Audio Version

I’m not sure how the file got to our office or even how much work Tony had already done on the case. Insurance fraud. The subject had been awarded $164,000 in a settlement. That’s 1988 dollars. About $446,000 today. Not small money.

Insurance companies, as we all know, hate losing cash.

Tony had been tasked with doing a follow-up visit about six months after the settlement. I don’t remember all the details because I wasn’t lead on this. I was the lowest rung of a tall ladder of investigators at our place.

Tony issued a command as he walked by me: “Get your stuff. You’re coming with me.”

So I did.

We drove about four miles to a Rockville, MD grocery store and pulled into a parking space, head out. The temperature was hot, so we rolled the windows down. I’m just glad the sun was to our rear, not glaring into the windshield.

“See that green Chevy? That’s the subject’s car,” Tony said, pointing to the next row of cars in front of us, one car to our right.

Tony put up one of those whole-window sunshades, the kind that blocks out the entire windshield. Only this one had a homemade flap that moved side to side. Pretty clever, really.

Tony was good at what he did. He knew cameras. In fact, it was Tony who showed me how to take great pictures from long distances in any kind of light of people doing things they probably shouldn’t be doing. Those skills later translated into some pretty high-end sports photography for me. Whole other story.

He handed me a photograph. White male, scruffy dark brown hair, brown eyes, unfortunate mustache.

“Your pretense is buying groceries. But here’s the real deal. The subject works behind the high counter next to all the registers. Take a good look at this.”

I studied the photo.

“When he goes to leave, I need you to follow. I’ll be watching, but just in case, when you come out of the store behind him, look my way and tip that chicken hat of yours,” Tony teased.

Jayhawk. I keep telling you, Jayhawk, I think to myself.

Everyone from out East has no idea there’s land west of the Ohio River until they land in Los Angeles. And don’t even get me started on New Yorkers.

“Be quick,” Tony added. “He gets off in about ten minutes.”

I walked up and down the aisles, half paying attention to what pasta sauce I was adding to the cart. Then I saw mustache man, getting ready to leave. Right on time. Neck brace and all.

Still wearing a neck brace? I really should have learned more about this case.

But then he does something unexpected. He grabs a basket and starts shopping. Slowly. Eight or ten items later, he finally leaves the freezer section for the checkouts.

I abandoned my cart, grabbed an empty checkout next to him, and paid for a Coke and a Heath Bar I picked up from the last-minute candy section. I love the crunch of the toffee.

Don’t judge. I was still young.

He exited the grocery store at a loafer’s pace, carrying one very full brown paper bag.

It’s hard for me to walk that slow. But I adjusted. Exited the sliding door. Tipped my hat in a half-wave sort of fashion.

Even thirty or forty yards away, Tony and I made eye contact.

He was smiling.

As I was instructed, I stayed about ten or twelve yards behind and went to the second car from Tony. Ostensibly, looking for my keys while watching our subject the whole time.

Ah. Now I see it.

There were two rolls of quarters just under the driver’s door of the subject’s car. One roll intact. One roll broken open, scattered in a small area.

Bait.

Easy enough to see. But you’d have to reach down to get them.

And he did.

Dude reached down while holding the paper bag. But not before looking around to see if anyone else had noticed. And I mean a full side-to-side neck turn. The guilty-looking kind.

It was just too good.

This guy was bent over, neck brace on, holding a bag of groceries, picking up quarters and throwing them in the bag, and still looking from side to side as if he was stealing the Hope Diamond.

I never learned all the ins and outs of this case. I filled out a report and moved on. But I was told the insurance company loved the video Tony provided to them. Permanently disabled guy from an accident (allegedly), bending over and straining himself for $20 while holding weight in one arm. (Here I would also say “allegedly” but not for the fact that I was there and I know what I witnessed.)

I don’t actually know if the insurance company recovered any money. That’s true. I wasn’t part of the recovery. Lawyers and insurance types don’t circle back to keep us updated.

But I know he lost that $164,000 settlement for twenty bucks in twenty-five cent increments. No way the insurance company was letting that slide.

Because Tony was in his car, flap to the side, videotaping every bit of what went on.

$20 in quarters cost this guy $164,000.
What’s the smallest thing you’ve ever seen someone lose something big over?
Tell me your version.

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Chris Lengquist
A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
Read full legalese here

© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved

Audio Version

Bang!
Bang-bang!
Bang!
That cadence. I can still repeat it exactly, 38 years later.
Late summer of ’87. SE Washington, D.C. The crack cocaine wars were just beginning to show their teeth. I could feel the city changing.

I was sent to Southeast to wait out a subject and serve him a subpoena. Nobody knew where he spent his days, but he always came home at night.

Eventually.

He was a Black male. About 6’ tall. Around 210 pounds. Early 40s.

He lived on one of the alphabet streets off 18th and Minnesota. Modest house. Trees spaced like they were planned by a committee—every 35 feet or so. Cars parked tight on both sides of a summer-hot street with that blacktop that holds heat long after the sun gives up.

I was in one of those cars. A black Ford Escort. Windows down. Music off. Watching the house three doors up.

My car blended right in.

My skin color, not so much.

An occasional dog walker would past in the dark and notice me. They’d pause half a beat too long. Then keep going. Sometimes they’d circle back on the other side of the street like they were suddenly very committed to cardio.

If the walker was younger, or in a group, you’d hear it: “Five-O.”

Don’t bother me, I won’t bother you. That was my motto.

One hour turned to two. Two was almost three. It was about 11:20 p.m. and still no sign of my subject.

Honestly? I was bored.

Then it happened.

Bang!
Bang-bang!
Bang!

For a split second, my brain tried to explain it away.

Firecrackers? No.

Shot? Yep. That sounds like a .32 caliber.

No more than twenty-five, maybe thirty yards away. Close enough that on the last bang I swear I saw a flash in the corner of my eye as I whipped my head around.

I grew up with guns. Of course I did. I’m from Kansas, right on the border with Missouri. Weekends were at my grandparents’ place in Rich Hill, an old coal strip-mining town dying a slow, inevitable death. The Suzie-Qs from the local burger joint still pull me back from time to time.

Most Saturdays or Sundays we’d shoot. Rifles. Pistols. Shotguns. I started around eight years old. My uncle drilled safety into me.

And I’m not repeating his exact line, because it’s not a sentence you put in print and feel good about. But the lesson was clear: treat it like it’s loaded, respect it, don’t get stupid.

I’d heard gunshots thousands of times growing up.

But this was different.

There were no bottles or cans.

This was real.

Did I freeze? No.

Did I run toward the gunfire? Definitely not.

I’ve learned over the years, between 22 year old kid I was then and now at 61, that I have a fight response, not flight or freeze. But that night? I didn’t have training. I was young. I wasn’t sure what the “right” action even looked like. And frankly, it took me two or three seconds to realize what was actually happening.

Should I stay on the surveillance or leave the area?

Or should I investigate the shooting?

I never saw the shooter at all. I never even saw my subject that night.

I was there to serve a paper, not get involved in a shooting. Fifteen dollars an hour to surveil and forty bucks for successful service to get shot? No, thank you.

So, I made a decision: I’d come back another time.

You could say I was afraid. You’d be right. Who wouldn’t be?

But what surprised me later was how cold I felt at that moment. Like some part of my brain shut a door and said, “Not tonight.”

I wasn’t panicked. I was unsure. Hyperaware and thinking quickly once the shock wore off.

I turned the key. Kept the lights off. Put the car in D. Foot on the brake. Hands on the wheel, slick with sweat.

Then the sirens started coming from all directions like the city had been holding its breath and finally exhaled.

I was 22 years old.

I didn’t sign up for this.

I took my foot off the brake, rolled forward, flipped on my headlights like I belonged there, and drove east, crossing a perpendicular street as a police cruiser bore down and careened to his left behind me, heading toward the shots.

I worked my way to Pennsylvania Avenue and crossed the John Phillip Sousa Bridge like it was a border checkpoint. I didn’t stop until I got to 2nd Street.

In the moon shadow of the Supreme Court, I finally pulled over, gathered myself, and started writing detailed notes.

DNS. (Did Not Serve.) Time of arrival. Shots fired. Surveillance terminated. Time/Date.

Two and a half miles.

That’s how far the violence is from the Supreme Court. Two and a half miles, but a world away. The world’s beacon of freedom just stone’s throw from poverty and gunfire.

The next morning at the office, I told the story. The older investigators barely looked up.

“You get out quick?” Tony inquired without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Tommy, the one who brought me in, leaned back in his chair like he was settling into a porch swing. “You go back?”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t. Give it a couple days. Let it settle.”

