Kingpin: The one who got away.

By Chanuga Rollins

 

Let me start off by saying that I’m a bum, know, an extraordinarily lazy bum, and a certified porch monkey, and always have been. I’m also a high school dropout, actually, the 9^th grade was officially my last time in school, and although they bumped me up to high school I never showed up to class. 

Life for me was out on the street, one of my first crimes was bringing in and selling liquor. We used to go down to Maryland where the sales tax was a lot cheaper than in New Jersey and resell it, I was 17 at the time. A guy by the name of “Bang Bang” was our main buyer, one day he advised me that if I was going to be in crime I needed a front like some sort of shitty job.   

I still remember the first time I put on a security guard uniform, in all honestly I felt like an asshole.  The company was called Globe, and they sent me out to work the night shift at a National Guard facility in one of the nearby townships. The work was easy, in fact, a monkey could have done this job. The hardest part was staying awake.

The only inconvenience was that every hour I had to make rounds outside the perimeter of the building, it was winter, and it was freezing out. On my first round, I spotted some cases of guns, they were in a small fenced-in area, there were about eight cases of them, and all were 45 caliber.  It took me a few days to figure out how to swipe them without getting caught.

On the third day working for Globe, I figured out that there were no alarms or cameras, I know this because I tossed a 2x4 over the fence to see what would happen, but nothing did. Unfortunately, although I had a big ring of keys none fit the gate, so I had to climb over the fence which sucked.  I managed to get one case over, I didn’t realize just how heavy eight guns to a case can be, in all I took three cases before calling it quits.

I would have taken them all, but dawn was fast approaching, and these military tight-asses would be coming into work soon. I loaded the three cases of guns into the trunk of my car and went back in to clean up, the three cases were dusty. Right at 5am the first one showed up, I didn’t know his rank but judging by all the gold shit on the brim of his hat I assumed that he was high up. I said good morning, but the old prick ignored me, but the thought of the three cases of guns in the trunk of my car made me smile. I held on to the guns for about six months before I sold them to a neighbor, who was a mob associate that I was friendly with for about a hundred a piece, I made $2400, not a bad buck in 1975.  

I never did work at that National Guard place again, I guess that old prick didn’t like my looks or something, but Globe didn’t fire me instead they sent me to another money-making location. And I never did get caught for taking them guns.

My next assignment was a motor vehicle facility in downtown Trenton, another midnight shift, but it didn’t’ take me long to find the blank drivers licenses and registrations. By this time, I made friends with a biker who lived around the corner from my house, he was a member of a one percenter motorcycle club, a fairly big one. One day while watching him work on his bike I happened to mention these driver's licenses and registrations, and a huge smile came over his face.

He was willing to pay me thirty dollars for a pair, consisting of one driver’s license and one registration, in six months I made around 30.000 dollars and again I never got caught. One night I did however fuck it all up, a female state employee was giving me a blowjob when the second shift supervisor showed up and I wasn’t at the front desk. He came back for his briefcase that he forgot, I was only in the room next door when I heard knocking. That pissed me off, so I slapped the old bastard right in the lobby of motor vehicles and Globe security fired me the next day.

If you were lazy and I certainly was, being a security guard was a great way to make a living if you used your imagination. My next security job was with Capitol Security, the company was owned by an ex-Trenton cop. The job itself paid shit, I think it paid $2.50 an hour hardly a living wage, but this was in the 1970s. So, I  didn’t feel guilty supplementing my income, later I found out that this ex-cop was as crooked as they come in his business practices.  

Capitol Security sent me to work in a closed-down factory, so after a week of getting the feel for the place, I let my mob associate neighbor have card and crap games there. It was perfect, the whole place had a huge fence around it eliminating the chances of being held up. If your name wasn’t on the list I didn’t let you in it was that simple. Some nights there would be a hundred guys in the building gambling, we didn’t even have to find tables or chairs we took them from a nearby conference room. I took in about $200 a night and we ran games 4 to 5 nights a week, but after seven months the building was sold, and Capitol Security lost the contract.

That security company sent me to another closed-down factory, it was called Stangl Pottery, that shit goes for big bucks on the internet today, but back in the 70s, it was almost worthless. I made some money reselling whatever pottery I could, but I wasn’t making anywhere near what I was. We couldn’t start the games back up because this place was in the ghetto, and it was too dangerous for the players to come there, but after a week I got fired for leaving my post.

