Scott Barnett remembers a story from the early 80's. He was a young, aspiring investigator then and anxious to get any experience in that line he could. Byron Thomlinson and Ken Mulling suggested he participate in a drug bust planned for a duplex off what was then Kelly Road (Bayshore Drive) in East Naples. Scott jumped at the chance. As he tells it:
At 8 PM, ten of us gathered at the Sheriff's Office. I remember that Robbie Kranz, Wayne Graham, Harold Young, Mike Ryan, and Dave Johnson were also in attendance. Doug Nickel, who was lead on the case, described the building and curtilage, and told us where the drugs should be. Then, individual assignments were made for the raid.
Our plan in place, we traveled to the target residence in pairs, reached our assigned positions and, on command, went crashing into the house. All went as planned. Except, as so often happens in these well-planned intrusions, there were no Dopers present and no dope. I've found, over the years, that criminals have no consideration at all for the police.
Regrouping at the SO, our adrenaline still at an unrequited fever pitch, we decided there had to be other good work out there that needed to be done. Our devious intent focused on a slimball dealer in Golden Gate who we'll call Tony Fonzy. Tony had been giving everyone fits since he knew all the few undercover officers we had and, consequently, no one could make the required buys to put him where he needed to be.
Doug and Ken Mulling came up with a plan. Several of us were to sneak up and surround Tony's house, then radio back when we were in position. This done, Doug made an anonymous and urgent call to Tony. Out of breath, and seemingly panic stricken, he told Tony that the cops had just raided his friend's house he'd barely escaped. But, he'd heard the Deputies say they were coming to Tony's house next, so Tony should get the dope out of the house before the cops arrived with their search warrant and smashed down his door. Doug then hung up before any question could be asked.
In less than a minute, Tony's back door burst open and he and his girlfriend, an affectionate lass known as Catch Me, Hump Me, Hope I Trip, came running out with their arms full of dope. And right into ours.
A valuable lesson was learned that night. There's always more than one way to skin a weasel. If you're inventive. And not too particular.
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