RAT by BRIAN R. LUNDIN (best romantic books to read .TXT) đź“•
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A CHICAGO POLICEWOMAN WITH THE HELP OF A HONEST POLICE COMMANDER, FBI AGENT AND US ATTORNEY RISK HER LIFE AND CAREER TO EXPOSE CORRUPTION IN A CHICAGO POLICE DISTRICT
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happy by treating them with dignity and respect. Most of her customers were older people and housewives who played policy for so long, that they thought it was legal, but she also had schoolteachers, ministers, area businessmen and local politicians as her customers, all hoping to hit the big payout, very few ever did. A “FOR RENT,” sign posted prominently in the window-helped camouflage the station and when the red light over the back door was on the station was open for business. The policy station contained a large table with pencils and McLemore slips of scratch paper, which the bettors used to record their wagers. Edwinna hired Luella Jones another experienced writer. Both of the women, Edwina and Luella, were paid a straight salary of fifty dollars a week, good money for a four or five hours a day job. Both women lived in the neighborhood and could walk to work. There were no windows in the station but during the summer, they kept the back door open to catch the cool breeze coming off Lake Michigan and there were two big fans. The policy station was a meeting place for the older people in the neighborhood who would hang around drinking coffee, eating donuts provided by the station and gossiping after placing their bets. Most policy players were unemployed and received some type of welfare check. The merchants and the currency exchanges charged a fee for cashing the check but Lucy would cash the welfare checks of his players, free of charge. One morning Lucy was at the station drinking coffee and eating donuts with the players when a young man, maybe twenty sat alone in one of the chairs weeping Lucy asked the young man what was wrong and he said that his mother was very sick and needed medicine but the prescription cost two hundred dollars and he didn’t have the money and he feared she would get worst or possibly die if she didn’t get the medication. Lucy reached into her purse and took out a roll of bills but it was only a hundred and fifty dollars she looked at Edwinna and said, “Could you loan me a hundred bucks?” The young man protested and said he only needed two hundred with a look of admiration Edwinna gave the money to Lucy which she gave to the young man. The man hugged her warmly and hurried out of the station. Unlike so many other policy stations, Lucy’s was always clean, comfortable and the bettors felt at ease. Lucy received twenty five percent of the bets made and the rest went to the Policy Wheels that were responsible for paying any winning gigs. Due to Lucy’s friendship with the local Baptist preachers and politicians she wasn’t bothered by the police. After Lucy’s death Ricks opened up five more Policy stations in “Bronzeville.”
SIXTEEN
Ricks was quickly becoming one of “Bronzeville” most respected sons, mainly because of the honesty of his policy stations and his engaging personality. The policy station also provided employment for the black people who lived in the community and paid a good wage. Although policy gambling was illegal it very seldom had any problems with the police. Judge William A. Arnold, the sitting judge at the “Wabash Court,” located on the second floor of the 2nd District Police station often criticized overly aggressive police officers that raided a policy station and arrested the patrons and the writers who were generally older people. He would summarily dismiss the case for some legal reason and was heard to tell many of the officers that his parents sent him through college on money they had earned writing policy. Ricks would often visit his stations and sit around drinking coffee or just interacting with the customers. At many of the other policy stations if a bettor was lucky enough to catch a gig, especially if it was a big gig, maybe $50.00 or more, he might not get paid because the owner of the station had booked the bet himself and didn’t turn the bet into the wheel. The owner of the station was making enough money to pay off the bet, but out of greed they wouldn’t. When the word got out that the station didn’t pay off, the people stopped coming and the station had to close. The owner of the station who was very seldom known to the player merely moved the stations a couple of blocks away and fired the old writers and hired new ones. The cheated player would go to the new station and not knowing that it was the same owner who cheated or “stiffed” them before. Ricks never stiffed any player on a winning bet, although he did book many of the bets but he had the resources to pay the winner, by booking the bets Ricks tripled his income from the stations.
