Every Monster Leaves Teeth Marks. Some Go to the Bone.

I just came across a job ad for an ICAC digital forensic examiner. For minutes, I thought about applying. Talk about a strong pull the requirements had/have on me…

To be honest, I still think about constantly…I used to chase monsters like that job calls for, every day.

My work went far beyond Internet Crimes Against Children (ICAC). I ran cases on gun traffickers, drug smugglers, counterfeit networks, and human traffickers. The job pushed me across state lines and out of country, working undercover in places people frequent without having a clue of what is happening at the table next to them. I purchased a little girl, young enough to be my daughter at the time, from a predator. I seized a newborn in the delivery room to keep her away from people who should never have been parents. I’ve collected the ashes of an infant as evidence. Those moments stay with me more than any case file.

To build cases, I once traded a small fleet of RVs (and a Ford Cobra!) for truckload of cocaine. I flew on chartered jets, negotiated drug loads on a 110-foot yacht, and drove luxury cars I’d never otherwise touch. In a single year, I initiated three terrorism investigations. In one of my biggest international cases, my work developed probable cause against hundreds, leading to 81 indictments. I wore titles like SWAT team member, undercover operative, field training officer, task force officer, and officer-in-charge; roles that sound glamorous on paper but some demanded a lot.

 It felt like I was everywhere making cases. To be fair, I had some great supervisors who not only let me run everywhere with cases, but they gave me anything I needed. I once asked for $1,000,000* in flash money in a plane and got it without much more than ‘where do you need it?”. Things like that.

I chased monsters. I caught monsters. I testified against monsters.

Then I left..

Reflection

Looking back, I know I worked hard. Harder than most, and much harder than some*. But reflection is a cruel friend (like that friend Tinnitus that many shooters also have). I sometimes feel guilty that I didn’t work harder. Not because I was lazy because I wasn’t. But because with what I know now, I could have done things better. That hindsight, the “if only I knew then what I know now,” is a bastard.

This feeling doesn’t go away. Even today, when I see a violent or horrendous crime on the news, I feel guilty that I’m not there to do something about it. There was this one Sunday morning years ago, a friend called me to tell me about 4 police officers who were murdered while having coffee together. He called me because one of the officers had been on SWAT with us. That’s when I knew if he was killed, no one could have prevented it if he couldn’t. But I kept  thinking of any reason why I couldn’t have been there (I am right now, again). The coffee shop was only 20 minutes away from my home, and why couldn’t I have been there?

I know it’s impossible, I can’t be everywhere, and that chapter of my life is closed.

Am I the only one who’s done that job that feels this way?

For a career, I was many times able to be “there.”  I think this is the weight every effective investigator carries. Even if you do a lot, years later you still wish you had done more. And I barely kept up with the great investigators!

The Shift

I may never again sit across from a monster, but if I can put sharper tools, clearer vision, and a stronger spine into the hands of those who will, then every night, every regret, and every scar I carry will have been worth it.

So, I’ve accepted my role to have shifted. I write. I teach. I build frameworks and courses. I pour my reflexive guilt and hindsight into the next generation, so they have better chances, better tools, better methods. Sometimes, I figuratively hold the hands of investigators in their cases. They do the work and I give ideas and perspectives (and pressure) to do good cases.

Because if my days of hunting monsters are behind me, then my purpose now is to arm those who still do, and those who are working toward that role. Until what I know is no longer relevant, I share it all. I tried the corporate route. That’s not me.

My Message to monster hunters: ie, THE POINT OF ALL OF THIS

Do good work.

But know that one day you will reflect and wish you had done more, even if you did more than anyone thought possible. Disregarding relevant advice now stings later, let me tell you about it…the reflection never leaves. You can become 10x more effective having an open mind to listen and learn things you thought you knew.

With all of that, this book that I’m writing now is the most intensive writing I’ve ever done. That includes more search warrant affidavits and reports than I can remember .

I have no template to follow, no other DF/IR book as an example, all because there is no DF/IR book like it. That means the book will either be useless or really good. I think it will be the latter. It’s the book that I needed years ago. It’s the book that will give so many the edge and sharpen the skills in this work in both the criminal and civil world.

I could be wrong, but perhaps those who teach after turning in their gear do so with such life-and-death intensity because they know lives do depend on the lessons, training, and inspiration they share.

PS: The next time you sit across monsters, tell them Brett says hi.

*To be accurate, it was just shy of a million in cash. I note this only in case the poor DEA agent who had to photocopy the cash reads this and thinks I’m exaggerating.