"Big Tiny" -without bodyguards
One afternoon, the DEA office in LA was telephonically contacted by one of our offices in Indiana with a request for assistance. It happened that, in that particular week, my enforcement group was the "duty group", meaning that outside calls for assistance from other offices would be referred to our group. On this occasion, our colleagues in Indiana had located a federal drug fugitive in LA and were asking us to make the arrest.
The information we had to work with was pretty detailed. We were advised that at 2 pm, the fugitive (whom I will call, "Big Tiny"), would arrive at a particular biker bar in Venice, right off the beach. He was described as a white male, late 20s, about 6'6", 350 pounds with a full-length beard down to his chest and wearing bib overalls. Additionally, he would be accompanied by two bodyguards. Their descriptions?- They were both about 6'8", 280 pounds, ugly- you get the picture.
It sounded like we were in store for a fun afternoon.
At about 1:30, we were set up on surveillance outside the biker bar. Naturally, the place was packed and loud music was playing. It was like a scene from one of those old Popeye and Bluto cartoons. Sure enough, at 2 pm sharp, "Big Tiny", bib overalls and all, was seen walking into the bar with two scruffy-looking dudes about 6'8".
By now, it was obvious that some of the "patrons" were on to our presence. At one point, a guy came out of the "establishment", got on his motorcycle, pulled into the beach parking lot and eyeballed us before returning to the bar.
At this point, we decided, since there were only 6-8 of us, that we could use some LAPD uniformed presence for back-up since we might have to go into the bar and make the arrest before "Big Tiny" took off. We radioed our base to call LAPD Venice Division and request assistance. We then waited...and waited...and waited. They never arrived.
After about 20-30 minutes waiting for LAPD, it was starting look like we were going to have to go into the place with what we had. I started having visions of my old days as a US Army MP in Germany, when some of our guys occasionally had to back out of some of the rougher GI bars at gunpoint with their prisoners.
Just then- thank mother of God- "Big Tiny" came out of the bar-alone-walking across the street and into an alley, at which point, we pulled our cars into the alley, grabbed our quarry, hooked him up, put him in a car and drove away.
Meanwhile, back at the bar, someone must have asked, "Hey, anyone seen "Big Tiny?'"
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