivery truck, even if there wasn’t a scratch on it.The day eventually came when my father explained, that the local mobsterswere routinely selling hijacked truckloads of sought after items, to otherwiselaw abiding people at discounted prices. Buying stolen items of value was partof life back then. As my father would one day explain, plenty of good decentpeople supported the Mafia, by patronizing their underground black-marketactivities. Naturally, this included purchasing all sorts of luxury items, from furcoats to television sets in order to save money.As a kid, I grew up in the black and white world of the 1950s and 60s,where you were either a good guy or a bad guy. There was simply no in-between.As I said before, you could be a victim, a suspect, an innocent bystander, orthe detective handling the case. I should also mention, that despite the Mafia’snegative impact on society, the streets in certain neighborhoods were safe, becausecriminals were more afraid of answering to the Italian mob than the police. Infact, back then, only a complete fool would mug an old lady, stick up an Italiandeli, or burglarize a home in a neighborhood where the Mafia dons lived andoperated. Like it or not, there wasn’t a police precinct in New York City, thatsent that kind of message out to the criminal element and everyone knew it.Besides, back then, far too many cops accepted free meals and received allControlled Delivery Book I 17kinds of gratuities to look the other way and not enforce certain laws. Thingsreally got out of control when some cops allowed themselves to be corruptedby drug traffickers and a few went on to commit other serious crimes. Still, nomatter how sharp the mob guys looked with their flashy cars, clothes and jewelry,I never once wanted to be a part of their lifestyle. Years later, when it came timefor me to act like a young Mafia hit man, all I had to do was remember the dayswhen television sets “fell off the back of trucks” and never received a scratch.During my first undercover assignment I had a chance to “break bread” witha real bad guy and pretend to be someone else, while I wore a Nagra recordingdevice known as a “wire.” What made this undercover operation even moreinteresting, was that we were assisted in our investigation by Israeli IntelligenceOfficers. Being assisted by the Israelis was my first opportunity to participatein a “big picture” undercover operation.The first time I worked undercover, my partner and I met CI 6 and thesubject of our investigation for lunch in Teresa’s (Italian) Restaurant, in theLittle Italy Section of lower Manhattan. During this meeting, I was relaxed andincredibly comfortable in my roll as a young Mafia hit man. Unlike my favoritemovie stars, I had no script or cue cards to follow when I spoke to the subjectof our investigation. Whatever we did worked, because Ralph M. and I madeenough of an impression on the Arab social club owner to become part of hiskidnapping and extortion plan.18 Nick JacobellisWhen it came time to carry out this crime, Ralph and I met with CI 6 and theArab Social Club owner to execute the kidnapping of the Jewish businessman.On the way to the victim’s home in the Marine Park section of Brooklyn, westopped the undercover car and placed the Arab social club owner under arrest.An interesting turn of events occurred, when our prisoner didn’t believethat we were police officers. Instead, the Arab social club owner thought thatwe were testing him, to see if he would give us up if he was taken into custody.When our prisoner continued to refuse to believe that we were police officers,we called our back up team over to convince the subject of our investigation thatwe were real Mc Coy. The moment the Arab social club owner was taken awayin handcuffs, I knew that I found my niche in life. Simply put, I loved workingundercover and couldn’t wait to do it again.Several years later I visited my friends in the DA’s office and made a pointto stop by and see Mr. Cozzi. When the Chief Investigator joined us and askedif I would like my old job back, Mr. Cozzi remarked with pride, “He’s not goinganywhere. He’s got the best job in law enforcement. He’s a Special Agent withthe U.S. Customs Service.”Controlled Delivery Book I 19CHAPTER 2A DREAM COME TRUEAfter waiting eight long years, I was finally offered a position as a U.S.Customs Patrol Officer in 1983. The day I reported to 2 World TradeCenter, a young secretary in an empty office handed me U.S. Customs PatrolOfficers Badge # 198 and my temporary U.S. Treasury ID card. Even thoughthis wasn’t much fanfare for a job that I waited so long to get, it was definitelya moment worth waiting for.The day I reported for duty I met Jack L., the Assistant Special Agent inCharge at JFK Airport. When Jack asked me what I wanted to do in Customs,I wasted no time in telling him that I wanted to fly. As soon as Jack L. explainedin a fatherly way, that my superiors would not want to hear that someone theyjust hired was eager to transfer to Customs Air Operations, I agreed to keepmy aspirations to myself. After working in plainclothes at JFK Airport and outon Long Island, I was sent to the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center(FLETC) in Brunswick, Georgia.EARNING MY WINGSWhile I never knew exactly how it would happen, I was convinced the day20 Nick Jacobelliswould come when I would learn how to fly. The opportunity of a lifetime tookplace, when I was going through training at FLETC and I became friends withthe four U.S. Customs Pilots who were in my class. When a Customs Pilot bythe name of Bob W. heard me express an interest in learning how to fly, I wasairborne in less than 24 hours.At 31 years of age I was too young to be afraid and too gung ho to think thatI could get killed while trying to learn how to fly. Regardless, I eagerly climbedinto the cockpit of a Cessna 150 and started the engine with the help of my flightinstructor. As we taxied out to the 10,000 foot runway, I learned the hard waythat a plane is steered with your feet and not with your hands when it was onthe ground. After I sloppily managed to make it to the runway, Bob W. showedme how to run up the engine and prepare for takeoff. In a matter of minutes Iwas airborne.After about ten hours of flight instruction, Bob W. was ready to cut meloose for my first solo flight. On the morning of March 26, 1984, the weatherbroke and Bob W. decided that I had waited long enough. Just to be sure thatI was ready to solo Bob and I took off for some additional practice runs. Aftercompleting a number of “touch and goes” Bob told me to stop the plane halfwaydown the runway. While speaking with a Texas drawl, Bob grinned and said,“I’ll wait here for you,” as he calmly exited the plane, closed the door, walkedover to the side of the runway and sat down.After I looked around the small cockpit, I checked the controls, scanned theControlled Delivery Book I 21instruments and applied full power, without giving my decision to solo a secondthought. As I rolled by my flight instructor, I got the thumbs up sign for goodluck. Before I knew it the single engine Cessna was picking up more and morespeed. At the time, I was so excited I never noticed that I was alone inside thecockpit. When I reached the point of no return, I knew what had to happen next.At just the right time, I gently pulled the controls back into my chest and rotatedthe plane into the air. I was as euphoric as a human being could be without usingdrugs. I was flying on my own with no one else in the cockpit. Clearly, this wasone of the greatest moments of my life.After I successfully completed three solo “touch and goes” I parked my planeby a small crowd of Customs Patrol Officers and Pilots; all friends who supported me through my flight training. My T-shirt was ripped off Army style andinscribed with the date of my first solo.In addition to being one of my greatest personal achievements, learning howto fly put me one step closer to getting a transfer to Air Operations. Learninghow to fly would also come in handy, when I began to plan and direct theundercover air operations that are the primary focus of this true story.After completing 13 weeks of training, I returned to New York. Initially, Iworked in plainclothes at the International Arrivals Building at JFK Airport. Iwas eventually transferred with two of my friends to the RAC Long Island atRepublic Field. My first assignment at the RAC Long Island was to work withJimmy Z., a U.S. Customs Patrol Supervisor from the Marine Unit. Shortly after22 Nick Jacobelliswe met, I gave Jimmy Z. the nickname “Otto” because he looked like a GermanU-Boat commander whenever he wore his white Irish wool sweater.OTTOThe ride over to the U.S. Coast Guard Base on Governors Island, on thethirty six foot U.S. Customs patrol boat, was a relatively smooth trip. Ourmission that night was to establish a floating surveillance platform, to observethe stern of a Colombian freighter that some Special Agents believed was transporting 100 kilos of cocaine.Once we arrived on Governors Island, we tied up next to the U.S. CoastGuard Cutter Dauntless and set up our beach chairs to wait out the night. Tofight off the boredom one of our fellow crewmen, an older Customs PatrolOfficer (CPO) broke out his fishing pole, while Kenny C. and I went to thebase Burger King to fill up on fast food. After we ate, we took turns watchingthe stern of the Colombian freighter from across the river.By 3 AM or so we were getting ready to call this surveillance off, when I tookone last look at the murky water around the stern of the large black freighter.As I looked through the binoculars, I could not believe my eyes when I saw adiver wearing a black wet suit in the water. Just to make sure that I wasn’t seeingthings, I asked Kenny C. to take a look. Sure enough, Kenny confirmed myobservations. Since we had no radios, we had to run half way around the base,to return to the pier where “Otto” was sitting on a lounge chair.Controlled Delivery Book I 23As soon as we ran up to Jimmy Z., he could tell that we were excited. Inbetween huffing and puffing, I spoke as fast as I could, as I pointed toward theColombian freighter and said, “Jim, there’s a diver in the water. I’m sure I saw one.”Otto was calm, cool and very collected as he asked, “What did you see?”With Kenny C. backing me up, I described how I observed the head of a scubadiver bobbing up and down behind the rudder of the ship that we had undersurveillance.Jimmy Z. was a former U.S. Customs Air Security Officer aka Sky Marshalwho worked his way up in rank and had a real passion for working on the water.Personally, I always thought we got along great. In fact, before I go any further,let me say that going to work with Otto was always a pleasure and something tolook forward to. As a result, I was anxious to do a good job for him. I had alsobeen in law enforcement long enough to know when I saw something, especiallysomething as unique as a scuba diver in New York Harbor. When I filed myreport I made sure to do so with confidence.Although he seemed a bit reluctant at first, Otto began to nod his head andconsider the possibility, that what we actually saw a scuba diver in the waterbehind a Colombian freighter, on the Brooklyn side of the harbor. After lookingout into the New York Harbor, Jimmy Z. relayed our observations to the U.S.Customs Agents, who were maintaining the surveillance on the subject vesselover in Brooklyn. Soon the radio crackled with reports of noises being heard inthe water around the pier area. I wasn’t crazy after all. There was a diver in the24 Nick Jacobelliswater. Moments later, several special agents reported hearing splashing in thewater around the freighter.As soon as the surveillance teams tightened their perimeter around theColombian freighter, we heard calls for assistance from the special agents whowere in hot pursuit of a car that picked up a scuba diver from a nearby pier. Inno time, Otto had the thirty-six foot U.S. Customs patrol boat (a former U.S.Navy Vietnam War era SWIFT boat) cranked up and heading across the harbor.After years of plying my trade as a local law enforcement officer, I finallymade it to the front lines of our nation’s Drug War as a U.S. Customs PatrolOfficer. While our patrol boat raced across New York Harbor at flank speed,I was screaming inside, as I thought about the days when swashbuckling U.S.Customs Officers boarded tall ships in New York Harbor, to enforce the lawsof a new nation.While the special agents on land made their arrests and recovered a duffel bagfilled with cocaine, my colleagues and I on the patrol boat searched the Brooklynside of the river, to see if there were any other divers or contraband under any ofthe piers. After Otto entered the filthy water to conduct a more thorough searchunder one of the piers, we cleared the area and returned to base.My first surveillance and interdiction effort as a U.S. Customs Officer endedin success. Unfortunately, my morale would suffer a bit, when the U.S. CustomsService handed out commendations and cash awards, to the personnel whoparticipated in the seizure of 75 kilos of cocaine valued at $7.5 million dollars,Controlled Delivery Book I 25from a freighter called the Republica de Colombia.I’ll never forget the look on Jimmy Z.’s face when he told me that therehad been a slight oversight and my name, as well as Kenny C.’s name, were notturned in for a commendation and cash award. As you can imagine, I was a bitdisappointed to learn that I was overlooked, especially since I made more of acontribution to this seizure than the old patrol officer with the fishing pole, whofell asleep during the surveillance, but got recognized anyway.Jimmy Z. was kind enough to take me and Kenny C. out for dinner wherewe laughed about the inadequacies of the system over Mexican food and a fewbeers. Later on, another veteran U.S. Customs Agent I knew told me not toworry about being overlooked, because the day would come when I would get anaward when I did not deserve one. Needless to say, that never happened duringmy career in the U.S. Customs Service.This type of case did not happen every day in New York City, but there wasone place where it did. That night I started to think about transferring to Miami;a duty station that was filled with nonstop action.LET THE GAMES BEGINThe fact that I had some investigative experience came in handy, when it cametime for me to conduct my first federal criminal investigation. While I wasstationed at the Long Island RAC Office, I was assigned to work a collateralinvestigation that involved locating a fugitive. This particular investigation26 Nick Jacobellisintrigued me, because it involved a manhunt for a fugitive, who was wantedfor his involvement in a marijuana smuggling case. The RAC Long Island wascontacted because this fugitive was believed to be hiding out in New York State.With not much to go on, I started digging.Needless to say, as a newly hired CPO (Customs Patrol Officer) I wanted tomake a good impression. For several days, I used every contact I had and onesthat I had to make, in order to locate the fugitive who was wanted by our agentsin Florida. Eventually, I was able to pinpoint the missing link’s whereabouts toa business in Rockland County, New York. The day I was ready to make anarrest, I asked CPO Bob S. and CPO Kenny C. to give me a hand. Special AgentTommy N. was sent along to keep an eye on us, a fact that reinforced my faithin the information that I developed, because Special Agents only seemed to goout in the field when things looked promising.Being a native New Yorker meant that I was accustomed to winter weatherconditions. As a result, snow storms and cold weather never bothered me. Ifanything, a fresh coating of snow always made me feel like it was Christmastime. Regardless of the inclement weather, we made our way up to RocklandCounty from our office at Republic Field on Long Island. By the time we gotinto position, the snow was ankle deep.As a result of some old fashioned police work, the fugitive was located atan auto supply store. Because of the layout of the combination warehouse andshowroom, we positioned ourselves in the parking lot, so we could arrest theControlled Delivery Book I 27fugitive