My next security job was with a company called Burns, this company had me work in two locations, one was in Flemington, NJ at the Lipton Tea plant, and the other was Johnson & Johnson in Skillman, NJ,  and I made money from both.

At Lipton Tea because I worked the night shift and was the only one in the building, from day one I loaded up my car with iced tea mix and sold the cases to a store in my neighborhood.

The same with Johnson & Johnson, I stole mostly diapers, they were huge sellers, and again I was bringing home two grand a week I just turned 19.

At my mob associate neighbor's advice, I started loaning out money, although I didn’t like this much. Eventually, I stopped doing it, too many degenerates to deal with and chase down, I hated that, and I was never a tough guy.

But I did find many other money-making opportunities, one weekend I brought a date to the local church carnival, and they were selling raffle tickets for a buck a pop, the line was a mile long.

This gave me an idea, why not sell phony raffle tickets all year long, so I got a phone book and picked a church way down in South Jersey, I made the prize 5000 dollars then went to a friend of mine whose father was a printer. I had about 30,000 tickets printed, it cost me ten bucks. It would have taken me god knows how long to sell all them tickets on my own, so I wholesaled them out, twenty tickets a book for ten bucks. Within just a few months I made give or take around fifteen grand, not bad for a ten-dollar investment.   

My next scum paid much more and a lot faster, the same printer printed me hundreds of invoices, so with a typewriter I just had to fill them in and send them to small and medium-sized companies around the country for services rendered. This was before computers and if you kept the amount below say 300 dollars most of the time they just sent you a check. The store owner who bought the iced tea from me and for a cut cashed those checks for me.

  By now I rented a small first-floor apartment, I didn’t live there, it was just my headquarters/warehouse for stolen goods and a mailing address. I never brought anyone to my apartment, I have many friends and associates, but I didn’t trust many of them. I know that this sounds harsh, but most of them were just like me, you can’t trust people like me we’re criminals. Besides, when people get busted and face a long sentence they will trade what they know about you for a lighter sentence, that’s just a fact, I operated alone, I prefer it that way, if I needed muscle I knew where to find it.

One day the security director at Johson & Johnson was talking shit to me so I told him to fuck himself, of course, he called Burns Security and got me replaced. Then a week later Burns Security lost the contract at Lipton Tea, and the company decided to shut down their Flemington operations, this sucked for me financially, but I knew that I would survive.

By now it was the 1980s and things were changing, my friends were rapidly going into drugs, cocaine especially, I was never interested in the drug trade, you had to deal with way too many personalities, and I hated that.

 I have always avoided the mob, I didn’t like being told what to do by some egotistical psycho, so I did all I could to stay away from them, and then it happened. My mob-associated neighbor and friend was murdered, his body was found in the trunk of  his car. Because of the circumstances, I didn’t attend his viewing or funeral, I knew that law enforcement would be monitoring everyone coming and going so I stayed away.   

I didn’t know how I felt about his murder, in hindsight it was none of my business he was a big boy he knew what he was getting into. But after his death, I decided to go straight, this criminal shit was starting to get weird, all over New York, New Jersey, and Philadelphia, mob guys were being murdered left and right, so I started to look for a legitimate job.

 

Sometime later I got a job with American Standard, a factory job. After about a week I wished that they found me in the trunk of a car, I fucking hated it, hot as fuck, and the employees were kind of strange, they were like mutants. But I stuck it out four years, but on my anniversary date I got fired, I got blamed for something that I didn’t do, and because I was a loner and not very popular I was expendable, but I didn’t give a shit it was summer.

So, with no job and a nice hefty stack of cash stashed away, I planned on taking some time off and just relaxing, I deserved it. Hanging out with my friends most of which also didn’t work… We started hitting the clubs at night, disco was the rage, I hated disco!

I was never showy, I learned a long time ago not to flaunt, most of my friends unfortunately never learned that. Many of them didn’t have jobs, they dealt drugs, but they also went out and bought Cadillacs, Lincolns, etc. They also bought the best clothes and wore expensive gold rings and chains, to me this kind of behavior was stupid, they liked people knowing that they were involved in criminal activity. I never wore gold, nor did I dress fancy, I dressed nice but very simply, sports jacket, jeans, and a t-shirt, and my car was a 1971 Chrisler Imperial nothing fancy. Spending money when you don’t have a job will do nothing but get you busted.

