It was late, out in the country, where the darkness is thick and streetlights are more rumor than reality.
We were running surveillance on a registered sex offender who had a habit of crossing the lines of his restrictions. Our job was to catch him in the act. I sat in the back seat, out of sight behind the dark tint. My associate drove, with the Judge resting on the passenger seat.
We were finally leaving the neighborhood when our headlights caught a figure standing in the middle of the road.
He stood motionless. His long curly hair covered his face. He was wearing a long army jacket and holding a long pistol in his hand.
My associate eased to a stop and rolled down his window, which gave the man a clear view of the Judge. The man didn't flinch. "You boys have been acting mighty suspicious," he said.
My associate explained who we were and what we were doing there. The man's shoulders came down an inch or two, but not all the way.
That's when I rolled down the back window and held out a business card.
He just about jumped out of his boots. He had no idea anyone else was in the car. For a long moment, nobody made a sound. Then he took the card, looked it over, and his whole demeanor changed.
"Well, why didn't you say so?" he said. "You need a place to sit and watch, you use my driveway. Anytime."
We made a friend that night. We were also one wrong move from being shot. In this line of work, sometimes those happen in the same night.
Partly because of our efforts, the predator was arrested and convicted.