That was it. No drama. No debrief. Just: you got out, good, wait a couple days.

Three nights later, I went back.

Same street. Same house. Same black Ford Escort.

This time the subject came home around 9:30 p.m. Walked right up to his door, calm as could be.

I got out, walked up behind him.

“[NAME REDACTED], I’ve got a subpoena for you.”

He looked at the papers. Looked at me. “Yeah,” he said. “I was expecting you. Heard you were in the neighborhood the night of the shooting.”

I let the moment breathe. He was matter-of-fact. Comfortable, even.

“You know who it was?” I asked.

“Nah,” he said. “None of my business.”

He went inside.

I went back to my car, wrote the time, and drove to my last service of the evening.

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The Split-Second Decision

You hear gunshots. Twenty-five yards away. You’re sitting in your car on a dark street. What do you do?

A) Leave immediately
B) Stay and observe
C) Call the cops
D) Something else

Leave a comment

Chris Lengquist
A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
Read full legalese here

© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved

Traci Brown is the #3 body language expert in the world and a leader in training people to increase sales by detecting deception. She’s a frequent guest on TV interpreting the body language of criminals and politicians. (And sometimes both labels describe the same person!)

She even helps lawyers pick and persuade a jury using body language.

Traci Brown

Body Language Expert & Author

Website: https://www.bodylanguagetrainer.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BodyLanguageSpeaker

Transcript

Chris: There you are. How are you doing?

Traci: Good, good! I’m trying to get my camera right here. Sometimes the… the Zoom goes a little crazy, so…

Chris: I understand. You got a… you got a Brunswick bowling PIN behind you. You don’t see those very often.

Traci: Let me… I do! I, um, there’s a story behind it. Do you want it now, or do you want it during the, uh…

Chris: Uh, we, we can do it on the thing there, um, and I appreciate your questions and your, and your intro, and I’m gonna do all that, too, and I appreciate you being on here.

Traci: Yeah, sorry, I… I don’t know if I sent it prior, and I was just like, oh my gosh, I don’t know, anyway.

Chris: Yeah, you said it… now, I know that your book was written a few years ago, do you want me to say hot off the presses?

Traci: Um… Uh, you know, I’m right at the crossroads now of, um… I just finished my new book, and it’s in…

Chris: Okay.

Traci: I… what… what I would like to do is say, yeah, I have a book, it’s awesome, and we can tease a new one.

Chris: Okay.

Traci: So, uh, because I have something really cool that I’m gonna do with it. And I just want to get people to sign up for my newsletter, um, because it’s so cool, and it’s so top secret, and no one has done this before with a book. Uh… I just can’t say what it is right now.

Chris: Well, then don’t, but I mean, the information gap is a great thing when you’re setting up a.

Traci: Yeah. Mm-hmm.

Chris: a story, right? So, that’s…

Traci: Yep, mhm.

Chris: That’s cool. Well, again, thank you for being on here. Well, I’ll tell you what, why don’t I, um…

Traci: Yeah.

Chris: My plan is to always do audio, but if this works great, you’ve got a great background, I might do Zoom, and I forgot to send you a media release, so I’ll have to send you that before we can do that. It’s not a big deal.

Traci: Oh, it’s fine. Whatever. I’m not worried.

Chris: I just… I’m surrounded by lawyers in my life, so the, um… you probably are too. So, so…

Traci: I have a few, I do have a couple, yeah.

Chris: Yeah, but I will definitely link to your website, and do all that kind of fun stuff, and…

Traci: Okay.

Chris: And we’re gaining about 2 to 3 subscribers a day, so, I mean, it’s a new project, and uh, but it seems to.

Traci: Oh, cool!

Chris: be resonating with people, so that’ll be fun, so… cool. All right, so I’ll tell you what, uh, let me just… let me just get started here.

Traci: I like it! That’s good.

Chris: All right, well, Traci, I’m glad you’re here. Thank you.

Traci: Thanks for having me, this is great!

Chris: Well, listen, for folks that don’t know Traci Brown, she’s the number 3 body language expert in the world, and a leader in training people to increase the detecting deception. I tried to say that, like, 3 or 4 times, but that’s a tongue twister for me, alright?

Traci: It is! Mm-hmm.

Chris: She’s a frequent guest on TV interpreting body language, and I was just watching another one of her newsletters. She puts videos on there, so I highly recommend becoming a part of her newsletter. But she interprets the body language of criminals and politicians, and sometimes those are the same things in today’s world, right? She even helps lawyers, um, pick and persuade using body language as far as they’re picking their juries.

Traci: Mm-hmm.

Chris: And she’s a former member of the U.S. National Cycling Team. Is that what I saw?

Traci: That is true, 100%.

Chris: Well, I’ve got to ask you about that, because I used to ride a bike 4 and 5,000 miles a year.

Traci: Okay, all right, so did I.

Chris: Yeah, I bet you did, if you were on… I was just doing it to go from beer to beer and barbecue to barbecue to keep the weight off, but it was… it was a lot of fun, but… You’ve got your book, How to Detect Lies and Fraud and Identity Theft?

Traci: Mm-hmm.

Chris: And… Are you gonna tease the new book, or are we gonna hold that secret right now?

Traci: I have… okay, so… I’m gonna tease the book, and I’m really gonna tease how I’m gonna roll it out. So, um… Yeah, so, so far the working title is, um, called Watch What They Say. And it’s… at best, it’ll come out summer 2027.

Chris: Okay.

Traci: because publishers are glacial in speed, and I have the coolest. Book promo to go along with it that anyone has ever done in the history and I am not kidding you, I am not exaggerating, it is the coolest. book promo that anyone has ever done in the history of the world, and I am… I am doing it, and I can’t tell you what it is yet. Um, but that’s why people want to sign up for my newsletter. And of course, there’s gonna be cool stuff in my newsletter between now and when I can announce that.

Chris: Where is that newsletter? So, give us the URL, just for anybody that wants it.

Traci: Oh, uh, you can go to bodylanguageTrainer.com, and, um, it’s down at the… at the, uh, bottom, you’ll see it there in the link to sign up, or. Anytime I post anything on my TikToks or my, um, Facebook, the link is there.

Chris: And we’re gonna link to it in this article, too. So, I mean, so that’ll be great. And, as I understand it, you’re an executive producer of a TV series?

Traci: As well. Mm-hmm. I got one in the works in Hollywood, yeah, and so, um, the working title of that is… Um, we just changed it. Uh, truth be told.

Chris: Truth be told, okay.

Traci: Yeah, mm-hmm. So, um, you know, Hollywood’s a fickle place, so knock on wood. That, uh, something cool happens with it.

Chris: Yeah, well, that is a lot of fun. So, let’s circle back to this bicycling thing. You were a pro at bicycling. Is that the deal? How did you get into that? How did you get out of it? What did you experience?

Traci: Yeah. Yeah, mm-hmm. Oh, well, uh, that led me directly into being a body language expert, um, because I learned quickly that the core of cycling, like the elite level. is for little people, and I’m a big person, and uh… you know, 5’9”, I don’t think overly big, but when you race against elf-sized people. Um, you have to do some things differently to start to keep up and eventually win, and I was able to predict what was going to happen before. Before it actually happened, maybe before even people knew they were gonna make their move, and getting that half a second, uh, jump on what was about to happen was what. allowed me to, to eventually keep up and, and uh… and then, and then win, and I needed… and I needed it, here’s the thing, because. I had jumped into the deep end of cycling without even knowing it. There was this guy, he kept showing up to the races, uh, and, well, he was there in the training rides, you know, because you always train with the men, but every now and then, I’d jump in the races and race right alongside him. His name was Lance, and uh, he was really fast. Lance Armstrong!

Chris: I was gonna say, did he have any medical conditions later on? Yeah, yeah, so…

Traci: He did have a few, so… excuse me. Anyway, um, he’s no joke really fast, but I had to be able to anticipate what was going to happen, so I, because the problem is in cycling. The problem, and I know that you know this from doing a little bit of riding yourself, it’s not like, I don’t know, if you’re playing softball or soccer or whatever, you’re having a bad day, you know, it’s not that you sit on the bench, who cares? You know, it’s not that big of a… Big of a deal. When… in cycling, if you don’t… if you don’t cut it, they leave you behind, and you’ve got to find your way home, and you are exhausted anyway, and I’m talking wind, rain, hail.

Chris: Oh.

Traci: Uh, heat, cold, all of it. Snow? And, uh, I was tired of that, and so I had to really focus in on what I did know and what I could use, and that was understanding body language at a really deep level. But the thing is, I didn’t realize I was doing it. Until, um, I had already retired. And, uh, and I was… I was watching the Tour de France with a friend. I’m like, oh, look, here’s what’s gonna happen. And she’s like, don’t you understand you’ve been doing this body language thing for.