SEVENTEEN
Cecilia was aware of the Commander’s Club and watched as Sergeant Albert Romano entered the Commander’s office once a month carrying a large black bag. On one of these visits the sergeant stopped at her desk.
“You know you a good-looking broad and could go way up in the department if you wasn’t so snooty acting!”
Cecilia ignored the comments and continued reading reports.
“The word is you don’t take money, that’s damn crazy everybody in the district is getting their ends one way or another, why do you think we don’t get raises the mayor and everyone else know that the little they pay us can’t support a family that’s why they turn their head when it comes to cops taking money.”
Cecilia put down her report and gave the sergeant a nasty look.
“You guys do what you want but I can support myself and my son on my salary.”
The sergeant laughed and walked away. On Christmas Eve the 2nd District had their annual Christmas party at the Parkway Ballroom located at 45th South King Drive. Cecilia was talking with a few of the female officers when she overheard the Commander and Sergeant Romano who had a lot to drink talking about pressuring Ricardo Ricks to join the club.
That “That nigger thinks he’s untouchable because he’s close to all those nigger preachers and politicians that his momma was either fuckin’ or giving them a lot of money. I hear he got about five or six policy joints in the district and he won’t even talk to me,” the sergeant said downing another scotch and soda.
The commander nearly drunk responded.
“Fuck that coon sends your boys out to bust his black ass.”
“We’ve tried that but that nigger judge in Branch #38 always dismisses the charges and order all his people released.”
“I’m sure sergeant that you can find a way to scare that coon in line!”
“What if we grab that bitch Edwinna and fuck her in the ass that should get his attention.”
The commander ordered another shot of rye.
“Do what you gota do, just get him in line I’m retiring soon and I could use a bigger nest egg.”
Cecilia was shocked at the conversation, it was bad enough that the commander and sergeant were shaking down all the big wrong doers in the district now they were thinking about raping an innocent woman but what the sergeant or the commander knew was that Cecilia and Ricks grew up together and was quite an item in high school. Sergeant Romano and two of his men went to Rick’s policy station at 4916 South Forrestville. It was a warm summer afternoon. People were sitting on their porch playing cards, drinking beer and lying. The sergeant and his men were in plainclothes but everyone in the neighborhood knew they were policemen. Women sitting on the porch fanning stopped and called their children. Ricks and Sonny were sitting under a tree playing chess.
“Got a minute Mr. Ricks?”
“Sure sarge!”
The sergeant looked at Sonny
“Take a walk boy!”
“If you see a boy, kiss him!”
The other two officers looked threatening at Sonny.
“It’s ok Sonny.”
“I’ll be over on the porch if you need me!”
Sonny walked away and gave the two officers a gap toothy smile.
“That’s a smart ass nigger there!”
“And he can back up whatever he says!”
“We didn’t come here for any trouble Mr. Ricks but I got a message for you from the commander.”
“What’s the message?”
“The commander wants to be your friend and wants you to join our club for people we like.”
“I don’t want to join your little club, tell that to that thief.”
The sergeant smiled.
“That might be a mistake the commander can make things very
difficult for you.”
“Fuck you and the commander.”
EIGHTEEN
In downtown Chicago on the fifteen floor of the Federal Building at 219 South Dearborn Street sharing space with Assistant U.S. Attorneys is a six lawyer Chicago Strike Task force, a division of the Organized Crime Section of the United States Department of Justice. At its helm was Brian Luden a black, career government lawyer in his middle forties who had successfully prosecuted organized crime cases in Louisiana and Florida. His bosses at the Department of Justice had begun to show an interest in police corrup-tion, which were rarely investigated. He had read an expose’ by the Chicago Tribune Newspaper that reported a club in many Chicago Police Districts that demanded pay-offs from tavern owners for protection. He found the story interesting but did no follow-up until the Chicago Sun-Times reported a top police commander had been transferred and demoted for failing to reduce crime in his district and his Vice Coordinator had been re-assigned to the Internal Affairs Division. The paper reported that is normal practice to assign policemen under investigation to the IID. The paper also reported that it was alleged that tavern owners were being shaken down by the police to join the Commander’s $500-a-month club.