when he left work and headed for his car. Once it started to snow again,it didn’t take long before the parking lot and our cars were covered with a freshblanket of white stuff.At the end of his work day, the fugitive emerged from the building and headedtowards his car. After days of tracking him and hours of sitting in our cars, itwas time to move in. Since it was my case, I got to call the shots. As the fugitivewalked to his car, oblivious of our presence in the parking lot, I picked up myCustoms radio and imitated Gene Hackman when he played Detective PopeyeDoyle in the French Connection and yelled, “Move in! Take him down!” Justlike in the movies, all four of us converged on the fugitive’s car with guns drawn.Like many other enforcement actions, this arrest went down fast and thankfully without incident. Once I called the case agent in Florida, to let him knowthat we found his fugitive, I finished some paperwork and made the long driveback home on an ice cold sleet driven night. The next day this arrest made thelocal newspaper. The Customs Service got some ink and my colleagues and Ihad a little bit of fun in the process.This arrest did not go down in the history of The Drug War as a majorcampaign, or for that matter anything even close to a skirmish. Successfullyconducting this “collateral” investigation did enable me to further develop myinvestigative capabilities and provide assistance to a U.S. Customs Agent in ourJacksonville office. In the end, that was enough for me.28 Nick JacobellisUNDERCOVER AGAIN AND LOVING ITWhile I was assigned to the RAC Office at Republic Field, I volunteered to workundercover in a fishing village on the tip of Long Island. During this assignment,I worked undercover with Jimmy Z. aka Otto, Agent Tommy N. CPO JimO’R and CPO Bob S. The fact that I attended the Marine Law EnforcementTraining Course aka Boat School at FLETC, enabled me to gain some valuablefield experience, when I had the opportunity to serve on the undercover vesselsthat we used during this operation.Everyone involved in this operation was a pleasure to work with. In particular,Bob S. and Jim O’R. were fearless individuals, who looked more like pro footballplayers than federal law enforcement officers. While Jim O’R. really did playfor a college team, Bob S. was famous for telling strangers that he was in theSamoan Football League.When one of the locals wondered if Bob was telling the truth, he respondedin a very convincing tone of voice and said, “The reason you don’t recognizeme is because I wear a helmet when I play.” Deep down inside I was hystericallaughing, when this particular local resident began to nod her head and accepthis explanation. It was this type of quick witted response that made Bob S. wellsuited for undercover work. Simply put, you can’t train people to think on theirfeet like this and come up with a response that sounded legitimate, even thoughit is was complete bullshit. Jim O’R also had moments when he was equallyconvincing in his undercover role.Controlled Delivery Book I 29During this operation we got to practice what it was like to adopt a fictitiousidentity and gather information without revealing who were really were. We alsogot the chance to work in a potentially dangerous environment, without carryingbadges or guns and without back up.While working in this undercover operation, Bob S. and I talked seriouslyabout transferring to Miami. Towards the end of our assignment, we convincedour wives to let us travel to Florida to check out the office and speak to the boss.As soon as we met the Chief of Patrol in Miami, we accepted his offer totransfer to South Florida with all moving expenses paid for by Uncle Sam.Unfortunately, everyone seemed anxious to go except my wife. In addition tohaving a career that she really enjoyed, my wife made a lot more money thanI was making at the time. Worse yet, I was asking her to leave a job where shewas recently promoted and became the first woman officer of her corporation.My wife also knew that I was not one to work the required eight hours a dayand race home for dinner. In the end, my wife reluctantly agreed to go. Years laterour marriage would strain to the point of almost disintegrating, because my wiferegretted not staying behind to maintain her career. In a way, I couldn’t blame her.Once the moving truck picked up the contents of our small apartment, wewere off to the airport to catch our flight to South Florida. As far as I wasconcerned, there was something motivating me to transfer to the Sunshine State.As a result, I was 110% confident that I was doing the right thing.30 Nick JacobellisA VIEW FROM THE FRONTLINESBy the mid 1980s the Drug War was escalating. Instead of the emphasis beingon the Mexican Border, as depicted in the Life Magazine article that I read backin 1969, the spotlight was now on South Florida. Fortunately, the fix was in andI knew before I arrived that the Chief of Patrol assigned me and my partnerBob S. to the Miami Freighter Intelligence Search Team, otherwise known asFIST. After a trip to the range to qualify with our weapons, including the 9mmH&K MP5 submachine gun, my buddy Bob S. and I were ready to get to work.The FIST Group covered the Miami River and the Port of Miami on a 24hour, seven day a week basis. U.S. Customs Patrol Officers worked in plainclothes and in unmarked cars developing informants, conducting surveillanceoperations and raiding freighters to interdict shipments of cocaine, marijuana,U.S. currency and weapons. Naturally, it did not take long before I realized thatMiami was like Morocco, a web of intrigue that was not to be compared withany other part of the country.Every day we went to work, my partner and I spent our time stopping carsand trying to develop informants, who could let us know when drug shipmentswere going to be smuggled into Miami. The ships we watched ranged in sizefrom large vessels to small coastal freighters. In addition, we covered the cruiseships and the less attractive Haitian freighters. Clearly, working along the MiamiRiver and in the port area was a lot like being a street cop in a high crime area.Shortly after we arrived in South Florida, my partner Bob S. and IControlled Delivery Book I 31participated in our first arrest and drug seizure. Since this case involved afreighter that was in dry dock in Port Everglades (Ft. Lauderdale), we met atLester’s Diner on State Road 84 to grab something to eat, before it was time totake up our positions.The case we were working on that night was assigned to CPO Paul G., themost active and successful FIST member in Miami. Paul G. was a super hardworking CPO, who had more informants working the Miami River and thePort of Miami, than the Catholic Church had priests in the Vatican. WhenPaul said that we would make a seizure, we made a seizure. This night wasno different. ( Just like the rest of us who served as CPOs, Paul G. would getpromoted and become a Special Agent when the Customs Service expanded itsinvestigative force.)After we ate, we were given our assignments and made our way into PortEverglades to assume our positions. During this tactical interdiction operation,Bob S. and I were assigned to maintain the eyeball on the freighter. This meantthat our job was to report any suspicious activity. After spending several hourssitting in a sweltering hot car, we spotted a smuggler walk down the gangwayof the suspect vessel.As soon as we notified the other members of our team who surroundedPort Everglades, we received requests from several CPOs to give the directionof travel of the suspect. Since Bob and I were knew to the area, we were aboutas lost as you could be. We barely knew the difference between north and south,32 Nick Jacobellisespecially since it was our first time inside Port Everglades. In no time, Bob andI were hysterical laughing, while we sat in our car and tried to direct our firstsurveillance in South Florida.Finally, the suspected smuggler got into an old car and began to drive outof the port. Now we were on our way. To say that we were anxious and excitedwould be an understatement. We also instinctively knew that the car we werefollowing had to be loaded with drugs as we headed toward the exit to the Port.Everything was going well, until the crewman we were following turned intothe on-coming traffic lane and sped toward the exit at a high rate of speed. WhileCPO Bob S. and I were in hot pursuit, CPOs Louie M., Scott L. and Paul G. hadthe exit blocked and intercepted the smuggler before he could escape. Once thedriver was handcuffed and searched, we found 13 kilos of cocaine in the trunkof the old Ford Torino. This seizure was a great way to welcome us to SouthFlorida. Even though I didn’t know how or when it would happen, I would seea lot more cocaine than 13 kilos in the future.Controlled Delivery Book I 33CHAPTER 3AIR OPSOne of the happiest moments in my career took place in April of 1986,when I was contacted by Roger G. from air operations and asked if Iwas still interested in becoming a U.S. Customs Air Officer. Without hesitatingI accepted the position and was welcomed aboard. In addition to receiving apromotion and a pay hike, I would finally be getting my wings and a chance tolive my life long dream and become an aviator for Uncle Sam.The late 1980s and early 1990s was the period of time when the United StatesGovernment went on the offensive and decided to take the fight to the enemy.This was the height of The Drug War in South Florida and the Caribbean; anera when the U.S. Customs Service was dramatically expanded in size to meetthe drug smuggling threat head on.REPORTING FOR DUTYThe day I arrived at Homestead Air Force Base to assume my new duties, I gotthe distinct impression that we were a nation at war. This seemed obvious themoment I observed a number of heavily armed U.S. Customs aviators wearingmilitary flight suits, military flight boots and military issued sunglasses. Even34 Nick Jacobellissome of the aircraft that the Customs Service operated was either previously orcurrently used by the U.S. Armed Forces. The fact that we conducted ourselvesin a paramilitary fashion also made The Drug War seem like a real conflict. Isay this because almost every aspect of our job was influenced in some way bymilitary tactics and military protocols. Even the way we told time and spoke onthe radio, was very GI, especially when we used Zulu Time. (The military refersto Greenwich Mean Time as Zulu Time.)Whether we were chasing smugglers through the mangrove swamps, on theopen ocean, in the air, in remote border areas, or in populated urban areas, beinga U.S. Customs Officer or Agent was a dangerous profession, that at times wasconsiderably more exciting than traditional police work. Working in places likeSouth Florida, throughout the Caribbean and along the Mexican Border alsoreinforced the fact that we were operating on the front lines. This was the case,because the action was non stop and always very intense in these locations. Thefact that people on both sides of this conflict carried guns and used codes tocommunicate, further added to the intrigue and made surviving contact withthe opposing forces something to celebrate.Anyone who questions, whether it makes sense to relate to The Drug War inmilitary terms, is either a non combatant, someone who has never been involvedin drug enforcement operations, or isn’t paying attention. Certainly, anyone wholost a loved one or a friend to a drug overdose, or watched a loved one or friendruin their life by using drugs, will agree that the drug problem is far too seriousControlled Delivery Book I 35of a conflict, to only be classified as a social crime dilemma.36 Nick JacobellisCHAPTER 4THE AIR WAR OVER THEBAHAMASMany of the men I flew with in the U.S. Customs Service were combatveterans of the War in Vietnam and had years of experience chasingsmugglers. Some of our pilots and air officers also had law enforcement experience from other agencies.For the record, U.S. Customs Air Operations was a very professionallyrun organization. This was the likely the case, because Air Ops was generallymanaged and supervised by former military pilots. Air Ops was also staffed bya rather impressive number of very capable people. This included U.S. CustomsPilots like John R., Bill P., Red D., Roger G., Gene P., Ron M., Rick B., RalphG., Jack H., Brooks B., Robbie V, Mike S., Bob B. etc… Larry K. and Harry B.were two Special Agents, who went on to serve as Aviation Group Supervisorsand provided critical support to the undercover operation that is the centralfocus of this true story.Controlled Delivery Book I 37My first air chase took place over the teal green waters of the Caribbean nearEleuthera Island at sunset. As soon as we intercepted the “bogie” or target aircraft,the drug smuggling pilot began to make his run. After we broke off our pursuitand circled above the air drop site, we watched the kicker crouch in the opendoor of the smuggling aircraft and drop several bales in a nice neat line near anawaiting vessel.This was the moment I had waited a long time for. I was patrolling the frontlines of the Drug War in the Caribbean, in a U.S. Customs aircraft, that wasready to prevent the smuggling of contraband into the United States. Then realityset in. With no U.S. Customs, or U.S. Coast Guard patrol boats in the area, thisdrug shipment would likely get through. Worse yet, the act of smuggling that Ijust witnessed was not a crime in the United States, at least not yet.The next airdrop that I observed was further down the Bahamian Islandchain. A Beechcraft Queen Air approached from the south and executed threeperfectly good passes twenty-five feet above the ocean. All I could do was watchin complete amazement, as I counted eight splashes in the water on each run.After the third airdrop, the drug plane made a sharp right turn and headed southagain. It was fruitless to chase this aircraft, because the United States was in theother direction. All we could do was pass each other in the sunset sky and goabout our business as if nothing happened.A number of drug smuggling pilots and their crews weren’t so lucky. In oneshort period of time, five drug smuggling aircraft crashed into the sea, while being38 Nick Jacobellispursued by U.S. Customs aircraft in the Bahamas. Each one of these smugglingaircraft crashed while trying to airdrop drug shipments to awaiting smugglingvessels. On one occasion, a Piper Navajo cart wheeled into the ocean, afterthe drug pilot dropped his landing gear and flaps too close to the waves, whenthe kicker started tossing out bales. This particular twin engine Piper Navajoexploded on impact and sank.Even though under normal circumstances most people would be upset toobserve a plane ditch or crash at sea, I never felt any remorse for the smugglerswho were killed while trying to make a delivery. As far as I was concerned, drugsmugglers were the enemy and if they died during the commission of a crime,so be it.In another incident, two smugglers ditched their light twin engine aircraftduring an airdrop and were lucky to evacuate the plane before it sank. Fortunately,for them and for us, a U.S. Coast Guard helicopter was on station and was ableto pull the two smugglers out of the water.This time I had a reason to get excited, because the coasties (U.S. CoastGuard) agreed to deliver the two drug smuggling aviators to Homestead AirForce Base, instead of taking their soaking wet passengers to JacksonvilleMemorial Hospital in Miami. Bear in mind, that when the Coast Guard fishedsmugglers out of the ocean during this period of The Drug War, they usuallytook the “survivors” to the closest hospital. This was done so the “survivors” couldget examined for exposure and injuries. By the time a team of U.S. CustomsControlled Delivery Book I 39Agents arrived to “clear” these rescued individuals through Customs, they wereusually no where to be found. This time things would be different.Even though at the time, these smugglers broke no laws in the United States,they were still obligated to “clear” Customs upon their arrival in our country.Doing so, gave us a chance to check these individuals out to see if they werewanted.On the flight back to Homestead Air Force Base, I wondered how long