One in a million. NO, one in eight million. Red Smith had tried to enter a suitcase full of marijuana through Buffalo into Canada. The Canadian Customs recognized it. Smith ran back into the United States. While that was not a significant amount of marijuana for us, it was a big case for the Canadians. They sent all the information they had and pictures of Smith to our office. My partner, Marty White was assigned the case. We did the usual checks to see if Smith had run afoul of anyone in New York without results, and so advised Canada. That was that, we thought.
About four months later on the way to work, Marty was driving over the Delancy Street Bridge, and at the bottom, we stopped for a light. Along came Red Smith and two others Crossing Delancy. I said, “Marty, that’s your man.” Marty said, “No,” and we drove on for two more lights. Marty turned around and fortunately, the three were still walking in the same direction. When Marty got out of the car and asked him if he was Red Smith, Smith threw up his hands and said, “Don’t shoot.”
Smith was deported to Canada; and when the trial came up, Marty was on a cruise. So, I had to go to Canada for the trial. I was wined and dined by the Royal Canadian Police and taken to the EXPO 67, their World’s Fair.
The next day, I got into the box, swore on the James King Bible, and told my story in front of the bewigged prosecutor and judge. Until then no one in Canada believed, that in a city of eight million, four months later, I would spot a fugitive crossing the street. And so, the RCMP officers were told by the Crown Prosecutor to take me out, get me a few drinks and get the truth. I must admit it was hard to believe.
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