Calgary, January 2025
Let me introduce myself. My name is Juan Garcías and I was born and raised in a small Spanish town called La Línea de la Concepción, right at the border with the British territory of Gibraltar. I was happy in my town, and after inheriting my parent's house, I never thought of leaving. My father was a policeman and, following his footsteps, I too became a policeman. But I don't have any brothers or sisters and sometimes I did feel lonely. To cheer myself up, I usually walked the 5 Km hike to my favourite place, Europa Point Lighthouse in Gibraltar. It is one of the few lighthouses still in use in the Mediterranean and the view from there is spectacular. On a clear day, it is even possible to see the Moroccan coast of Africa. The lighthouse was also the place where I met my wife. One day, as I came there ready to admire the view, there was another view to admire. A young woman, alone, looking at the sea the same dreamy way I usually do.
"Nice view, isn't it? On a clear day, you can see all the way to Morocco." I couldn't think of anything more intelligent to say.
"Yes, I know. I come here often."
That was the beginning. We had more dates at the lighthouse, then some dinners in my place, and half a year later Olivia became my wife. I don't know if it was love or shared loneliness which got us together, but we were reasonably happy. The only problem we had was money or the lack of it. Not that we would have expensive tastes, but her income as a waitress, and my salary as a policeman covered only our basic needs. There was nothing left for holidays, dinners in a restaurant and similar. The only thing we could do was to walk to the lighthouse, the place we met for the first time.
"When are they going to promote you and increase your salary?" was Olivia's frequent question, and I felt guilty for not providing a good of living for my wife. Sometimes that feeling prevented me from sleeping at night, and I would go outside and watch the light beam of the lighthouse rotate over the sea, guiding ships through the Strait of Gibraltar. It helped me to calm down and relax.
But one night I saw something strange happening. Instead of a smooth rotation through 360 degrees, the light beam stopped momentarily. I thought the lighthouse had some mechanical problem which would be soon fixed, but a few nights later it happened again. That was suspicious. Maybe it wasn't a malfunction of the lighthouse, but a signal for somebody. Morocco is close, and there always have been problems with drug trafficking. Therefore, following my policeman instinct, I looked at the local beach to see if there was something suspicious. Sure enough, there it was. In a dim light, I saw two men unloading bags from a boat to a pickup truck. The beach is close to my house, so it was easy for me to sneak down and write the licence plate of the truck. I found the name and address of the owner, and in the evening, I visited him, with my police badge in hand.
"Hello sir, may I come in?"
The man didn't say anything, only looked at my batch. I went to his living room and sat on his expensive sofa. "I came to have a little chat about the last night. What was in those bags you were unloading?"
"I don't know what you are talking about."
"O yes, you do. I expect those bags are still here. I can call the police to search your house, and you will be facing years in jail. But there is another way."
"What way?"
"Paying some money to this account," and I gave him the account number I created this morning. The amount I wanted was enough for me but nothing for a drug dealer.
"I will check it tomorrow," I continued. "If the money is there, I will forget about the last night. If not, you can expect a house search," and I left.
The next day the money was there, and I was happy to show some of it to Olivia.
"Finally, they promoted me," I lied, and her smile made me happy. But my joy was short-lived. A few months later the Spanish security service, in conjunction with the British National Drugs Intelligence Unit, arrested a group of drug dealers, which included the man I bribed. There was an extensive investigation which included our police department, and I was terrified that the man would reveal my blackmail. But he didn't, and I thought I might get away with it. Regrettably, it wasn't so, and one day while going home from work, a man grabbed my arm and said: "You owe us a favour, don't you? The man you blackmailed still remembers you from your police batch."
There wasn't much I could say. We went to the nearby bar and the man went right to the point:
"Here is your choice: Either you will be answering our questions about police investigations, or we will reveal your blackmail. Which one will it be?"
I know what I should have said, but I didn't say it. "I will go with the first option," I answered.
"OK, you will hear from us," and the man left.
This is how I became a corrupt cop. From time to time, I got a coded message on my cellphone, I met my drug contact, answered his questions and money appeared in my account. I was getting rich, but it didn't do me any good. I couldn't show the money to Olivia and couldn't enjoy it myself. But the temptation was great. From time to time, I took Olivia for dinner, and I bought myself a car. I really didn't need it, but I couldn't resist, and what had to happen did happen. One day my boss called me to his office with bad news.
"Hello Juan," he started cordially. "Your standard of living seems to improve. You have a new car, and you are generous with your wife. Where are you getting the money from?"
I didn't say anything, and my boss continued: "You know, there were some leeks about our investigations, and your high living gave me an idea. I investigated your bank accounts and found that account of yours. How did you get it?"
There was no point in lying. I told him how I blackmailed the drug dealer, and how they blackmailed me by threatening to report me to the police. "And that is how I became a corrupt cop," I concluded my confession.
"That gives you two options," said my boss. "You can either face charges of corruption and spend years in jail, or you can become a police infiltrator." Then he asked me the same question my drug contact asked me the first time we met: "Which one will it be?"
I didn't want to spend years in jail, and I told him that. "OK, I will talk to the Organized Crime and Drugs Unit of the national police," and he dismissed me.
A few days later a man appeared in my office. "You can call me Daniel," he said, and then he explained what I would have to do:
"You will continue with your contact like before, but with a hidden microphone. Then we meet, you give me the recording and I give you instructions on what to say the next time. When we have sufficient evidence, we arrest them, and you will be the main witness of the prosecution. After that we give you and your wife a new identity and include you in our witness protection program."
To be a police infiltrator is stressful. If my drug contact found the microphone, they would kill me. To make it even more difficult, Daniel wanted to know why my drug contact asked certain questions, but I didn’t know and couldn’t find out. Any slip here could be fatal. Also, in Daniel's organization, there could be another corrupt cop who might denounce me to the drug dealers. All that made me very nervous and irritated.
"What is wrong with you? Why are you so tense?" Olivia kept asking, but I couldn't tell her. It put a lot of strain on our marriage. But nothing lasts forever and finally came a day when the whole drug gang was arrested, and the police took Olivia and me to a safe house for protection. Olivia was terrified but I calmed her down.
"It is OK now, it's over," and I explained how I became corrupt cop and to avoid jail, I became a police infiltrator.
"But now we are safe. I will be the witness of the prosecution and then we will be under the witness protection program," I said.
"You are telling me that I will have to go to an unknown place, change my name and always be in hiding?"
"Unfortunately, that's how it is. Here it wouldn't be safe for us."
"It wouldn't be safe for you. I am not involved in any of that."
"You want to stay? They might hurt you."
"Why would they do that? They wouldn't know where you are, so they couldn't threaten you with hurting me. And to hurt me for no reason wouldn't make any sense. It would only bring them complications."
I wasn't prepared for that. I loved my wife and thought she loved me too. Then, after my day at the witness stand, the police wanted to drive us to an unknown place, but Olivia refused. "I want to go home," she said.
"Olivia, please, come with me at least to the lighthouse, where we met for the first time," I pleaded. She agreed, the police drove us there, we got out of the car and watched the distant coast of Africa, just like at that time years ago.
"Please, stay with me. I love you." I was almost crying.
"My home is here. You knew that when you married me," and Olivia turned round and started to walk towards our house, the same way as we walked so many times together. I watched her until she disappeared around the corner, and that was the last time I saw my wife. Now I live in a faraway place, under a different name, and I am very lonely.