Chris: Yeah.

Traci: way longer than you ever thought, and I was like, oh, it hit me hard! So, um… Uh, so I, you know, I’ve been reading people since I was 14 years old, and uh, now, you know, I’ve gone into business with those skills, and I’ve been lucky enough to train right alongside our country’s top law enforcement. uh, FBI police, uh, and, and, you know, military, um, Green Berets and Navy, and, um, and I’ve… and it’s using those same skills to build your bottom line, save you time, money, and energy.

Chris: Well, we’re not gonna make this whole interview about bicycling, but what was a tell? Like, you’re sitting by… you’re sitting in the draft.

Traci: Uh-huh.

Chris: And, and you… and you… what was a tell that you can share?

Traci: Uh, well, everyone… and this is the same in the boardroom, okay? It’s the same at work, it’s the same at home. Everyone has their own unique tells. And when you can start to understand everyone’s uniqueness. Um, then you can start to anticipate what goes on. So, with some people, it would be a sudden change in the angle of their back. Right? Um, other people… other times, um, I would notice, um. You know, when it gets hot, it didn’t work in the winter as much, but when it gets hot, and people start to sweat, if there’s a line of salt. Uh, just under the… under the elastic band of their shorts. I knew I could attack and they wouldn’t come with me. Because they were… they were busted. So, um, little bitty things like, like that, like when someone starts drinking too much, when, um…

Chris: Yeah.

Traci: Sometimes you can notice when people become sloppy and they start bouncing around a little bit. then, um, that’s a tell as well, that they’re just, like, they’re struggling, right? So, um, and of course, I had to understand, like, the flow of the pack, and what was about to happen next, because, um, and you know this too, and I think it’s true in the rest of the world. If you’re not moving up, you’re moving back. That’s just it, you can’t, you can’t sit still in the pack and be like, all right, I’m good. As soon as you do that, you get dumped out the back. It just doesn’t work. Like, someone will gap you, and then. And then you gotta go around them, and then you’re fighting to get back to the front, so… Always, if you’re not moving up, you’re moving back.

Chris: Yeah, you described all of my bicycling tells. I was constantly bonking. Just kidding. So, it was a lot of fun. So, hey! you work with all kinds of investigations. You help financial and insurance groups spot lies and therefore prevent fraud. What are some of the easy ways that anyone can use these tools we’re talking about.

Traci: Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.

Chris: to stop, you know, to find the lies and stop the losses. I mean, give us real practicality.

Traci: Well, okay, so if someone nods their head yes, this means yes, okay? And if they shake their head no, this means no. And, um, you know, a perfect example of this right now is, um, super timely, it’s the Clintons.

Chris: Right.

Traci: when… because they just released all of their, uh, deposition to Congress, or testimony… I don’t know if it’s a deposition or testimony. Um, but, uh, you know, Bill Clinton got asked, did you, uh, have any sexual, uh, contact with anyone Jeffrey Epstein introduced you to? And he very clearly says, no. He nods his head, yes, right? So, what happens is, during deception, we go into cognitive overload.

Chris: Okay.

Traci: And, um, the, uh, prefrontal cortex, like the adult, like the newest part of our brain. starts to take over functions that it shouldn’t be doing, right? Because it’s having to fabricate all this information, and um… and also, the body doesn’t want to keep a lie in. It’s very expensive energetically.

Chris: Yeah.

Traci: Like, like, the brain is a… the brain is a big energy hog, and so if you ask it to deceive, right, it’s having to keep the lie in, it’s having to create. Energy, uh, like, to sell the concept, it’s having to add emotions. And so, the system just melts down, but it’s in these little, tiny ways. And so when you can… when you can pick up on, on that, that’s when you can. you can, uh… because it’s not always about creating these gotcha moments, right? It’s… it’s really about… Knowing more than is immediately obvious, and navigating around that so that you can begin to, um… uh, like, get the right answer out of people, but more importantly, inform your decisions, right? Because you can just do something different, like knowing what you know.

Chris: So, I’m going to go off script a little bit here, because I want to dig here if we can, if that’s okay, because what I found as an investigator is if I asked enough questions, people couldn’t help but talk.

Traci: Okay, let’s do it. Oh, yeah.

Chris: And, and what I didn’t understand was how… because I’m a little bit like you, you said. you could tell, but you didn’t know how or why. You were reading these kinds of things, right? So…

Traci: Mm-hmm.

Chris: When you’re learning how to… to identify this in real time, how was it for you that you began to realize, I’m picking this stuff up. And I’m transferring it, and I’m making it knowledge that I can now use. Do you see what I’m trying to say, or am I asking… I’m not asking a very good question, because I didn’t know why I was good at it, but then as I began to learn it by seeing the same patterns over again, I began to then put it into groups.

Traci: Um… Well, when I was really able to put it into play, uh, a lot more than just from bike racing was, uh, because I’m trained as a hypnotist. I saw clients.

Chris: Okay.

Traci: for 8 years, and I was able to… because here’s the thing, when people go to therapy, okay, for one, no one wants to go to therapy, no one wants to be there, okay? Uh, just bottom line thing. And, um, when they are there, there’s a shame factor that’s in play, okay? And it’s… it’s the same factor, like, if you’re interviewing someone in an investigation, right? There’s a. There’s a shame factor at play. And so that can, can lead people to stretch the truth, or minimize, or, um… what have you. Now, as a therapist, right, I need to know exactly what’s going on. so I can get them across the hump, right? Because they didn’t come… they didn’t come in. To be the same. Like, they came, they, they walked in one way, and they paid me money so they could walk out another way.

Chris: No.

Traci: And, uh, and if they’re not being straight with me, I have to know that, so that I can… so I can get them to point B. Like, and it is amazing, the amount of people that come in. Don’t want to tell you the whole thing. And I got really good at figuring out when they weren’t telling me everything. And then I got really good at pulling the truth out of them. And so… so this whole thing started, right, just in the sake of… of results. And, um, and of course, now I do… I do different, like, bigger things, uh, with it, but, um… that’s, that’s when I started to realize, I’m like, okay, wait, I’m getting good at this.

Chris: Yeah, it’s fun to think back about how those progressions happened, and that’s, that’s why I was just asking you, because I think some of our readers or listeners are probably.

Traci: Yeah.

Chris: you’re reading detective stories for a reason. Like, you kind of get into trying to figure that out. So, is body language the same for big and small lies?

Traci: Mm-hmm. It is. Uh, no, well, yeah, it is. It’s more subtle for the small ones, okay? So…

Chris: Okay, tell me more.

Traci: So, body language doesn’t… so for one… so, first, first thing, let’s get this… really straight. Body language by itself doesn’t indicate a whole lot, okay? However, it’s that intricate dance with the words, and uh… and with your tone, and with your volume, and with your pacing. That all of a sudden, it can create a big… more complete picture. So, um…

Chris: Right.

Traci: Body language, it doesn’t scream at you, it leaks. And I think that every now and then it’ll scream but, but, but most, mostly. it leaks. And so…

Chris: That sounds like a line for your TV show. I’m telling you, that line jumps out at me.

Traci: Yeah, well, good, good! Call the people in Hollywood and tell them to light a fire under them. Man, I’ve never met people who have less urgency than people in Hollywood. Um, so, uh, point being is that you really have to raise your sensory acuity. That’s how much you’re paying attention to what goes on outside of you. Uh, to see these things, because most of us go, um, go through life, like, paying… So much attention to ourselves, we just don’t pay attention to what’s going on outside us. And so, and here’s the thing. It’s… I understand how difficult it is to do, just in daily life, because one of the things that, um. over the last, let’s say, year, I’ve been, uh, really working on focusing on, uh, because it’s very… it’s very… accurate tell of stress is someone’s blink rate, and it’s not something that I was necessarily originally trained to watch. And, and so I’ve been, I’ve been trying to, to, to focus on that more and it is hard to, um. like, take that new piece and pay attention, right? And now that I’m getting it, it’s, it’s a lot easier, right? But even though, like, you can know.

Chris: Yeah.

Traci: All the stuff in the world, you can memorize every book ever written on the topic, but to put it into play. takes conscious effort. So, um, that’s, you know, in my keynotes, because a lot of what I do is. Is, uh, speak to associations and corporations to help them integrate this into their sales and negotiations and hiring and things like that. Um, like, I make sure in my talk that people have an experience of using it, but it’s up to you to keep using it. Because, uh, like, there’s so much uncertainty going on these days. Uh, with everything around us, and whether it’s economically, politically, or even online, like, we are so… we are more deceived than ever. More than ever! And, um, knowing the truth. is key to making the best decisions that you can, right? And… and… and moving forward powerfully, because every… every big, um… Like, like, leadership decision, like, has an impact and it, like, with dollars, time and money and, and so it’s super important. To best inform that decision immediately, right away, so that. Um, you’re working with all the information that you have.

