Copyright Carl Battie March 2025

Thursday May 8th, 2014.  My day began as normal when Clipper woke me, licking my hand. Something he did every morning the moment he heard the cappuccino machine start up.   I looked at the clock, it’s three fifty-six.  The stillness and quiet of the early morning are something I have always enjoyed.  As I have got older, I have slowly become a creature of habit.  That first cup of coffee is so important, it sets the tone for the whole day.  I tap the bed; Clipper jumps up and lays next to me.  I give him a big hug and tell him what a good boy he is, he knows it’s coffee time, so we get up.  We make our way to the kitchen.  After turning off the alarm I then unlock the back door.  It leads out onto my back deck and the large garden.  Clipper shoots past me and disappears within seconds into the darkness.  Clipper is a dark tan nine-month-old Whippet, he’s still a puppy but as smart as any other dog I have ever owned.  I return to the bathroom, after my shower I put on my house clothes, navy blue silk trousers with a dark blue tea shirt.  As I walk back into the kitchen I can see and smell my first cup of coffee. A double shot vanilla cappuccino. No other coffee throughout the day will taste as good as this one.  After grabbing six ginger nut cookies from the jar, I make my way out onto the deck. Clipper is already sitting on the sofa waiting for me, he knows the routine, three of those cookies are his. This is our time just the two of us, no interruptions, no telephones ringing, no emails bleeping.  Clipper watches as I dunk my ginger nut cookies into my  coffee, each time I finish one I pass one to him.  Little did I know that this would be the very last time we would enjoy this routine.  Today was going to be full of “First and Last”.  This would also be the last time I ever saw Clipper.  I had no idea I was ninety minutes away from total chaos.   I left Clipper on the sofa and made my way into the front garden.   I had a sprinkler system but most mornings I would water the garden myself.  I really enjoyed taking care of it, even the weeds.  It had taken me four years to get the front garden to this stage.  

At six AM on the dot all hell broke loose.  It sounded like the start of a Nascar race.  Car engines screaming, wheels spinning as they were trying to come to a halt.   There was also the unmistakable sound of helicopter blades    hovering above.   I had my back to the road facing the front of the house as this was all unfolding.   I was quickly brought back from the shock of what I was hearing.  A woman's voice was coming up behind me fast. She was shouting “drop the hose and put your hands where I can see them”.  By the time she was halfway through saying it the second time she was close enough for me to be able to smell her perfume. I remember thinking how pleased I was that I had not been the poor bugger who had sat next to her in the car.  Like most cheap perfumes, it was totally overpowering.  I could now see a line of eight agents all wearing dark blue flak jackets and caps with F B I in large yellow writing on them.  As they rushed past me, I could also see they were all heavily armed.  It was like something out of the movies.  My house was being attacked by storm troopers. All this for a fifty-six-year-old banker in poor health with no history of violence or gang connections.  The first three storm troopers made their way to the side gate that led to the rear of the property.  The remaining five rushed to the front door.  Thank God I always left the front door unlocked.  As they reached the door I watched as one of them stepped forward with one of those battering rams.  I shouted as loud as I could “the bloody doors, not locked, it’s open”.  The dickhead with the battering ram looked across at me with a very disappointed look on his face. He wasn't going to get to smash anything this morning.  “You're not in charge here we are” the woman behind me streamed.  I slowly dropped the hose and turned around to face who had been making all this noise.  I never did put my hands up.   I had to smile.  She was at most five foot six, a bottle blond and a tad overweight.  Standing a few feet away from me with her feet apart, arms out in front of her pointing a 9mm at my chest.  She began shouting again “You’re not in charge here, we are, so start doing what I tell you”  I made eye contact then said “Listen lady your no more than four feet away why the hell are you screaming at me, and can you please put that dam gun down before you trip or something and shoot me”  It was at this point that I noticed not one but two chopper’s hovering above me.  One from a local news station, the other national.    She, like the others, was playing to the cameras.    “It’s not going to look good if you shoot me on live TV” I said.   I could see she was getting frustrated; this was not what she was expecting.  “You’re not listening to me” was the best she could come up with.    “Lady, you’re the one with the gun, who else would I listen too” I replied.  She was just about to say something when I saw her look to her left.  I saw his shadow just as he arrived and stood next to Blonde.   “I’m the Special Agent in charge of this operation” he said with a smug grin on his face.  “Very impressive you must be very pleased with yourself” I replied as I looked him up and down.  He was a little shorter than me, maybe six two, slim but not skinny, short dark hair well groomed.  He was wearing one of those dark blue suits you see in all those FBI TV shows.   They must be the only men in the world who believe they're fashionable.   He leant over and whispered something to Blondie who was still pointing that dam gun at me.   It was obvious they were both playing to the “eyes in the sky”, “Why don’t you point that gun somewhere else before you shoot me by accident, where the hell am I going, you have both ends of the road sealed off, I’m a fifty-six-year-old banker not some bad ass cartel boss”.    Blonde looked shocked she still didn’t have control of me, not good in front of her boss.  She reverted to her stock reply, “you're not in charge here” I jumped back in  before she could say anything else.  “Lady, you need another line that one’s getting old”.    The Special Agent who had not given his name when he introduced himself could see she was embarrassed and losing control of the  situation, had decided to come to her aid.   He looked at the gun and nodded, she slowly put her gun into the  holster on her hip. He looked at me with that smug grin “Once my agents have cleared the house, we will bring you in” he said as he was walking back to the house, my home had become the “house”, there was something in his tone that let me know it was no longer my home.   

