Chapter 6 Chapter 3 Bet on the Raindrops

Many applicants.There are few candidates. That's the message the bureau keeps pumping into us new recruits.Just about everyone interested in a career in law enforcement aspires to become an FBI agent, and only the best and brightest can hope for the opportunity.The bureau has a long and proud tradition dating back to 1924, when a little-known government lawyer named John Edgar Hoover took over a decaying, underfunded, and mismanaged agency .He was 75 years old when I joined the Bureau, and the same Mr. Hoover still leads this respected government institution, ruling with his square jaw and iron fist.So we better not let the Bureau down.

A cable from the Director directing me to report to Room 625, Old Post Office Building, Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D.C., at 9:00 am on December 14, 1970, for 14 weeks of training to convert me from a civilian to a federal investigator An agent of the bureau.Before reporting for duty, I went to Long Island to visit relatives. My father was so proud of me that he hoisted an American flag in front of our house.Since I had been serving in the Air Force for the past few years, I didn't have a decent formal dress, so my father bought me three dark suits for "regular occasions" at once, one blue, one black, and one black. I bought a brown suit and bought some shirts and two pairs of wing flap shoes, one black and one brown.He personally drove me to DC and made sure I got to work on time the first day.

It didn't take me long to get used to the bureau's rules and discipline.The agent presiding over the inauguration told us to pull out our gold badges and look at them as we swore the oath of office.While gazing at the blindfolded goddess holding the scales of justice, we solemnly swear with one voice: to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States, and to strike at all enemies at home and abroad. "Get closer! Get closer!" the agent ordered.We end up cross-eyed at the gold badge. The new agent training class I was in was all white. Back in 1970, the FBI had very few black agents and no female agents.The real opening came after Hoover's long tenure ended.Yet even in his grave his powerful and terrifying influence lingered.Most of the male agents back then were between 29 and 35 years old, and I was the youngest at 25.

We have always been warned to be wary of Soviet spies, who are everywhere, endangering us and stealing our secrets.The bureau warned us to be especially wary of women!This brainwashing was so effective that I turned down a date with a stunning woman who worked in the same building as me and asked me out to dinner.I fear this is a trap set up to test me. The FBI Academy at Marine Corps Base Quantico, Virginia, was not yet finished and operational, so we had shooting and physical training there, and classroom instruction in the old Post Office building in Washington. One of the first things every trainee is taught is that an FBI agent can kill an opponent if he doesn't raise his gun.The rationale for this policy is as brutal as it is logical: If you pull out your pistol, you've decided to kill your opponent.If you decide that the situation is so dire that a gun must be shot, you are certain that the situation is so dire that a person must be killed.In the heat of the moment, you have little leeway to plan your shot, little time to take your time and think twice, and simply trying to stop or subdue an opponent is risky.You cannot unnecessarily risk your own life or the life of a potential victim.

Our equally rigorous coursework includes: Criminal Law, Fingerprinting, Violent and White Collar Crime, Apprehension Techniques, Firearms Use, Hand-to-hand Combat, and the History of the Bureau's Role in National Law Enforcement.But the one lesson I remember best was taken shortly after training started.We call it "dirty word training". "Is the classroom door closed?" the teacher asked.He then distributed a glossary to each of us. "I ask you to master these words." As far as I recall, the glossary included the following essences of the Anglo-Saxon vocabulary: shit, fuck, cunnilingus, blowjob, vulva, penis, and so on.All we have to do is to keep these words firmly in mind, so that we will know how to deal with them when we encounter these words in the future when handling cases—for example, during the interrogation of suspects.We want to make sure that all case reports with such dirty words go to the office's "dirty stenographer" (I'm not joking) and not to the ordinary secretary.Dirty stenographers are traditionally filled by older, more sophisticated women who are more successful in disguising their shock at the sight of obscenities.Remember, those were the days when the Bureau was a man's business, and the national sensibility in 1970 was not what it is today, at least in the Hoover FBI.We even had a dirty word spelling bee, and after all the papers had been collected and - I presume - graded, they were all burned in metal trash cans.

As absurd as this training may seem, we all have ideals about fighting crime, and we all think we're going to be good at it.In the middle of new agent training, I was called into the office of Assistant Director Joe Casper, one of Hoover's most trusted aides, who was in charge of the training.People in the Bureau called him "the kind devil," but the nickname was ironic rather than affectionate.Casper praised me for doing well in most of the classes, but the "Internal Communication" class was below average.Intra-office communication refers to the methods and terminology used to communicate between different parts of an organization.