mycolleagues and I would have to play this deadly game of tag. At that time, theonly thing we could do once a drug shipment was dropped into the ocean, wasto try and have U.S. Customs or Coast Guard patrol boats pursue the marinesmugglers who picked up a load. For every crash and burn, there was anotherdaredevil with a pilot’s license out there, trying to make a successful run, so hecould get paid a large amount of money.When the two smugglers were dropped off near the control tower onHomestead Air Force Base, they had no idea that I would be waiting for them.Once again, I felt like the Gene Hackman character Detective Popeye Doyle,when the “rescued individuals” jumped out of the Coast Guard helicopter andthey found me standing there grinning and waving my right hand. With a contingent of U.S. Air Force Security Policemen standing by my side, I identifiedmyself and asked the two men if they wouldn’t mind clearing Customs. Naturally,they complied because they had no choice.Instinct and experience, combined with a little training, can be a formidable40 Nick Jacobellistool for a law enforcement officer to possess. After conducting a brief interview,I knew these guys weren’t going anywhere, until I checked them out from topto bottom and inside and out. I was also convinced, that the subject with theSwedish passport was “dirty” aka a criminal. Proving it was the hard part. Thefact that what they just did in the Bahamas was not a crime in the U.S., meantthat I could only hold them for so long while I checked them out.When the Group 7 Duty Agent Special Agent Mark F. responded, he gaveme a hand going over what little we had. Luckily, we were able to determine thatour Swedish friend was in fact a fugitive, wanted in Florida for his involvementin a major smuggling venture. Under the circumstances, I felt great that myhunch about this guy proved to be correct. After releasing one of the rescuedindividuals, we arrested the fugitive and transported him to the MetropolitanCorrectional Center (MCC).WHEELS IN THE WELLOnce we were notified of a scramble, U.S Customs air crews had eight minutesto get airborne or “wheels in the well,” so we could intercept an acquired target.As soon as the Command Duty Officer (CDO) announced the presence of atarget that was worthy of further scrutiny, everyone on flight status grabbedtheir rifles and survival gear, before heading out to the flight line.Somewhere over the Bahamas, a target was identified and was being trackedby our radar detection specialists. The U.S. Customs Citation Jet, which wasControlled Delivery Book I 41already on patrol, was being diverted towards the radar blip, that was performinga series of turns over the ocean. Since we had a full compliment of personnelworking the 4X12 shift, the Miami Air Branch would put up a maximum effort,to investigate the suspicious aircraft. At the very least, we wound get a chanceto practice our skills, even if we found nothing. If we were lucky, we would flysmack into an airdrop of drug contraband and begin a chase that would take usin any number of directions.So far, I had flown in every fixed wing aircraft and helicopter that the U.S.Customs Miami Air Branch had in inventory, except the old twin engine blue andwhite Aero Commander that we affectionately called Emily. With our CitationJet already airborne and no seats available in the Black Hawk helicopter, I jumpedin with Customs Pilot Bill P. and Customs Pilot Dennis Del G. and strapped in.While the Pilot in Command (Bill P.) taxied the old Rockwell 560 ModelAero Commander towards the active runway, I watched as our Black Hawkhelicopter got airborne. In a way, I envied my fellow Air Officers, who were luckyenough to be assigned to bust crew duty in the “Hawk” that night. Everyoneknew that the chances of seeing any ground action increased when you flew inone of our helicopters. This was the case, because it was the Black Hawk’s job toinsert the “bust crew” into any location where a drug plane landed, especially inplaces where fixed wing Customs aircraft could not safely land. Naturally, whenfeasible, Air Officers and Customs Pilots would made arrests while operatingfixed wing aircraft.42 Nick JacobellisAfter getting over the disappointment of being excluded from helicopter bustcrew duty, I paid more attention to what was going on around me. Once CustomsPilot Bill P. got the green light from the Air Force control tower to take off, heapplied full power to Emily’s engines and off we went into the wild blue yonder.As excited as you can be at a time like this, you have to keep your eyes andears open. When you are not looking for other “traffic” (other planes in the sky),you pay close attention to the radio chatter so you can follow what’s taking place.You need to do this, so you will know what to do, if you are called into action.Once everyone lifted off, we each had an assigned task. Since Emily was anair interdiction asset, we got to fly out over the ocean to rendezvous with theCitation and get into the chase. While we went feet wet and headed out over theocean, the Black Hawk skirted the coast and waited to pounce on the smugglersif they landed stateside.Again we were functioning like a team. While the Customs Radar DetectionSpecialists at our air interdiction command and control center known as C3I,continued to track the target, he directed our Citation Jet to the area where the“Judy” (target aircraft) was located. After being vectored into the area by C3I,the Customs Citation Jet jumped the target aircraft in the middle of an airdrop.As the smuggling vessel moved in to pick up the packages that were droppedinto the ocean, the crew realized that their associates in the smuggling aircraftwere in trouble. This was easy to figure out, because the Citation Jet had nostealth capabilities. As a result, it was impossible to hide its presence from theControlled Delivery Book I 43smugglers on the boat below. In an effort to warn a fellow smuggler that he wasin trouble, the boat captain radioed the pilot of the Aztec with the bad newsthat he had company on his tail.Unfortunately for the bad guys, a smuggler flying a light twin engine PiperAztec would never be able to outrun a Citation Jet. Under the circumstances,the pilot of the smuggling aircraft had limited options. These options included,ditching near the friendly smuggling vessel, or landing in a place where theCitation was unable to land. Smugglers also had to be concerned that there wereno U.S. government helicopters in the area. They could also make a run for theU.S. coastline and try to mix in with the other air traffic, especially as night fellover South Florida.As Bill P. eased up on the throttles, he put Emily into a slow turn and joinedup on the Citation, as it continued to follow the red and white Aztec. From myvantage point in the back of Emily, I was close enough to the action to see thatthere were two people on board the smuggling aircraft. This was a typical flightcrew for an air drop scenario. It was also our good fortune that we were headedstraight for the South Florida coastline.While I sat in the un-air-conditioned chase plane, I check my survival gear,just in case we made an unscheduled stop in the Atlantic. In addition to my U.S.military issued inflatable life jacket, I wore my survival vest over my flight suitand my police style raid jacket. Tucked under my left arm was a nylon shoulderholster that contained my 9mm pistol and one spare thirteen round magazine.44 Nick JacobellisI also carried a small five shot .38 caliber S&W revolver and a Colt CAR-15assault rifle with two 30 round magazines tapped together. An additional 20round M16 magazine, extra pistol magazines, revolver ammunition, handcuffs,a strobe light and other equipment was secured in my military issue survivalvest. Many of us also carried canteens and food in our helmet bags, because wenever knew how long we would be out on a chase, or where we would end up.Since I had some time to spare, I decided to feast on some crackers andlukewarm water while I kicked back to watch the show. After I finished my lastcheese cracker and I sipped some water from my canteen, I heard the Citationpilot ask if we would take the lead position in the chase.As Bill P. brought Emily in behind the Aztec, the Citation pulled up andoff to the side to give us plenty of room to maneuver. The coastline of SouthFlorida was off in the distance and our arch enemy, nightfall, was approachingfast. If a smuggler had one chance in a thousand, it was at night, in a chase overa well lit city. (I am not going to explain why.) I will say, that safety was our firstconsideration. As you can imagine, things could get very complicated, whenwe pursued a smuggling aircraft over a major city, that included a sky full oflegitimate air traffic. Fortunately, the FAA air traffic controllers did an amazingjob in clearing paths for us, whenever we crossed over into U.S. airspace.Shortly after getting in behind our target, we spotted all sorts of debris beingthrown at us from the open pilot’s side window of the smuggling aircraft. Bill P.reacted quickly, as he yanked and banked Emily to the left and right, to preventControlled Delivery Book I 45us from getting hit by tie down ropes and other items that could have seriouslydamaged our aircraft.I was literally sitting on the edge of my seat, while the crazy bastards in theAztec continued to throw things at our aircraft. Clearly, if any of these itemscrashed through our windshield or got caught up in one or both of our propellerswe would be in serious trouble. Our aircraft was of course unarmed except forour sidearms and my rifle. Under the circumstances, all we could do to defendourselves was to perform some fancy flying. Then it happened! A streak of lightsimilar to a tracer round or a flair, shot out from the pilot’s side window andwhistled right by us.Once again Bill P. reacted quickly and pushed the controls forward and dovefor some safe airspace. “He’s firing at us,” I yelled, as the flair like object rocketedpast our plane just missing us. As soon as I made my comment, the radio crackledas the details of what just happened were transmitted to the other Customsaircraft.Under the circumstances, I would have loved the opportunity to open theemergency window and pepper the drug plane with 30 rounds of ammunitionfrom my Colt CAR 15 assault rifle. Unfortunately, our rules of engagementprevented us from defending ourselves in this fashion.In anticipation of a possible stateside interdiction, our Black Hawk helicopter was cruising along the beach between Miami and Ft. Lauderdale. Aswe approached the coastline, the lights came on as night fall blanketed South46 Nick JacobellisFlorida in darkness. By the time we went feet dry (crossed over onto land), wewere pursing the smuggling aircraft over rush hour traffic.No matter what this drug pilot did to elude capture, we managed to stay rightbehind him, as if we were dog fighting with an enemy plane that just invadedthe United States. With no where else to go, the smuggler pilot in the Aztec setup to land at the International Airport in Ft. Lauderdale. While our co-pilotDennis Del G. worked with the FAA and Customs Air Traffic Controllers, BillP. planted Emily on the Aztec’s tail, as the drug smuggling pilot made his finalapproach to land.A few seconds later we touched down right behind the drug plane. As wecontinued our pursuit, I cracked the crew door open in anticipation of jumpingout to make my arrests. I knew that once I left Emily, I would be on my ownuntil the Black Hawk arrived, or Bill P. and Dennis Del G. were able to shut theAero Commander down and give me a hand.While Bill P. was giving some last minute instructions to his co pilot, I spottedthe cockpit door on the bad guy plane open. Bill then reminded me to run aroundthe wing and not under it.As soon as I acknowledged his advice, Bill called out, “Get ready!”While I inched closer to the open cockpit door, I kept telling myself toremember to run around the wing instead of under it, to avoid being decapitated.(All Aero Commander aircraft had a high wing instead of more traditionallow wing. When the engines were off you could crouch down and walk underControlled Delivery Book I 47the wing. When the engines were turning, you had to walk around the wing toavoid being hit by the propeller.) As we continued to taxi down the runway, thedrug plane veered off to another taxiway toward a deserted part of the field. AllI could think about was getting to the bad guys, before they were able to exittheir aircraft and make a run for it.Before Emily came to a complete stop, I jumped out and ran around the leftwingtip in order to safely execute this enforcement action. As soon as the Aztecrolled to a stop, I knelt down behind the right wing and pointed my Colt CAR15 assault rifle at the cockpit. The second the cockpit door opened, I yelled, “U.S.Customs!” Once the two smugglers exited the aircraft and they made their waydown the wing, I grabbed the co-pilot/kicker by the hair and forced him downto the ground. While I covered the pilot with my rifle, I ordered him to get facedown on the ground next to his friend. By the time the Customs Black Hawklanded and inserted a bust crew, the two drug smugglers were in custody.Just as I was recovering from a massive adrenaline rush, my Aviation GroupSupervisor informed me that he wanted another Air Officer to receive the creditfor making these arrests. My supervisor made this decision, because the otherAir Officer’s monthly stats were down. (Even though we were unable to makean arrest for air dropping a drug shipment in Bahamian waters, we were able totake the two smugglers into custody for their attempts to damage our aircraft inflight and assault federal officers.) After shaking my head in disbelief, all I coulddo was return to my aircraft and wait for Bill P. and Dennis Del G. to take me48 Nick Jacobellisas far away from this place as possible.Under the circumstances, the flight back to Homestead AFB was a quiteone. Everyone knew I was disappointed to put it mildly. Once we landed, Ichanged my clothes and used the fifty mile car ride home to cool my jets while Iconsidered all that transpired. As far as my supervisor was concerned, he endedup making things up to me, by allowing me to run free and work in the field,when I began to conduct air smuggling investigations.Both drug pilots were later found guilty and were sentenced to four and fiveyears in federal prison for assaulting federal law enforcement officers. As I lookback on this incident, I can not help but think of all the talented people thatmake up this job. Fortunately, we tended to have more laughs than disagreements.The next time I flew with Bill P. we ended up chasing a smuggling aircraftinto another South Florida Airport. The picture that hangs in my den to thisday, shows me and Bill P. standing in front of the plane that we seized duringanother nighttime interdiction mission. For the record, Bill P. was just like theother Customs aviators mentioned in this book; a true professional who was apleasure to work with.THE WORM TURNSAs the Special Agent in Charge of U.S. Customs in Miami at the time, Pat O’B.was determined to find a way to enable us to be more effective in our interdictionefforts. The way to accomplish this was to extend our area of operation deepControlled Delivery Book I 49into the Caribbean. In order to legally extend our area of operation, Miami SACPat O’B., Stuart S., from Customs Regional Counsel and a few other officials,including the Customs Commissioner created a plan that resulted in a change infederal law. This new law dramatically expanded our ability to interdict smugglerswell beyond our borders. With the U.S. Customs Service, the State Departmentand the Bahamian Police working together, a plan was put in motion to createa joint Bahamian-American Narcotics Drug Interdiction Team. The operationwas called BANDIT and few Americans are aware that it ever existed.Before Operation Bandit changed the rules of engagement, the islands in theBahamas were a safe haven for smugglers; a place where smuggling aircraft andvessels operated with little or no danger of being interdicted by Bahamian or U.S.authorities. Operation BANDIT changed the rules of