Free Buddy Boys by Mike McAlary Page B

through the precinct when they noticed another car following them. Curious, the driver of the Anticrime car suddenly threw his car into reverse, getting behind the suspects. This maneuver, called double tracking, enabled the Anticrime cops to get the drop on the people tailing them, and they surrounded the chase car with guns drawn.
    â€œGet out of the car,” the cops yelled.
    â€œWe’re on the job,” the men answered.
    â€œWhat job?”
    â€œNone of your fucking business what job.”
    The cops escorted their suspects back to the precinct house and searched their car.
    â€œHey look at this.” One of the cops held up a stack of photographs he had recovered from the front seat. “These guys have got a picture of every guy from Anticrime here.”
    During questioning it became apparent that the men trailing the Anticrime officers were investigators assigned to the office of the special state prosecutor for the New York City criminal justice system. Their investigation had been blown. It was like a twenty-megaton bomb had gone off in the 75th Precinct.
    Henry Winter was in shock too. But he was also in for an even bigger surprise. Not only was there a state investigation into corruption in the 75th Precinct, but his own brother-in-law, Dennis Caufield, an eleven-year veteran of the force, had been wearing a wire for the last eighteen months, secretly recording conversations with the corrupt cops he worked alongside.
    Henry Winter’s own brother-in-law was a bona fide rat.
    â€œI would call Dennis’s house and my sister would say, ‘Oh, hold on.’ or ‘I’ll call you right back.’ I didn’t know it then, but their phone calls were recorded. So she would shut the recorder off and then call back. I found out that Dennis was wired when I went over there one day and there was a police department radio and recorder right on top of the television in the living room. I knew then that Dennis had to be working undercover. And that was it. I never brought it up with him until after the arrests came down in the precinct.
    â€œThe day after they grabbed the guys from Anticrime I went into the Seven-Five and a couple of guys came up to me. They asked, ‘What’s the story with your brother-in-law? What’s the matter with him? How come they picked up Dennis and his partner last night and only Dennis’s partner is locked up.’ I said, ‘I don’t know anything.’ I couldn’t say anything because I knew they’d kill Dennis. So I just kept my mouth shut. But later I called Dennis and asked him what the story was. He told me he was working undercover for Internal Affairs and the special prosecutor’s office. He and his partners were hitting drug locations, robbing the dealers and then splitting up the money and the drugs. Dennis was turning the drugs back in. That was his job. He was undercover. I said, ‘Okay.’ and hung up the phone. But things weren’t okay. I felt about him the same way people feel about me. Cops don’t turn in other cops. Rats turn in cops.
    â€œThe cops in the Seven-Five were thieves. They were doing the same thing that was going on in the Seven-Seven. Hit the place, take the money, take the drugs, sell the drugs, sell the guns. Same exact thing. I should have known, really, what was going on. They would go in and hit a place and all the bad guys would run out the back door. I always thought it was kind of stupid that with four guys in an Anticrime car they never sent two of them to cover the back. All four went in the front door, and I’d be standing there watching these dealers flying out the back and escaping over a back fence or something. Sometimes I’d even chase them and come back and say, ‘I tried to catch that guy.’ And the cops were probably saying, ‘Whew, glad he didn’t catch him.’ Guys would just look at me. ‘Okay, all right. Nice job,