Chris: Yeah, alright. Great, great words there, and by the way, now I’m really self-conscious about my blinking, so, like…

Traci: Well, the thing about blinks, here’s the thing about blinks. There’s… there’s two things that you can’t manually control. Uh, one is your blink rate. And the other is your forehead. And so, when you can start to watch those 2. body parts. I was gonna call them, like, items, but when you can watch those two things, you’re gonna get a really accurate view.

Chris: You’re…

Traci: Of… of someone’s emotional state, and what they’re comfortable with and what they’re not. Like, because here’s the thing. Uh, Chris, is that signs of deception are… there’s no, like, sign of deception. It’s what you’re looking for is a sign of stress. And stress is… for people who are not, uh, like…

Chris: Mm-hmm.

Traci: Neurologically, uh…

Chris: Yeah.

Traci: Like, like a psychopath or something like that. Uh, then that’s gonna be a really accurate read on what’s going on for someone.

Chris: So your best people to interview for body language are bald people, because we have lots of forehead, and you don’t have to worry about doing that.

Traci: Yeah, for sure, but even if you don’t, I mean, yeah, the worst ones are the bangs. I’m like, get rid of the bangs! Or, um… Botox is another one that’s… that’ll, um…

Chris: Oh, yeah.

Traci: That can throw a wrench in… in, uh… But even, even so, like, here’s the thing, I don’t have a thing against Botox, I like it, I think it’s great. I, um, I think it can lead to a really good look, so I’m not getting down on people or judging or anything. Um, and… but here’s the thing, there’s always an area outside the affected area that will move. So, so don’t think, like, if you, if you find someone whose eyebrows are cemented into place, there’s other tells, um, like, head to toe, but definitely in the forehead, too, you can still see stuff.

Chris: Got it. Fantastic. So… How do we start to use this info at work and get real answers that we need out of customers and coworkers?

Traci: Okay, so to get answers, here’s the key, and I want you to consider this, and I know you know this, but my mentor in the FBI. He’s an FBI trainer, retired now. He goes, look, it’s all about information recovery. So, all you gotta do is keep people talking. Just keep them talking. And uh… and you can do, like, little bitty things, just elicitation things, and just say, really? Or, no way, right? Like, little things like that will keep people talking. You can even tell them information that you know is. empirically wrong, because people want to help, and they want to, uh, they want to correct you, right? So, one of the ones that I’ve heard was back in, um…

Chris: Yep. Yep.

Traci: in Vietnam. Okay, so the U.S. Navy’s in Vietnam, and the soldiers get a little bit of leave, and they go to the bar, and, you know, spies are everywhere. They’re everywhere. And, you know, they don’t wear fedoras and trench coats, you know, they don’t.

Chris: So…

Traci: Uh, and all they gotta do is keep them talking, and they said something like, oh, I heard the propellers on, on, uh, your boat was, you know, 10 feet wide, and, and they’re like, you know, they’re a little drunk. They’re like, no, no, they’re 15. Right? So… so, those are… that’s, like, just a little bit…

Chris: Yeah.

Traci: Of how you can keep people talking.

Chris: Yeah, when I would interview people, or especially when I was skip tracing, my challenge was to get my answer without asking them the question. Like, keep… like, ask all the peripheral questions, but they will volunteer the information eventually.

Traci: Uh-huh. Yeah. Mm-hmm. Oh yeah, yeah, they want to help. Skip tracing, tell me about that!

Chris: So… Well, you know, when I was an investigator in Maryland, I worked Maryland, D.C, and Virginia. I was a process server as well.

Traci: Uh…

Chris: And, um, I was 22, 23 the first time I did it, and it turned out I was pretty good at it, and they kept sending me out, because I could talk to people, and I could be whoever that person needed me to be.

Traci: Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Oh, okay.

Chris: Um, you know, I even talk about it in one of my articles, that if you need me to be a little rough and tumble and cuss, I could do that. If you need me to be very sweet. you know, friend of your son who I was trying to find, I could do that. Um, just… and if you just talk to them long enough and ask them enough peripheral questions, they’ll generally give you the answer that you came for, and…

Traci: Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. Yeah, behavioral flexibility, that is key.

Chris: Well, I love that term. We, you know, we called it pretext.

Traci: Uh-huh.

Chris: But my soul called it lying. I was always in inner conflict about all of us, if that makes any sense. That’s…

Traci: Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.

Chris: after 9 years, I’d had enough of it, but I was good at it, which is kind of a scary thing, you know, so…

Traci: Yeah. It is, I gotta watch out for you.

Chris: Well, we’re gonna talk more about, um, a couple questions I had for you, but tell me about the Brunswick bowling pen.

Traci: Oh, my bowling PIN behind me. Okay, so I, um, I’m, uh, grew up in a family of bowlers, we’re all bowlers, and my uncle is the best one. Out of all of us. And so he has… he’s in Arkansas, and he has a, um, an attic that’s kind of like a… it’s like a museum. All the toys from the 1950s growing up are there, and so when me and my brother were little, we’d go up there and we’d get the little, you know, the marionettes and whatever that they had. And we had this bowling PIN up there, and I… it just blew my mind. It blew my mind, like. how could you get a bowling PIN? Like, you know, because I’m little, I’m like, because then, you know, you wouldn’t be able to set all the pins just right, because you’d be down a PIN, you know, and like… like, I just… it just blew my mind.

Chris: Yeah. I get it.

Traci: And so, I’ve always wanted a bowling PIN. I’ve always wanted one. And just after the pandemic, I got asked to speak at the Bowling Proprietors. association. And I gave my talk, it went great, and right before I was done, I was like, look, y’all. And I told him the story, and I said, I really want a bowling PIN. I will buy it. Can I buy a bowling PIN from someone in here? And the bowling lanes right over here by me, Chipper’s Lanes in Broomfield, Colorado, and mind you, we were in. Louisville, Kentucky, because, you know, conferences are everywhere. Uh, the girl from there came up, and she said.

Chris: Okay.

Traci: We would love to host you for a night of bowling on us, and we will give you a PIN, and that. And that is my PIN, and I’m so proud of it, and I just love it.

Chris: Well, so you, you lead a pretty cool life. You get to go talk to people and train with people about something you’re impassioned about, right? And so, what I’ve seen from your newsletters, that’s what you’re sharing with people.

Traci: Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm, I do. Mm-hmm, yeah.

Chris: And whether they ever use it or not, you’re sharing a really useful skill, and. It’s good entertainment.

Traci: Well, it is. People call my newsletters juicy, and so I’m always talking about someone in the news. who’s, like, showing these signs, and they’re probably being deceptive. And, you know, the more and more video that we have out, um, these days, the more there is to comment on. So, I do that once a month. And, um, and people can join, and I know you’re gonna put the link in the, uh… in your comments or in the article. Um, and… but if you’re hungrier than that. Um, every… every day, I post on Facebook or TikTok. And, um, I’m getting a huge following going. I’ve only been posting every day since about… let’s call the first of… let’s call it the first of December on Facebook. I’d been doing it kind of randomly on TikTok, like, and gaining a little bit. I got… okay, so let’s back up.

Chris: Okay.

Traci: I got kicked off TikTok. For my, uh, analysis of Harry and Meghan. Um, and I have… I believe that they have someone on the inside. at TikTok, who pulled everything, uh, off, and I’ll tell you, it was… it was, uh, February 2nd. 2024, I believe, was the date, whenever his book came out.

Chris: Okay.

Traci: Because I was… man, I was racking up the views, like, 600,000, 700,000. Uh, and I didn’t say, hey, look, he’s lying, so you should hate him. I was like, hey, here’s an example of someone who’s holding back information, someone who’s not being 100%. Truthful, all, you know, um… I think justifiable, right? Uh, but Harry and Meghan did not like it, and the reason I know that they have someone on the inside of TikTok. Is because on that day, uh, my friend who was kind of helping me craft all of this, like, you know, just strategy-wise. she… I’m like, look, my account’s gone. It’s not coming back. And… and she got on there, and you could not find anything about Harry or Meghan on TikTok at all. on that date. So they had it, they had everything, they, they scrubbed, uh, TikTok. So, anyway, so I, uh… Excuse me. So I was like, why am I putting all this effort into this, hoping to build something here, if it’s all gonna be just taken away?

