It was, according to the U.S. Justice Department, the business of drugs in Annapolis.
Customers went to Clay and New Vernon streets and explained what they wanted. Their order was called back to a townhouse where the FBI says a group of men were running an illegal drug shop.
“Yo.”
“Listen. Man wants a five down here bro.”
“Alright. I’m ready to walk down now.”
Criminal complaint unsealed Oct. 1
Sometimes, as with any struggling business, you must explain to your suppliers that you’re late on bills because your customers aren’t paying on time.
“I been getting the run around, yo, since I seen you, right? Like I, yo, ever since I seen you that day bro, I been getting the run around.”
And sometimes, co-workers can be frustrating.
“Where you at, dummy?”
“In the crib.”
“Huh, why you sleeping?
“Cause I am. What going on, cuz?”
For five months, FBI and DEA agents, along with Annapolis and Anne Arundel County police, watched and listened to these conversations and others as a group of 14 men allegedly ran a street-level drug ring out of the Obery Court townhouse complex, less than a mile from the Maryland State House.
Small quantities of cocaine, crack, heroin, opioid painkillers and PCP were traded by hand for cash to people who drove into the neighborhood’s narrow streets.
Day, night, weekdays and weekends. It was constant.
“Who is it?”
“I can’t tell you about my sell. Do you want me to tell him yeah or no?
“Yeah.
“Alright, what’s the number you want me to sell?
“Three.”
“Alright. Hey listen hey I’m going to tell you listen he normally move around the 275 range but I’m going to tell him 300 alright.”
“Alright.”
“Alright.”
On Oct. 1, a federal criminal complaint laying out investigators’ findings was unsealed, and a task force of local, state and federal officials swept through Annapolis snapping up the men they had been monitoring.
After long stakeouts, undercover drug buys, utility pole video cameras and, most damning, wiretaps on phones belonging to almost every member of the crew — it must have felt like picking up old acquaintances.
Authorities said Curtis Johnson was identified first when police went to federal officials with their suspicions. He was allegedly running the shop, and Demarco Watkins was soon pegged as his alleged main supplier.
Johnson allegedly supplied drugs to Olando Thompson, Rodrick Simms, Juan Lamont Johnson, Aureon Johnson, Sheldon Wells, Abdallah Simms, Keo Williams, Larry Adams and Tijee Benett for sales on the street, authorities said. All of them face federal conspiracy and drug distribution charges, and three more were turned over to local prosecutors.
The special agent who wrote the complaint explained that the investigation involved 500 officers, agents and personnel from federal, state and local agencies. The U.S. Attorney’s Office in Baltimore says the FBI and DEA seized cocaine, heroin, fentanyl and oxycodone, one shotgun, three handguns and nearly $40,000 in cash.
This doesn’t seem like a lot for 500 people. This sounds like the sort of nuisance drug dealing that proliferates in Annapolis and other small cities. Police usually chase it from one neighborhood to another, but never really manage to stamp it out.
Most of the men arrested grew up in the neighborhood, even if Adams was the only one who still lived on the block; others were no farther away than Glen Burnie. Nobody in this alleged drug ring was getting rich.
Johnson complained to Watkins in August that he was selling as much as $7,000 worth of drugs between resupplies, and barely breaking even. Watkins offered him a loan.
“If don’t nothing happen today bro, you know I could, I could bring you the bread back up there or whatever like that. Like you know me, my n****.”
“I’m not worried about that. I’m not worried about that.”
“Yeah.”
“I hit you yesterday to see if you was good, did you need some more bread?”
“No, no.”
If you ask people who live and work around Clay Street, and they understandably prefer not to be named, this was no surprise. This is one of the city’s oldest poor neighborhoods, where people were living with outhouses well into the 1960s.
By the 1980s, when I arrived in Annapolis, crack cocaine was the rage, and women worked as prostitutes on nearby West Street to buy their next rock on Clay Street. One even took her struggles to get clean to Dr. Phil, a nationally televised talk show host.
There’s been redevelopment, and a public housing nonprofit now owns the properties instead of the Annapolis housing authority. Things have improved, nice restaurants and condos line West Street today. But the drugs never went away.
Three years ago, a group of men hunting for someone who owed them money fired shots in the neighborhood. One killed the mother of a Naval Academy midshipman standing on a hotel patio. Gunshots in November damaged cars and buildings.
The arrests in Annapolis are only part of the story. The drugs come from somewhere else.
In March, federal agents arrested Marlon Alexis Aguilar-Reyes in South Florida. Much of the evidence and details of the charges against him remain sealed, and his case has been transferred to another federal court district.
But court records show a connection between his arrest in Florida and the ones in Annapolis. It’s just not clear what it is.
In June, the Annapolis men were overheard calling a contact in Florida for a new supply. The Baltimore FBI office got a call from DEA agents in Florida. Adams was recorded on their wiretap.
Undercover agents posing as the Florida contact accepted a $76,000 payment for drugs, authorities said. The money went into a special bank account and eventually was paid to the suppliers to keep things secret.
If you’ve never read a criminal complaint, it’s filled with legalese.
FBI Special Agent Josh Megli, who works out of the Annapolis sub-office, wrote the 43-page document. It’s filled with explanations. He explains what the language means based on his experience and expertise.
He explains hard is crack and sugar is powder cocaine. He explains when customers are complaining the drugs have been diluted so much they have a funny taste.
“They say it tastes like banana and on the [drugs] like 6 grams.”
And through it all, there is a constant refrain. The members of the crew check that each was onboard with the risks.
Alright, bet. Alright, alright. Alright I already told you. ... Alright, bro.
The words are a constant search for reassurance that this was just between them.
Alright.”
“Alright.”
This column has been corrected to accurately describe the transaction between an undercover DEA agent and Larry Adams as described in the criminal complaint.
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