I talk about my daily life.

You must choose to control 먹튀검증사이트


All the typical, normal radio traffic was abruptly
shattered. “Shots fired! Shots fired! Agent down! One
Zero Eight to Control we need help! Agent down!”

On calls like that the com-center responds with a
three-beep burst that signals everyone to clear the
airwaves. Three loud “Beeeeeps”, and then: “All units
standby-shots fired, shots fired. One Zero Eight say
your location.”

“One Zero Eight near the northwest corner of 5th
and Hines-Location 3, we’ve been ambushed! Agent
down with a head wound! Agent down!” You could hear
gunfire over the radio, while the emotion in his voice
sent chills down my spine.

“Repeat-we are pinned down, we need backup, we
need paramedics at Location 3. Two Zero Nine is down
with a head wound. Oh my God-hurry-send help!”

“All units, all units, shots fired, agent down, location
3, all units respond,” directed the voice from the com-center.

The call struck me like a punch in the face. I shook
off my disbelief and jumped into action 먹튀. I was
partnering with the case agent that night-an
experienced and highly respected veteran. Jake and I
looked at each other. Those were our guys on the radio.
This was really happening to us. A routine surveillance
had turned deadly without warning.

Within minutes other agencies of our Federal task
force and the local police were responding. They began
to as quickly as possible set up a perimeter barrier
around the area in order to keep the shooter contained.
Paramedics and all available units were on the way.

The idea is to close the perimeter so no suspects get
out. One of the task force agencies began to set up a
command post at nearby parking lot.

High-level narcotics traffickers can be ruthlessly
violent. Tonight, they’d proved it once again. My heart
was pounding as we raced towards the scene.

When something like this happens, the only people
on the radio should be those that are on the scene.
Everyone else should be listening for details. Where are
the shots coming from? Which direction should we not
approach from? Where is the downed agent? The goal
is to clear a path to him, push back any attack, and
render immediate aid.

By the time we sped on to the scene, it was getting
dark, the perimeter was in place, and there was an
airship overhead. Our immediate goal was to reach the
agent who had been shot. As we approached there was a
patrol car guarding the part of the perimeter that
blocked our access.

“Can’t go in,” said one of the officers.

We identified ourselves with credentials and

Despite that he still refused: “Sorry, guys. The
command post says no one in or out.”

“The command post!? Listen, I’m the case agent,”
Jake asserted. “I’m telling you to move your vehicle or
I’ll push it out of the way with my car. Do you
understand? We have an agent down in there and his
partner is calling for help. We’re going in!”

The officer complied, moving his car. As he closed
the perimeter behind us once again, the airship above
immediately noticed us entering and came on the radio
asking us to ID ourselves. (Our undercover cars didn’t
have large identifying numbers on the roof as police cars

“Fed 2-7 is rolling in,” I responded.

“Air -3 to Shop 2-7, be advised that you’re heading
into the kill-zone. Stop. Do not proceed. Back up.”

Jake grabbed the mic from my hand. “Air-3, -Fed
2-7. Point us to where the agents are-repeat-direct us
to the location of the downed agent.”

“Roger 2-7, continue moving straight ahead-
northbound,” but before they could tell us how far
ahead, or anything more, the command post stepped on
the airship’s transmission.

“Fed 2-7, you are to report to the command post

Jake and I looked at each other, wondering who was
sending these orders to us.

“Fed 2-7 report back to the command post

Jake was thinking. Finally, Jake responded.

“Negative CP, Fed 2-7 will not leave the area. We’re
going in to find our agents.”

“2-7, exit the area immediately-we are waiting for a
SWAT team. That’s an order!” barked the voice over the

“Negative,” was Jake’s instant response as he turned
the volume down and looked over at me.

By this time, we’d both recognized the voice as that
of a supervisory agent who just happened to be dating
the Assistant US Attorney assigned to the task force. For
some reason, he thought he was in charge. The reality
was that he was from another agency, and his own
training was flawed. His experience with things like this
was zero, zip, nada, yet he’d dared to assume control. It
was clear that the other agencies liked his idea of waiting
around until a special tactical team could arrive. After
all, no one could say for sure where the shooter was.

“Okay, he’s keeping everybody out and they’re
listening to him. We aren’t going to get any help from
them. They’re afraid. If we go back to the command
post, we’ll be taken out of the picture. Are you ready to
move forward and do this with me?” Jake asked.

“Let’s go,” I told him. “The chopper said straight

Then suddenly-two more shots rang out. We both
ducked instinctively. Our guys were still under fire.