engagement and permittedU.S. interdiction forces to operate in the Bahamas under strict guidelines. Tobe more specific, Operation BANDIT authorized U.S. Customs Officers andAgents to conduct joint interdiction operations in the Bahamas, as long as aBahamian Police Officer was on-board the American aircraft or vessel.Operation Bandit enabled Bahamian police officers to be inserted into locations that they were unable to respond to on short notice without our assistance.In other words, with our help, the Bahamian Police were now able to capturesmugglers in the act. This was often accomplished, by using our technology toacquire the targets that our aircraft and vessels interdicted on behalf of ourBahamian Allies.50 Nick JacobellisOnce Operation Bandit was initiated, anyone using a U.S. registered vesselor aircraft to air drop, or attempt to introduce any illegal contraband within 250miles of the United States, could be prosecuted under Title 19 United StatesCode 1590. The days of smugglers having a free reign in the Bahamas with nothreat of U.S. intervention were over. We would eventually end up doing ourjob so well, that many smugglers were forced to operate further away from theirtraditional Bahamian drug sanctuaries. Please keep this in mind as you read on,because this victory of sorts, proved to be one of the underlying reasons, whythe undercover operation featured in this book was initiated.Even though the Bahamian-American Narcotics Drug Interdiction Team(BANDIT) was no secret, it took a while before every drug pilot caught on.During one interdiction mission that we flew, a pilot flying a smuggling aircraftair dropped his load within sight of our coastline. When this drug smugglingpilot flew into Ft. Lauderdale International Airport, he was surprised to see thatwe were hot on his tail.While one of our patrol boats picked up the contraband in internationalwaters, my colleagues and I in the U.S. Customs Black Hawk helicopter surrounded the smuggling aircraft as it rolled to a stop. The moment we placed theconfused drug pilot under arrest, he asked why he was being handcuffed. Myresponse was for violation of 19USC1590. As soon as I informed our prisonerabout the change in federal law, he remarked, “But you didn’t tell us about this.”Naturally, when I responded, I asked our prisoner if we should have droppedControlled Delivery Book I 51leaflets over the Bahamas and Colombia, to advise him and the other smugglers,that a new federal law allowed us to make arrests under circumstances that werepreviously prohibited? The worm had turned and it felt great to have the upperhand over our otherwise elusive enemy.Until the word got out, there were a number of very shocked and surprisedsmugglers, who thought that they could drop a drug shipment to go fast boatsthen land on a Bahamian Island, or fly into the U.S. and walk away free men. Aslong as Bahamian cops were working with us, U.S. Customs Agents and Officerscould go anywhere in the Bahamas. Once we landed in Bahamian territory, theBahamian Constables took the lead and moved in to make the arrest. Our jobwas to “protect the crew and our aircraft” unless summoned by the Bahamianpolice to assist. When we operated in the United States, we jumped out firstand usually found the eager Bahamian cops toting their British Sterling 9mmsubmachine guns as they followed us into action. It was pretty amazing stuff.During the early stages of Operation BANDIT we confused the hell of a lotof people in both countries. The rules of engagement had changed in our favorand the U.S. and our Bahamian Allies started to kick-ass in plain English. Intime, we would force the smugglers so far south, that the incidents of airdropsand land based deliveries on Bahamian islands by private aircraft decreaseddramatically.Even though the front line of the Drug War in South Florida and theCaribbean had shifted, there was plenty of work to be done. One of our biggest52 Nick Jacobellisproblems was that we were generally too slow to react to new smuggling trends.The solution was to remain flexible and not be afraid to be just as bold andinnovative as the smugglers were. Officials like Miami SAC Pat O’B, Stuart S.and Customs Commissioner Carol H. did just that.Controlled Delivery Book I 53CHAPTER 5PURSUING AIRSMUGGLERS ON THEGROUNDWhile serving as a U.S. Customs Air Officer, I was just as interested inflying drug interdiction missions as I was in learning how to conductair smuggling investigations. Early on in my career I adopted the attitude, thatif I was going to work with pilots I needed to know what made them tick. Moreimportantly, if I was going to start arresting pilots who were smugglers, I wantedto know as much as I could about aviators, aircraft and flying. In other words,I believed in the old adage, know your enemy. Learning how to fly and flyingdrug interdiction missions in U.S. Customs aircraft, helped me in more waysthan one in this regard.Before I could become a successful air smuggling investigator I had a lot tolearn. In addition to reading technical manuals and flying magazines, I constantlyasked questions and learned how fast and how far different aircraft could flywith various amounts of fuel and cargo on board. I also had to learn whichplanes were best suited for air drops. This included learning how crew andcargo doors could be modified, to facilitate a successful airdrop and allow the54 Nick Jacobelliskicker to close the door in flight, once the drug shipment was jettisoned. Somesmuggling aircraft were also modified to accommodate an additional supply offuel in rubber bladders, metal tanks, or in 55 gallon drums. The more fuel andcargo a plane carried, meant that it was limited in the number of people thatcould be carried on board. Smugglers also had to maintain the “proper weightand balance,” in order to insure the safe operation of their aircraft.Thanks to my network of airport contacts and sources of information, Iseized a number of aircraft, that were modified in violation of federal law tofacilitate acts of smuggling. Becoming familiar with different types of illegalmodifications, was something that I learned in the field and not in a formaltraining environment.While developing my skills as an Air Officer, I also learned, that a legitimateFAA (Federal Aviation Administration) approved extra fuel system, is availablefor a ONE WAY “ferry” permit. This type of permit allowed an aircraft to betransported a long distance for a legitimate reason. To make this type of fuelsystem an illegal installation, a smuggler would install the “ferry tanks” and notfile a notice with the FAA or get a 337 certificate. Drug smugglers were alsoknown, to keep a plane equipped with an additional fuel system and fly morethan the one flight than the ferry permit allowed.My first big break as an Air Officer came, when a U.S. Customs Agent whowas getting ready to retire, introduced me to a contact of his at a local airport.The day I met the documented source of information called Airport Sam, IControlled Delivery Book I 55immediately knew that he was extremely knowledgeable about private aircraft,as well as a wide variety of air and marine smuggling activities.Even though Airport Sam was interested in working for Customs for themoney, I sensed early on in our relationship, that he liked the intrigue and alsoenjoyed being one of the “good guys.” In addition to the fact that I personallyliked Airport Sam, I also found him to be very eager to work with an agent whodidn’t mind putting in long hours. In fact, as you will read, Airport Sam wouldbecome one of the most active and reliable sources of information I ever had.Initially, I focused my efforts on identifying aircraft that were being usedby smugglers, to fly drug shipments into the Bahamas and the CONUS(Continental Unites States). This included locating aircraft that were fittedwith illegal fuel systems, that extended the range of a plane, so it could travelfarther without having to refuel.During the first few months that we worked together, I was able to develop areputation for being an active air smuggling investigator. This reputation, alongwith the experience that I developed, made it possible for me to get promotedand become a Special Agent. Best yet, I was able to get assigned to the newlyformed Miami Air Smuggling Investigations Group 7.Steve Minas was the first supervisor assigned to Group 7. Steve was the sonof a well respected Retired U.S. Customs Agent and one of the most devotedspecial agents on the job. As a tribute to Steve, who passed away in 2016, he isthe only U.S. Customs Agent who I identify in this book by using his full name.56 Nick JacobellisIf there’s one person helping St. Peter to secure the borders that surround heaven,it’s Steve Minas. Rest in peace my friend.SAC MIAMI AIR GROUP 7-THE EARLY DAYSWhether I was working air smuggling cases as an Air Officer or as a SpecialAgent, I was pretty much a one man unit. This meant that I usually workedout of the trunk of my car and dressed in comfortable clothes, while coveringthe northern part of our area of operation. In fact, with the exception of SteveMinas, I rarely if ever worked with any of the agents in my group. To his credit,even though Steve was the Group Supervisor, he was available 24/7 to assist mewhenever I needed help.The 1980s was also the end of an era, when federal agents and police detectives kicked in doors the old fashion way and made arrests without the help ofa SWAT Team. As an example, Steve Minas and I went on one raid together,when we took a smuggler into custody, who was harassing a federal witness byunleashing rats in the old ladies house. Needless to say, it was our pleasure totake this demented soul into custody.Throughout my career as a U.S. Customs Agent, I was absolutely intriguedby all aspects of smuggling, especially air smuggling. While catching someone inthe act of smuggling was exhilarating, infiltrating a smuggling organization anddismantling it from the inside out, was an adventure on par with the escapadesof spies.Controlled Delivery Book I 57I should also point out, that even though I was operating in a target richenvironment, it still took a great deal of hard work to make a case. It was alsowell known at the time, that a special agent was only as good as their informantsand sources of information. As I mention elsewhere in this book, the mainreason why I was successful in this regard, was because I was a “people person.”I developed this skill at a very young age, while spending quality time with myfather and my paternal grandfather.Whenever I spent time with my paternal grandfather, the man I was namedafter, I thought he was the Major of New York City. I felt this way, becauseeveryplace we went, my grandfather seemed to know everyone we met on thestreet. One reason for this, was because my grandfather and I never took asubway train or a bus. Instead, we walked everywhere. As a result, we were alwaysmeeting different people, when we walked from my house on East 29th Streetin Brooklyn, to my grandfather’s apartment building at 609 Rogers Avenue.My paternal grandfather was also a great story teller. One of his favoritetopics was to tell me about his younger days in Italy and his time in the Italiancavalry. Listening to my grandfather tell his stories, taught me to respect thefact that other people had interesting things to say. Later on in life, I becamesomeone who was just as interested in relaying a good story, as I was in hearingone. This became a critical attribute to have during my law enforcement career,when I interacted with others.In addition to being very entertaining, my grandfather was also very58 Nick Jacobellisinstructive. Looking back, my grandfather seemed to be determined to passon as many pearls of wisdom as possible, right up until the end of his life. Inaddition to what I learned from our time together, my paternal grandfathermade me feel very special, because he spent so much of his time with me. Eventhough I didn’t realize it at the time, later on in life, I adopted the same traitand made it a point to spend time with my informants, sources of informationand contract personnel.My father was another people person, who got along just as well with strangers, store owners and casual acquaintances, as he did with close friends andrelatives. At a very young age my father and his father showed me the importanceof being sociable and interacting with others. My father also showed me howyou could get better treatment, better service and better deals, when you wererespectful and friendly.One story worth repeating involves my younger years, when I though everyadult male in Brooklyn was named Johnny. This seemed to be the case, becausewhenever my father was making a purchase, he would invariably remark in afriendly fashion something to the effect of, “Hey, Johnny, you’re killing me. Can’tyou give me a better deal than this?”The day finally came when I asked my father why Johnny was such a popularname. He laughed and explained how he used the name Johnny as an icebreaker,or a way to be more down to earth when he dealt with a stranger. Whatever hedid worked, because he usually got a better deal by being more personable. ThereControlled Delivery Book I 59were also times when my father became a crafty SOB, who let whoever he wasdealing with know, that he would not be taken advantage of.I probably learned the most about how to cultivate and maintain good contacts and work undercover, when I went with my father when he visited localbusinessmen. One of his favorite stops was a bicycle shop that was owned bytwo brothers. Another one of my father’s favorite stops was the local Oldsmobilecar dealership. He especially liked to drive one particular car salesman crazy.I’m convinced that they had a mutual respect for each other and truly enjoyedhaggling over the price of a car.Making these regular stops with my father instilled in me the importanceof taking the time to visit your network of contacts. In other words, people willend up doing a lot more for you in the long run, when you spend more time withthem as a friend, as opposed to only stopping by because you need something.As an example, if you need to develop information at a private airport, or in amarina, you need to make regular visits to those locations that are more social innature than official. Buying someone lunch, or stopping by for a cup of coffee toshoot the breeze, will do more for you in the long run, than if you come acrosslike a typical bureaucrat.When my informants, sources of information and contract personnel gave mevaluable intelligence information, or performed a particular service, I didn’t getup and leave once our business was concluded. Instead, I made it a point to besociable and spend time with them. I did so for several reasons. One reason was60 Nick Jacobellisbecause I liked people. I especially liked my core group of informants, sources ofinformation and contract personnel. Simply put, they were a colorful collectionof misfits, eccentrics, “angels with dirty faces” and patriots. I also learned a greatdeal about air and marine smuggling, money laundering and operating privateaircraft, as a direct result of spending quality time with my network of contacts.I should also point out, that my fellow agents and I were very selective, whenit came to allowing someone to become a member of our core group of sourcesof information and contract personnel. As an example, two people who workedfor us on one particular operation never made it into the core group and were cutfrom the team. Another person who wanted to work for us was never recruited,when another Customs Agent told me to avoid this individual at all cost.I also didn’t think it was appropriate to treat the people who were providingvaluable information and assistance like a prostitute. As a result, my fellow specialagents and I maintained a friendly professional relationship with our informantsand sources of information.My father and my grandfather were “regular” guys. There was nothing pretentious about them. The example they set, as well as their mentoring, madeit possible for me to recruit, direct and control some of the most successfulinformants, sources of information and contract personnel who ever workedfor