Cold Rain Drops
December 2012:
Daylight Savings Time in the United States made me exactly 13 hours behind Singapore. Finding time to communicate with family and friends back home was a challenge. That night in my apartment, I received an Email from Raymond Lee.
From: Raymond Lee (
[email protected]
)
To:
[email protected]
Subject: Long Term Leave
“Dear L.,
How are you? To update you, I took over from Zamri as TL as of June 2012. We have a few new members in our NPC. Just reminding you that you have to be back before Aug 2013 or you might have to go for retraining again. I look forward to working with you.
Regards,
INSP(V) Raymond"
I was already a Volunteer Special Constabulary (VSC) in SPF. I had been in it since my NS ORD in 2008. It was 9 months of training in everything and we were paid a meagre $3.60 an hour just for allowance. The Police Command wanted to keep it that way to preserve the nobility of the volunteer police officer. We were thrown right into the frontlines to complement the Regulars in the execution of their duties. We did everything from plainclothes to patrol duties under close supervision. I was posted to Tanglin Police Division. Being a VSC was the best deal ever. We get to choose our duty dates and most people come in when they are free. You want to know what’s even better? Our ranks and power are the same as the Regulars. SPF standardized the ranks a long time ago and endowed us with equal powers. In 2011 after I got my university acceptance letter, I decided to try my luck and just apply for leave. I didn’t want to quit. By then, I was already familiar with police work and criminal activity.
“Fuck, I have to go back!” Retraining was a really nice way of saying, if I don’t come back, I’ll be kicked out.
That Email was a problem. I had to do my undergraduate major in the US, and I was far from completing it. How can I possibly go back right now when I’m barely 1 year into my studies? Earlier that month, I got a reply from Harvard and Yale’s financial office, stating I could apply for financial aid but the outcome is discretionary if I got into their Medicine School. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? My prospects were limited with a Chemistry undergraduate degree. Sure, I could find a job, but that wasn’t what I wanted to do in life. I wanted Medicine, and if any country were to offer me an opportunity to go to Medical School, it would be the US. My own country, Singapore, already denied me any dream of wanting to go to Medical School the moment I entered JC. I wasn’t the A*Star student the country wanted. In the US, people get into Medicine even with just a 3.3-GPA. All you need is a shit load of money, and a kick-ass Resume that really sets you apart from the competition.
I wanted status, I wanted to return to my country with glory, and my head held high; to show everyone who looked down on me before what I have achieved in life. Being rich isn’t my goal, but if everyone in my country sees a doctor as the very epitome of individual achievement, I will get it. This dream, albeit distant and unrealistic, gave me hope; that if I worked hard, I will get it – the very essence of The American Dream.
There were a couple of problems: My dad’s business into food catering was failing. His regular customer switched to a different caterer, and he had trouble finding new ones. His business model was looking for factories and industries in far off areas, providing food catering to the workers. In the good old days, he used to boast about supporting me until I finished Professional School, either a PhD, or Medicine. Now, I was about to get kicked out of the Singapore Police Force. My hope in getting a kick ass resume was starting to fall apart. Initially, the grand plan was to get recognized in the Force, rise so far in rank and appointment so that when I apply to Professional school, they would see me as a unique and high flying candidate. Fuck my life..
Quote:
Originally Posted by
blade
Like your writing style.. Carry on pls.
thanks bro . stay tuned . this isn’t a typical story , i guarantee you that .
- Continued.
Chapter 3 - Hidden Treasure
December 2012
Taurine, Google, and Red Bull were my best friends for the past few days. Whatever problem the world lay before me, had to be cast aside. My world froze for this period. I haven’t replied INSP(V) Raymond Lee for 3 days, my friend’s Frat house had been converted from a party place into a studying utopia, and all I did was study. Whatever decision that needed to be made had to be done soon. That Friday night, I was staring at my Silk Road browser.
“Damn,” I thought to myself. So far I’ve been buying my Blots of LSD from BlueViolet99 for at least $15 to $20 a Blot. My usual order was 5 hits which usually came disguised inside a little voucher book. The vouchers were real, but I wasn’t interested in buying furniture. His reviews were astronomical, coming from LSD enthusiasts who gave him nothing but praise for quality and speed. 250ug LSD was my favorite although I started out with 150ug. It was so convenient and stealth. Believe it or not, 1 drop of LSD on a Blotting Paper is all it took, and the effects lasted for hours. It was odorless and colorless. A random thought came in, “Why don’t I just buy in bulk.” I shrugged it off, but sent a Private Message to BlueViolet99 anyway.
