The True Story of a Human Trafficker's End

This did not happen to me, it happened to a second cousin who is also a friend, MJ.

MJ is a very interesting guy. He was a Military Police Officer in the CAF, and was deployed with Canadian and UN missions in places like Bosnia and Rwanda where he was part of criminal investigations and pursuing fugitives. After years of doing this, he resigned from the military and started working as a private security contractor and consultant.

He's usually very taciturn and wouldn't say a lot about the work he's done before in the military and in his current business; which I suppose makes sense since he wouldn't be very good at his job if he wasn't. But sometimes when we're having a chat he would tell me about his experiences on the job; some stories are fascinating, some are creepy, some are downright terrifying, and all are true.

There is one he told me that I want to share with other fans of the creepy and macabre, and I detail it below in his words with his blessing, minus information that he says is classified, such as personal identities and location. Thanks MJ! :

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A few years back I met up with a buddy of mine from our military days who is now a mountie in the witness protection program. Gerry worked particularly as a coordiator with witness protection in the UK and other commonwealth countries. We were both in town for work, and he asked me if I was interested in looking at the case he was there for. Apparently a protectee has vanished in very strange circumstances, and the RCMP is turning rocks over trying to find him.

I had pretty much done what I came to do, and I got curious so I said sure. Next morning we were driving to where the witness was living some distance outside the city at the foot of the Rockies, and he was telling me about this guy on the way.

So this witness was someone they were looking after for the National Crime Agency in the UK. They would at times ask for assistance and send protectees over if it's considered too risky to keep them in the country, and the reverse happens sometimes too. Normally he would be spending the rest of his life in a British prison for being involved in human trafficking, if he didn't offer something to Brit authorities in exchange for immunity and protection.

It's not as big a problem on this side of the ocean, but in the UK there are some communities -particularly those with West African roots- who have entrenched beliefs in possession and witchcraft and the like; and if they think that a kid is possessed by a demon or is a witch (the signs can be as stupid as refusing to listen to parents)they would send them to the old country in order to be 'exorcised' or 'cleansed' by a religious quack or a shaman. These rituals are brutal and prolonged torture, and the kids in a lot of cases unfortunately even die, or even dismembered for body parts to be used for magic. Naturally the Brit authorities want to protect their young and vulnerable citizens and rescue them from this gruesome fate.

It turns out that along with human trafficking, this asshole also ran an operation for smuggling these kids in and out of Britain to African countries, mostly Liberia, Nigeria and Togo, and that in exchange for dropping charges and protecting him from those he would finger, he would testify against the people involved and the people who sent their children or were trying to. The government considered the safety of these poor kids and rescuing them from their guardians a priority, so they cut him a deal. A total of over 40 people were arrested and put on trial, and around 20 boys and girls aged between 7 and 15 were rescued. Needless to say, this made our friend Asshole very unpopular with a lot of people who now would like him very much to die in a horrible way, and the British government sent him to Canada under witness protection with a new identity. Things were OK until three days earlier, when he didn't show up for a meeting with RCMP officers and he just disappeared, and now they are scrambling trying to find him.

We arrived in the evening, and he exited the highway down a narrow country road cutting through what must have been the thickest woods I've ever seen in the Norhern Hemisphere for what felt like ages. If nothing else, anybody wanting to off Asshole would sure have a lot of trouble finding or getting to him. The road finally starts to widen as it breaks out of the woods into a wide clearing that ends at a sheer cliff face that must be at least 70 meters high, and ends at the building that must be where Asshole was now residing. He stopped the car and we both dismounted, walking towards it.