a law enforcement agency.Controlled Delivery Book I 61ESCAPE, EVASION AND SURVIVALFor as long as I live I will never forget January 8, 1987. One this particular night,I just finished working on some paperwork at the Group 7 office and was walkingto my car to go home, when I heard the air operations scramble alarm over theloudspeaker. The moment I spotted U.S. Customs Pilot John R. run to his carand grab his gear, I went over to see what was going on.As soon as John R. said that they were “short in the back,” I eagerly volunteered to go along. Once I grabbed my Colt CAR 15 rifle and my helmet bag, thatcontained my flight suit, survival vest, raid jacket, water, food and extra ammofrom the truck of my G-ride, I ran out to the flight line to join the others. Bythe time I jumped in the back of the Black Hawk helicopter, U.S. Customs PilotGene P. and John R. were turning over the engines and preparing to take off.As any U.S. Customs Pilot or Air Officer will tell you, whenever we scrambled, we never knew where we would end up, or what would happen duringeach mission. Despite being well armed with weapons and survival equipment,U.S. Customs aviators wore military flight suits, military issue flight jacketsand other police and military gear, so we could operate anywhere at anytime.This included, being trained and equipped to participate in different types ofenforcement actions, while operating on different types of terrain, in differentweather conditions.It was part of the adventure to buckle up and go feet wet, then race over theocean in hot pursuit of drug smugglers. As I am sure many of my colleagues62 Nick Jacobelliswill agree, we never thought about the dangers of ditching at sea, or what mighthappen once we jumped out to make an arrest with little or no backup. In fact,I personally believe, that U.S. Customs aviators operated with the same level ofenthusiasm, as U.S. military aircrews during a combat mission.As soon as we lifted off, Gene P. received the clearance from the Air Forcecontrol tower to transverse the active runway. In less than eight minutes, we werefeet wet and racing into the darkness, toward a target that was being tracked nearBimini Island. Because our Bahamian Police escort was off that night, we werebound by the old rules of engagement. This meant that we were prohibited fromtaking enforcement action in the Bahamas. Nevertheless, we went on this missionto accomplish as much as we could, while operating within the boundaries ofagency policy.While we were hauling ass over the ocean, our crew in the Citation Jet wasmonitoring the activities of a Cessna 210, that was making its way toward BiminiIsland. During this intercept, a U.S. Coast Guard Falcon 20 Jet joined up withour Citation Jet.When we were about eight miles away from Bimini, we were notified that thetarget aircraft was descending for either an air drop or a night landing. A secondor so later, we were advised that “the bogey” crashed. During this particularmission, I was sitting in the starboard side door-gunners window seat behindJohn R. As soon as I looked over John’s shoulder, I saw a huge fireball light upthe night’s sky off in the distance. Once again, my colleagues and I had a frontControlled Delivery Book I 63row seat to the action, in a conflict that was being waged while tourists enjoyedthe night life of South Florida.Based on the size of the fireball, Gene P. and John R agreed that there wasnothing more for us to do, so they turned the Black Hawk around and headedback to the barn (slang for our base). Shortly after we turned around, the U.S.Coast Guard asked us to fly over the crash site and check for survivors. Withouthesitating, John R. turned the Black Hawk back around and flew straight towardthe burning wreckage, that illuminated the sky above Bimimi Island.As soon as we arrived over Bimini and we made our first low level pass overthe crash site, I could not believe my eyes, as I leaned all the way out of the opendoor gunner’s window and called out over the intercom, “We’ve got survivorsdown there!”As soon as our Pilot in Command ( John R.) remarked, “What!” he bankedthe Black Hawk in a tight right turn and slowed her down to a gentle hover.After hearing my report, Gene Parker immediately radioed the U.S. CustomsCitation Jet crew, to report that we had two survivors wading ashore. It was alsoeasy to see, that the survivor wearing the white pilot’s uniform shirt appearedto be in pretty bad shape.Based on our report from the crash site, the U.S. Coast Guard notified theauthorities in Nassau, Bahamas and requested authorization for us to land andconduct a rescue operation. I could not believe my ears, when we were orderedthree times not to land. The U.S. Coast Guard then asked us to stay over the64 Nick Jacobelliscrash site and wait until a U.S.C.G. helicopter from Opa Locka Air Stationarrived in forty-five minutes.As soon as we received this news, the sea below became filled with go-fastboats running lights out. These “suspected” Bahamian drug smuggling vesselsshowed up like vultures, to recover any contraband that floated free of theburning wreckage. It was truly an amazing site to behold, as we circled abovethe crash site in our intimidating behemoth of a helicopter, while we waited forthe U.S. Coast Guard to arrive.At the request of the United States Coast Guard, our new mission was tokeep an eye on the injured pilot and refuse to let any of the smuggling vesselspick him up. Best yet, we had to accomplish this impossible task without landing.For the next forty-five minutes, we yanked and banked, dove and climbed forone hell of a ride, as we waited for the U.S. Coast Guard helicopter to arrive onstation. In the meantime, the fire from the “suspected” smuggling aircraft burnedfor almost forty-five full minutes, before it extinguished itself.Because the “suspected” drug plane ditched within a stones throw of thebeach, it was easy to keep the injured drug pilot and his kicker under surveillance.Every time one of the go fast boats tried to move in closer to shore, we wouldswoop down and scare the living shit out of the bad guys with our enormouslylarge and loud low flying black helicopter.After thirty minutes of playing games with the Bahamian boat crews, thepilot of the U.S. Coast Guard helicopter called us on the radio, to advise that heControlled Delivery Book I 65was ten minutes out and on the way. That was the good news. The bad news was,that after waiting all this time, the U.S.C.G. refused to land without an armedescort to protect their rescue party. U.S. Coast Guard personnel weren’t stupid.They felt that the situation was too risky, to put two unarmed crew memberson a Bahamian Island in the middle of an apparent drug deal. The U.S. CoastGuard then contacted us and asked if we could assign an armed U.S. Agent toprovide security for their rescue party.When a radio report advised that Bahamian cops were on the island and wereready to assist us, I sat back in my seat and wondered where these Bahamiancops had been since we arrived on station. We had been hovering over thatstretch of beach for some time and had not seen anyone except for the injuredpilot and his associate.The next time John R’s voice came over the intercom, he asked for a volunteer to be placed on the U.S. Coast Guard helicopter. Since our Black HawkHelicopter was not equipped with a transporter beam, the only way that wecould transfer the lucky volunteer over to the U.S. Coast Guard chopper was toland on Bimimi. This automatically posed a bit of a problem, because we werepreviously ordered not to land on Bahamian soil. Despite the risks involved, Ieagerly volunteered to help rescue the badly injured suspected drug smugglingpilot.Without wasting any time, the U.S. Customs Black Hawk helicopter racedback to the nearby runway to drop me off. Once the Black Hawk landed, I66 Nick Jacobellisjumped out and handed my Colt CAR-15 rifle to an Air Officer. I did so, becausethis was supposed to be a “rescue” mission, not an enforcement action. As soonas the Black Hawk lifted off, the crew waved to me, as the chopper returned tothe U.S. Customs Air Branch complex at Homestead Air Force Base.While I stood on the edge of the runway, it hit me that I was all alone, on anisland that was a popular location for smugglers to use as a base, before makingthe final 37 mile run into South Florida. As I crouched down and scanned thearea around the runway, I realized how crazy I was, for volunteering to help theCoast Guard rescue a badly burned suspected drug smuggling pilot.Eventually, a spotlight illuminated the sky off in the distance as the U.S. CoastGuard helicopter made “a B52 approach” in order to pick me up on the runway.As the searchlight got closer, I stood up and used my U.S. Navy issue flashlightto signal the crew. Once the chopper set down, I ran over, jumped inside andknelled between the two pilots.“OK, we’ll lower you down when we get over the beach,” said the U.S. CoastGuard pilot as we lifted off. As I looked around, I saw the crew chief preparingthe harness that I would wear as I was lowered over the side of the chopper.Under the circumstances, all I could do was roll my eyes in complete disbelief,that I could have been so stupid as to cheerfully volunteer for this mission.In a matter of seconds we were over the beach. Unfortunately, by the timewe arrived, one of the go-fast boats made its way to shore and had the badlyinjured pilot on board. The remaining go fast boats were also in the immediateControlled Delivery Book I 67area. This meant that not much changed, as far as the potential security problemwas concerned.“OK, we’ll lower you here,” said the Coast Guard pilot, as he put the chopperinto a stable hover.“No way,” I said, before I quickly added, “The rules have just changed. I’mnot getting lowered down on top of some druggie go-fast boat.”As the pilot sized up the situation and realized that I was not about to followhis order, he glanced back at me and said, “What’s next?”“Time to go to Plan B,” I said.When the Pilot asked, “What’s that?”I shook my head I said, “I don’t know, but this isn’t it.”While the Coast Guard pilot flew the helicopter back to the runway, I considered my options, as far as the best way to accomplish our mission. Duringthe very short flight back to the runway on Bimini, the Coast Guard PIC (Pilotin Command) radioed the two jets circling overhead, to tell them that thingslooked hostile on the beach. (No shit!)As soon as we landed, a voice on the radio reported that “Nassau” said it wassafe to land and that the Bahamian police were standing by to turn the injuredpilots over to us. All I could do was shake my head and wish that the person onthe radio was going with me, since he thought it was safe to go for a walk on thebeach in this neighborhood.After hearing the last radio message, the U.S. Coast Guard PIC looked back68 Nick Jacobellisat me and said, “Would you take my crew chief and paramedic down to thebeach on foot?”As I unbuckled the harness, I keyed the headset mic and said, “Lets getthis over with.” Within seconds we were out of the chopper. After we duckeddown and ran out from under the rotating blades, we stood off to the side fora second to assemble. When the crew chief asked me, “Which way do we go,Sir?” I looked at the polite Crew Chief and motioned him to follow me as Iremarked, “This way.”As I led the way down to the beach, all I could think about was how muchI hated being called Sir. Once we entered the trail at the edge of the runway,we became enveloped in some heavy brush. This particular path looked as if ithad been used many times in the past, to carry drug shipments from planes toawaiting boats on the beach. We didn’t get very far, when the three of us froze,as the bushes ahead of us rustled with activity. When two Bahamians dressedin civilian “street” clothes came closer, I heard the crew chief say, “Oh shit,” in alow tone of voice.

Under the circumstances, I instinctively reacted by drawing my 9mm pistol,

while I glanced back at the crew chief and said, “Chief, we’re about to create aninternational incident.” As I looked back down the trail, in the direction of thebeach, I yelled, “U.S. Customs! Don’t move!””The second I relayed my command, the two Bahamians froze and called withtheir British accents, “Don’t shoot, Mon. Come with us. We’ll take you to them.”Controlled Delivery Book I 69As I holstered my pistol, I approached the two Bahamians and asked if theywere Bahamian Police Officers. When I got no answer, the two fairly well dressedBahamian men turned and walked toward the beach. Once again, I shook myhead and led our rescue party on our mission of mercy.A few seconds later, we emerged on a beautiful stretch of beach that wouldhave been a nice place to spend some time, if it was located in South Florida.From a security standpoint, the bad news was that there were several Bahamianson board the go-fast boats that were parked in shallow water along the beach.Others were standing near their vessels.Standing on the bow of one of the boats, was the badly burned “suspected”drug smuggling pilot, who was screaming at the top of his lungs that we shothim down. Needless to say, this was pure bullshit, because those of us who wereflying in the Black Hawk were some eight miles away, when the aircraft crashedin shallow water along the beach. Since it is impossible to open the door on aCitation Jet in flight, it was also impossible for our Citation crew to shoot thisaircraft down.While I provided security, the Crew Chief helped the female paramedic getthe badly burned pilot down from one of the Bahamian go fast boats. As soonas the female Coast Guard paramedic escorted the badly burned pilot back tothe chopper, the Crew Chief asked me to help him get the other crew member.Just about this time, a short Bahamian in a dirty blue uniform police shirt, whowas carrying a Belgium FAL assault rifle and a rusted 12 gauge shotgun with a70 Nick Jacobelliscracked stock emerged from the crowd.When the two gun toting Bahamian in the blue police shirt asked me tofollow him, I responded and said, “Where to?” as I looked around and continuedto size up the situation.