tablets, anhydrous ammonia and lithium metal found in car batteries.
“These meth labs skimmed only the surface of the drug scene. They had developed this drug smuggling cabal into a science, a perverse system that ran smoothly, efficiently and effectively. And you want to know something else?” Jonathan paused, gauging her reaction. “These people make money. Lots of it. Cash flows like the Mississippi.”
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Wyatt Gilmore poked his head inside the office, surprised to see Sam. “Sam, uh, nice to see you.”
She nodded. “How’s Brady?”
“Better,” Wyatt said. “I don’t know what came over him the other day. Sorry.”
She nodded to accept his apologies.
“Sam’s here getting background for a possible news article,” Jonathan said.
Sam looked at Jonathan with surprise, as if to say ‘that’s not why I’m here.’ Wyatt’s face softened as he registered interest. “What kind of story?”
Sam opened her mouth but Jonathan answered for her. “Apparently she and Robin had an interesting conversation about drug smuggling just before her death.”
Jonathan’s words forced Wyatt to enter the office. “What sort of operation?”
Wyatt listened intently, his back against the wall and his beefy arms folded over his chest as Jonathan briefed him about their discussion. After he finished, Wyatt looked from Sam to Jonathan. “You know you’re talking to the best man for the information. I’ll let you two continue.”
Wyatt looked at Jonathan. “Come see me when you’re through. We need to go to property and evidence.”
Jonathan nodded.
“Good to see you, Sam,” Wyatt said looking at her.
When Wyatt left the office Sam looked to Jonathan as if to say, ‘Where were we?’
He took her cue. “As I was telling you, the meth scene here is more like a clique than a cartel. We used to know all the meth heads by name. It was the white-trash drug made in America until the Mexicans got their hands on it.”
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“In 1994, the feds restricted the sale of ephedrine, a main ingredient in methamphetamine. Unfortunately, the clampdown didn’t do much to put a stop to domestic meth. You don’t know how easy it is to get ephedrine in Mexico. Latino drug gangs who export cocaine and marijuana to the U.S. saw a great opportunity to diversify.” He stopped to watch her reaction.
“What did the Latin American drug gangs do?” Sam asked, shifting in her chair.
“If they weren’t shipping meth, they were sending ephedrine north to clandestine labs in rural California and Arizona,” he said.
“So what you’re telling me,” Sam said, tapping an index finger against her lips, “Is that it didn’t take long for Mexican meth to reach Colorado, right?”
Jonathan nodded.
“So what does it mean?” she asked.
“It means there’s a shitload of the drug to go around with tentacles that don’t seem to stop. The drugs that come here end up going all over God’s creation.” He paused, “The interstates and small airports aren’t the only way drugs are smuggled. There’s the bus terminal and DIA. Did you know that DIA, according to our latest stats, is one of the top ten busiest airports in the country?”
“No, I didn’t.” She watched as Jonathan put his glasses on and rose from his chair and walked to a filing cabinet.
He continued to speak as he walked. “Here’s an example. About four, maybe five years ago we stopped having to drive to hell and back to find meth. It’s here in our backyards.”
“What makes it so popular?”
Jonathan had reached the filing cabinet and thought before he answered her. “For one thing users like it because, like crack and cocaine, it gives them a lift.”
“I read somewhere that meth gives users more ‘bang for the buck.’”
Jonathan chuckled and said, “You’re right. Used to be that meth users mostly shot the stuff into a vein. It’s a lot different today. The new
“These meth labs skimmed only the surface of the drug scene. They had developed this drug smuggling cabal into a science, a perverse system that ran smoothly, efficiently and effectively. And you want to know something else?” Jonathan paused, gauging her reaction. “These people make money. Lots of it. Cash flows like the Mississippi.”
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Wyatt Gilmore poked his head inside the office, surprised to see Sam. “Sam, uh, nice to see you.”
She nodded. “How’s Brady?”
“Better,” Wyatt said. “I don’t know what came over him the other day. Sorry.”
She nodded to accept his apologies.
“Sam’s here getting background for a possible news article,” Jonathan said.
Sam looked at Jonathan with surprise, as if to say ‘that’s not why I’m here.’ Wyatt’s face softened as he registered interest. “What kind of story?”
Sam opened her mouth but Jonathan answered for her. “Apparently she and Robin had an interesting conversation about drug smuggling just before her death.”
Jonathan’s words forced Wyatt to enter the office. “What sort of operation?”
Wyatt listened intently, his back against the wall and his beefy arms folded over his chest as Jonathan briefed him about their discussion. After he finished, Wyatt looked from Sam to Jonathan. “You know you’re talking to the best man for the information. I’ll let you two continue.”
Wyatt looked at Jonathan. “Come see me when you’re through. We need to go to property and evidence.”
Jonathan nodded.
“Good to see you, Sam,” Wyatt said looking at her.
When Wyatt left the office Sam looked to Jonathan as if to say, ‘Where were we?’
He took her cue. “As I was telling you, the meth scene here is more like a clique than a cartel. We used to know all the meth heads by name. It was the white-trash drug made in America until the Mexicans got their hands on it.”
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“In 1994, the feds restricted the sale of ephedrine, a main ingredient in methamphetamine. Unfortunately, the clampdown didn’t do much to put a stop to domestic meth. You don’t know how easy it is to get ephedrine in Mexico. Latino drug gangs who export cocaine and marijuana to the U.S. saw a great opportunity to diversify.” He stopped to watch her reaction.
“What did the Latin American drug gangs do?” Sam asked, shifting in her chair.
“If they weren’t shipping meth, they were sending ephedrine north to clandestine labs in rural California and Arizona,” he said.
“So what you’re telling me,” Sam said, tapping an index finger against her lips, “Is that it didn’t take long for Mexican meth to reach Colorado, right?”
Jonathan nodded.
“So what does it mean?” she asked.
“It means there’s a shitload of the drug to go around with tentacles that don’t seem to stop. The drugs that come here end up going all over God’s creation.” He paused, “The interstates and small airports aren’t the only way drugs are smuggled. There’s the bus terminal and DIA. Did you know that DIA, according to our latest stats, is one of the top ten busiest airports in the country?”
“No, I didn’t.” She watched as Jonathan put his glasses on and rose from his chair and walked to a filing cabinet.
He continued to speak as he walked. “Here’s an example. About four, maybe five years ago we stopped having to drive to hell and back to find meth. It’s here in our backyards.”
“What makes it so popular?”
Jonathan had reached the filing cabinet and thought before he answered her. “For one thing users like it because, like crack and cocaine, it gives them a lift.”
“I read somewhere that meth gives users more ‘bang for the buck.’”
Jonathan chuckled and said, “You’re right. Used to be that meth users mostly shot the stuff into a vein. It’s a lot different today. The new
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