Chris: Right.

Traci: Uh, and so I just quit for a year, and then I kind of got back doing it. I was like, why not? I have a little extra time. Anyway, it’s starting to blow up, um, but I post the same thing on Facebook, and that’s the one that’s really going. So since, um… I started out…

Chris: So you got the kids and the old people.

Traci: Yeah, yeah. So, so I… so, and Facebook, for real, it is old people, like, the 65 plus crowd loves me. You know, because I can see all the stats, but since, um…

Chris: Yeah.

Traci: since December, and we’re talking… today is, what, March 5th or so? Um… Since December, I’ve gained… I’ll give you the latest number, um… 66,000 followers, and 4 million views?

Chris: There you go.

Traci: Um, hang on, let me get you the number here.

Chris: And this is on TikTok, or…

Traci: This is on Facebook, 4.7 million views in the last month. So, it’s going somewhere, that’s good. Um…

Chris: Facebook. Well, I’ll have to… I’ll have to look you up. I’m gonna… I’m gonna… it’s a… it’s a personal goal to die without ever being on TikTok, but that’s just…

Traci: Well, I had that goal too, but then I was like, maybe I could make some money. But…

Chris: That’s just me. I get it. I get it.

Traci: Um, but I’ll tell ya, um, the Chinese, uh, I don’t think they’re that good at math, because, uh… I went viral the last couple days talking about the McDonald’s CEO.

Chris: Uh-huh.

Traci: And, you know, because he ate that burger, yeah, and so I’m like, well, how does this actually come together? Like, why… why are we feeling this big mismatch? And so I did an analysis, and so that’s almost 700,000 views right now, and they… and I started out.

Chris: That was funny.

Traci: I don’t know if I’m throwing around too many numbers. I started out at 44,000 followers. They told me I got almost 20,000 followers from this one video, and my follower number is only up to 50,000, so something’s… something’s like…

Chris: Yeah, well, I love numbers, but they don’t always match, so that’s… it’s the trends I look for, but that’s…

Traci: Well, they definitely don’t match on TikTok, so…

Chris: Well, I mean, so, in my life, you know, I never stopped being an investigator, I just did it differently.

Traci: Uh-huh.

Chris: I became a photographer because I learned how to take pictures of people doing things they shouldn’t be doing.

Traci: Oh, okay, alright.

Chris: And that led into… my photography life, and then that led into my real estate life, which I’ve had for the last 26 years, but I’ve still always investigated the numbers.

Traci: Okay. Yeah.

Chris: The profitability, all these different kinds of things that makes it fun.

Traci: Well, start investing on TikTok, that… that would help me out!

Chris: Well, TikTok, I’ve never… I’ve never quite figured out there, but… so, what closing thoughts do you have for us today? Because I think everybody should be on the newsletter, right? And so, but…

Traci: Uh-huh, yeah, yeah, sign up for the newsletter, mhm.

Chris: Yeah, and that’s, um, uh, bodylanguetrainer.com.

Traci: BodyLanguageTrainer.com. You gotta scroll down, it’s at the bottom, or just find me on… on Facebook and… or TikTok, and it’ll be there, too.

Chris: Okay. Okay, but what closing thoughts would you have for us? For the people that read.

Traci: Um, and it’s, it’s…

Chris: you know, the process server chronicles. They’re probably interested in stories, they’re probably interested in… I do a little thing on there about behavioral detective, you know, like, the tells and that kind of thing, but what…

Traci: Uh-huh. Uh-huh, uh-huh.

Chris: What is it you would leave with the readers?

Traci: I… I gotta tell you, it’s just one thing, it’s pay attention or pay with pain. That is it.

Chris: Hmm.

Traci: And that is the bottom line. Pay your attention, Bill. You will get a lot further. In whatever area of life that you… if you want, whether it’s, you know, the real estate you’re talking about, or investigating, or what have you. the information is there. The question is, are you gonna… are you gonna pay attention? Are you gonna use it?

Chris: So, so, you know, you ought to just become a writer, or a screenwriter or something. You’ve got pay with pain, or pay attention, or pay with pain. I love that. And then body language doesn’t scream, it leaks.

Traci: Yeah. Mm-hmm. Yeah.

Chris: Those are… those are Mickey Spillane-type lines. Great job.

Traci: That’s good. Well, I’ll tell you what, on my, um… when people sign up for my newsletter, you get all my videos, because I do have some Hollywood thriller, uh, level videos that I’ve done, and they’re, they’re keynote promos. Uh, so I sneak that in there, but there’s a plot in the last one that I did, I got 2 of them, and I’ll… I’ll do a third. Uh, shortly. The, uh… and I do have a writer in Hollywood who helps me out. She, um… She’s amazing, and uh… like, she was a VP at HBO, she’s written for the Hallmark Channel, I mean, she’s… She’s really something. Anyway, uh, where was I going with that? Is, uh, yes. uh, to more, um, Hollywood-type stuff, because it’s so exciting. Anyway, you can see those on my website, um, you can see them on my, on my YouTube, wherever. you wanna go, and when you sign up for my newsletter, you’ll get… you’ll get the details on why I’m doing another one, but I gotta… it’s a big cliffhanger, and if you haven’t seen it, you’re gonna… you’re gonna be like, oh, when are we gonna get the next one?

Chris: So, all right, well, that’s fantastic. Traci, I really want to thank you for being here today. I really…

Traci: Hey, thanks for having me! This is super nice.

Chris: I really do. Fantastic. Well, listen, we’ll catch you around, keep reading, keep writing, keep talking.

Traci: Absolutely.

Chris: Boom. Done. So, yeah, we… Thank you so much!

Traci: Cool, we did it! Cut! We’re done. Awesome! Yeah, yeah, for sure. Um, you know, let me know how… how everything shakes out, and I know this is… this is new. When I… when I do my, um… when I do my book launch, maybe… maybe we can circle back and… and, uh, help with that, because it’s going to be… it’s going to be really something.

Chris: Yeah. Well, that’ll be fun, and I’m gonna send you the media release now, so I don’t forget.

Traci: Hmm. Okay.

Chris: And, um, what I would say is it’s probably 4 to 6 weeks before I release this.

Traci: Okay.

Chris: Uh, maybe a little bit sooner, I already have another one lined up to go out here soon. But it’s, um, we’re having some fun.

Traci: Okay. Uh-huh. Good! Oh, I love it. I can’t wait to hear it!

Chris: Okay. Alright, I’ll talk to you later, Traci.

Traci: Alright, cool, see ya! Bye.

Chris: Alright, bye-bye.

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A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
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Audio Version

One blue eye. One brown.

I had a Siberian husky once. Reddish coloring, beautiful dog, wild as heck. Docile with kids but always full of energy. We lived in a townhouse in Germantown with an 18x24-foot backyard.

That’s not nearly enough room for a breed bred to run from Anchorage to Nome ten hours a day in freezing temperatures.

When he’d escape, and he would escape, it was like catching a greased pig. He’d run, evade, circle back. I swear to this day that once, after a long chase, he stood there and smiled at me before sprinting straight back to the house to wait for me at the door.

Huskies are fun. Incredibly intelligent. Exuberant, shall we say.

They’re also not violent or dangerous in any way, shape, or form.

The Serve

I pulled up to an aging bungalow in need of some TLC located in Hyattsville. Real working man kind of neighborhood. Routine summons. Auto accident stuff. Just give it to your insurance company and call it a day. Most people don’t realize why they pay the premiums for car insurance. Accidents happen. This moment is why you pay the premiums.

The house was surrounded by a chain-link fence. Beware of Dog sign on the gate. Trash in the yard. Sitting in a white rocker on the porch: a gruff-looking white guy, unshaved, beer belly that took effort, more effort in his hand.

These guys are always fun. I prepare for a berating.

As I approached the gate with a Maglite and summons in hand, I saw a large dog galloping toward me. Quiet. Smiling. Making a beeline.

Simultaneously, I heard: “I wouldn’t enter. You don’t want to deal with the dog.”

I always carried my two-D-battery Maglite. Day or night, rain or shine. In the right hands, these flashlights are incapacitating weapons. Maybe we can get into that later. But I digress.

So there I am at the chain-link gate. Gruff guy on the porch. Dog closing in.

One blue eye. One brown.

A Siberian husky.

I opened the gate. Petted “Cujo.” Gave him a biscuit I keep in my jacket for exactly these kind of times. He walked up the porch steps with me happy to smell someone new.

Gruff guy took a sip of his IC Light. Light? It’s not working, pal. But I digress, again.

I smiled. He smiled.

“You have a husky?” It was a statement more than a question.