“The other one is down the beach. He needs help too,” said the local cop.At this point, the U.S. Coast Guard crew chief asked if I would mind, ifhe left to help the female paramedic take the badly injured pilot back to theirhelicopter. For some reason unknown to me at the time, I stopped and turnedto face the Crew Chief and said, “You better wait for me. Don’t go leaving mebehind.”After assuring me that they would wait for me, the Coast Guard Crew Chiefquickly added, “Go get the other guy and meet us back at the chopper.” A splitsecond later, the Crew Chief ran off to catch up with the female paramedic andher badly burned patient.Now I was getting concerned. My instincts told me that this was not a goodsituation to be in. As a result, my first reaction was to offer to help the localconstable by carrying one of his weapons. If the shit hit the fan I figured a longgun might prove handier than my pistol. It was also at this time, that I regrettedleaving my rifle in the Customs helicopter. As I said before, the only reason Idid so, was because this was supposed to be a rescue mission. What a mistakethat was.After we made our way a little further down the beach, I stopped and turnedControlled Delivery Book I 71to my little sidekick and remarked, “Hey, where is this guy? You said he was afew hundred yards away.” When the Bahamian constable responded, he pointedinto the nearby patch of brush and said that the other injured bad guy was nolonger on the beach, but in the bush.As I looked into the overgrown vegetation along the beach, all I could seewas a lot of darkness. I can’t explain it, but I instinctively knew that troublewas close by. “No way. This is it.” I said. Then, as I looked the Constable in theface, I remarked, “If this guy is healthy enough to run away, he doesn’t need tobe rescued.”The little Bahamian cop persisted. “Come with me, Mon. You can help mearrest him in there,” again pointing into the brush along the beach.Without wasting any time I faced the Bahamian Constable and remarked,“Forget it, my friend. I gotta go. If you want him arrested, call DEA, ‘cause I’moutta here.” The second I turned to leave, I heard the distinctive sound of the U.S.Coast Guard helicopter as it streaked over my head and kept going. I’ll neverforget how I looked up at the orange and white U.S. Coast Guard helicopter,as it left me alone, on this God forsaken Bahamian island that catered to drugsmugglers. About all I could say was, “Son of a bitch,”When the Bahamian cop looked at me and remarked, “They left you behind,Mon,” the only thing I could think to say was, “No shit.”As I began to walk away, I had no idea how I was going to get back homein one piece. To make matters worse, by the time I made my way back to the72 Nick Jacobellisvicinity of the crash site the armada of go-fast boats were pulled up on the beachby their crews. This resulted in a rather unfriendly crowd forming, with severalBahamian go-fast boat operators making fun of my predicament.I knew my situation was getting worse, when one of the Bahamians, who Ihad every reason to believe was a smuggler, called out, “Mr. Customs Mon. Whydon’t you let us give you a ride back to Miami?”As soon as the crowd laughed at my expense, I did my best to sound friendlywhen I responded and said, “No thanks.”When another Bahamian remarked, “Come with us, Mon and we’ll take youfor a ride down the coast,” I decided that it was time to nip this bullshit in thebud, before things got real ugly. As far as I was concerned, the only course ofaction that made sense was to show the “Pirates of the Caribbean,” that I wasnot going to be taken advantage of without a fight.As soon as I stopped walking and I turned to face the crowd, I had no ideawhat I could or should do, or what the crowd would do next. Fortunately, theBahamians made the first move, when a rather large Bahamian wearing a Mr. Tstarter set of gold chains and a gold watch, stepped forward and squared off withme. When the obvious leader of this group spoke with a British type Bahamianaccent, he sounded dead serious when he said, “Hey, Mon, your friends left youbehind. Where do you think you’re going, Mon? This is an island.”Before I responded, I looked up and scanned the sky hoping to see a U.S.Customs Black Hawk helicopter streak overhead, but this aircraft was no-whereControlled Delivery Book I 73in sight. Neither were the two jets. This meant that I was all alone and left tofend for myself. As I felt what little control there was fading away, I rememberedwhat the New York City Police Academy instructors said about how to react ina dirty street fight. It was time to let the Bahamians know, that I was not to befucked with and to do so without provoking them.I should also mention that the Bahamian cop who was armed with a FALassault rifle and a shotgun was standing quietly off to the side of crowd. As far asI was concerned, this Bahamian Constable represented absolutely no authorityon this island. If he did, he would have come to my defense early on, but thatwas apparently too much to ask of this particular Bahamian policeman. Eventhe two Bahamians who we met earlier, never showed their faces and proved tobe no help at all.After weighting my options, I drew my 9mm pistol and held it by my side asI took a step closer to the rather large Bahamian. Since I had absolutely nothingto lose, I ignored the crowd and looked their apparent leader in the eyes andsaid, “I’m leaving and nobody follows me, understand.” When the big Bahamianasked me where I was going, I continued to look him right in the eyes when Iremarked, “To make a phone call.”As soon as I finished speaking, I continued to face the unfriendly crowd, asI backed into the vegetation that ran along the beach. Once I was out of sight,I took off running and headed inland. All I could think about as I ran was themusic of the song “Runin Through the Jungle” by Credance Clearwater Revival.74 Nick JacobellisIt’s amazing what goes through your mind at a time like this. In additionto thinking about a song that fit my predicament, I also remembered the threewords that were the motto of the U.S. Air Force Water Survival School that Ihad attended. ESCAPE, EVASION, SURVIVAL! So far I had escaped and Iwas evading. Now, I needed to survive.Once I found a suitable place to hide out, I took stock of my equipment andsupplies. In addition to my 9mm service pistol and four magazines, I had myfive shot .38 Special Smith & Wesson revolver, some extra revolver ammunition,a USMC K Bar Knife, my Navy issue crook neck flashlight and pack of cigarettes that I didn’t need, because I didn’t want to give my position away. Since Iwasn’t taking prisoners, I forgot about my handcuffs and continued to quicklygo through my pockets and came up with a pack of chewing gum and oh yes,my portable radio.To make myself less of a target I turned my raid jacket inside out and tied itaround my waist over my green Nomex flight suit. I did this, to prevent the dayglow yellow letters that spelled U.S. CUSTOMS on the back and the agent’sbadge that was on the front from being seen from a distance. I then pulled outmy radio and began to broadcast in a low but steady voice. I stopped when Irealized that there was no radio repeater on Bimini Island.At this point, I resigned myself to accept the fact, that I was trapped for awhile, until someone realized that I was Missing in Action. Holy shit I thoughtwas I in trouble. A split second later, a strange sense of calmness came over meControlled Delivery Book I 75like a protective blanket and I actually started to grin. I then thought of a U.S.Customs Pilot friend of mine, who told me what it was like when he was shotdown during the Vietnam War and how he evaded the NVA for three daysuntil he was rescued.This was 1987 and I was only thirty-seven miles from the USA, yet I mightas well have been on the other side of the world. As I took cover in the mostdefensible position I could find, I did my best to remain quiet and calm. In fact,I became so in tune with my surroundings, I was able to listen to the mosquito’sbreath.After what seemed like an eternity, I heard the distinctive sound of the BlackHawk helicopter, as this massive jet black flying machine raced back and forthover Bimini Island looking for me. As I broke from cover, I knew that yellingwould be of no use. Fortunately, I remained calm and had the presence of mindto use my U.S. Navy flashlight to signal the Black Hawk chopper crew. Luckily,Air Officer Bill H. spotted my light. Once that happened, the U.S. Customshelicopter turned around and hovered near my position.The bad news was that I was in a location where the large helicopter couldnot land due to the presence of so much vegetation. Once the Black Hawk pilotsspotted a suitable place to land, they flew over to this location and made widecircles, as a way to let me know where they would be able to pick me up,With my pistol in hand, I ran toward the clearing where the Black Hawkwas circling. As soon as I broke through the brush into a rather large clearing,76 Nick JacobellisU.S. Customs Pilots John R. and Gene P. came in so fast, I saw the tires on theXXXL size U.S. military chopper compress, as the Black Hawk made contactwith the ground.While I ran toward the Black Hawk, someone opened the cargo door all theway, just in time for me to jump inside. The second I landed in the cargo bay,Gene P. pulled pitch and we took off as if we were leaving a hot LZ in time ofwar. As soon as I saw the smiling faces of the crew, I smiled back and gave themthe thumbs up.On the flight back to Homestead Air Force Base, I heard the story of howthe U.S. Coast Guard Pilots took off as soon as the badly burned pilot wasplaced on board their aircraft. Worse yet, the U.S. Customs Service was nevertold of my whereabouts, until our Black Hawk crew inquired via radio aboutthe status of the rescue mission. It was also at this time, that our Black HawkPilot in Command advised the Coast Guard, that a car would be sent to Miamito pick me up. The reason for this was because Black Hawk helicopters were toobig to land on the helipad at Jacksonville Memorial Hospital in Miami. Fromwhat I was told, the U.S. Coast Guard response was, “Oh, we left your agenton the beach.”As soon as they heard that the U.S. Coast Guard crew left me behind, theU.S. Customs Black Hawk crew raced back to Bimini to locate yours truly. Thisincident was investigated and naturally nothing happened. The U.S. Coast Guardhelicopter crew admitted to leaving me behind and said they did so, becauseControlled Delivery Book I 77the security problem for their crew ended, once the injured party was placed onboard their chopper. (Unbelievable!)To this day, I still find it hard to believe, that I was placed in jeopardy, becausea U.S. Coast Guard pilot thought the life of an injured “suspected” drug smugglerwas more important, than the life of a U.S. Agent. My kids deserved to be raisedby their father and not by the flag that would be presented to their mother atmy funeral. I risked my life for this particular U.S. Coast Guard aircrew andthe least they should have done, was wait for me to return to their helicopter.For the record, the U.S. Coast Guard is an outstanding organization. Historyis filled with numerous instances, when U.S. Coast Guard personnel performedcountless acts of bravery in both war and peace. That said, as far as I am concerned, the U.S. Coast Guard Pilot who decided to leave me behind, made areally bad call and should have been severely disciplined for doing so.78 Nick JacobellisCHAPTER 6MAKING THE TRANSITIONTO UNDERCOVER AGENTRather than plunge right into the primary focus of this book, I thoughtit would be beneficial to explain how I made the transition from criminalinvestigator to undercover agent. I also thought it would be beneficial to introduce you to some of the key players involved in this true story. To accomplishthis, I decided to explain how I met the men I would recruit to serve in TheBlade Runner Squadron.AIRPORT SAM, THE GAMBLER, MAJOR TOM & THE COLONELAs I stated earlier, Airport Sam proved to be incredibly knowledgeable when itcame to identifying private aircraft that were configured for smuggling. AirportSam was also the documented source of information who enabled me to initiate an investigation into one of South Florida’s most successful smugglingorganizations.It was also through Airport Sam that I met The Gambler aka Mr. Lucky andMajor Tom, two private pilots employed in private aviation, who were also veryeager to work for me as documented sources of information. The Gambler akaControlled Delivery Book I 79Mr. Lucky was a military veteran with a pilot’s license who made a good livingbuying and selling planes and running various businesses. Major Tom was ahighly decorated Vietnam era helicopter pilot, who flew cargo planes then wentinto private aviation. Major Tom also happened to be the only African Americanto serve in our unit. Both The Gambler and Major Tom were real characters,who enjoyed trick fucking bad guys as much as everyone else who worked withus. Personally, I’m glad they were on our side.Once The Gambler helped me make some cases, he introduced me to anotherprivate pilot I recruited and called The Colonel aka Captain Mona. The conceptof networking continued throughout my career as a U.S. Customs Agent, whenmy contract pilots, sources of information and confidential informants continuedto introduce me to people, who were eager to work undercover for Uncle Sam.CALLE OCHOI had another big break in my career, when Group 7 Supervisor Steve Minasasked me to become the control agent for a confidential informant that he wantedto me to work with. Steve believed that a Cuban American informant I endedup calling Hombre de la Calle (Man of the Street) aka Gordo (Chubby, Fatso),had a great deal of potential and needed to be properly directed.I was nominated to be Hombre’s control agent, because (as I was told)another agent who didn’t act quickly enough, lost out on using the informationthat this informant provided, to make a major drug seizure. According to Steve80 Nick JacobellisMinas, instead of the U.S. Customs Service being able to make this case, anotheragency ended up seizing thousands of pounds of marijuana.While on the surface this might not seem to be a big deal, the CustomsService was unable to pay Hombre de la Calle the payment that he deserved,because our agency did not receive credit for making this particular drug seizure.Steve also knew that you increased the chances of making other major cases,when your informants, sources of information and contract employees were wellpaid and loyal to your agency.The day Steve took me to the Little Havana section of Miami near CalleOcho (8th Street) and he introduced me to Hombre, I instantly knew that wewould get along just fine. Knowing that Hombre was a former smuggler whonever got caught didn’t bother me one bit. In fact, if anything, I liked the ideathat my newly documented Cuban informant was a survivor, who was smartenough to voluntarily change sides before the authorities were able to close inon him. Besides, U.S. Customs Agents tended to have the most diverse types ofinformants, sources of information and contract employees of any federal lawenforcement agency. Our list of “human assets” included commercial and private airport workers, licensed pilots, marina owners, merchant marine captains,merchant seamen, convicted felons, defendant informants, law abiding citizensand corporate executives.Immediately after we got acquainted, Hombre told me that two drug traffickers from California were on their way to Miami with $500,000 to pick up 20Controlled Delivery Book I 81kilos of cocaine. To be even more specific, Hombre added that these two drugtraffickers would be driving a car with Wyoming license plates. Sure enough,after working a surveillance for two days with the Miami Police DepartmentNarcotics Unit, the two subjects arrived in South Florida as expected.After conducting a mobile surveillance from Miami to Ft. Lauderdale, a tripthat involved me deputizing the Miami cops as U.S. Customs Officers, we useda police dog from the Broward County Sheriff ’s Office to alert on the car thatthe two subjects were driving. After writing a search warrant and visiting a judgein the early hours of the morning, the Miami PD narcotics cops and I openedthe luggage that we found in the trunk and seized $530,011 in drug money. Inaddition to being a decent size money seizure, this case established the credibilityof Home de la Calle, a documented source of information, who would become amajor player in the undercover operation that is the main focus of this true story.Another case that had a direct impact on the undercover air operation thatI would eventually initiate, involved me being introduced to a source of information who helped me seize a private plane that was intended to be used byColombian smugglers. During this investigation, The Gambler and Major Tomintroduced me to a pilot I ended up recruiting and calling Captain Video akaCaptain Cuervo.CAPTAIN VIDEO AKA CAPTAIN CUERVOAccording to The Gambler and Major Tom, a pilot friend of theirs had82 Nick Jacobellisinformation about a Colombian who was looking to purchase an expensiveaircraft for a smuggling venture. Just as they had described, the man I ended upcalling Captain Video turned out to be another colorful character with a greatsense of humor, who was extremely reliable and trustworthy.Rather than work this case alone, I received help from FBI Agent KennyP. and his partner Agent Rick C. While Kenny P. was the senior of the twoagents, Rick C. was an experienced younger G Man. Kenny and Rick provedespecially helpful, when I needed to cover Captain Video whenever he met withthe Colombian subject of this investigation. In the end, we decided not to riskexposing Captain Video in order to make a more substantial case. Instead, Isettled for the technical violation that enabled me to seize the plane that CaptainVideo identified as the aircraft that the Colombian intended to use in a smugglingventure.Doing so enabled me to protect Captain Video’s identity as a documentedsource of information for the U.S. Customs Service, while also paying him forthe seizure of such an expensive private aircraft. This case also enabled me toestablish Captain Video’s reliability