"Sir, I'm trying to be top-notch," I replied.Someone who is so eager to win can be said to be pushy, and this mood can help you stand out, but it can also make you look bad.If the limelight succeeds, he will rise to prominence.If he screwed up, the aftereffects of that utter failure would be very long-lasting and well-known. Casper may be harsh, but he's no fool.He's seen a lot of pushy people. "Are you going to be top-notch? Take it!" He tossed me a glossary of terms and asked me to memorize them all when I returned from Christmas break. Chuck Lunsford, one of the two house counselors in my class, heard about my situation and came up to me and said, "What did you say to him?" I told him exactly.I saw Chuck rolling his eyes.We both knew I'd have a lot to do right now.

I went back to my parents' place for Christmas.While the family was having a blast, I had to dive headlong into that handbook of communication terms.This doesn't look like a holiday! I returned to Washington in early January, still struggling with the aftermath of that publicity.I have to take a written test to test my hard work.I can't express how relieved I was when Charlie Price, another counselor in my class, told me I had scored a 99 on the test. "Actually you got a hundred points," Charlie confided to me, "but Mr. Hoover says no one is perfect." About halfway through the 14-week training period, the bureau asked each of us for our first field assignments.The vast majority of the FBI's workforce is located at 59 field workstations across the United States.I realized that making this choice was tricky, like a giant chess game between recruits and Bureau headquarters.As always, I try to consider the problem from the perspective of the other party.I'm from New York and don't particularly want to go back there.I reckon Los Angeles, San Francisco, Miami, and maybe Seattle and San Diego are the most sought-after cities.So I chose a second-tier city so that it would be possible to fulfill my first choice.

I chose Atlanta and was assigned to Detroit. We all graduated with permanent certificates, a . 38 6-shot Smith & Wesson Model 10 revolver, 6 rounds of ammunition, and instructions to go to duty as soon as possible.Headquarters had always been terrified of new recruits poking trouble under Mr. Hoover's nose in Washington, which would do no one any good. I also got a pamphlet entitled "Detroit Survival Guide".This city is one of the most racially charged areas in the United States, and the 1967 riots still have an impact. It is known as the crime capital of the United States because of more than 800 murders a year.In fact, we made a hair-raising group bet at our workstation on how many homicides would happen by the end of the year.Like most new agents, I started out with ideals and energy, but it didn't take me long to realize what we were up against.The closest I got to a war scene during my four years in the Air Force was when I was admitted to a base hospital for surgery on a broken nose from football and boxing.Before coming to Detroit, I had never had the experience of being considered an enemy.The FBI is hated in many areas.They infiltrated their influence on college campuses, building up networks of urban whistleblowers.We drove around in gray and black cars.In many neighbourhoods, people threw stones at us.Their German shepherds and pinschers didn't like us very much either.We have been warned not to enter certain parts of the city without fully adequate human fire support.

The local police were also very dissatisfied with us.They accused the Bureau of Investigation of "getting the lead" in handling cases, releasing news before the case was solved, and then adding the crimes detected by the police to the statistics of the Bureau's own detection rate.Ironically, in 1971, the year I was a rookie, the Bureau hired about 1,000 new agents, and it was not the Bureau that was primarily in charge of the practical class that we took to the streets, but the local The police, who have us under their wing.What our generation of special agents has achieved is undoubtedly due in large part to the dedication and generosity of officers across America.

