Dedication for this write goes to NEWSREP brother David Paul.

I hunt human traffickers; that is what I do. I’m a human traffic hunter, or at least I fancy myself one. I carry kit every day on the hunt; I call it Every Day Carry (EDC), as I am sure many of you do as well.

My EDC goes in a black JanSport shoulder bag with many zippers and pockets because I insist on a level of organization, and black because it’s badass! The content of my kit is anchored by a pistol, a Glock-17 in my case, and a basic load of ammunition. There are other weapons there such as a dagger, a bludgeon, and some very spirited pepper spray — pshhhhhhht!

Mine is a generous suite of communications gear there in that bag: batteries, storage media, pens, tools of the trade conducive to an agent of correction. All is methodically organized in that package such that I can reach into it one-handed in the dark and find what I need in seconds.

A water proofed, padded, and durable case protects the GPS system

On this day I pedaled to my surveillance point opposite a motel where young women were suspected of being trafficked. Mine was an abandoned dentistry clinic just across the street. We had arranged an entrance in the back of the building which had only a modest clearance between the building and a masonry wall.

Having put my EDC bag on the ground by the back door I fumbled with the lock. In a flash, I saw in my periphery a truck that was of interest to my case. I knew the truck’s plate but didn’t catch it as it swung around behind the motel. I quickly darted off on my bike to catch a glimpse of the plate.

The plate I barely caught but no joy on a number match. I pushed back to my back door. To my abject horror, my EDC kit was gone, simply… gone! My mind reared in flaming-yellow panic. I pictured the pistol in the bag, the sensitive items. Donkey ears popped out of the top of my head, and a swishing tale from my jackass.