With the sniper still out there, our best chance of
reaching our guys safely and perhaps spotting the
sniper's muzzle flash would be if we were on foot. We
had our vests, our MP-5's, our 9mm’s, radios and
flashlights. We spilt up and started to move carefully up
the street on different sides, using the darkness, the cars,
the trees, and the buildings for cover. We moved in the
direction that we’d been told our guys would be, using
the tight orbits of the airship overhead as a general
guide. Until finally, about another block away in the
darkness, we saw what looked like one of our cars. We
moved towards it. It was their car.

When we arrived at the scene, the horrible degree of
injury I saw on my friend made me angry. The other
agent, holding his partner’s head together, looked up at
us blankly and in shock. We had snuck up on him. He
was dazed. “I thought you guys weren’t coming; how
come they aren’t coming in?” he asked. “What took you
so long? Where’s the backup? Why aren’t they coming
in?” He was distraught as he continued holding his
partner’s head while kneeling next to him, and just kept
repeating, “I thought you guys weren’t coming. I
thought no one was coming.”

“Look at me,” Jake told him as we all crouched low
alongside of the vehicle. “We’re here. There was never a
point when we weren’t coming. Now listen to me. Tell
us where the shots came from.” The agent pointed.
While Jake rendered aid and tried to gather more
information, I scanned the darkness and called in our
exact location.

“Fed 2-7 to command post, we need back-up and a
rescue ambulance at location 3. We are two houses
south from the corner, we are on the west side-

“Negative,” replied the command post.

“Fed 2-7 needs a rescue ambulance now! Agent
down with a head wound,” I growled into the radio.

“Negative,” was the reply. “You guys went in against
orders, now you bring him out on your own. No one else
goes in until SWAT secures the area.”

I glanced over at Jake, my blood was boiling.

This was unbelievable. Seasoned agents and police
officers were listening to this and standing by acting like
cowards, while “Agent Down” calls were being ignored.
All because a wannabe with rank had taken control of a
trailer labeled “Command Post,” and had conveniently,
put them all on the sidelines.

Jake’s cell phone began to ring. By now, several
more of our own guys had begun arriving on the edge of
the perimeter, and having heard the radio
transmissions, started calling Jake directly. They began
to penetrate the perimeter just as we had and worked
their way in towards us using their cars as targets while
we watched for muzzle flash. After helping us move the
injured agent and his shell-shocked partner into one of
the vehicles that had worked its way in to us, we
transported our guys out of the kill zone without any
help from the other agencies that were standing by.

On the way out, we had to start rescue breathing
and CPR. By the time we arrived at the command post,
we were drenched in blood. We hurriedly transferred the
agent into the ambulance.

Not sending in the rescue ambulance like we’d
requested had cost our colleague precious time. Jake
was on his cell phone when we both saw him coming.
“Stay cool,” Jake advised me.

With no concern for our agent, the self-appointed
commander made his statement, “You’re both relieved of
duty,” he told us, waving his arm like some sort of
magician. “You’re both off this case.”

Jake ignored him as he put his cell phone away and
jumped inside the rescue ambulance that was beginning
to roll away with the injured agent. He looked back at

“Secure the crime scene,” he yelled. “I just activated
the SWAT team and the dogs.” And then he was gone.

“What?” I repeated, amazed. I just couldn’t believe
it. The dogs and the SWAT team hadn’t even been

While calling around for help, Jake discovered that
the command post had yet to even put out a call for a
tactical unit. I felt a violent anger taking over.

I turned expecting to confront the “incompetent in
charge,” and he was already headed back to the
command post trailer. Our guys looked at me. At that
instant, I could see things going in a very bad direction.
I didn't want to do what Leo-tai’s teachings were telling
me to do-but I did-and I let him go. I watched the
supervisory agent and his side-kick step back inside the

It was time to re-focus. “Let’s go secure the crime
scene,” I told our guys. And back we cautiously went
into the kill zone once again, until finally the tactical
team and the dogs eventually arrived and declared the
area free of any snipers. The shooter was gone.

I’d just made it back to the command post area
when Jake’s call came through from the hospital. He let
me know that our friend had died.

I remember how I looked at the command post
trailer and then forced myself to walk across the street to
separate myself from it.

I remember sitting down and leaning up against a
tree in somebody’s front yard that night as my feelings of
grief began to mix in with the anger that I felt towards
the other agency’s supervisor who had flatly refused to
let the rescue ambulance in.

I remember thinking how these feelings seemed
much too potent for any man with a gun to have going
through his head.

I remember how I used focused breathing and Leo-
tai's wisdom that night to help keep me from
confronting that supervisory agent.

I remember thinking, and telling myself how this
wasn't over . . .

But that for tonight-right now, - it had to be over.

Remember: You must choose to control
anger through a decision. For if you lose control
to anger-then the anger will surely control you.