I decided I had pushed my luck far enough so said nothing in reply.  I watched him, he needed a name, and he wasn’t going to give me his, I would have to give him one of my own. That was easy.  “Eliot Ness” would do the trick.  As he reached the front steps, I could hear both the choppers moving away.  I turned to see what was     going on.  A procession of large vans was slowly making their way towards the house, the first two were dark blue with large yellow letters on the side.  FBI Evidence Unit.  There were two more vans behind them.  From local tv news stations.  The FBI vans drove up to the front of the house, the TV news vans stopped about fifty yards before the drive to the house.  This was turning into a real production, and I was the star of the show. My neighbours must be loving this. No sooner had the first FBI van stopped when the back doors flew open.  It seemed like a never-ending stream of new agents filed out, all making their way up to the house.  The last two were carrying containers filled with clear evidence bags and flat pack boxes. This lot were here to tear the place to pieces.  It was obvious this was going to take some time.  I really didn’t want to have to stand in my front garden for however long they were going to take.  It was time to work on Blonde again.   A few feet away from where we were standing stood two wooden benches.  I had built them between two large rose beds.  I looked at her and said, “this is going to take a while, can we please sit on those benches, I really can’t stand much longer and it’s not going to look good if I collapse in a big heap in front of you while on national TV”.   Blonde took a few seconds to think it over then without saying a word pointed to the bench on the left.    I smiled, said “thank you” then slowly made my way to the bench.  She followed me standing behind the other bench but didn’t sit down.  A few seconds later Ness came out of the house followed by a man I had not noticed before just behind him. Unlike the others he was wearing a suit that had seen better days, he was probably thirty pounds overweight at least ten years older than Ness.   They took a few steps away from the house before the other man started talking.  He seemed very pleased with himself.  As he finished talking both men turned to look at me, both smiling.   My lawyers had warned me about the psychological mind games the Feds are famous for.  Half had advised me to say nothing except “I want my lawyer” at which time they had to stop talking to me.  The other half thought it might be a good idea to play along for a while without saying anything in the hope of     finding out how much they knew.   They had made it clear that I was not to lie to them, it’s an offence to lie to a federal officer.  Really, I think at this stage that had to be the least of my concerns.   I had made my mind up, I was going to play along for a while, not in the hope of finding out anything.  I wanted to get a handle on who I was up against.  

Thirty years of doing what I had been doing had turned me into a student of human behaviour.  Reading people had become second nature to me, it was something I did without thinking.   The other man who I later found out was the boss of the evidence team turned and disappeared into the house.  Ness made a short call on his cell phone before making his way over to Blonde and I. “We think it would be better if the evidence team starts      loading the items that we are interested in before bringing you in,” he said all of this without ever looking at me.  “You have a warrant for all this” I asked “of course” he replied again without looking at me.   “Can I see it?” I asked.  “You’ll get a copy when we are finished “he said with that smug grin of his as he turned and looked at me.   Without another word he began walking back towards the house.  Instead of going into the house he       positioned himself halfway between the house and the vans parked on the road.   Then the show began, one by one the members of the evidence team came filing out of the house.  It was like watching a military parade.  Each one   carrying a small box with one or two clear evidence bags.   The gaps between each agent were about six feet or so.  I could see the bags were holding cell phones, external drives and tablets.  These were followed by larger boxes with my Apple desktop computers.  The last few brought out the paper files.