“Love your wares, dude. High quality. Interested in bulk buying, what’s the catch?” Away the Private Message went.
Finals were finally over, and every one was happy. Even the hippie couple who obviously didn’t study was happy. The following Friday night, there was another party, I was invited, but what’s new. I took a few days after the Finals, just relaxing at home, and jogging around Central Park to think things through. One thing was certain; I had to go back to Singapore. I needed an awesome Resume, and I needed money for Professional school.
“Why don’t I just bring LSD back and sell it to Art students?” It echoed through my head, followed by a reminder of Singapore’s harsh drug laws. Wait a second. If it’s odorless, colorless, formless, then theoretically speaking, I could bring in a bottle and make at least a 100 hits of LSD on Blotting Paper or anything that can absorb a drop. The street drug price in Singapore was typically $30 SGD for 0.1grams. That’s how ridiculous street drug prices are in Singapore because of the harsh penalties. That is a lot of money. Ideally, if I was able to sell 100 hits of LSD at $40 a hit, I could be making $4000. Awesome idea, but I know it’s going to take a lot more to stay alive and elusive in Singapore. Ask me, I should know; I was, no, I
AM
a Police Officer. Nobody knows the law and operations better than me. I have seen cases go unsolved, I have seen Investigation Officers (IOs) scratching their heads, and I have seen how the underworld worked. Suddenly the sky looked clearer than before; I looked up, squinted at the sun, and smirked.
- Continued .
That Thursday before the party, Google became my best friend once more. I went through all the news the internet contained regarding to Singapore’s drug bust, and how people get caught, internationally, and domestically. From all the readings, I came up with the following observations of how people get caught:
They are idiots
They carried pills and powders around with them, strapped to their body, or luggage.
They tried to beat the system which was created to sniff people like them out, especially at the Airport.
There was first hand and unintentional second hand contact with undercover agents.
There was a tip off. I speculate, a dealer got caught, and in exchange for clemency, he tipped off the DEA/Police.
It made me so excited I nearly shit in my pants. It was a challenge to me;
Challenge Accepted
. Maybe that’s why I’m a scientist in training. I observe, hypothesize, and work on challenges. If there’s a problem, I will find a solution to it. Each time I read a drug bust article, I took deep breaths and told myself, "
Use your head, not your fear
“.
“Trust no one; betray every one.” Those were the rules to staying alive and elusive. In that same day, after days of waiting, I got a reply from BlueViolet99. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. It read: “Depending on order, I will instruct.”
The game was on. Even though BlueViolet99 wasn’t specific, I knew he was interested in bulk orders. After all, LSD sellers on Silk Road are typically underground chemists with the right equipment to synthesize LSD. You needed an intimate knowledge of chemistry to make LSD, much less down to specific micrograms. It wasn’t like Cocaine, where farmers in Colombia could do the job with microwave ovens and gasoline. I did enough research into underground LSD manufacturing to know these underground chemists prefer to run their operations on their own, meaning there was no Dealer involved. No dealer involved, less risk. With Silk Road, they were literally on a roll.
I did the math on paper. To make my time worthwhile in bringing back to Singapore, I needed at least 500 drops. A single 5ml dropping bottle could dispense 100 drops, which translated to 100 hits. Supposing I sold it at $40 SGD a hit, I could be making close to $20,000 SGD for 500 hits. No way was I going to bring Blotting Paper back; carrying 500 pieces of Blotting Paper is clearly asking for trouble from any security department. If I was going to bring it back, It was going to be in eye drop bottles, preferably medicinal eye drop bottles with authentic labeling and branding to be more convincing to security agents and the police if ever check me; thats IF they ever check me.
BlueViolet99 typically sells a hit for $15 to $20 USD. I’m sure bulk orders would be a lot cheaper.
“Thanks for replying, I really appreciate it. I’ve been buying from you for some time now. Am looking to buy at least 500 hits - No tabs, no blots. Preferably fluid. 250ug. I propose $2500. Please quote your price and instruct.”
I was just trying my luck. My proposition was $5 USD a hit. One thing I learnt from my mom about haggling, is first cutting the price down to its lowest and slowly increasing it until the seller is comfortable. Thank my mom, thank Queensway Shopping Centre.