“Yeah.”

“Thought so.”

I handed him the summons and said in a friendly tone, “You’re served.”

He looked at the papers. Looked at his dog. Looked at me.

“Think our football team will be any good this year?” He had already moved on.

“As long as we have Joe Gibbs, I expect so.” I responded.

“Wanna cold one?” He offered.

His husky was now sitting between us, panting, looking up at his owner like he’d just made a new friend.

Which, I guess, he had.

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NOTE: Your job here, should you choose to accept it, is to read the Remembrances below and then Comment whether they are TRUE, TRUE(ish) or FICTION in the Comments section. Then check The Reveal.

What I Remember About That Day

1. The “Beware of Dog” sign was hand-painted on a piece of plywood.

2. Gruff guy was drinking Iron City Light—12-ounce can, half empty.

3. The husky’s name was Duke. He told me after I served him.

4. The dog had one blue eye on the right, one brown on the left.

5. There were three empty beer cans on the porch railing.

6. I petted Duke for a solid two minutes before leaving. He leaned into it.

Your move: True? True(ish)? Fiction?

How to Play:

• Drop your guesses in the comments (TRUE / TRUE(ish) / FICTION for each)

• First person to get all six correct wins bragging rights

• After leaving comment, tap the reveal picture below.

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A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
Read full legalese here

© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved

Reveal is reserved for Insiders until 12:01 pm, Tuesday, April 7, 2026

Read Case File #066: Why I Ignored the “Beware of Dog” Sign

The Disposition

What I Remember About That Day

1. The “Beware of Dog” sign was hand-painted on a piece of plywood.
   FALSE: As you can see on the photo below, which was the title photo, it was one of those hardware store bought ones.

2. Gruff guy was drinking Iron City Light—12-ounce can, half empty.
   TRUE(ish): Definitely an IC Light, 12 ounce can. Half empty? I don’t really have any idea.

3. The husky’s name was Duke. He told me after I served him.
   TRUE: Odd name for a husky but I definitely remember. Perhaps because of the unusual name for a husky.

4. The dog had one blue eye on the right, one brown on the left.
   TRUE: Absolutely true. It’s a trait of Siberian huskies. If you know, you know. And, the clue was on the title photo. (See below.)

5. There were three empty beer cans on the porch railing.
   TRUE(ish): Thee were definitely cans but I don't remember how many. My gut tells me there were many more.

6. I petted Duke for a solid two minutes before leaving. He leaned into it.
   TRUE: And there is a distinct possibility I went ahead and had that beer.

Want to tell me how you did or argue with one of the clues?

Leave a comment….

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If you’d like to discuss further, visit the Detective’s Lounge. But, do not leak the answers. Remember, you paid for this.

A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
Read full legalese here

© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved

Here is a demonstration of creating commonality and trust in a matter of seconds.

The Rockville High Pretext: How I learned to create commonality.
A Skip Trace Demonstration

With my black Escort sitting in front, I walked up the driveway listening to the required lawnmower hum of suburbia on a spring Saturday morning. I knocked on the door and stepped back and down the two stairs and off to the side. There I stood facing the door, smiling.

I looked normal enough. Twenty-three, about the same age as the person I was looking for. And I was wearing an Orioles hat because I heard he had played on his high school baseball team. Outfielder.

The door opened, cautiously, by a woman in her 50s who reminded me of June Cleaver. I asked if her son was home. When she raised her eyebrow, I could see she had also raised her guard. She decided to gather more information before disclosing anything. After all, she had no idea who I was or why I had come unannounced.

“He’s not home. How can I help you?”

Cautious. Curious.

“I’m a Rockville High classmate. Chris. No one has been able to locate him for a while. We are putting together an impromptu reunion and I said ‘I know where he used to live, I’ll stop by and see if his parents are still there.”

While saying that, I turned ¼ to my right, like I’m about to leave. Signaled I’m not coming after her.

A small smile emerged from the woman. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Truthfully, he doesn’t live here anymore, and we don’t talk nearly enough. But if I get you his phone number, will that help?” Her guard is now not only down, but she also left the door partially open as she disappeared inside.

“Absolutely.” I said as I smiled back. I stayed right where I was, enjoying the smell of the cherry blossoms.

She returned and came down the two stairs to me.

Handing me a piece of paper with a number scribbled on it she said, “When you talk to him, tell him to call me.” The voice was almost sad, her eyes avoiding mine. But there was also hope. She wanted to believe I would help her reconnect with her son.

“I will.” I promised. And I did.

I’d deal with the ethical question of lying years later. Pretext we called it.

Pretext is a fictitious reason to have a conversation. A pretext can be as innocuous as walking down the wrong hall to bump into that person you are longing to see or as guise to learn information that will help to locate a person of interest.

Commonality Changes How You Are Seen

Did you spot the commonality built in an instant? Did you catch the signals of “I’m not a threat?”

In the 1990s, I wasn’t thinking about all these fancy terms of today. That was knowledge still to be learned. I was just beating the defenses. I learned what worked through trial and error. In the beginning, the rush of wind from a slamming door was more common than getting a phone number scribbled on a piece of paper. I still carry those scars from the skip tracings I conducted.

Skip tracing is the name private investigators use to say that they are searching for someone that doesn’t want to be found. There are more people avoiding others than you think. For whatever reasons: divorce, dodging old acquaintances, dodging bill collectors or other responsibilities. Heck, maybe they just want to disappear.

Skip tracing was my thing. The office often asked me to locate people that had reasons not to be located. That and finding where people had hid their money, or rather who they had hid it with, was my specialty.

There was no internet, no GPS tracking, no cell phones. Just the White Pages, a pocket full of quarters and a place to start.

I learned the skill to be who I needed to be to ascertain information. If the person I was interviewing needed me to have a soft personality, I could relax my body language and soften my voice.

If a moment required me to be louder and tougher, I could change modes. Even throw in a swear word or two.

Knocking on doors and talking to hundreds of people telling little white lies as I stood on their front porches, I learned the street science version of behavioral psychology. A fellow investigator described me as a bit of a Behavioral Detective.

In about 7 seconds or less I had to make an impression on the person I was looking to serve or interview or watch. I had to be in the “Not a threat” category.

I had to read them before they read me.

Creating Commonality In Seconds

Every single day you see people use the same techniques of seeking commonality to drop threat levels. When you walk through the front door of an open house for sale in your neighborhood and the real estate agent standing there smiles, steps back a half pace and asks, “You from Arizona?” referencing the Arizona shirt you are wearing. She may, or may not, really care; she is just breaking the ice.

The loud frat boys know this skill, consciously or not. The more shadowy of our society, confidence men (and women), practice this skill like it makes them money.

“No. We just visited the Grand Canyon last year.” says the open house visitor.

“Me, too,” smiles the real estate agent.

What is really being said between the two is, “Welcome to my tribe.” Ground is broken. The threat level is lowered. After a three-minute conversation about the North Rim the would-be buyers are now comfortable with this real estate agent.

Their real estate agent.

The Information Gathered

The phone number I garnered from June Cleaver was important to my role as skip tracer for the client that had hired our firm. I wasn’t there to worry about the right or wrong of what I was doing. Never crossed my mind. Nor was I concerned about a larger schism this may cause in the relationship of a mother and son, already strained.

I would deal with that fall out years later as I sat on those worn eastern steps of the Lincoln Memorial.

You can see how this plays out in that story of the Kansas Kid. See if you can see where commonality was built. Start to be a Behavioral Detective on your own.

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How would you have handled the ethics of what the job of skip tracer entailed? Debate it in The Detective’s Lounge.

A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
Read full legalese here

© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved

The Disposition

Read more

Audio Version Included

Crash! Pow! Rattle.

Like a 1960s Batman episode.

“What the [REDACTED] are you doing?!”

I really couldn’t believe it, though I don’t know why. Dude had just rammed my car.

This was supposed to be an easy serve. The subject lived in NW, not far from American University. I knew the neighborhood. I had served bbq sandwiches at a campus event there once. Different gig, different life. Joan Jett was there.

The subpoena had something to do with his business. Money. A lot of money. Pretty standard stuff.

So I knocked and I waited at the door. I could hear people inside: faint voices, movement. By this time, after hundreds of knocks, I had learned to watch the curtains.

And yep. One moved.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

No answer.

I drove away.

Ok. This wasn’t going to be an easy serve. But now I knew his vehicle. Black Honda Ridgeline. One of those weird truck-SUV hybrids that had just started showing up. I hated them on principle.

And I knew where his business was located. I’d give it until tomorrow morning. These kind of guys started early.