My first impression is that there must be serious money made trading in human flesh. There's no way the government is going to pay for a clearly custom designed country bungalow or the 4x4 Lexus in the carport, no matter what Asshole witnessed for them. My second impression is that I would make a better architect than whoever designed this, because it was at least 4 times as long as it is wide making it look like a very expensive trailer home; and one side of its length is stuck to the cliff face, so basically the house is only getting sunlight from one side of its silly length. My third and more important impression is that it would be next to impossible to sneak up on whoever is in that house, because it was on top of a rising incline and Gerry pointed out the three concealed high res FLIR security cameras placed on the front of the house and at the edge of the treeline facing the house from both sides of the road approaching it, so that they are fully covering the clearing. To approach without being seen, you'd have to jump off the cliff and fall in through the roof.

We stopped just outside the door to light up, we wanted to keep contamination to a minimum in case it turns out to be a crime scene at some point. While we smoked, it started getting dark and unusually quiet. There was a bit of wind, and the rustling of the trees at least made things less creepy. The whole atmosphere felt bizzare. I started to ask Gerry questions.

"Your fella sure made a nice setup for himself here. Did anything new about where he might be come up?"

"Nope. Still have no idea. Frankly people are getting really pissed off and saying just let him put risk his ass, after all he's a criminal of the worst sort, and it's not like he's a big fish or still has something to offer, so if he wants to risk his ass we should let him and not waste taxpayers' money... But of course we know that's not how it works."

"It's not considered foul play then? He just ran off?"

"A lot feel that way. I don't know how I feel honestly... I met with him a few times and he was scared of SOMEthing. He was superstitious as f..., always having something tied around his neck or wrist, or a problem with meeting at certain place, or crossing over through doorways, all kinds of crazy sh.. that used to drive us nuts. Doesn't like it when new people show up and is suspicious of strangers, particularly black people."

"That's a novel approach to racism. I suppose you asked him if he was worried about anyone in particular?"

"It would be easier to list those he's NOT worried about. He's a nasty piece of work, and the people he f.... over when he snitched are even worse. He was acting paranoid about everybody, especially after a day when he said he received a call about a Juju-Marabout."

Hoo boy, I thought to myself. It was starting to get really dark, and memories from Africa started flooding back in with horror stories I heard around fires in the humid jungle nights.

"You look like you heard of it before?"

"When I was stationed in Rwanda and other places. Juju-Marabouts are sort of witch doctors, and they're supposed to be very powerful with black magic and demons and the like. It's a real serious thing over there and people are terrified of them. If any of the locals working for us stole anything, we didn't call in MPs or involve the local police, we would just threaten them with calling in the local Marabout and they would s... themselves and do anything so you wouldn't bring him in. People in some places buried their dead relatives at home to watch out for them, because they're afraid of the bodies being dug up to be used for magic if they left them in cemeteries. They supposedly can put curses on you, summon demons and raise the dead to harm and kill you. Real Blair Witch Project stuff. "

"...Right. So our witness you're thinking is scared that the people he hung up to dry in his place might use one of these Marabouts for revenge? "

"It's not as bad as it used to be, but fear of magic runs in the blood of whole communities over there, Gerry, and some governments literally have laws against it. There were times when even kids were killed because they were believed to be witches. It wouldn't surprise me if something or someone spooked him into running off to where even YOU guys don't know where he is and holing up with garlic and a stake or whatever the hell they use over there for protection."

Gerry grunts, crushing the stub of his finished cigarette. "Well, let's get you a look inside and get the f... out of here. This place is really starting to creep me out and grating at my nerves. If he's got the money for thermal cameras I don't know why he didn't put up any lights."

As I finish off my cig, he turns to the door and unlocks it. The loud consecutive clacks told me that the heavy door had reinforced locks, and I whistled as I walked in behind him when I saw the key panel for what was clearly an alarm system.

"Yeah I know. Wait until you see the inside." Gerry said, flicking a light on as we went in.

When I cross the threshold into a foyer/cloakroom and look in, I suddenly know why the house looks like a trailer from the outside. The foyer opens into a reception/living room via sliding door, and as we walked to the same kind of door on the other end and slid it open we walked into a kitchen and dining room, with yet again the same kind of door at the far end. The rooms in this house are in a consecutive row, on after the other, separated by sliding doors that have locks only on the side going in. All windows were on the wall away from the cliffside, with an iron grille I was sure the security system covered them as well.

