chapter 34
TWO EXHAUSTED OFFICERS from the Mississippi Drug Task Force sat in their hotel room, worrying about the next few days. Their most reliable confidential informants were certain a significant deal was about to go down. The two officers had been trying for longer than either cared to admit to break the supply chain of narcotics moving from the Gulf Coast into northeast Mississippi. Every time they got close, a small thread would unravel, ultimately exposing their efforts. It was as though the bad guys had a sixth sense or perhaps someone inside local law enforcement tipping them off. A leak was their worst fear. That meant all of their efforts were wasted. Information of this kind was invaluable to drug dealers, and they were capable of corrupting almost anyone with their seemingly unlimited cash.
They didn’t know whom they could trust, so this time they hadn’t told anyone what was going on. The pressure from their superiors in Jackson and from the governor himself—who personally told them to “tighten up” after a friend’s son overdosed—was weighing heavily and added significantly to their stress levels.
Spread out and taped to the wall of their hotel room was a puzzle of information they had accumulated on Moon Pie, Levi Jenkins, and six others. Their number-one target was Tam Nguyen, the Mississippi Gulf Coast’s drug king. He operated from Biloxi to Mobile but never came out of the shadows. They had a few old pictures of him, but that’s it. Basically, they were chasing a ghost. They sensed they were closer than ever as they studied the wall and sipped stale coffee. They had surveillance photos and mug shots of all the other suspects and their known associates, and they knew that both Moon Pie and Levi were traveling to some type of meeting, but they had given up trying to follow them. The officers had been quietly planning a sting operation for weeks. They had confirmed intelligence that Tam’s future wife, Alexa, was an extremely enthusiastic fan of the band Rascal Flatts and had attended every concert event within a six-hour drive of her home.
Having exhausted every other avenue to flush the drug king from hiding, they decided to try something out of the box. They contacted Rascal Flatts’s management, carefully explaining their situation and plans. The manager explained that Rascal Flatts loved to support the military, law enforcement, and especially programs protecting kids. After detailed discussions confirming that neither the band nor the crew would actually be near the undercover operation, the manager said they would gladly help. The task force officers thanked him and said this was a perfect fit for a sting. Law enforcement already had Alexa’s e-mail address. They just needed an official e-mail from the band to be sent to her.
The officers had found her on Facebook under the alias Alexa. Her real name was Donna, but apparently she found Alexa to be more interesting. She was an aspiring swimsuit model, and by the volume of posted photographs, she obviously loved to have her picture taken. They carefully studied all three hundred–plus images. One candid shot provided them with a current photograph of the elusive Tam.
The plan was to invite Alexa and a guest to a private meet and greet with the band before the concert. The officers were confident that she couldn’t resist the invitation and would drag Tam along. Since the concert was several hours’ drive from Tam’s home, hopefully his guard would be down. In an effort to tighten the trap and have fewer bystanders around, the actual takedown would be not at the concert hall but next door, inside the Hilton Garden Inn. Only recordings of the band members talking and singing would be played in a darkened hospitality suite. The best part—Tam would be expecting security at the event to protect the band.
This project had taken several weeks to coordinate, and only those who absolutely had a need to know were read in and then only to the limited extent of what was absolutely necessary for their specific role.
Fewer than five individuals knew the big picture—they hoped.