Bank robberies were rampant at the time.Every Friday is pay day, banks have a lot of cash on hand, and we average two to three armed bank robberies, sometimes as many as five.Before bulletproof glass was commonplace in Detroit banks, cash tellers were killed and injured in alarming numbers.We worked on a case where the incident was captured on bank monitors. A bank manager was shot and killed at his desk. A couple was sitting across from him in the process of applying for a loan. They panicked. Bewildered, helplessly watching the tragedy happen.Much to the displeasure of the robbers, the manager could not open the timed safe.It wasn't just bank officials who could handle tens of thousands of dollars in cash that suffered.In some areas, even those who work at McDonald's are also at risk of death. I was assigned to work in the crime response unit, which really means responding to crimes that have occurred, such as bank robberies or extortion.My job was to work with the team's "Abscond to Avoid Prosecution" unit.It turned out to be a rare experience, as the unit always had the opportunity to participate in many operations.In addition to the station-wide bets on the number of homicides per year, we also had a competition within the group as to who could arrest more murderers in a single day.It's the kind of contest that car dealers run to see who sells the most cars at a given time. One of our busiest types of work in those days was dealing with deserters who belonged to the so-called "Category 42".The Vietnam War divided the United States in two. Once many guys became deserters, they refused to go back to the war.We handle more assaults on law enforcement officials registered under Category 42 than any other category of fugitives. My first detachment was to hunt down an Army deserter.I found him working at a roadside gas station.I revealed my identity, and I thought he would submit obediently, but he suddenly pulled out a simple dagger with a bright file and black tape wrapped around its hand, and stabbed at me.I took a few steps back and was almost stabbed by him.I lunged at him and pinned him against the glass of the gas station and pinned him to the floor with a knee on his back and the pistol to his head.At this point the manager was yelling at me, protesting that I had taken away his excellent worker.What am I doing?Is this the career I imagined?Is it worth it to keep risking your life to hunt down lowly little people?At this time, how beautiful industrial psychology looks. In addition to the emotional confusion that often resulted from the pursuit of deserters, it also created resentment between the military and the Bureau.Sometimes we would follow along with a warrant and find the guy and catch him red-handed on the street.He would angrily stop us from taking him away, knuckle-knuckle his prosthetic leg, and tell us he had won a Purple Heart and a Silver Star for the leg he wounded in Vietnam.Again and again, deserters who voluntarily chose to go back or were captured by the military were all punished by regular repatriation to Vietnam.Many of them later performed well on the battlefield, but the military never told us anything about it.As far as we know, they are still considered AWOL deserters, and we are extremely annoyed by this. To make matters worse, we sometimes find the registered address of a deserter only to be met by tearful and justifiably angry wives or parents who tell us that the man we seek has died a heroic death.We were hunting down soldiers who died, and the military never let us know. No matter what your career, when you get into the field, you start to realize that there are so many things, big and small, that are never taught in school or in training.How, for example, should guns be placed in different situations, such as when entering a stall in a public restroom?Do you keep the gun holstered on your belt, or hang it on the door of the compartment?For a while I put it on my lap, but it made me nervous.This is something that happens to everyone, but not something you feel free to discuss with senior colleagues.When I was working for a month, the problem appeared. When I came to work in Detroit, I bought a Volkswagen Beetle, the same model that, ironically, became the serial killer's car of choice.Ted Bundy owned one, and it was by finding this model of car that he was finally confirmed as the murderer.Anyway, one time I parked my car in front of a local shopping mall and planned to buy a suit at the men's store.Knowing that I would have to try on clothes then, I thought it best to keep the pistol somewhere safe.So I put the gun in the glove box on the dash and went into the shop. You know, the Beetle has several interesting features.Since it is a rear-engined car, the spare tire is placed in the trunk of the car.Since it was almost a popular car at the time, not to mention that it was easy to break into people, theft of spare tires was also extremely common.After all, almost everyone needs it.Last but not least, the trunk is opened via a switch in the storage compartment. I'm sure you can guess what's going on.I walked out of the store to the car and found the windows had been smashed.I tried to imagine what this skilful thief would do: The tire thief broke through the window to get into the car, reached into the glove box, tried to flip the trunk switch and steal the spare, only to find a better one inside. loot.I figured this out because my pistol was gone, but the spare wheel was still there. "Oh, damn