There is a lesson for aspiring bandits in David Lee Barnes's alleged holiday crime spree: Courtesy pays.
When Barnes robbed a TCF bank inside a Cub Foods in December, his pitch was formal enough. Sure, there was the textbook "If you value your life, hurry up!" but the heart of the pitch (with gun drawn) was, "I'd like to make a withdrawal." He walked out with more than $4,000.
The meaner he got, the less money he got away with. At another Cub TCF he used "Give me all your $100s!" He got about $1,500.
By early January, he'd switched to "Only $50s and $100s, bitch!" He got just one of each and fled on foot.
Barnes only made headlines after he stabbed two Wal-Mart guards in a botched shoplifting spree. In his getaway car were two bouquets of fresh flowers.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Gargamel's Private stash
Crafty meth cooks have discovered a way around the 2005 bill that criminalized Sudafed and other cold medicines that actually work. It's called "smurfing."
It was simple, really. They started organizing road trips up and down I-90 and recruiting an army of buyers to pick up small quantities of drugs along the way. It was a tactic of money launderers first—the trick of disguising big money movements through a series of identical small deposits. Switch out "deposits" for "insufferable blue creatures from your childhood" to crack the code.
The media and investigators are on to this smurfing business—and the term is uttered often ("anti-smurfing" "smurfing epidemic"), most recently in a South Dakota newspaper report on the tri-state "pharmacy pipeline." Drug enforcement officials, the report says, are on the hunt for "a new generation of smurfers."
Papa Smurf couldn't be reached for comment. A spokesperson for Meth-Mouth Smurf denies any wrongdoing.
It was simple, really. They started organizing road trips up and down I-90 and recruiting an army of buyers to pick up small quantities of drugs along the way. It was a tactic of money launderers first—the trick of disguising big money movements through a series of identical small deposits. Switch out "deposits" for "insufferable blue creatures from your childhood" to crack the code.
The media and investigators are on to this smurfing business—and the term is uttered often ("anti-smurfing" "smurfing epidemic"), most recently in a South Dakota newspaper report on the tri-state "pharmacy pipeline." Drug enforcement officials, the report says, are on the hunt for "a new generation of smurfers."
Papa Smurf couldn't be reached for comment. A spokesperson for Meth-Mouth Smurf denies any wrongdoing.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Condom Nation
Civilization's first line of defense against a baby boom of college spawn is cheap contraceptives. It used to be that a sex-addled liberal arts student at the University of Minnesota could swing by the school's pharmacy and pick up a month of birth control pills for a 10-spot.
That was before the federal Deficit Reduction Act of 2006, which dropped campus health services from a list of providers entitled to drug discounts. When U of M pharmacist Steve Cain heard the news, he panicked and crunched some numbers. He looked at the expiration date on a popular birth control pill and projected how many packs he would go through before they went bad. He called up Ortho, the drug's manufacturer, and ordered enough to fill a closet.
The American College Health Association has appealed to the federal government for help—to no avail. "The relevant agencies are staffed by the current administration and they have no sympathy for issues like this," says Cain.
Time is running out. Cain's bargain contraceptives expire on August 1, after which pill prices will quadruple. Parents, when your kids head back to school in the fall, you might want to pack some condoms along with the chocolate chip cookies.
That was before the federal Deficit Reduction Act of 2006, which dropped campus health services from a list of providers entitled to drug discounts. When U of M pharmacist Steve Cain heard the news, he panicked and crunched some numbers. He looked at the expiration date on a popular birth control pill and projected how many packs he would go through before they went bad. He called up Ortho, the drug's manufacturer, and ordered enough to fill a closet.
The American College Health Association has appealed to the federal government for help—to no avail. "The relevant agencies are staffed by the current administration and they have no sympathy for issues like this," says Cain.
Time is running out. Cain's bargain contraceptives expire on August 1, after which pill prices will quadruple. Parents, when your kids head back to school in the fall, you might want to pack some condoms along with the chocolate chip cookies.
Reporter's Notebook: Abbas Mehdi
As St. Cloud State sociology professor Abbas Mehdi moved into his Green Zone office last year--the beginning of his six months of service in a cabinet-level position in the Iraqi Government, General David Petraeus and U.S. Ambassador Ryan Crocker were preparing for testimony before congress and a leaked U.S. Embassy report was bouncing around the internet, first obtained and published by The Nation.
Read the rest here.
Read the rest here.
Professor recalls "nightmare" corruption in Iraq
In Baghdad, four square miles called the "Green Zone" have been carved out and fortified with a winding concrete blast wall that protects the politicians, diplomats, contractors, and journalists inside. For just over a year, 57-year-old Abbas Mehdi, an Iraq native and a professor of sociology at St. Cloud State University, lived inside those walls, where he worked for the Iraqi government, first as a consultant for the reconstruction effort and eventually as a cabinet member, all while paying a mortgage on a modest one-story home in suburban Minnetonka.
Read the rest here.
Read the rest here.
Reporter's Notebook: Nothing but Trouble
The story of Brandon Flavin's adventures in real estate is complex and quite unusual. He is young like most of his associates--all of them under 30. And the Internet evidence of their business and lifestyle pursuits is rich.
When we first started reporting the story, we quickly came upon a yacht for sale on Craig's List. Flavin listed his name and number in the ad. We looked into it a little further and learned the yacht was called the "Nothin' But Trouble" and its registered port of call was Compton, California.
Read the rest here.
When we first started reporting the story, we quickly came upon a yacht for sale on Craig's List. Flavin listed his name and number in the ad. We looked into it a little further and learned the yacht was called the "Nothin' But Trouble" and its registered port of call was Compton, California.
Read the rest here.
Nothing but Trouble
On a weekday in the spring of 2006, Linda Clewette, a 57-year-old transcriptionist and self-employed candy machine vendor, slid into a booth at the Baker's Square in Maple Grove and ordered a coffee. With a modest income but a stellar credit score, she was about to become a real estate investor. Brandon Flavin and Nathan Nordvik, both in their twenties and dressed casually, sat across from her. They were there to tell her how.
Two years later, Clewette owns six suburban properties in various stages of foreclosure, her credit is shot, she's selling her north Minneapolis home of 10 years, she's living on her 35-year-old daughter's couch, and she's suing Flavin, 29, and Nordvik, 26, for $500,000.
Read the rest here.
Two years later, Clewette owns six suburban properties in various stages of foreclosure, her credit is shot, she's selling her north Minneapolis home of 10 years, she's living on her 35-year-old daughter's couch, and she's suing Flavin, 29, and Nordvik, 26, for $500,000.
Read the rest here.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)