After a year of lying idle, a girl I was dating suggested getting a job with the state, she mentioned a security guard position to me. 

I was very leery of working for the state, not only were the security guards under the direction of the New Jersey State Police but state employees were some of the weirdest fucking people on the planet.

Getting a position with the state proved to be a little more complicated than I anticipated and a few times I almost called it quits, for openers the job didn’t pay all that great for all the trouble that I had to go through.

After some phone calls, I finally found out where to go and pick up an application. I filled it out and turned it in, the lieutenant who does the hiring wasn’t available, but they said that he would be in touch. Several months went by and nothing, I did however have this guy’s card.

 I’m a very aggressive guy when I want something, so I started calling this lieutenant, relentlessly. I called him two to three times a week, he was always in meetings, or some other shit, and he never returned my calls. This security job became an obsession for me, so I increased my calls to once a day, then after eight fucking months one day he was finally there, and I got to talk to him. He said that I was a persistent bastard and scheduled an interview with me for the following week.

I showed up to the interview in a suit and tie and all went well, I was fingerprinted and told that they would get back to me with a starting date. Again, it took another couple of months, my stash of cash was running low then one day I got the call. I was scheduled to pick up my uniform the next day, and then report for orientation two days later.

Orientation was held at the state police headquarters in West Trenton, I never saw so many state police in my life, it was a whirlwind of blue uniforms and yellow stripes. The orientation lasted most of the day and being that I was on the clock when it was over they sent me back to the state house to begin training. My sergeant at the time welcomed me and another guy to the state house. He said that only the elite of guards got sent here, I looked the other guard up and down, he must have weighed three hundred pounds at least.

I don’t know what the state police considered elite, but it wasn’t these fucking guards. Everyone that I met for the remainder of that day was more fucked up than the last one, I was no prize, but most of these guards were the underbelly of society.

Over the next few months, I filled in for any guard that called off on the “State House Complex.” The complex consisted of six buildings with a total guard force of 70 to 80 guards, except for maybe three or four of them, the security force was useless and not worth what they were getting paid. The guards on the complex were more worried about food and other trivial things than their actual jobs.

The security force was bad, and I mean really bad, many of the guards could barely read or write, and many of the black guards who numbered more than half didn’t even know their zip or area codes. Many of them were obese and out of shape, then one day I found out something that explained a lot to me, about 80% of the guards were the relatives of the state police and other state employees.

Everything I heard about working for the state was true, many of its employees I believe are retarded including the guards. My first brush with them came when I was assigned to be a rover for the day, just like it sounds you wander around the building it’s about being seen so that the state employees feel safe. So, one day I’m roving, and I said good morning to this lesbian/man-looking woman and this bitch filed a sexual harassment charge against me.

I got out of it, but this is how many of the state employees are, their fucking nuts. So, from then on out I pretty much stayed to myself, which of course caused controversy among many of the guards, they started calling me Mr. Big Shot. Another thing I hated about them, was these fucking guards were always collecting for someone’s birthday or some other shit, and most of the time the person that they were collecting for was always black, they didn’t like that I refused to kick in.

After about a year of putting up with these retarded fucking guards something amazing happened to me that would change my life.

One night after working a 3 to 11 shift, I was driving around Chambersburg (the once Italian section of the city) looking for an open pizza place when all of a sudden this guy came running out of an alley and ran into my car. He was being chased by these three psychos with baseball bats. I unlocked my door allowing him to get in and we took off with these tree assholes chasing us.

What the fuck was that all that about I asked? This guy was Hispanic and still shaken up, I figured him to be in his late 20s or thereabouts. He spoke broken English but apparently, he was seeing this Italian girl and her brother, and his friends didn’t like it, so they wanted to redecorate his face. I asked him where he would like me to drop him off, but he insisted that I have a drink with him. He brought me to Center Street to a Hispanic bar in South Trenton.

His name was Jose Diaz and originally he was from Colombia, we hit it off immediately, and he introduced me to so many people in the bar that I began to lose track of who was who. By 2am I was wiped, I hadn’t bought a drink all night, it was all on Jose and his family and friends. We shook hands, I gave him my pager number and I made my way out of the bar. Outside, one of his uncles stopped me and thanked me personally for helping his nephew, this is my bar, and you always have a home here, stop by anytime he said. I had a 7am shift in just a few hours I needed to get some sleep.