it!" I said to myself, "I've been on the job for thirty days and I've already been supplying weapons to the enemy!" I know that losing a gun or losing a pass means you're getting a disciplinary action right away .I tracked down Squad Leader Bob Fitzpatrick.Fitzpatrick was a big guy, built like a father.He's well groomed and more or less a living legend in the Bureau.He knew that my bad luck was coming, and he felt very uncomfortable.Lost firearms have to be reported to the chief's office, which sucks because it will be the first field record in my personnel file.He said we'd have to make up a really creative set of excuses around the fact that I was just trying to maintain public order, and that I didn't want to risk startling anyone in the store because if they suddenly saw a gun, they would Thought it was robbed.Fitzpatrick reassured me that, since my promotion was still years away, as long as there were no mistakes in the future, this punishment would not do me any harm. So I tried to do that, even though the missing gun had troubled me for a long time.When I retired from the Bureau some 25 years later, I returned the Smith & Wesson Model 10 revolver from the Quantico Armory, which was actually a replacement for the original gun.Thankfully, the missing pistol was never used in a crime, and it has virtually disappeared since. I lived with two other single agents, Bob McGonigal and Jack Kunst, in a furnished apartment in Taylor City, Michigan, a southern suburb of Detroit.We are very good friends.Bob later served as best man at my wedding.He is also a geek.He always wore a dark velvet suit and lavender shirt, even when he was on patrol.He seemed to be the only person in the entire FBI who wasn't afraid of Hoover.Then Bob got undercover and didn't have to wear a suit at all. He started out as a clerk in the bureau, and took the "internal route" to become an agent.Some of the best minds in the bureau started as staff, including a few people I picked to join the investigative support section.In some circles, though, people with clerical backgrounds aroused resentment, as if they were favored as agents. Bob is the best at putting on airs of anyone I know.It's a proactive technique we've developed to catch a killer, especially in situations where surprise is crucial. Bob is an accent artist.If the suspect belongs to a criminal gang, he puts on an Italian accent.When dealing with Black Panthers, he can pass as a street dandy without showing his weakness.He could also imitate the accent of a Mohammedan, an Irish dialect, a Jewish immigrant, and the tone of white privilege.Not only can he imitate these accents perfectly, but he can also change words and expressions from person to person.Bob is so good at this that he once called Joe Del Campo—another agent you'll read about in the next chapter—convincing him to be a black militant who wanted to join the feds Bureau to do eyeliner.We were under a lot of pressure in those days to need more sources of intelligence in the city.Bob made an appointment with Joe, who thought it was time for him to show off.Dates were not turned up, and the next day, when Joe walked into the office and heard Bob greet him in that phony accent, he was pissed off. Hunting down the bad guys is one thing, but before long I found myself interested in the thought process of a killer.Whenever I make an arrest, I ask him why he chose this bank over another, or what motivated him to target this particular victim.We all know that robbers like to rob banks on Friday afternoons because that's when they have the most cash in them.But beyond that, I wanted to know what decisions they made in planning and carrying out the heist. I sure don't look too intimidating.Just like in school, everyone was willing to open up to me.The more I question these guys, the more I realize that successful perpetrators are good profilers.Each of them profiled the preferred bank perpetrator after much thought and research.Some people like banks that are near major arterial roads or interstates for easy escape.They were miles away when the police organized the manhunt.Some people prefer isolated bank branches, such as makeshift banks on trailers.Many visit the bank beforehand to note the interior layout, find out how many employees are there and how many customers are expected to be in the office at any given time.Sometimes they would keep visiting bank branches until they found a bank with no male staff, which would be the target of their robbery.Those banks with no windows facing the street are the best choice, because no one outside can witness the robbery process, and the people inside can't witness what kind of car the robbers drove when they fled.The most sophisticated robbers have come to the conclusion that handing over a note stating their intention to rob is better than brandishing a gun and yelling in public, and they will always remember to retrieve the note before fleeing, To avoid leaving evidence.The ideal getaway car is a stolen car, and the most thoughtful plan is to pre-park the car so that it will not be parked unnoticed.Once you walk into the bank and pull off the heist, you can get away in your car.Robbers who rob a bank particularly well will watch it for a while afterwards.If the situation remains the same, he will strike again in a few months. Of all public establishments, banks are probably the most prepared for robbery.However, when conducting post-crime investigations, I am continually amazed at how many banks neglect to