If you get spotted by your suspect and your undercover operation is about to be blown don’t just turn your head and pretend you don’t see your suspect because that would be amateurish. Only a gay investigator would blow it like that.
Instead of going into denial, immediately make up an additional cover story as to why you were following your suspect. If you just stick your head in the sand you could get yourself or someone else injured. At the very least you totally blow your cover. A professional private Mossad agent for hire would never make the operational error of pretending a potentially blown cover does not exist.
Amateur private detective Paul “Columbo” Christiansen made this beginner mistake. That is exactly how I realized that I was in the middle of a clandestine operation with an undercover interviewer. It was operational error for the private detective to ignore me. Don’t make the same mistake in your undercover investigations.
Undercover Gay Investigator Paul “Columbo” Christiansen
Gay Investigator Paul Merritt Christiansen surreptitiously interviewed me at the Starbucks in Larchmont, California. It was January 21, 2014 and my euphoria was palpable. It was my tenth AA birthday. January 21, 2004 found me detoxing from alcohol at Milestones Ranch Malibu. My mother passed of breast cancer December 26, 2003 and my life had finally melted down. I left Tujunga and never looked back. Now I had just spent the last ten years working on my recovery from the disease of alcoholism. I even told Mr. Christiansen that while we were exchanging introductions.
I was so emotionally high that I barely listened to Christiansen’s non-sensical legal story as I thumbed through his legal pleadings. I figured I would actually devote brain power to taking in his story after his check cleared my bank. In those days I was was drafting legal pleadings for attorneys as an independent contractor to pay my meager rent and bills. Gay Investigator Paul Merritt Christiansen gave me a check for a whopping $250.00. He went his way and I went to my car to go home and read his package before I cashed his check. The meeting seemed a little queer but my life was like that in those days.
Watching the Detectives
Walking to my car and inserting my key into the lock I turned to my left at the sound of an approaching vehicle because Gower Street is residential and very narrow in that block behind Larchmont Blvd. I didn’t want to get hit by a car.
Behind the wheel of the approaching vehicle was undercover gay investigator Paul “Colombo” Christiansen. I waved to him and said “Hi Paul” in my notoriously loud voice. When he saw me he quickly turned his head the other way. He scowled and abruptly whipped his car hard left into the driveway right in front of me. I said hello again but he just backed out of his three-point turn really fast and sped off down the short block to where Gower t-bones into 1st Street. He pretended he didn’t see me in an almost comical Keystone Cops manner. Those are really small streets full of affluent shoppers parking in a residential neighborhood of million dollar homes. Christiansen was driving a little too fast for the conditions.
Suddenly my stomach dropped and my heart sped up. I drove the five blocks to my tiny single apartment pumped up on my adrenaline. When I read Christiansen’s legal documents I was in shock. They were gibberish. His appeal was bogus. Everything was a sham. I put his check and his papers into an envelope and drove to the post office.