This took about twenty minutes.  All done for the TV news cameras.  As the last agent returned to the house Ness made a call, it didn’t last long but the smile on his face as he hung up told me this wasn't going to be good for me.    A few seconds later he removed his gun.   At the same time two of the heavily armed agents, I had seen running towards the house earlier came walking out the house with their weapons held across their chest.  They made their ways towards the evidence van.  Taking up positions at either end of the van.   I smiled.  I now knew what was about to happen.  I looked up at Blonde and with as much humour in my voice as I could muster and said, “Old Eliot Ness over there takes his job very seriously, this is a big production for a fifty-six-year-old banker with a heart condition” She seemed to relax and had a real cute smile on her face.  “He’s from the Dallas Texas office, they're all like that from what I have seen.  We're just assisting with the serving of the warrant”.  “Well, it looks like to me this is the most fun he’s had in years with or without his clothes on” She could not help but laugh but quickly put her hand over her mouth.  The penny dropped. I now remembered seeing him before, about a year ago.  I had been subpoenaed to do a deposition at the office of the S.E.C (Security Exchange Commission) in Fort Worth Texas.  It took all day and he and another man had popped in a few times during the day, never staying long.  Each time he left he passed a note to the lead investigator without saying a word.  The real games were about to begin.  The bravado I had shown up to now was all down to nerves.  I was in no way confident; never mind overconfident about the situation I found myself in.  It would be difficult to put into words just how frightened I really was.  I was at best holding my composure.   Blonde was right. I was not in charge, nor would I ever be.  I was being forced to play their game with their rules with my freedom as the main prize.  All I could do now was play their game to the best of my ability and hope for the best.   Ness raised his hand, and the procession began.  Each agent held a small box with a clear evidence bag that had banknotes in it.  The bags were at best half full.  They were going to milk this for all it was worth.  When the show was finally over, somewhere around ten minutes I would guess, all the agents returned to the house.   A few minutes later Ness appeared at the front door and signalled for Blonde to bring me in.  Later that day I got to see Ness giving a press conference in which he took great pride informing them that his team had found several hidden safes and recovered more than four million in cash as well as many other valuables. 

 My lawyers had told me on several occasions there’s a reason the FEDs are known in legal circles as the “Fibbies”.  They would never let the truth get in the way of a good story.  The truth in this case was, all four of the safes were in plain sight and none were locked. To say it felt weird being escorted back into my own home knowing it was full of law enforcement officers doing God knows what damage, all in the name of justice is an understatement.  The first thing that struck me was there was no one in sight.  All the doors were closed,    something I never did, and it was silent.   Maybe it's just one of their psychological ploys to put me off balance.  Maybe they don't like outsiders and that's what I now felt like watching them doing their dirty deeds.  It could be their way of letting me know I was at their mercy. I had no control of this situation whatsoever.   Whatever the reason it was having the desired effect.  I was nothing in my own home.  Ness led the way through the living room then into what I called the green room.  The room was at the rear of the property with two large patio doors that opened onto the back deck, with uninterrupted views of the garden.  The walls were painted in a light lime green.  Against the side wall was a light tan two-seater sofa, a large wooden coffee table sat in front of it.  The wall opposite was home to my large flat screen TV.  This was where I would watch my beloved Spurs play and keep up with all the football news from England.   Today the patio doors were closed, and the blinds drawn.  Ness had set the room up before calling me in. The coffee table was covered with a stack of files along with a jug of water and three classes.  Ness pointed to the left-hand side of the sofa, so I sat down. He nodded at Blonde to sit on the right of me.  She sat down but was clearly not comfortable being so close to me.  She quickly moved over and sat on the arm of the sofa leaning against the wall for support.  Ness, who was still standing, started to text something on his phone.  Within seconds the noise level rose. I could now hear voices, doors opening and people walking about.  This scene was all very Deja-vu.  Over the last three years I had done enough depositions, their sense of superiority, the stacks of files were there to give the impression they had everything they needed to lock you up and throw away the key.  They loved the drama.  My lawyers had told me most of the files were dummies, all for show.  As I sat waiting for Ness to begin his games I was under no illusions as to what I was up against.  Ness finally put his phone down, pulled up a dining room chair he must have brought in from the kitchen.  As soon as Ness sat down, I could see Blonde’s        reflection on the flat screen TV.  She already looked bored.  I got the feeling from her body language that she was not too keen on him.  It was now time for me to test the water.  “Before you start your interrogation can I see the warrant that allowed you to do all this Mr Special Agent?”  Blonde didn’t look up; she didn’t need to. I could see the smile on her face.  Ness made a real production of removing a warrant from one of the files and holding it up but made no attempt to pass it across to me.  I lifted my hand and asked “can I see it please” knowing full well there was no chance of that happening.  “I’ll give you a copy when we are done here” was his reply as he placed the warrant back into the file from which it had come.  Ok let’s see if he is going to lie to me to keep me talking. “Am I under arrest?”   This was the big one.  Without missing a beat, he replied “That will all depend on how you answer my questions and whether I believe you are telling me the truth.” Blonde’s head shot up like someone who had been woken up by a loud sound.  The look she gave him was one of total disbelief.   His reaction to her and the look he gave her said it all.  His face had turned a light shade of red.  It took him a few seconds to regain his composure. He used his index finger to tap on one of the stacks of files “Everything I need is in here, I have more than enough to ask the prosecutor to issue an indictment”.  This was said with that smugness that was becoming  annoying.  He continued “I'm sure your expensive lawyers have already informed you that it's an offence to lie to a Federal Officer when asked a direct question”. “Really, from where I’m sitting, lying to you seems like the least of my problems, after all everything you need is in those files Mr Special Agent” Blonde now had a full-blown grin on her face and seemed a little more interested in what was going down.   I was never going to allow Ness to have it all his own way.   I knew I had no chance of winning the game he was playing but I was    going to make him work hard for the points he was trying to score.  He was trying to get me to start second  guessing myself.  How much do they really know?   How long have they been watching me?   Ness began slowly asking very simple personal   questions.  He had me confirming dates and places.  They want you to get used to answering their questions.  Next came a photo line up, he placed a dozen face shots on the coffee table, four rows of three.  “As I point to each photo, I would like you to tell me their names and your relationship or association with them?”   