tape their surveillance cameras, how many banks inadvertently silence their alarms and then forget to reset them afterwards. setting, or often mistakenly tripped the alarm, causing the police to react slowly when the real incident happened, thinking it was another accident.It's like putting up a "rob me" sign to a seasoned robber. But when you start to profile these cases -- I haven't used this term to describe the process -- you can see the pattern of the crime.Once the pattern is identified, you can start taking proactive measures to catch the culprit.For example, if you see a recent spike in bank robberies that seem to have similar tactics, if you interview a significant number of criminals and understand what motivates them each time, obviously, you can greatly improve the All but one weak link in a bank's office remains intact.Of course, this place will always be under the joint monitoring of one or both of the police and the FBI, and there will be plainclothes personnel inside.In effect, you're forcing the robber to choose the bank of your choice, and when he strikes, you can sit back and catch him.Since we adopted this proactive tactic, the rate of bank robberies has gone up. All our actions at the time were under the influence of the looming presence of Edgar Hoover, which had been our predecessors since 1924.In today's age of revolving door appointments and trials by polls, it's hard to find Hoover's level of power and control -- not just over the bureau, but over government officials, the media, and the public at large. have been imposed.If you want to write a book or screenplay that reflects the Bureau (such as Don Whitehead's bestseller "The FBI Story" in the 1950s, or James Stewart's blockbuster film adaptation), or If you want to create a TV series that reflects the Bureau (such as "The FBI" starring Efrem Zimbalest Jr. in the 1960s), you must have Mr. Hoover's personal approval and blessing in advance.Likewise, if you're a high-ranking government official, you can't live in peace lest the director of the Bureau of Investigation catch you by the tail, especially if he calls in a friendly tone to inform you that the FBI has "exposed" a scandalous case. Unpleasant rumors, he will do his best to ensure that the rumors will not spread and will not cause you harm. Nowhere is Mr. Hoover's personal mystique felt more strongly than inside the bureau's branch workstations and management.Everyone accepted the fact that he had given the FBI its prestige and admiration.He almost single-handedly built the bureau to its present size, and has worked tirelessly for bigger budgets and higher salaries.He is both beloved and feared.If you think he's nothing special, don't show it.The discipline in the bureau is very strict, and the inspection of branch offices is merciless.If the inspectors didn't find enough room for improvement, Hoover would suspect that they weren't doing their job properly, which meant issuing several disciplinary orders every time they went in, regardless of whether they actually did. Just and reasonable.This situation is like issuing a traffic violation ticket with a fixed amount.The situation became so problematic that the agents in charge had to single out as scapegoats those who weren't going to be promoted anytime soon so that the disciplinary papers wouldn't affect their careers. It happened once (it was no longer humorous after the Oklahoma City federal building bombing in 1995): After an inspection, someone made a threatening phone call, threatening to kill the FBI. Plant a bomb in the office.After tracing, it was found that the call came from a public phone booth outside the Federal Building in the city center where the Bureau of Investigation field station is located.Headquarters authorities came and removed the entire phone booth, intending to compare the fingerprints on the coins in the cash box with those of all 350 workers at the workstation.Thankfully sanity prevailed and this contrast check never happened.But this example shows how tense a situation Mr. Hoover's policies can create. There are standard operating procedures for all affairs in the bureau.Although I never had the opportunity to meet Mr. Hoover one-on-one, I did (and still do) have an autographed photograph of him in my office.Even young agents had standard procedures for obtaining such a photograph.The agent in charge will tell you to ask his secretary to write you a flattering letter detailing how proud you are to be an agent and how much you look up to Mr. Hoover.If the letter is well written, you will receive a photo with well wishes so that you can show everyone how personal your relationship with the leader is. There were other procedures that we were not at all sure who instituted them. Perhaps they were Hoover's personal directives, or perhaps they were merely overzealous interpretations of the Director's orders by those below.Everyone in the Bureau should work overtime, and everyone should work more than the average overtime hours of the field station.I'm sure you can see what a mess we're in.Month after month, the number of overtime hours continued to climb like a pyramid.Those agents with the highest morale and the most upright character when they first entered the bureau also had to learn to add water to their schedules.No smoking or coffee is allowed in the office.It turned out that the agents, like a bunch of door-to-door salesmen, didn't want to stop in the office, even to make a phone call.Everyone has developed their own