I didn’t think about Jose Diaz for a good week until I got a page from him, he wanted to meet. I was doing a 3pm to 11pm shift again and agreed to meet him at his uncle’s bar when I got off. I got to the bar at about 11:30pm, Jose had food waiting for me, all kinds of Hispanic food, I ate stuff that I couldn’t even pronounce, and I loved it. When we were finished eating Jose and I had a drink or two in his uncle’s office.

Soon our conversation turned to business and making money, it turns out that Jose wanted to go into the cocaine business and needed a partner to handle distribution. I told him about my feelings towards drugs and he completely understood, but he also explained that people were going to buy them, whether from us or someone else. I told him that I would sleep on it and that he would have my answer by the end of the week, I said good night, thanked his family for the magnificent food, and went home.

When I woke up I still didn’t know how I felt about selling drugs, working with the state police never influenced my decision one way or the other. To be frank, the state police treated the guards like shit unless you were related or a brown-nosing kiss-ass, but still, they had no respect for us, but to be fair many of the guards brought that feeling onto themselves because like I said many of them were fucking idiots.

After a few days of thinking about it, I decided to do, it fuck it! There were about five state employees that I was friendly with and who I semi-trusted, and they often discussed wanting to make money. So, I set up a meeting with Jose for later that week to discuss our new venture.

Although not connected to any of the cartels, Jose’s family has been in the cocaine business for a very long time but not selling it, just growing it back in Colombia. And because of this he could get a kilo of pure coke for 10,000 dollars, we were going to make a lot of money together. Jose and I spent the rest of that night setting up our price structure and developing a business plan. The best thing was, that this wasn’t going to cost me anything up front, and Jose and I would be partners and split everything right down the middle, he still felt that he owed me for saving his life.

I approached my five state workers, to be honest, I thought that it was going to be a harder sale, but all five agreed to it immediately. All five of these guys worked on the state house complex but in separate buildings, which worked out for me, I also always spoke to them one-on-one, and never with witnesses around.   

A little less than a month later Jose and I were cutting up a kilo of cocaine, dividing it into ounces, Jose was the supplier, and my job was distribution. Because we got the cocaine so cheap I decided not to cut it, my plan was to wholesale the C to the five state employees, if they chose to cut it that was up to them. If everything went ok Jose and I would be splitting a profit of 43,000 dollars per kilo.

I  gave one ounce each to my five state employees to sell, I wanted to see if I could trust them, and I wanted to see if they had any business sense. I advised each one of them to cut their Oz with one ounce of baking soda but no more, don’t get greedy. I didn’t care how they sold the coke, 8-balls, ten, twenty, dollar bags, I didn’t give a damn as long as they had $1500 each for me in one week.

Surprisingly, each state worker came through with flying colors, by week's end I had $7,500 in my hand. I gave each one another ounce to sell and split the money with Jose. In less than a month we sold the whole key, an added bonus, the five sellers had other people interested in selling also. I didn’t mind this, I just let them know that they were responsible for these other sellers and that I would only deal with the original five. Jose ordered another four kilos from his people in  Colombia.

For many reasons I decided to move out of Trenton, I got a beautiful condo in Evesham, NJ a small Southern New Jersey town about an hour from the city. Jose also bought himself a house in one of the townships outside of the city.

I finally bought a brand new car, but it was nothing fancy, but it was brand new, along with the car I also bought three new suits off the rack. I still don’t own any expensive jewelry. I tried really hard to just fit in and not be noticed by anyone. Instead of flashing my cash I preferred investing it, after a few months Jose and I bought a bar/restaurant in one of the townships near Trenton, we called it “Up’s” I know stupid fucking name, but Jose thought of it, right off the bat it started to make money so fuck it.

Ironically, the bar kind of turned into a cop hangout, and Jose turned out to be one hell of a cook. He worked in the restaurant so much it became his career, white people couldn’t get enough of “Up’s Hispanic cuisine, years later Jose was even featured in “Bon Appetit” magazine.

He and I together started buying real estate, at first shit-hole apartment buildings, we got them cheap. Jose had many family and friends who couldn’t work for one reason or another, but they knew roofing, carpentry, and landscaping. Later we bought a moving and storage company, but we also did estate cleanouts and sales, business was so good that we bought an old, abandoned supermarket and opened a huge thrift store, and money was pouring in.

