DANGER STALKS UNDERCOVER POLICE WORK

IPD Detective Risked Discovery During Year He Spent Gathering Evidence
Against Group Of Bikers

J.G. Smith expected one man to show up when he asked to buy an illegal gun.

But the recorder hidden under his jacket and bib overalls suddenly felt as
big as a phonebook when eight people met him inside a Muncie clubhouse.

The 40-year-old Indianapolis police detective had posed successfully for
months as a beer-drinking, law-breaking biker named "Grumpy."

Now he stood seconds away from discovery.

The group, some of them members of a rogue outfit called The Lone Few,
routinely threatened to search folks before talking business. Once they
found a wire, retribution would be swift. Smith and months of a federal
investigation teetered on the brink.

Undercover duty isn't as glamorous as it might look on TV, but it plays a
key role in law enforcement. Indianapolis police expect to turn to it even
more this year as they battle to reduce the city's homicide rate.

Most of those assignments won't be as challenging as Smith's. He spent more
than a year inside a motorcycle club, one of several officers working on
behalf of the federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. The Muncie
group was notorious for illegal gun sales, vehicle theft and illegal drugs.

To make arrests, Smith had to make changes. This wouldn't be the one-week
or one-month investigation he was used to.

He had to commit to a new identity.

He let his normally buzz-cut brown hair grow to a shoulder-length ponytail.
He grew a beard to complete the look.

He left his wife and children in Indianapolis, renting a house in Pendleton
where he stayed many nights.

He created an alias so thorough that a suspicious biker would have found
fictional parents and even a criminal record. Smith's fondness for the
motorcycle life made some of the transformation easy.

It was tougher being away from his family for days at a time as he slowly
tried to impress people he despised.

Lots of pool-playing. Lots of pot being smoked around him. Lots of waiting.

He didn't smoke marijuana, but he always had a beer in hand to avoid
arousing suspicion.

"They think everybody new is either a snitch or the police," Smith said.
"You just have to stick around them, whether it's a bike show or bar or a
party. I don't know if they completely trust you. But they get used to
seeing you around."

Eventually Smith was included in activities, learning how some club members
used the proceeds from the sale of stolen bicycles and bike parts to fund
their recreation, which included frequent visits to strip joints.

He'd have to lie to gang members just so he could sneak home and see his
four children. He avoided public places -- even in Indianapolis -- where he
might be spotted.

When he felt confident that his bogus identity was trusted, Smith started
building cases against club members he saw or heard were breaking the law.

But the danger of exposure remained constant. The gun-buying encounter last
winter was one of the worst moments. Smith found himself surrounded by
eight people, some of whom he didn't know.

He'd worked out a game plan for just such a situation: If he was grilled
about being a snitch or asked if he wore a wire, he'd "get offended and
walk out."

That day, the threat of a search turned out to be a bluff. The recorder --
and his real identity -- went undiscovered.

Months later, the crew had seen enough.

In October, agents with the bureau as well as police from Muncie, Delaware
County, Bloomington and Indianapolis raided two homes and the club's
headquarters, leading to the arrest of five members and associates, and the
seizure of guns, methamphetamine, marijuana and cocaine. Additional arrests
are pending.

Smith said he has mixed feelings about his role in the operation. Staying
undercover longer would have led to evidence linking Indianapolis club
members to the Muncie crimes, but he realizes that would have meant another
six months away from home and family.

Officials praised the work he did.

The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms honored Smith, whose work
"dismantled the Muncie area chapter of the Sons of Silence. They are no
more," said Jeffrey Groh, a resident agent.

It was the first time the Indianapolis Police Department loaned an officer
to a group for such a long period of time.

"To get somebody on the inside of those rough groups is amazing," said
Indianapolis Police Chief Jerry Barker.

Smith, who eventually plans to return to a more clean-cut look, says with a
smile that he's glad he earned the trust of another group -- his bosses.

That came, he said, "even though you spend a lot of time in the clubhouse
or strip clubs, drinking beer and shooting pool."