It's mid day and I am being called out to the north side of Dublin by the Gardai. This is a fairly rare occurance since we are based on the opposite side of Dublin. It also means the situation is serious since the only reason I am here is to take it to the most secure impound lot at the time, which was in West Dublin. The sun was out, and even though it was a very cool November morning, it was a beautiful day.
I arrived to see 2 marked police cars and 4 armed Gardai - another rarity. The general police(Gardai) in Ireland are not armed. Only the special response units are.
"Can ya get this yoke out, so?", their leader asked me as I climbed down from the truck.
The van he motioned towards was parallel parked against a wall, blocked off front and back very closely by other vehicles. I had it out in minutes. This was also one of the rare occasions where the police gave me an escort back to the impound. The van was heavy. Obviously loaded down with a lot of cargo. Once back at the impound, I took one of my recovery tools, broke the lock on the rear door to the van, and saluted the Gardai and was about to return to my truck as I had several more calls lined up already.
"You're not curious what's inside of it?" I was asked by another Gard.
"I see a lot of vans and a lot of crazy stuff working with you guys. I'll take a gander at it when I return".
The Gard chuckled in amusement and opened the door as I turned away.
I spent the day filled with mundane tasks and recoveries, transferring a few cars from police stations to impound lots, etc. Shortly after dinner time I get a call from dispatch telling me the Gards need me urgently in some godforsaken field out in the middle of nowhere; which is to say the Bohernabreena road. I scarf down my stale Esso special breakfast roll and head out into the dark Irish night to find this:
Seems the Gards were a little too aggressive while chasing one of their boy-racer suspects. There it sits where I dropped it off at Clondalkin Station after having dragged it out of the ditch it had been wedged in to earlier that evening. The Gard got too close to his target, so when the kid slammed on his brakes, they both came together. However, instead of the police car taking damage as the kid had hoped, it turned out the fleeing motorist ended up performing a PIT maneuver on himself, sending both cars into a large culvert. No one was injured, and both cars look to be write-offs.
Being a Monday, it slowed down drastically as the evening went on. I was off in an hour, so I headed back to base as I know the dispatchers, if possible, will give you a call closer to home near the end of shift. Good lads they are. As I pull in to the impound I see quite a gathering of various official vehicles and questioned the dispatch on the radio what the hell happened.
"You're the one brought that van in! You should know!" is all I got back.
So I put the air brake on and hop out of the cab, lit a smoke, and headed around the corner towards the secure impound facility. There were no less than twenty official-looking individuals milling about, nearly silhouetted by the glow of the construction lights they've added to the usual impound lot lighting. Some have big professional-looking cameras, some with bunny suits on, and many with guns.
"HEY! You're back! Come have a look, then!" shouted a familiar Gard. So I walk past the wall of humans to see a wall of large evidence bags. These are about twice the size of your average paper grocery bag, and there were probably 30 of them all laid about on a big white tarp. In the middle of that tarp was a large mound of plastic-wrapped, brick-like objects.
"Cocaine and probably heroin...", the Gard nodded.
"And a LOT of weed by the smell off of those bags...", I said. The Gard nodded again and spoke very seriously, "We were hoping to catch the man hisself, but we just couldn't let this van sit any longer. We're still finding bits here and there hidden away inside the interior paneling. As she sits, that's easily a few million Euro right there."
I offered him a smoke, and he took it. I noticed Gordon step out from the office. The sight and smell of all that pot must have been driving him mad. I walked over to him, gave him a smoke, and said, "Looks like prices are about to go up some..." Gordon sighed.
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