as a documented source of information. Inthe process, we became very close friends on a professional basis. As you willread, Captain Video would later join Airport Sam, The Gambler, Major Tom,the Colonel, Hombre de la Calle and others as a member of the SAC MiamiGroup 7 undercover air operation.Controlled Delivery Book I 83OPERATION EXCALIBUREvery federal agent needs a major case to jump-start their career. At the time,a major investigation like Operation Excalibur was often referred to as a GS13case. This meant, that any special agent who successfully initiated and completedan investigation of such magnitude, was usually considered a shoe in for a promotion to a GS13 (Senior Special Agent) position.Before I go any further, I need to explain how I initiated the U.S. Customsend of this complex investigation of international significance. I first becameinterested in the owner of the Royal Motorcar Dealership, when I was drivinghome late one night and I stopped to admire the exotic cars that were on displayin the showroom. Even though I had driven by 1624 E. Sunrise Boulevard onnumerous occasions, something caused me to stop that night and take a closerlook.While I admired the showroom full of exotic cars, I had a premonitionthat this dealership was a front for a criminal enterprise. When I say I had apremonition, I mean, that there was no doubt in my mind that the day wouldcome, when I would be able to prove, that this particular exotic car dealershipwas backed by drug money. As a result, there was also no doubt in my mind,that I would seize this establishment at some point in my career.IT’S A SMALL WORLD AFTER ALLAs I mentioned before, after becoming an Air Officer I started working with a84 Nick Jacobellisdocumented source of information I called Airport Sam. One night after makinganother seizure based on his super reliable information, I took Airport Sam outfor dinner, to explain the other ways that he might be able to help me make cases.During this discussion, I explained in more detail, that U.S. Customs Agentscould make money laundering cases and seize businesses and other assets, as longas we could prove that these items of value were purchased with the proceedsfrom criminal activity.That night I realized that we live in a very small world, when an enlightenedAirport Sam, told me about a smuggling organization that used the money theymade from drug smuggling, to purchase all kinds of expensive assets, including anexotic car dealership called Royal Motorcar. As I continued to listen to AirportSam, I couldn’t believe my ears. My documented source of information knewenough about the smugglers behind the Royal Motorcar dealership, to enableme to open a criminal investigation. Was this unbelievable, or what?After thoroughly debriefing Airport Sam, I briefed Steve Minas and openeda case on the exotic car dealership and the smugglers involved in the group calledthe Excalibur Organization. In addition to Airport Sam, the confidential source Icalled The Gambler aka Mr. Lucky had his own insight into the Excalibur smuggling organization. The Gambler was also able to provide me with some valuableintelligence information on the Excalibur Organization, that corroborated someof the information that Airport Sam provided me with. This meant, that I hadtwo reliable sources providing the same intelligence information about a majorControlled Delivery Book I 85South Florida drug smuggling organization.NOW THE FUN BEGINSShortly after I opened this investigation, I received a phone call from a highranking DEA supervisor, who was pissed off to no end, that I had the nerveto initiate a case, that he didn’t believe was within the jurisdiction of the U.S.Customs Service. Needless to say, I was right and he was wrong, because theU.S. Customs Service was 110% justified to investigate the crime of moneylaundering.At that time, the term currency/narcotics was used to describe a criminalinvestigation that involved the laundering of money by smuggling organizations.In fact, using this term in a conversation, was often enough to make some DEAAgents turn green. Whether DEA liked it or not, U.S. Customs Agents wereauthorized to investigate any individual, group, criminal organization, or corporation that used the proceeds/money raised from ANY criminal activity, includingDRUG SMUGGLING, for any purposes, including purchasing items of value.It also pissed me off to no end, that this particular DEA manager, a manthat I came to have a great deal of respect for, was giving me a ration of shitover what he considered a jurisdictional issue. In fact, during this rather heatedtelephone conversation, I told this high ranking DEA manager, that if he had aproblem with me initiating this investigation, he should call the Special Agentin Charge, not me.86 Nick JacobellisEventually, a temporary cease fire was called and my request to have this investigation become an OCEDEF case was approved. This meant that OperationExcalibur would be a multi-agency task force investigation that included the U.S.Customs Service, DEA, the IRS, the U.S. Attorney’s Office and the BrowardCounty Sheriff ’s Office. In the end, this joint investigation led to a 57 countindictment against thirteen key figures in one of South Florida’s most successfuldrug smuggling organizations.In order to make this case, I worked with another U.S. Customs Agent(Dave D.), a DEA Agent, IRS Special Agent Rick K. and two detectives fromthe Broward County Sheriff ’s Office. For the record, Broward County Sheriff ’sOffice Detectives Dan De C. and Billy B. were without question two of THEBEST cops I ever worked with in my entire law enforcement career.While working together, we gathered the evidence necessary to prove, thatthe subjects of this investigation smuggled 6.9 tons of cocaine and 12,000pounds of marijuana from Colombia through the Bahamas into South Florida.After a great deal of hard work, that was periodically interrupted by seriousinter-agency conflicts between the Customs Service and DEA, my colleaguesand I gathered enough evidence to make our case against the smugglers in theExcalibur Organization.On April 13, 1987, a joint task force of U.S. Customs, DEA and IRS Agentsalong with members of the Broward County Sheriff ’s Office and the MiamiMetro Dade Police Department executed a number of arrest, seizure warrantsControlled Delivery Book I 87and search warrants. By the end of the day, we had completely dismantled theExcalibur smuggling organization, by arresting all thirteen major violators andseizing approximately $7 million dollars in drug assets, including six aircraft,29 exotic cars, 46 weapons, 1000 rounds of ammunition, expensive jewelry,including gold Rolex watches, one go-fast racing boat, fur coats, coin collections,radios, mobile phones, beepers, expensive household items and a custom madepool table.Operation Excalibur was a screaming success, especially since it wasn’t anevery day occurrence, that the United States Government was able to seize thecontents of an exotic car dealership that was used to launder money for a drugsmuggling organization. After the successful completion of Operation Excalibur,I paid Airport Sam and The Gambler AKA Mr. Lucky $250,000 for providingthe original information that enabled me to initiate this case on behalf of theU.S. Customs Service.As a result of this investigation, I was able to further establish my workingrelationship with Airport Sam and The Gambler; two sources of informationwho were directly responsible for me being able to create the undercover operation that is the primary focus of this true story. It was also as a direct result ofthe overwhelming success of Operation Excalibur, that I was able to enhancemy reputation as a self-starter and approach my superiors for permission toestablish a rather unique type of undercover air operation.88 Nick JacobellisCHAPTER 7BREAKING AWAY FROMTHE PACKIn October of 1988, I took a long hard look at the resources at my disposaland decided to venture out into uncharted territory. As busy as we were inGroup 7, not one agent was able “to put a load of dope on the table” (make adrug seizure) in the U.S. This was the case, because in the early days of Group7, the U.S. Customs Agents assigned to this unit didn’t have any informants orsources of information who were able to facilitate the seizure of a drug shipment.We did aggressively try to indict drug contraband by secretly installing courtordered tracking devices on suspect smuggling aircraft, but even this tactic didnot prove to be very successful.It is also important to remember, what I said about the major victory thatU.S. and Bahamian interdiction forces achieved in the Caribbean in the mid tolate 1980s. Once the interdiction forces became effective in driving the smugglersaway from South Florida and their safe havens in the Bahamas, U.S. Customsair and marine units, as well as other agencies, became an occupation force ofsorts that remained in place to prevent the return of the smugglers. Even thoughwe did not completely stop smugglers from operating, we did manage to makeControlled Delivery Book I 89them change their way of doing business.As soon as I started working air smuggling cases, I became curious as to howindividuals and criminal organizations got into the business of using planesto smuggle. Between flying drug interdiction missions, seizing approximatelytwenty drug smuggling aircraft, working other cases on the ground, constantlydebriefing sources of information and working with veteran U.S. Customs pilots,air officers, special agents and a few local cops, I began to get a good feel for howthe bad guys operated. This included, learning why the smugglers were successfuland why they got caught.Before I got promoted and I became a Special Agent, I believed that we hadto change our tactics, in order to continue to ride the wave of success that ourinterdiction efforts brought about. As far as I was concerned, the controlleddelivery process, also known as a transportation case, was the way to go. I wasconvinced that as long as we had the right private help and we were able to getthe right introductions, we would be able to successfully infiltrate smugglingorganizations. Once this happened, we would be able to seize drug shipmentsand assets, while arresting major violators and insuring successful prosecutionsin federal court.However, before we could mount a successful controlled delivery/transportation case, we had to seek approval from DEA to do so. This situation existed,because DEA was the federal agency that approved or denied all requests for the“country clearance,” or the official permission to travel to and operate in foreign90 Nick Jacobelliscountries. This included traveling to countries like Colombia, Venezuela andJamaica.Like it or not, the U.S. Customs Service was a competitor of sorts and wasforced to go to DEA, to ask for permission to conduct (drug smuggling) investigations and undercover operations that involved foreign travel. Forcing theU.S. Customs Service to ask DEA for permission to make a case, that couldpotentially make DEA look bad, was like having Macy’s ask Bloomingdales forpermission to have a sale.By this time in my career, I worked for over two years with a core groupof sources of information and confidential informants, who were responsiblefor providing me with the intelligence information that enabled me to makearrests and seize millions of dollars in drug assets. For reasons that I explainthroughout this book, I believed that we were ready to take on bigger and moremeaningful targets.My plan was to create the best undercover air unit in federal service; onethat could be used to transport large quantities of drug contraband over longdistances, in order to execute the most successful controlled deliveries imaginable.In order to complete the types of missions that I hoped to execute, I needed togain access to aircraft that had the fuel capacity or “legs” to travel long distances,while carrying multi-hundred and multi thousand kilogram shipments of cocaine.I say cocaine, because this was the drug of choice at this period of time. Naturally,we would gladly transport other types of contraband as well.Controlled Delivery Book I 91By having access to aircraft with long range capabilities, my colleagues and Iwould be able to convince our future “clients,” that we were the right men for thejob, because we operated the type of aircraft that were able to avoid detection,by flying long distances to the northeast or southwest U.S. This was a criticalcomponent to my plan, because the smuggling organizations were well awareof the interdiction capabilities of the U.S. Government. In other words, the badguys wanted aircraft and crews that were capable of successfully delivering a largedrug shipment to the CONUS (Continental U.S.)Even though I was about to travel into uncharted and dangerous territory,my confidence level never wavered. I believed that my imagination would makeup for whatever it was that I lacked in formal training or experience. Had therebeen a school or training course to attend, that would teach me how to run acovert air operation, I would have eagerly enrolled. Since that wasn’t the case, Iwould have to learn as I went along.Fortunately, I was brimming with confidence, because I knew how to gatherintelligence information, conduct investigations and direct informants andsources of information. Between my limited flying experience, my time as anAir Officer and the knowledge that I picked up while working with U.S. Customsaviators and my sources of information, I felt that I would be able to handle thelogistics of running a secret air unit of sorts. I also knew that I had an excellentcore group of contract pilots, sources of information and confidential informantswho were ready, willing and able to help me deal with the bad guys and handle92 Nick Jacobellisthe flying part of this operation.Knowing how to smuggle without getting caught was just as important asbeing able to transport contraband in an undercover operation. In order for usto be convincing, the bad guys that I intended to deal with, had to believe thatmy colleagues and I were concerned about the same things that real smugglerswere worried about. For this to happen, we had to know what worked and whatdidn’t work.We also had to know what made smugglers tick. In other words, once westarted meeting with real smugglers/violators, we had to “walk the walk and talkthe talk” as they did, or we would be immediately suspected of being undercoveragents. If the mistake was big enough and it was made while meeting withthe wrong group of bad guys, in the wrong place, some of us could get hurt.This meant that once we infiltrated a real smuggling organization, we had tobe prepared to act like real smugglers during the execution of every phase of acontrolled delivery, including the part that involved operating undercover aircraftunder potentially dangerous and adverse conditions.Once the pickup was made and our crew returned safely to the United Stateswith a shipment of drug contraband, there would be very little time to celebrateonce we started negotiating our way through the delivery phase. If everythingwent according to plan, we would survive the final phase of the controlled deliveryand live and fight another day.Controlled Delivery Book I 93OPERATION LONG HAUL AKA “LOADS R US”Before I approached the Special Agent in Charge (SAC) in Miami, I had along talk with my sources of information and contacts in the private aircraftcommunity and asked for their help. Fortunately, my private airport contactsand sources of information were well paid assets, who welcomed the chance toget more involved, even if it meant taking additional risks.Once I presented my sources of information with my plan, I was givenimmediate access to a small fleet of private aircraft, that could be used to get usoff the ground and into the air to start flying some missions. Since two of mydocumented sources of information were aircraft brokers, I was also able to rentaircraft that were suitable for undercover air operations. I was also given accessto airport offices and hangar space at two different South Florida airports. Inaddition, The Gambler located an insurance broker, who would