set of work habits to cope with these regulations.I spend a lot of time analyzing cases in a small cubicle in a public library. One of the biggest believers in the teachings of the Hoover sage is our special agent in charge, Nell Welch, nicknamed "The Grape."Welch was a sizeable 6-foot-4 with thick horn-rimmed glasses.He was stern, rigid, cold, and unambiguous.He had prospered in the bureau, in charge of field terminals including Philadelphia and New York.There is talk that he will take Hoover's place when (or rather, if) that inevitable day finally comes.Welch organized a team in New York that spearheaded the highly effective enforcement of the Federal Fraud and Corruption Act against organized crime.But after coming to Detroit, he followed the rules. Naturally, Welch and Bob McGonigal clashed inevitably.One Saturday (we were all at home), Bob got a call from Grape telling him to go right away with the squad leader, Bob Fitzpatrick.When McGonigal arrived, Welch told him that someone was using a phone to make long distance calls to New Jersey.It is against the regulations to use a public phone for personal business.In fact, the behavior of making phone calls for personal affairs could have been explained otherwise, but within the Bureau of Investigation, no matter how careful one is, mistakes can happen. Welch had a violent temper, but he probably started by embarrassing people with clever interrogation techniques. "Okay, McGonigal, tell me about those calls?" Bob had no choice but to speak out the calls he could remember.Fearing that Welch had something bigger to do with him, he thought perhaps acknowledging the little things would calm the executive. Welch stood up, leaned his majestic body over the desk, pointed at Bob aggressively and said, "McGonigal, let me tell you, there are two things that are bad for you. First, you used to Clerk. I hate asshole clerk! Second, if I ever see you in that lavender shirt again, especially if you're out on patrol, I'll kick your ass on East Jefferson Avenue. If I see you again Getting near a phone will throw you into an elevator. Get the hell out of the office now!" Bob came home distraught, thinking he was going to get fired.Jack Kunst and I really feel for him.But Fitzpatrick told me the next day that after McGonigal left, he and Welch sat laughing. Years later, when I was in charge of the Investigative Support Section, I was often asked if, with so much knowledge about criminal behavior and crime scene analysis, we would be seamless among us.I always tell them no, that even though we know a lot, our actions after the crime will still show us.I think this scene between McGonigal and Welch proves that top-notch agents can't escape the pressure of a well-interrogated person. By the way, since leaving the chief agent's office that Saturday afternoon, Bob had worn the whitest shirts in town until Welch's transfer to Philadelphia. One of Hoover's strengths in getting Congress to pass his appropriations request was his ability to put up big numbers.But for the director to use these numbers, everyone in the field station has to produce decent results. In early 1972, Welch is said to have promised his bosses that he would crack 150 gambling cases.This obviously means that the number of such cases solved must increase substantially.So we set up an elaborate trap, planted spies, tapped the phone, and made arrangements with military precision.All of this culminated in "Super Bowl Sunday," the largest illegal betting day of the year, when the Dallas Cowboys, who lost a close game to the Baltimore Stallions the previous year, took on the Miami Dolphins Team. Catching a bookmaker requires lightning-quick and precise action because they use paper that burns instantly or potato paper that dissolves in water.There was a shower of rain that day, which foreshadowed that the action was going to be a mess. We set a trap carefully and caught more than two hundred gamblers that rainy afternoon.I had a gambler handcuffed, taken to the back of a car, and taken to the armory to be registered for charges.He was a charming fellow, friendly and handsome, a little like Paul Newman.He said to me, "When it's all over, let's get together and play racquetball." He was easily accessible, so I questioned him like a bank robber. "Why are you gambling?" "I like it," he answered. "John, you can arrest us all today. It won't do the trick." "But for smart people like you, it shouldn't be hard to make money legally." He shook his head like I didn't understand him.At this time, the rain became heavier and heavier.He looked aside and turned my attention to the window of the police car. "Did you see those two raindrops?" he said, pointing at the raindrops. "I bet the one on the left hits the bottom edge of the window before the one on the right. We don't need any Super Bowl. We just need two A drop of rain will do. You can't stop us anyway, John. It's in our nature." For me, this brief contact was like a bolt from the blue, which made me suddenly enlightened.现在看来可能有点幼稚，可是我一直在苦苦寻觅的答案，我对抢劫银行犯和其他罪犯所从事的所有研究的关键所在，忽然之间一清二楚地展现在了眼前。 这是我们的本性。 在罪犯的心灵和心理中有些东西是与生俱来，根深蒂固的，正是这些东西驱使他以某种方式去行事。后来，当我着手研究系列谋杀犯的心理和作案动机时，当我开始分析犯罪现场留下的行为线索时，便会去寻找促使该案件发生的和该罪犯与众不同的、代表其本性的某一因素或某组因素。 最后我会提出用识别标志一词来描述这一独特的、个人的强制作用，而它一直是静态的。我会使用它，以示区别于惯用手法这一传统概念，因为惯用手法是不固定的和可改变的。这就是我们在调查支援科的工作重点。 结果我们在“超级杯星期日”那天抓获了数百名嫌疑人，因技术程序的缘故未经法庭听审便结案了。当时大家都急于行动，所持的搜捕证不是由州检察长亲自签发的而是由州检察长助理代签的。不过，主管特工韦尔奇倒是兑现了承诺，将逮捕的人数上报给了胡佛，至少在足够长的时间里它对国会发挥了影响。我则从只不过是拿雨点打赌这样的小事中顿悟了一种深邃的见解，它在我的日后的执法生涯中将发挥至关重要的作用。