(OP's Note: Below is a diagram MJ made on his computer describing the house's layout and showed me.)



Another thing was that as we entered every room, there was a camera above the door opposite, and some strange and familiar bundle of what looks like a clumsy made small doll wrapped with a pouch stuffed with what looked liked grass or herb with a thong from which some sort of tooth or claw dangling from it. Gerry asked me if I noticed it, and I said I did. Reminds me of charms and talismans I saw being sold on the streets back in Rwanda as protection against bad juju and lucky charm.

After the kitchen and dining room we crossed into what looks like an office including a desk with a computer, and some sort of skull next to it. Looked like a monkey's. Next to that there was a primitive brazier that contained something Asshole burned in it giving off a pungent dung-y smell, and a pile of notes. Some melted candles on the desk told me that whatever it is he did here he tried to do in the dark, suggesting a ritual of some kind. All of this is starting to get uncomfortably familiar.

Gerry turned to me. "If you thought all this was freaky, wait until you see what's in his bedroom." He slid open the door to the last room in the house and as we walk in he flicks the light switch on.

All the other rooms looked relatively tidy, but the bedroom looked like a bar after a brawl. A dresser was turned over with drawers' contents spilling out. The bed misaligned with the wall it was against and the mattress, sheets and pillows half off it, and in the tangle I saw what looked like a gun holster. The closet looked like it was blown open and his clothes, boxes and papers were all over the floor. A full length mirror hanging from the wall sported a large crack, and a large towel was hanging off a corner suggesting it was used to cover the mirror at some point. On another wall was a large HD screen, split with the three thermal outside cams at the top and the indoor cams covering the approach to the bedroom at the bottom. In addition to only have a lock on this side of it, the bedroom door also had heavy bolts. An awful smell was giving me the urge to gag.

Gerry pointed with his chin at a rumpled plastic bag in a corner. "Try not to touch anything, but there's dead cat in that. Neck's broken." That explains the smell. I could see an eye, wide open and milky, and its lower jaw misaligned with the top tongue sticking out. There is a snapped cord tied around the bag. It was hanging from somewhere.

"Again, careful not to contaminate anything in case crime scene people will come. Look in here." He was in a the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. I gingerly walk over.

Yet more stink fighting over my nostrils with the dead cat. It was coming from what was clearly vomit in the toilet seat. You don't need too much detail, but it included what looked like maggots and flies. I barely stopped myself from adding my own lunch to it.

"Jesus..."

"There's blood at the sink too. At least that's what it looks like."

By now curiousity and interest was quickly dissipating, replaced by edgy discomfot and some nausea. I reluctantly look at the sink, and sure enough it was covered with it. It didn't look enough to be a life threatening amount to bleed, but it looked like it was sprayed over the sink.

I follow droplets to the bathtub, and inside it was a Beretta M9 semiauto. That explained the holster in the bedroom. There were two spent bullet casings in the tub. I'd need a closer look to be positive, but they looked like bullets from the gun.

Gerry caught me looking at it. "Notice anything strange? Besides all the obvious."

I looked at the walls, floor, ceiling and line of sight into the bedroom. Nope. "Where the f... are the bullets?"

"Don't know. We didn't want to move anything so I can't be 100 percent sure, but it looks like we have two bullets fired that are unaccounted for."

"Jeez Gerry, you sure you don't have enough for a criminal investigation? This is too f...ed up to be explained away by him going on a spur of the moment vacation."

Gerry shook his head "Nope. I know, but there is nothing here from a law enforcement perspective: No crime, no probable cause, no sign of forced entry... Hell if I wasn't Witness Protection dealing with this guy we'd be breaking and entering right now. Here, there's one more thing you should see in the bedroom."