provide the WarRisk insurance coverage for the aircraft and crews that we used in an undercovercapacity. This special insurance coverage was required whenever you operatedin a “war zone,” or in any location that was deemed to be a high threat area.Needless to say, none of this was included in any of the formal training that Ireceived from the U.S. Customs Service.Eventually, the day came when I asked Senior Special Agent Pat R, who wasserving as my acting Group Supervisor, if I could pitch my idea to form a Group7 undercover air operation to the Special Agent in Charge (SAC). Timing iseverything in life and thanks to Pat R. I was in the right place at the right time to94 Nick Jacobellispitch my plan to the SAC. Fortunately, the success of Operation Excalibur putme in good standing with my superiors and made it possible for me to be takenseriously, when I pitched the idea to form this undercover operation.The day I presented my proposal to SAC Miami Mr. Pat O’B., I pitched myplan like a screenwriter presents an idea for a movie to a famous Hollywood filmproducer. As I laid out a set of blueprints of the private airport office where Iintended to operate from, I told the SAC what I had in mind. By the time PatR. chimed in and added a few pearls of wisdom, I could see the wheels wereturning in the SAC’s head.When the SAC asked what I was going to use for funding, I responded withcomplete confidence and said, “Bad guy money all the way.” I then explained howI intended to use the money or trafficker funds, that the bad guys paid us toprovide our transportation services, to fund the operation. As soon as the SACput his pipe down, I knew he liked my plan. The second he rounded his deskand said, “Let’s take this up to the Regional Commissioner,” I knew we were inbusiness.Once I briefed the Regional Commissioner (George H.) and his assistant(Leon G.), I was given authorization to proceed. That day, I left the SAC Officeas the newly appointed commanding officer of an undercover air unit that hadno assigned “government” aircraft, or crews, other than the contract pilots andplanes that I recruited through my contacts in South Florida. What I did havewas permission to proceed and in federal law enforcement circles, authorizationControlled Delivery Book I 95to take action was more important than anything else.Ironically, the idea to form the SAC Miami Group 7 undercover air operation,that unofficially became known as The Blade Runner Squadron, did not comefrom a group of high ranking government officials whose job it was find waysto win The Drug War. Instead, this plan was proposed by an eccentric U.S.Customs Agent with an over active imagination who loved to fly. It also helpeda great deal, that the Special Agent in Charge of Miami at that time (Pat O’B)saw the potential of my proposal, for had he not done so, The Blade RunnerSquadron would have never gotten off the ground.96 Nick JacobellisCHAPTER 8OPERATION WHITECHRISTMASS hortly after I was given authorization to establish an undercover airoperation in Miami, I was assigned to a temporary detail (TDY) in Bostonin the early winter of 1988. As you will read, this TDY couldn’t have come at amore opportune time.In the late 1980s, the U.S. Customs SAC office in Boston was comprisedof about forty special agents. These agents were responsible for investigatingacts of smuggling in Massachusetts and other parts of New England. They alsoconducted collateral investigations in support of other Customs offices andparticipated in joint investigations with other agencies.During my temporary detail (TDY) in Boston, I was assigned to work withSpecial Agent Jimmy S., the most colorful and famous U.S. Customs Agent in allof New England. Everyone who reads this true story needs to know, that AgentJimmy S. was the central figure in every record setting controlled delivery thatwas successfully executed in New England. The four Boston controlled deliveriesthat I received authorization to write about, are stories about team work andby all accounts, Jimmy S. was the Captain of the Boston team. Each and everyControlled Delivery Book I 97controlled delivery that we successfully executed in New England and elsewhere,were major engagements during The Drug War, that were fought by a relativelysmall number of U.S. Customs Agents and other law enforcement officers, as wellas by our contract personnel, sources of information and confidential informants.Whether you call it fate, destiny, or Divine Intervention, I found myself inBoston at just the right time, because Jimmy S. had an informant who recentlyinfiltrated a Colombian smuggling organization, that wanted to transportover 500 kilos of cocaine from Colombia to New York via New England.Unfortunately for Jimmy S. and his hard working CI, their case wasn’t going anyfurther, because the Colombians promised to provide the necessary front money,after they saw the plane that would be used to make the pickup in Colombia.Like most special agents in the Customs Service, Jimmy S. did not have thewherewithal to complete this controlled delivery on his own. Unfortunately, aspecial agent could not pick up the phone and request headquarters to providean undercover crew and a suitable plane out of inventory. As big as the U.S.Customs Service was, it did not have a fleet of undercover aircraft standing by,all fueled up and ready to go at a moment’s notice. Another way of putting this,is to say that our Uncle Sam was an old guy on a recruiting poster and not anexecutive in the rent a plane business.The moment I saw Jimmy wondering how he was going to complete this case,I assured him that his transportation problems were solved. Now that I hadJimmy’s undivided attention, I explained that I was recently given authorization98 Nick Jacobellisto establish an undercover air unit, that was designed to provide undercovertransportation services in cases such as this. As Jimmy stood up, I could seethe expression on his face change to one of relief. I don’t know who was moreexcited me or Jimmy S.There I was, with my untested undercover airline looking for our first missionto fly and Jimmy had a case that would never be made, unless he found a suitableplane and crew, that could fly to Colombia to pick up over 500 kilos of cocaineand return to Massachusetts in the dead of winter. Naturally, Jimmy was full ofquestions and I was full of answers.In order to answer some of his questions, I picked up the phone on his deskand dialed The Gambler’s airport office in South Florida. After dispensing withthe usual jokes, I got down to business and said, “I need a crew and a plane thatcan fly 2000 miles non-stop and carry 1100 pounds of cargo.”After hearing The Gamblers first question, I told him to hold on, as I lookedover to Jimmy and his partner Special Agent Richard (Dick). O’C and asked,“What kind of strip are we going into?” Jimmy was quick to give me the answer.As I turned my attentions back to The Gambler, I answered his question in amatter of fact tone of voice and said, “Unimproved, in the jungle.”As I continued my conversation, The Gambler agreed to provide us with aformer military aircraft that carried enough fuel to fly from Colombia to NewEngland. When Major Tom picked up the extension I had my first volunteer.Then Captain Video agreed to go along and was recruited to fly as the ContractControlled Delivery Book I 99Pilot in Command, because he had more experience than Major Tom, in theaircraft that The Gambler was willing to rent us for this mission.After we discussed the case, I hung up and promised to get back to TheGambler, Captain Video and Major Tom when I knew more. As I sat on theother side of his desk, I told Jimmy that he had a plane and a crew that couldmake his case a reality, once we received front money from the bad guys andcountry clearance from DEA.As soon as Jimmy briefed his Assistant Special Agent in Charge (ASAC)and the Special Agent in Charge (SAC) about our plan, the New England basedagents wanted to know if the Boston office would lose the “stat” (statistic) tothe Miami office. This was a valid concern, because my permanent duty station(Miami Group 7) was providing the contract pilots and the plane to make thepickup.Under the circumstances, I assured the Boston agents that my contract pilotswould fly for them and that I would do everything possible to help them makethis case in their area of operation. I said this, because as far as I was concerned,the gold badge that I carried in my pocket was issued by the U.S. CustomsService, not by the Miami Customs Service. Once our superiors blessed theplan, I was told to get everything ready on my end.The first order of business was for me to call my contract pilots in Miami andgive them the good news that we had our first mission to fly. Once I got them onthe line, I put Jimmy on the speaker phone and introduced him to my contract100 Nick Jacobellispilots and The Gambler. Now that we had the green light to launch, we solidified our arrangement with my contacts in South Florida. Since we anticipatedreceiving an ample amount of front money from the Colombian subjects of thisinvestigation, we agreed to pay The Gambler $10,000 as a deposit for the rentalof the undercover aircraft. The remaining balance would be paid at a later date.That night Jimmy and I left the federal building on Causeway Street inBoston in great spirits. As far as I was concerned, I was fulfilling my destinyand doing exactly what I was put on this earth to do, as far as my federal lawenforcement career was concerned. I also believed that too many things werehappening for all of this to be one big coincidence.As I drove the 85 miles to the motel on Cape Cod where my family and Iwere staying, I thought about all that had transpired to bring me this far in myjourney. I never once thought that I bit off more than I could chew. It was alsoat this time, that I affectionately became known as the Air Czar by the agentsin the Boston Office.THE BAPTISM OF FIREIn order to accomplish our goal and put a load of dope on the table, we usedevery minute of every day to carefully orchestrate this controlled delivery frombeginning to end. For several weeks, Jimmy S., Dick O’C. and I, along with otheragents, spent our days and nights meeting with the Boston informant, recordingphone calls and updating our contract pilots, while doing more paperwork thanControlled Delivery Book I 101a school teacher at test time. After the Thanksgiving holiday, it was time to pickup some front money from our Colombian “clients.”Once we arrived in South Florida to take the next step in this case, JimmyS. led the Boston agents on the surveillance in Miami. At the end of a sumptuous meal at a first class restaurant, the Boston Source of Information was paid$40,000 in front money to seal this deal. Once our undercover operative wasback in his car, the agents made sure that they weren’t being followed, when theyescorted the CI back to his hotel room for the debriefing.As you can imagine, we were all happy campers when the $40,000 in “frontmoney” was presented to Jimmy S. Now that we had a descent amount of expensemoney, we made arrangements to conduct a “show and tell” of the undercoveraircraft the next day. Just to make sure that we covered all the bases, we contactedthe U.S. Customs RAC Office in Ft. Lauderdale, to let them know that we weremoving the undercover aircraft to an airport in their area of operation. A callwas then placed to the Colombians, who were ecstatic that we were working sofast to accommodate their request to examine the plane.After conferring with my contract pilots and making the arrangements toshow the Colombians our plane, Jimmy and I stopped at the Pelican Bar next toCafe 66 in Ft. Lauderdale. While we sat and watched the boats pass by under the17th Street Causeway Bridge, we had a drink and did our best to relax, becauseonce the Colombians checked out our plane, our crew would be heading south.102 Nick JacobellisTHE SHOW AND TELLEven though we always seemed to get along, it wasn’t easy for a “Miami” Agentto operate in Ft. Lauderdale’s area of operation, without being suspected ofpoaching or invading their territory. To his credit, the RAC Ft. Lauderdale (GregJ.) always treated me well and let me explain myself, whenever my presence inhis jurisdiction was a disturbance in The Force.That evening we found Greg in his office. Just as I introduced the Bostonagents to him, our conversation was interrupted by a phone call from one ofGreg’s agents, who just seized an airplane displaying a false tail number at a localairport. As soon as Greg repeated the description of the plane and its phony tailnumber, I began to die a slow and painful death. When Greg saw my reaction,he immediately covered the phone and asked what was wrong.After quickly explaining the purpose of our visit, that included giving GregJ. an update on our case that involved conducting a “show and tell” in his area ofoperation, Greg realized that one of his agents seized our undercover aircraft.Even though it wasn’t easy to do, Greg had no choice but to tell his otherwisehardworking agent to un-seize the undercover aircraft and immediately leave thearea. Fortunately, everything worked out as planned and the Colombian brokerwas satisfied, that our plane was capable of flying from Colombia to the NewEngland without having to refuel along the way.After completing this part of our operation, we returned to Boston with the$40,000 in front money and the involvement of the subjects of this investigationControlled Delivery Book I 103well documented. The good news was, even if we never picked up their cocaineshipment, the Boston agents had enough evidence to prosecute the Colombianson conspiracy charges.Every day before we launched, Jimmy, Dick and I prepared for the departureof our UC aircraft and crew. While the undercover plane was being preparedfor the mission in Miami, the Boston CI made some last minute deliveryarrangements with the Colombians. Once I drafted the op (operational) plan,copies were distributed through the chain of command to U.S. Customs AirOperations. This was done because U.S. Customs surveillance aircraft, along withother government assets, would be providing direct support to this headquartersapproved UC operation.After working this case for eleven weeks, it was hard to believe that we werewithin a few days of making history. By mid December final arrangements weremade with our Colombian clients to have the cocaine shipment ready for us topick up. Once we received country clearance, we were cleared to execute theflying stage of the operation. While Jimmy S. and Dick O’C. went to Florida tosee our crew take off, I remained behind to set up the command post and plantheir reception.Despite the fact that we had $40,000 dollars in front money, we came upshort when it came time to pay certain expenses, which including giving TheGamble a deposit for his plane. While Jimmy S. paced back and forth in ourundercover office in Miami, we had no hope of proceeding any further, unless we104 Nick Jacobellisraised the capital to proceed. Fortunately, for us, The Gambler saw the potentialin our operation and accepted an IOU for $10,000 dollars. Doing so, allowedour contract pilots and a contract pilot from the Boston Office, to use his planeto fly our first covert air operation. All I could do was shake my head and begrateful that The Gambler was on our side.In my opinion, there was something very seriously wrong with our UncleSam, for not adopting the attitude that money was no object when it came tofunding undercover operations. If I were king, I would have given the poor slobI put in charge of an undercover air unit, a hangar or two filled with suitableaircraft, as well as some help and a reasonable amount of expense money, whenadditional funds were needed to further a worthwhile investigation. Obviously,that was asking for too much.I should also mention, that some of the aircraft that I seized from smugglerswere perfect for our mission. Sadly, when Special Agent in Charge Pat O’B. askedthe powers to be to assign ONE of the planes that I seized to our undercoveroperation, his request was denied. I guess only time would tell if my idea had

merit. In the meantime, we had a mission to fly.