Our drug business was running so smoothly that I gave everyone a yearly bonus. Actually, the only problems I had were with my fellow guards and some nasty, holier-than-thou, state troopers. Guards, mostly the females were constantly trying to jam me up, I hated fat women, I had no respect for them at all. So, a small group of these big bitches filed sexual harassment charges against me whenever they could get away with it, although nothing ever came of it. And as for the state troopers they were just difficult to get along with, out of the 60 assigned to the “State House Complex” I got along with maybe three. The problem was I didn’t jump up or fear them like many of the guards did, they just couldn’t relate to me, nor I to them.

My next investment was a deli right next to the State House complex, state workers, including the guards, were some of the fattest people I knew so it turned out to be an excellent investment, our sandwiches were huge. A friend of mine liked breaking into wholesale food businesses, he did this because most of the merchandise sold very quick and that meant no evidence, so I bought my meats from him at a huge discount.

By this time a couple of more years passed and I was seriously thinking about retiring while things were good. I was still in the state house complex then one day I was working with a trooper (one that I liked) when we saw this short state police sergeant get out of the car like he was some sort of black king. The trooper said to me that he knew this guy and that he was no fucking good. He also went on to say that this asshole tried to file a discrimination complaint against a black cop who gave him a traffic ticket.

This black sergeant got sent to the state house complex because he was becoming a liability on the highways, they knew that this little asshole was unstable, but they did nothing about it. The first thing this little nut job sergeant did was to go around to the different guard posts and harass the white guards. Several guards filed complaints against him, but the state police did nothing to him.

One day while working a post I said “shit” out loud, no one was around except another guard (a black one) and a young female state worker. It was no big deal until the black guard ratted me out to this little nut job sergeant, then he of course made it a big deal.

From then on this little asshole sergeant found fault in everything I did and kept giving me PN’s (performance notice) for petty shit like chewing gum while on duty or answering my cell phone. Here I was selling pounds of cocaine right under his fucking nose and I get written up for this stupid shit. Jose bless his soul, wanted him hit, he had some people who would be happy to do it, but I told him no, killing a cop even this little monkey would be bad for business. To this day I regret my no decision, we should have had him killed.

It was time to leave, I decided to quit my lame-ass state job after eighteen years, I sat down with Jose and told him my plans about getting out, surprisingly he agreed. By now Jose and I owned the restaurant, the moving company/thrift store, the deli, and several dozen apartment buildings. Jose and I were still going to be partners just not in the drug business. For all the petty shit this little black bastard sergeant went through to get me it never dawned on him to look where I lived, although I still own my condo (I rent it out) I bought a home in a gated community in Evesham, NJ in the neighborhood of $600.000, and paid cash. No way in hell could someone on a guard's salary afford that, but this ignorant little fuck never even checked, I even bought a brand new Cadillac Escalade, although I still drove my older car to work every day.

I always stayed in the shadows, but this little monkey sergeant was making that impossible, every day I was in and out of our captain’s office because this little asshole wrote me up for the silliest of things. So, one day I filed for stress leave, I had a doctor that I was friendly with, and he signed the necessary paperwork. There, of course, was nothing wrong with me, I just had to get my affairs in order, this was in October, and I already knew that I wasn’t coming back, so on my last day as a New Jersey state security guard I drove my Cadillac Escalade to work, I heard later that the little black bastard's mouth hung open when he saw my SUV but there wasn’t a fucking thing he could do.

I told my dealers goodbye and good luck I was done. From October to the end of December I collected worker's compensation and just relaxed. The whole time I was gone that little prick sergeant kept adding charges on me, I just sat back and laughed.

On January 2 two days before I was scheduled to return to work I faxed the state police my resignation and never looked back. Three years later when my pension kicked in I sold all of my businesses and properties to Jose, we are still best of friends, and he visits me often.

Eight years after I retired I sold my condo, and my Evesham home, I’m living at the Jersey shore now working out and enjoying my retirement with a net worth of well over 3.5 million dollars, not bad for a lazy high school dropout who many thought would go nowhere.

And as for that sergeant, they forced that little black bastard to retire, who knows maybe with some luck lighting will hit that little prick!

The end