- Continued
Chapter 3
Blueprints
To me, if there was any take home lesson from the previous drug busts that incarcerated and executed dealers, it would be the following:
Minimize all contact. Never meet a customer; he could be followed or he could be an agent of the law.
There was a need for an undetectable medium for package drop off and pick up for customer.
Leave no paper trail (credit cards, phone bills, bank statements)
Secure mode of payment
Being in the United States taught me a few things about old school drug dealers. First,
nobody will approach you to sell and buy drugs
unlike how movies portray it. That stereotype where there would be a Black dude with a beanie and a bling standing by a street corner who anyone could approach to buy drugs from
simply does not exist.
Second, it isn’t difficult to work your way out from your inner circle of friends to their extended network to locate a dealer whom he also considers a “First Hand Contact.”
The first time I bought my drugs from dealers, I did the exact same thing. I scanned my network, attended events and parties, profiled people who would most likely be involved or had contacts to Dealers. Was it difficult to profile people? No, the answer is No. In college, all you needed was to identify the dudes who walked into the lecture hall/event and had a few people from various cliques and social circles saying “Hi” or fist-bumped him. Take note who they are, find chances to sit next to them next and initiate conversation with a simple “Hi,” play it cool, and back off. Every time you see the same person anywhere in school, go up say “Hi” and say “Catch you later,” until one day he wants to talk. That was how I got initially invited to various parties and exposed myself to their networks.
If I could do this, so can undercover agents.
“No meeting customers,” I told myself.
I needed a platform like Silk Road under a secure network like TOR Onion to mask myself and my customers. TOR essentially bounces your IP and servers off almost every worldwide server at random making it a nightmare for security agencies to track you down. It would be ideal for every one. The thing is: I’m a science major, not an IT expert. I needed a partnership; a partner who could manage such a system and website under TOR Onion, and I needed to make his time worthwhile. Secondly, I needed that partner, whom I know and trust, to stay in the US for me to funnel money to and fro, and more importantly, away from Singapore where there was little room to hide.
“Coby’s brother, Phillip Kyung.” That was the first name that came to mind. IT major, and the only one I know who wasn’t afraid of breaking the law, and most importantly, meticulous.
That’s the thing about doing crime; it has no room for mistakes. The police have thousands of people cracking their heads trying to piece a case against you, while you are one man. People who got busted always made a mistake somehow. They were careless. Either they met an agent who followed the drug and money trail, or they were betrayed by someone who got caught. In Singapore, the Police and CNB always never declare in the papers how they busted the Dealer, but if you sit down and think about it, it will not take long to realize that all they needed was to catch one customer for Possession, make him cry in the interrogation room, strike him a deal of co-operation, and make him reveal the contacts/networks, then trace the phone numbers and stake out patiently while figuring out where the Dealer hides his stash and cash. “Be smarter than the police, and you will live one more day,” a philosophy I held all the way especially in Singapore.
No meeting customers, no first hand contacts
, I told myself repeatedly. The difference between me and the busted dealers? I’m smarter than the Police.
Dear all, please UP me if you like my story, or post comments if you’re not able to. It motivates me to write more, because i know someone is reading it, if not ill lose motivation and stop writing
Quote:
Originally Posted by
Sen5eS
of course there are readers Bro … probably most of em are lost in the milky way having a helluva trip waiting for your updates hahaha
Keep em coming
thanks dude, appreciate it
-Continued
Chapter 3
Blueprints (II)
Things were getting serious. There was a plan; it was to utilize TOR Onion’s deep web to set up a market place where I could receive orders, money, and showcase my products without detection from law enforcement agencies. My plan was to have my partner run the whole operation here from the United States, while I stationed myself in Singapore to ship the goods domestically to customers in covert ways through the mail. That way, even if CNB and CID wanted to trace any IP, it wouldn’t be possible. My partner will be running it overseas, bouncing the IP from server to server. CNB and CID would then engage Interpol, after determining it came from an overseas address. Even so, it would take a long time to even figure out where it was coming from.
Failing to plan was planning to fail. To beat the cops, I would have to think like a cop.
My operation was based on a single assumption on where CNB, CID, and Interpol would start looking. The way I saw it, CNB, CID, and Interpol would access TOR Onion like any user. They would see our username, and track where was this IP and server coming from. I called this
Channel 1
, and this would be where I would be sending them on a wild goose chase. Based on this, it wouldn’t take long for CNB and CID to realize that there had to be a local contact (me) doing the shipping.