Luden concluded that these actions could be a violation of the Hobbs Act a U.S. federal law that prohibits actual or attempted robbery or extortion affecting interstate or foreign commerce. Luden reasoned that since taverns sold beer and whisky manufactured in states other than Illinois extortion of tavern owners would be a vi-olation. Luden relayed his thoughts to his boss and the head of the Organized Crime Squad of the FBI and made a formal request that the Bureau make conduct a pre-liminary investigation of the newspaper allegations. The FBI contacted the Chicago Police Department IID and requested copies of the investigative files on the com-mander and the Vice coordinator but was refused and told that the States Attorney’s Office had directed the department to withhold any reports until local indictments could be returned against the involved officers. Unknown to Luden was that the FBI had been accumulating evidence for three years against “Commander’s Clubs,” and for the first time was informed that the bureau had an informant in the 2nd District.
Luden was told by FBI Special Agent John White that the informant said that the Brown Derby Tavern located at 544 East 51st was the head quarters for fixing traffic tickets and also ran a bookie operation in the rear room he was also told that numerous taverns in the district was harassed by the district vice coordinator Sergeant Romano, one of the tavern owners had to close his business because of
SIXTEEN
Ricks was quickly becoming one of “Bronzeville” most respected sons, mainly because of the honesty of his policy stations and his engaging personality. The policy station also provided employment for the black people who lived in the community and paid a good wage. Although policy gambling was illegal it very seldom had any problems with the police. Judge William A. Arnold, the sitting judge at the “Wabash Court,” located on the second floor of the 2nd District Police station often criticized overly aggressive police officers that raided a policy station and arrested the patrons and the writers who were generally older people. He would summarily dismiss the case for some legal reason and was heard to tell many of the officers that his parents sent him through college on money they had earned writing policy. Ricks would often visit his stations and sit around drinking coffee or just interacting with the customers. At many of the other policy stations if a bettor was lucky enough to catch a gig, especially if it was a big gig, maybe $50.00 or more, he might not get paid because the owner of the station had booked the bet himself and didn’t turn the bet into the wheel. The owner of the station was making enough money to pay off the bet, but out of greed they wouldn’t. When the word got out that the station didn’t pay off, the people stopped coming and the station had to close. The owner of the station who was very seldom known to the player merely moved the stations a couple of blocks away and fired the old writers and hired new ones. The cheated player would go to the new station and not knowing that it was the same owner who cheated or “stiffed” them before. Ricks never stiffed any player on a winning bet, although he did book many of the bets but he had the resources to pay the winner, by booking the bets Ricks tripled his income from the stations.
SEVENTEEN
Cecilia was aware of the Commander’s Club and watched as Sergeant Albert Romano entered the Commander’s office once a month carrying a large black bag. On one of these visits the sergeant stopped at her desk.
“You know you a good-looking broad and could go way up in the department if you wasn’t so snooty acting!”
Cecilia ignored the comments and continued reading reports.
“The word is you don’t take money, that’s damn crazy everybody in the district is getting their ends one way or another, why do you think we don’t get raises the mayor and everyone else know that the little they pay us can’t support a family that’s why they turn their head when it comes to cops taking money.”
Cecilia put down her report and gave the sergeant a nasty look.
“You guys do what you want but I can support myself and my son on my salary.”
The sergeant laughed and walked away. On Christmas Eve the 2nd District had their annual Christmas party at the Parkway Ballroom located at 45th South King Drive. Cecilia was talking with a few of the female officers when she overheard the Commander and Sergeant Romano who had a lot to drink talking about pressuring Ricardo Ricks to join the club.
That “That nigger thinks he’s untouchable because he’s close to all those nigger preachers and politicians that his momma was either fuckin’ or giving them a lot of money. I hear he got about five or six policy joints in the district and he won’t even talk to me,” the sergeant said downing another scotch and soda.
The commander nearly drunk responded.
“Fuck that coon sends your boys out to bust his black ass.”