The next morning I was sitting in a pristine NW neighborhood, engine off, windows down. It was early but the sounds of the neighborhood waking up were building. I had already grown sweaty, even at that time of morning. DC humidity can be oppressive.

No coffee. If you drink coffee, you need to go to the bathroom. If you need to go to the bathroom, you need to leave, or worse, pee into some bottle. Neither is great.

Seconds. And I mean seconds after I had settled in and started making my notes, I glanced up and he had his key in the car door, getting into the Ridgeline.

I was too far away to rush him. So, I followed.

We didn’t have far to go. Traffic was light. He pulled into his business, bright and early. First one there. Good business owner.

I followed him in just ten or twelve feet from his bumper, giving up any pretense of being sneaky in this one egress parking lot.

Suddenly, he stopped. Hard.

This guy was not surprised by me. This guy did not want to be served.

I avoided hitting him, but not by much. Immediately I jumped out of my car (I didn’t wear a seatbelt, different era) with papers in one hand and my trusty Maglite in the other.

He was screaming profanities as I walked up to him, still sitting in his car. Throwing in a threat or two. This guy was on edge in a highly visible parking lot in a better part of town.

His window was rolled down. I leaned in.

“You’re served.”

I tried to hand him the papers. He wouldn’t take them. He opened his door and bumped up against me, still threatening.

Note: He was white, blonde, about twenty-five years older, six to eight inches taller, and easily had thirty pounds on me. Speed was my only advantage.

I dropped the papers inside his window.

“You’re still served.”

That was the end of that. Or so I thought. It wasn’t necessary that he touch the legal documents or be happy with receiving them. Many bluster. Some threaten. Most just accept it in the end.

I turned to walk back to my car.

Then—

Crash! Pow! Rattle.

The sound of metal on metal. My bumper crumpling. The whole car shuddered backward.

Dude just rammed my car.

This really didn’t fit the profile.

As I stood there in amazement, he accelerated forward, flipped the Ridgeline around, and sped toward the exit. No, he didn’t try to run me down. In fact, he made it clear by taking a wide path. But he was still yelling threats as he pulled back onto the street, speeding away.

I looked at my watch. 6:27 AM.

After making a note of the day and time I sat in the parking lot writing out a full report in my spiral notebook. Then I got back out and walked around my black Ford Escort.

Definitely drivable. But ugly. Even for a Ford Escort.

As I was getting ready to leave, an employee pulled into the parking lot to open the store.

“You ok?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

I made another note. Description of the person, car, tag, and time. Then I headed to the local precinct to fill out the reports. The cops weren’t all that interested but the legal world loves a paper trail.

When I got back to the office after stopping a body shop for an estimate, the owner was there. He was always no-nonsense. Tall. Always a little ragged looking. The office always had the faint smell of alcohol from the night before, no matter what time of day. I’m not testifying that the two are related.

We seldom saw eye-to-eye. He had called me a neophyte a few months earlier. I had to look that up later that day. Webster’s definition wasn’t exactly complimentary.

He looked at the car. Gave me a name to call.

His attorney.

“How much do you want?” the attorney asked when I met him in person. He was direct and to the point and after settling my nerves by walking the two blocks to his Rockville office I responded, “I just want my car fixed.”

“No, son. Civil suits are not about getting your car fixed. They’re about additional damages. Money. That’s what civil suits are. How much are you thinking?” the jaded professional asked again.

“I have an estimate for about $2,480. I just want my car fixed.”

He looked at me like I was wasting his time.

Truth be told, he was the first lawyer I’d ever sat with in a situation like this. I was raised non-privileged. Self-responsibility. Figure it out. I made fun of some of the papers I served because I liked to read through them, and so many were just ridiculous.

“I work with your firm all the time. You’re missing a chance to get a payday here. You were damaged.”

“I really just want my car fixed,” I repeated for the third time.

Three days later, I had a check. $2,480. Exactly what I asked for.

I later learned that guy had his whole life crashing down around him. His business was failing. His marriage was falling apart. Who knows what else.

In DC, image and status matter. They’re closely guarded.

He wasn’t mad at me. He was losing his world. I was the proverbial last straw.

The lawyer was right. I could’ve gotten more. But I didn’t want more. I just wanted my car fixed.

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Question:

The lawyer asks: “How much do you want?”

You’ve got a crumpled car, a police report, and a subject who just committed assault.

Do you:

• Take the payday (sue for damages)

• Just fix the car and move on

What’s your move? Debate it in The Detective’s Lounge.

The Clue Game

What I Remember About That Day

1. The subject drove a black Honda Ridgeline.

2. The crash happened at exactly 6:27 AM—I checked my watch immediately.

3. The employee who witnessed it was driving a red Chevy Celebrity.

4. My repair estimate was $2,480. I got a check for that exact amount three days later.

5. The lawyer’s office was in Rockville, above a Chinese restaurant that’s still there today.

Your move: True? True(ish)? Fiction? Call it below. Feel free to debate the answers of the other detectives in the room.

Leave your answers before seeing The Reveal.

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Then Insiders can go to The Reveal.

The Reveal

This site grows by your word of mouth and engagement. Here is a hat-tip to you.

A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
Read full legalese here

© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved

I’m parked illegally on 13th Street NW at 4:45 PM, watching a parking lot exit. Blue BMW. Virginia plates is what I’m watching for. Probably not more than a dozen in this building. The owner is a high-income Black male, 46, slim, well-dressed. Wife thinks he’s seeing someone on Wednesday nights. She’s hired us to confirm.

His name is John. Works on K Street. Lives in Lake Barcroft. Doesn’t know his wife suspects anything.

The BMW sits there, clean as a whistle.

Time passes. At 5:20, a cop tells me to move along. I pull forward into the alley next to the firehouse, wait a few minutes, circle back to the same spot. Illegal standing is just part of the deal on a follow job.

At 7:10, a blue BMW pulls out. DC plates. Wrong yuppie.

At 7:20, the right BMW turns left, heads north on 13th.

Great.

An illegal U-turn later, I’m about six cars back. Carefully scooching through a red light I catch up to him at Thomas Circle which was always fun at this time of evening, chaotic enough to give cover, tight enough to lose someone if you blink. I end up close behind him through the circle and north on 15th.

So far, nothing out of the ordinary. Except Lake Barcroft is the other direction.

Left on U Street. Right on 18th.

Parking’s tight around here. He’s cruising, looking for a spot. I stay back as much as possible, visors down. Without signaling he parallel parks, I wait passively, then ease past, watching him in the rearview the whole time.

First empty curb space I find, I pull in. Still watching the mirror.

He gets out. Heads north. Toward me.

I get out and lean against my car, curbside, flipping through my map book (yes, a real live map book, yellow cover). I hope there’s no fire around here because this plug is covered. No parking cop either.

He turns into the Ethiopian restaurant.

I’ve heard of this place. Always wanted to try it. Adams Morgan is full of spots like this, immigrant-run, authentic, the kind of place you find by accident and remember forever. I need to see who he is meeting. Now I can have a beer on the client’s bill.

I wait a few minutes to make sure he’s settled, then decide I should move my car before some cop decides to talk with me.

Everything’s going great. Surveillances can go bad fast. You can lose them in traffic, they spot you, whatever. But so far, so good. Gonna be an easy night.

I walk through the door.

And immediately realize I am now seen and easily identified.

The restaurant isn’t dark, but it’s not well-lit either. The smell of peppery lamb hits me first. Then I see my subject sitting with a beautiful woman, wearing a dress from a Chris de Burgh song. Both of them are looking at me.

So is everyone else in the room.

See, here’s the thing: Washington, DC is a majority-Black city. Adams Morgan is a hotspot for immigrant homes and businesses. This bar currently is hosting entirely Black patrons. Black bartender. Black servers.

And me.

White guy. Blue Kansas hat on my head. Standing in the doorway like I just walked into the wrong house party.

Well, he doesn’t know I’m a PI. But he’s seen me up close now. My time following him is done. But my time here? I can stay a little longer.

I play it cool. Walk to the bar. Order a beer.

“You have any African beers?”

The bartender lights up. “Man, I got just the thing.”

He pulls out a bottle I’ve never seen before. Cold. Malty. Sweet.

It’s clear our subject is going to be a while. I can see it in the way he leans in, the way she laughs. You can physically see the connection. These two are comfortable with each other.

There’s a pay phone in the back.

I make the call.

“Stay put,” my boss says. “And don’t follow. I’m sending you Tony.”

Tony’s a good investigator. Ten, maybe twelve years older than me. Properly trained. I learn on the job and use my time watching Columbo and Moonlighting episodes as education. He’s ex-military. And his skin color fits in with this place. He’ll page me when he’s in position on the car. After that, I’m out.