CNB, and CID, has no lack of experience catching drug dealers. But their very pride would be their downfall. So far, all the drug busts that they pride themselves over in the newspapers involved a dumb dealer with the standard old school drop off, pick up, and money exchange tactics. “So crass.. so unrefined..” Shaking my head. Never have they encountered someone who was educated, who would blatantly ship drugs over SingPost domestically in the guise of gifts, vouchers, advertisements, books, pamphlets, and greeting cards. All I needed was to slot Blotting Paper into one of those, stick a stamp, and drop it off in the mail. There are thousands of Posting Boxes all over the country, I would love to see them stake every one of them out. Since LSD is odorless, and colorless, they would have to open every single mail just to find my LSD Blotted Paper, and face national outrage. The more I planned, the more the excitement I felt. I could beat the whole system and tear their pride down. I was the master criminal..
I drew three lines on a paper parallel to each other. One line represented the order channel from Singapore to my partner, the second represented my communications channel to him. The third represented the money trail. All three lines had to run separately, and simultaneously. At that point in time, I haven’t gotten it figured out. I needed to talk to Phillip Kyung.
Thanks all for the support . I usually try to work on 2 story posts in a day . There’ll be 2 posts tomorrow .
-Continued
Chapter 3
Insomnia
My table was a complete mess. There were notes, RedBull cans, and books everywhere. Even my trash bin was surrounded by pizza boxes and sandwich wraps. Since the Finals, I never got down to cleaning my apartment. That thursday night I was swarmed with emotions. My gut was constricted, my head was buzzing from the Headband strain I just smoked.
“Too heavy on the Indica,” as I got up from the couch. Simply put, I was high. My plans were not complete; there were tons of loopholes that could be easily exploited by security departments.
I logged on to Silk Road again, BlueViolet99 had replied, and was currently online.
" US$6000 for 45ml. You get as much as I can fit into the bottle. I will come down to NYC. Cash only "
Huh, how did he..
Right.. He knew my address, and knew I was in NYC. As expected of a Dealer cum Chemist, he kept a record of his dealings; a tactic typical of Dealers to get leverage over you.
Wait a second, that would mean US$6.66 a hit for a total of 900 hits, working on a 20 drop per mL assumption. Supposing I sold at $40 SGD per hit, I could be making $36000 SGD. Hell yea, I was in.
“ Deal is good, thanks a lot. Where and when do we meet? “
“ Soon. I will instruct via mail after you send me a copy of your State ID as insurance. Email it to
[email protected]
com or deal is off “
Shit just got real; I drew back and sank into my chair. Should I, should I not? State ID? I only have a Singapore Passport. But it looks like he wouldn’t meet to sell unless I sent him a copy of some kind of identification. Till this day, I wasn’t sure if I was thinking straight that night; I was pretty high on weed to begin with. I took a picture of my Passport, and uploaded it to him.
Then there was no further reply.
As I sobered up from the Weed, I realized the shit I was in. I just fucking gave a copy of my Passport to a drug dealer, how intelligent was that. “Master criminal my ass…” I covered my face and lost count of the number of times I said “Fuck.” Truly an amateur.. I couldn’t sleep anymore.
For the first half of Friday, I was lost in my head. I kept asking myself “What could he possibly do?” He knew my address before, and now he knew everything about me down to my last name. There was no way I could stay anonymous anymore. If he got busted, the DEA will come looking for me, seeing from his records how much he sold me. Whatever it was, my life was in God’s hands. I hope he doesn’t get caught, and I freaking hope he’s as smart as he thought he was. Lets just hope he keeps his word and uses it as insurance..
All that stress had to come out somewhere. That night, I partied like there was no tomorrow; I couldn’t even remember what I did other than playing games with this girl from Queens and banging her in the bathroom doggie style then passing out on the stairs. “Did I use condoms?” I wasn’t sure, but I know I always make it a point to fuck with a condom when doing it with a stranger. Come to think of it, it was pretty funny that the bathroom had a little basket of condoms of all sorts sitting on top of the bowl; courtesy of the host.
One thing was certain; I had to leave the US as soon as possible in case he gets busted. Hopefully, just hopefully, the DEA wouldn’t give a shit about me if they knew I had already left the country.