Highs, Lows & Hellos

Poised to indie publish my memoir this summer. Very exciting and intimidating. I would love to hear the experiences of other writers with self-publishing: lessons learned, things one must do/not do, tips and tricks. Please share a post here!

It was August and sweltering; the kind of heat that settles over Miami, over top of people, making it hard to breathe, making people crazy. I had on a helmet with a shield. Sweat poured down my face and my neck, my chest and my back. There were over a hundred sheriff's deputies forming a wall around the rioters to try to control them. With a few hundred people all crammed together, everyone became hotter and angrier, including us cops. The rioters raised their fists in the air and shouted, "Black Power" in our faces and, “We hate you motha fuckin’ crackers.” My body was lit up with adrenaline pumping through my veins. If someone charged at me, I swung my billy club—left, right, behind me, out in front, wherever they were comin’ from. In riot training, we were taught not to let them get close, not to let them get a hold of you or your gun or it was all over, because police are outnumbered in a riot. Finally, the National Guard trucks rolled in and sprayed tear gas into the crowd. That broke them up. Seemed like the temperature dropped ten degrees just getting them out of our faces. Liberty City was trashed that night.

In researching for my book on Dad's infamous life as a narcotics-agent-turned-drug-smuggler, I found and interviewed the officer who arrested Dad forty years ago. He clearly remembered the incident and my dad (I guess it was the 12,000 pounds of marijuana that stuck in his mind!) and shared so much detailed information that wasn't in the court record, all of which will enrich those arrest and courtroom scenes. Next up, I found Dad's attorney, the US Attorney who prosecuted Dad and the DEA agent in charge of the investigation. Fingers crossed.