“We’ve tried that but that nigger judge in Branch #38 always dismisses the charges and order all his people released.”
“I’m sure sergeant that you can find a way to scare that coon in line!”
“What if we grab that bitch Edwinna and fuck her in the ass that should get his attention.”
The commander ordered another shot of rye.
“Do what you gota do, just get him in line I’m retiring soon and I could use a bigger nest egg.”
Cecilia was shocked at the conversation, it was bad enough that the commander and sergeant were shaking down all the big wrong doers in the district now they were thinking about raping an innocent woman but what the sergeant or the commander knew was that Cecilia and Ricks grew up together and was quite an item in high school. Sergeant Romano and two of his men went to Rick’s policy station at 4916 South Forrestville. It was a warm summer afternoon. People were sitting on their porch playing cards, drinking beer and lying. The sergeant and his men were in plainclothes but everyone in the neighborhood knew they were policemen. Women sitting on the porch fanning stopped and called their children. Ricks and Sonny were sitting under a tree playing chess.
“Got a minute Mr. Ricks?”
“Sure sarge!”
The sergeant looked at Sonny
“Take a walk boy!”
“If you see a boy, kiss him!”
The other two officers looked threatening at Sonny.
“It’s ok Sonny.”
“I’ll be over on the porch if you need me!”
Sonny walked away and gave the two officers a gap toothy smile.
“That’s a smart ass nigger there!”
“And he can back up whatever he says!”
“We didn’t come here for any trouble Mr. Ricks but I got a message for you from the commander.”
“What’s the message?”
“The commander wants to be your friend and wants you to join our club for people we like.”
“I don’t want to join your little club, tell that to that thief.”
The sergeant smiled.
“That might be a mistake the commander can make things very
difficult for you.”
“Fuck you and the commander.”
EIGHTEEN
In downtown Chicago on the fifteen floor of the Federal Building at 219 South Dearborn Street sharing space with Assistant U.S. Attorneys is a six lawyer Chicago Strike Task force, a division of the Organized Crime Section of the United States Department of Justice. At its helm was Brian Luden a black, career government lawyer in his middle forties who had successfully prosecuted organized crime cases in Louisiana and Florida. His bosses at the Department of Justice had begun to show an interest in police corrup-tion, which were rarely investigated. He had read an expose’ by the Chicago Tribune Newspaper that reported a club in many Chicago Police Districts that demanded pay-offs from tavern owners for protection. He found the story interesting but did no follow-up until the Chicago Sun-Times reported a top police commander had been transferred and demoted for failing to reduce crime in his district and his Vice Coordinator had been re-assigned to the Internal Affairs Division. The paper reported that is normal practice to assign policemen under investigation to the IID. The paper also reported that it was alleged that tavern owners were being shaken down by the police to join the Commander’s $500-a-month club.
Luden concluded that these actions could be a violation of the Hobbs Act a U.S. federal law that prohibits actual or attempted robbery or extortion affecting interstate or foreign commerce. Luden reasoned that since taverns sold beer and whisky manufactured in states other than Illinois extortion of tavern owners would be a vi-olation. Luden relayed his thoughts to his boss and the head of the Organized Crime Squad of the FBI and made a formal request that the Bureau make conduct a pre-liminary investigation of the newspaper allegations. The FBI contacted the Chicago Police Department IID and requested copies of the investigative files on the com-mander and the Vice coordinator but was refused and told that the States Attorney’s Office had directed the department to withhold any reports until local indictments could be returned against the involved officers. Unknown to Luden was that the FBI had been accumulating evidence for three years against “Commander’s Clubs,” and for the first time was informed that the bureau had an informant in the 2nd District.
Luden was told by FBI Special Agent John White that the informant said that the Brown Derby Tavern located at 544 East 51st was the head quarters for fixing traffic tickets and also ran a bookie operation in the rear room he was also told that numerous taverns in the district was harassed by the district vice coordinator Sergeant Romano, one of the tavern owners had to close his business because of
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