I had not thought to collect additional video today, but I watched Count take an abnormal route out of the parking lot. Abruptly, I ended a parking-lot conversation with a co-worker and jumped into my car. Count went south and took Warlick toward the Homestead Expressway, highway 77. I followed from a distance.
Count appeared to be taking the long route to his destination, and then I inadvertently discovered why. I approached too closely and discovered that he was on his cell phone, I assumed taking directions. Later, I will wonder if I can use phone records against him as well.
Why do I sound like I am beginning to enjoy this? Snitching for money is still snitching. And I am collecting evidence to snitch on a fellow Marine. That does not sound very Marine-like. In fact, it is damn near conduct unbecoming. I should go and have my ass kicked.
Count wound up getting off at the Van Dorn exit heading west. He stayed on it until it turned to gravel. At this time of year, there were not too many leaves on the trees, but this area of the Lincoln outskirts has a great many pines. Visibility was not great. I stayed back and I lost him. I gave up the search and headed back north toward the interstate. It was then that I spotted Count’s vehicle in a curved driveway exiting onto both of the crossing gravel roads. I pulled over behind a stand of trees.
Walking down a path with my video camera, I settled into a small clearing. Zooming in as best I could, my lens and I watched as Count climbed into the back of a black Pontiac Trans-am. Anybody who is familiar with 70s Trans-ams knows that there can not possibly be enough room in the back of that car to do anything. With the windows rolled down, there was nothing to fog up. I walked as quietly as possible to get a closer vantage point, to a point where the audio of the event could be recorded.
“Lord use my tongue for worthwhile stuff, and nudge me when I’ve said enough.”
Count appeared to be taking the long route to his destination, and then I inadvertently discovered why. I approached too closely and discovered that he was on his cell phone, I assumed taking directions. Later, I will wonder if I can use phone records against him as well.
Why do I sound like I am beginning to enjoy this? Snitching for money is still snitching. And I am collecting evidence to snitch on a fellow Marine. That does not sound very Marine-like. In fact, it is damn near conduct unbecoming. I should go and have my ass kicked.
Count wound up getting off at the Van Dorn exit heading west. He stayed on it until it turned to gravel. At this time of year, there were not too many leaves on the trees, but this area of the Lincoln outskirts has a great many pines. Visibility was not great. I stayed back and I lost him. I gave up the search and headed back north toward the interstate. It was then that I spotted Count’s vehicle in a curved driveway exiting onto both of the crossing gravel roads. I pulled over behind a stand of trees.
Walking down a path with my video camera, I settled into a small clearing. Zooming in as best I could, my lens and I watched as Count climbed into the back of a black Pontiac Trans-am. Anybody who is familiar with 70s Trans-ams knows that there can not possibly be enough room in the back of that car to do anything. With the windows rolled down, there was nothing to fog up. I walked as quietly as possible to get a closer vantage point, to a point where the audio of the event could be recorded.
“Lord use my tongue for worthwhile stuff, and nudge me when I’ve said enough.”
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