I followed him back into the bedroom... He stepped behind the bed and I heard a loud double CLACK of deadbolt lock and he slid another door open, the muffled night noise and night draft filling the room. I hadn't noticed it at first because of the mess, and it opened outside into the carport right next to the truck. If he wanted to, Asshole could have rolled out of bed straight into the driver seat and take off.

Gerry slid the door shut, locking it again."That's the end of the freakyass tour, MJ, and that's the last but not least bit of freaky: Wherever he went, why the Hell would he leave without his ride? I don't see him riding in someone else's car. He trusted nobody. And the way he set this place up so nobody gets here."

The location. The way the house was built. The thermal cameras outside and the ones over the doors inside, but not the bedroom itself. The voodoo sh** hanging alongside them. The locks. The gun. The doorway from bedroom to the car. I've seen this kind of half-mad paranoid fear before and I shook my head."No Gerry. He set it up so somebody doesn't get here, realized he couldn't stop them, so instead he set it up so he can see them coming."

Gerry frowned, nodded after what I said sank in. "Let's get out of here. This stench is making me seriously sick."

I followed, closing the doors locked behind us, thinking what it would feel like with this guy looking through his cameras at whoever/whatever is after him struggling through the barricade, getting ready for fight with his weapon or flight with his truck as the threat gets closer. The fact that we cannot touch any of the recorded camera footage to see what might have happened was maddening.

The night has fallen completely, and the stars were out but no moon, so Gerry turned on a flashlight he carried on him so we could see. The cool air was somehow claustrophobic, night noises seemed subdued and muffled and I can feel myself prespire. I just wanted to leave this place and go get a drink somewhere and get the nasty out of my nose and mouth.

... Then it occured to me as Gerry was punching the code to lock the alarm. "Gerry, on the screen in the bedroom, did you see the carport?"

"The carport? No."

"Why the f... not?"

Gerry's eyes widened. Of course why the f... not. Every inch of the house and area around it was covered, why the hell not the escape route? We dashed around the corner to the carport...

... And I grab his arm pulling him back violently as his light hit a the shimmering length of a snake's body, maybe two. Not any old snake(s) either. I remember the look very well from manuals and guides the UN provided, and the open mouth of the visible head was clearly dark colored. F...ing African Black Mamba.

Not sure if it/they were still alive, but I shush Gerry and pull him further back. These f...ing things are the only snakes on earth that chase you to kill you. What the hell was that doing here??? A hissing noise confirmed that there is at least one snake that is alive, it cut through a loud cricket chirping and whistling that was of a tempo, volume and speed that I am not familiar with at all, definitely not on this side of the world.

There was also a chair lying on its side on the ground and some scattered tools under the camera we were expecting to find. The nightmare scene also included what looked like a bloody handprint in a dent on the side of the truck, and dragged along its length. There was a dent and crack on this side of the hidden sliding door too. Gerry can think what he likes, but my brain was screaming at me what it saw: Asshole was trying to fix this camera when something happened, and by the look of things here and in his bedroom it's something pretty bad.

A puddle of what looked like the vomit we saw in the toilet was also by the back tailight of the truck, except it now also included what was clearly teeth and molars. Another handprint was on the tailight. A few yards past there was a single flip-flop, and a small satchel from which some sh.. spilled out, most notably what looked like an old finger with a cracked yellow nail.

There was a patch of weeds and grass growth nearby, and the way they were flattened hinted that what lost the slipper and satchel was dragged that way down the incline towards the treeline. The crickets or whatever the f... they were are screeching louder, and I heard the Mamba hissing behind us. This was enough for Gerry and we ran down back to the car and he phoned for backup.

I can't tell you anything more right now. The RCMP as a rule does not give out details or comment on investigations early, and whatever they saw in those in the camera videos is still pretty much classified, so Gerry can't really tell me anything yet. I might be able to tell you more later if you're still interested.

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I am interested, but this kind of freaked me out. I've always wanted to go on holiday in Africa for a Safari trip, but this crap is sort of putting me off the idea! I hope you enjoyed it.