 I was able to name six, two I knew but couldn't remember their names.  The other four I had never met and had no idea who they were.  He then removed many documents from a box I had not noticed under the coffee table.  From the look on his face this is what he had been leading up to.  This was the trap door; I had to be careful.   After he had described each document, the questions were always the same.  Do you remember this            transaction?  Is this your  signature?  On all but five which he separated from the others I said yes.  It was obvious those five  documents had been signed by someone else. They had all been signed by the same person, just not me. I had to work very hard to keep my composure.  I was one hundred percent certain I knew who had signed them, I felt  betrayed, something I was going to get used to over the next eighteen months.   When Ness asked me “who else I allowed to sign documents on my behalf” I answered without lying “I don’t trust anyone enough to ever allow that”.  Without  saying a word Ness tried staring me out, this went on for at least a minute maybe longer.  I kept eye contact without blinking until he finally looked down at the documents.   He put the five files into a folder then returned to the files he had already asked me about.  This time concentrating on the files I had agreed to signing but didn’t remember the transaction.  He used the same three questions?  “Tell me about this deal?”.  “How did you know about this property?”.  “Who else was involved in this deal?”.  My replies were always the same.  “Without seeing the whole file, I would be guessing” I was setting him up, his frustration at my answers finally got the better of him.  “Why don’t you take a guess, if you start talking maybe something will come back to you” He was pushing too hard.  Time to make blonde smile again.   Keeping a straight face, I said, “I’m not sure that's a good idea, after all I wouldn’t want you to think I was lying to you and have you arrest me” It worked, she smiled, and he knew he had been played.  Before he could say anything there was a loud knock on the door. Without waiting for a reply, the door opened.  The evidence team leader took a step into the room “the local Sheriffs getting restless. He wants to know if you're finished with the prisoner.  His shift finishes in an hour, and he needs to be back at the county jail to book out”. Ness did not look best pleased with this interruption.  His game was over. I now knew I was under arrest.  Smiling, I said my final remark to him: "It seems I was under arrest."  If I’m now going to jail, can I at least get changed into my jeans and sweatshirt.  I’ve played nicely and tried to answer all your questions, without asking for my lawyer and you reading me my rights” Blonde made no effort to hide the smile on her face.  Five minutes later I was sitting in the back of the local Sheriff's car.   Another first, my hands were cuffed behind my back, something I was going to get used to. Ness stood by the open door looking down at me.  The sheriff was obviously getting impatient.  The engine was racing, and he had both hands on the wheel.  Ness made sure I was looking at him when he said, “Carl, I want you to know I have a lot of respect for you, not many people your age would have held so well, you're a fighter”.   With that said the door shut and the car began to pull down the drive. It took all my strength not to look back at the house.  I didn’t want my last memory of my home to be from the back seat of a police car.  As for Ness’s       remarks I had no intention of wasting any time trying to work out what psychological games he was playing. This was the first of many battles in what I was sure would be a long and bruising war. 

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Copywrite Carl Battie March 2025