I spend the next 45 minutes at that bar.

Second beer. Different kind, just as good. Order an appetizer. I’m not really crazy about the food. Not my deal. But the beers? Love them.

And that bartender? Fun guy. We talk about Kenya, about DC, about the Redskins. Most of all we talk soccer. I tell him I had found Adams Morgan when I came to the neighborhood in ’86 to watch some World Cup games. The matches weren’t on any television I had, so I found a Brazilian bar there that had a tv and the patrons adopted me. They loved the American who loved futbol.

He never asks why I am there. I never say.

When my pager buzzes, I pay my tab, leave a good tip, and walk out.

John and his girlfriend are still at their table, wrapped up in each other.

Tony picks up the surveillance from there.

I go home, cooler air whipping through the open windows. When I see her, I kiss my wife. I am not the guy I was surveilling.

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Before the Clue Game - Let me ask you…

Have you ever been "made?” You know, spotted, identified, or caught in the act when you were trying to stay invisible?
Doesn't have to be PI work. Could be anything.

Tell your story in The Detective’s Lounge.

The Clue Game

What I Remember About That Day

1. The BMW had Virginia plates. I remember checking them twice.

2. The bartender’s name was Kwame. He had a scar above his left eyebrow.

3. The first beer he gave me was Tusker Lager from Kenya.

4. The woman with John was wearing a red dress.

5. I ordered sambusas as my appetizer. They were cold in the middle.

6. Tony paged me at exactly 8:47 PM.

Your move: True? True(ish)? Fiction?

Leave your comments before seeing The Reveal.

Leave a comment

Then go to…

The Reveal

A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
Read full legalese here

© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved

The Disposition

What I Remember About That Day

1. The BMW had Virginia plates. I remember checking them twice.
   TRUE: Lake Barcroft, mentioned in the story, is located in Fairfax County, VA.

2. The bartender’s name was Kwame. He had a scar above his left eyebrow.
   FICTION: I can sorta kinda see his face. But I can’t remember his name or whether or not he had a scar…

Read more

The Interrogation starts now.

Grab a coffee. Take a seat. Let’s study the tape.

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Full Transcript

Greg Hulver
Hulver & Associates
Cell is 816-668-9672

After listening or reading, visit the Detective’s Lounge. We’d love to hear your stories, too.

Chris:
Hey—today I’m sitting down with Greg Hulver of Hulver & Associates. Greg, give people the quick “who you are and why they should care.”

Greg:
Hi, everyone. I’m Greg Hulver. I’m a private investigator and process server here in the Kansas City, Missouri area. And if you can believe it, I’m starting my 27th year.

Chris:
Twenty-seven years. So you started—help me do the math—1999? 2000?

Greg:
January 1, 2000. That’s when I officially opened the doors.

Chris:
And you’re licensed in Missouri as an investigator, plus authorized as a private process server depending on county?

Greg:
Correct. Licensed PI in Missouri, and then authorized private process server in a lot of counties. How it works varies from county to county.

Chris:
Perfect. This is going to be fun because your perspective is “now.” My perspective is the prehistoric age—before the internet, before cell phones… and definitely before Ring cameras.

Greg:
Ring cameras are a process server’s buzzkill. You can’t sneak up on a door anymore. You end up walking up and kind of knocking from an angle, arm out, hoping you don’t look like you’re casing the place.

Chris:
And just so the audience understands: you’re only getting the audio, but Greg’s wearing Missouri gear, and I’m a Kansas Jayhawk. So the fact we’re cooperating at all is… unusual.

EDITORIAL NOTE: This is so good I decided to make the video available to everyone.

ROUTINE SERVES

Greg:
And the fact I served you papers and we’re still cooperating—and you didn’t get mad at me.

Chris:
That’s actually how we met. You were bringing some documents—summons? subpoena? I don’t even remember—and because of my background, I was like, “Just tell me when you’re coming. I’ll be here.”

Greg:
Those are the dream jobs—where the person you’re serving makes arrangements. And until you just told me, I didn’t even know what it was about. I just knew I served you papers about something.

Most of the time, I don’t read the paperwork. I’ll glance at the first page and you can tell if it’s a car accident, eviction, divorce—something like that. But I don’t read it. It’s not my business. My job is to get it served and get out.

I do try to help people, though—when they’re decent to me. If I serve someone who’s never been served before and they ask, “What is this?” I’ll say, “I can’t give legal advice, but if I was your friend standing in your yard, I’d tell you: get this to your auto insurance and let them handle it. Don’t lose sleep over it. That’s why you have insurance.”

PROCESS SERVER AND DEPUTY KILLED

Chris:
Right. And here’s the part people forget: 98–99% of what gets served is routine life stuff. But they’re still real humans. If someone doesn’t know what to do, you don’t have to be a robot about it.

And then… you don’t know when the 1–2% shows up out of the darkness. You mentioned you knew Kansas City process servers who were killed.

Greg:
It was two of them—Jackson County. They were serving an eviction in Independence, Missouri. The subject was lying in wait with a long gun and shot the first process server—killed him. The second guy heard it and was shot and killed too.

EDITORS NOTE: Memory can be fuzzy. See this link for full story.

That one shook me up. I had eviction notices on my desk that day. My phone was blowing up—people checking to make sure it wasn’t me or one of mine. I took three days off. I was mentally wrecked. And I changed how I operate—now I wear a protective vest, which twenty years ago wasn’t even on my radar. - G. Hulver

Chris:
Same. I never wore one back then.

And I’ve been in three shootings in my life—two when I was a process server, one when I wasn’t. I never carried a gun. I had a Maglite. My thinking was simple: if I knew I needed a weapon, I wouldn’t be there.

And for anyone who’s never been in a shooting: even when you hear it, it takes a second for your brain to catch up and say, “That’s real.”

Greg:
I’ve been fortunate—no shootings for me. My closest calls have been animals. Dogs.

Dogs don’t negotiate. People do. I’ve been able to talk people down or just leave. Dogs? They don’t care. I actually carry dog treats—people don’t believe it until they look in my glove box. It works more often than you’d think.

HUMAN BEHAVIOR

Chris:
That is so true. And I want to go deeper on something you said: “I can get them to calm down.” You’ve learned a lot about human behavior doing this work, haven’t you?

Greg:
I can’t even describe how much. It’s helped me be good at my job—partly because I haven’t gotten hurt.

A big thing is not reacting. It’s not my fight. I try to get them to understand: “I’m just a guy like you. This just happens to be my job.”

And what’s really odd? Some of my worst experiences have been in the suburbs.

Chris:
Amen. I wrote that the other day.

Greg:
Some of the worst people live in the nicest places you can imagine. When I started, you couldn’t have sold me on that. I would’ve assumed the opposite.

Now, wherever I am, I’m scanning for animals, signs of animals—dog bowls, chains, fences. That dynamic is weird, for sure.

Chris:
We’ve got a whole section of the site coming called “The Tell” that’s basically human behavior like this—what you notice when you’ve been on thousands of doorsteps.

GREGS COMPANY PROMO

Let’s pivot: tell people your company and how to reach you—because folks listening may need a process server in Kansas City.

Greg:
Hulver & Associates. Mailing address is P.O. Box 2257, Lee’s Summit, Missouri 64063. Cell is 816-668-9672. Email is ghulver@comcast.net.

GETTING STARTED… and KNOWN

I started doing investigation work, and an attorney asked if I do process service. I said yes… and honestly I barely knew what it was at first. I learned by doing it. And if someone needs help in Kansas City—or even referrals outside the area—I can help.

Chris:
Now tell the story that put you on the map.

Greg:
2003. An attorney calls and says, “I’ll be amazed if you can get this done.” It was a CEO of a major worldwide corporation. He was in Kansas City speaking at an event. It was a subpoena for deposition.

I bought a ticket, got in, and the room was massive—2,000-plus people. I’m thinking, “How am I ever getting near this guy?”

He finishes the speech and comes down, talking with the person who invited him. I work my way over. My grandfather had worked for the company and retired from it, so I walk up and say hello, talk about my grandfather, just small talk—and while we’re talking, I reach back and hand him the subpoena.

His face said, “I’m going to get you.”

His security and attorneys were 25–30 feet away, in their own huddle. He beelines to them. And I’m already blending back into the crowd and heading out.

Later, their attorneys filed an objection claiming I “jumped on stage” and “grabbed his arm” and embarrassed him in front of thousands of people—which was completely false and easily provable.

The attorney who hired me calls and reads it to me and I said, “That’s bullshit.” Excuse my language. Nobody in that room knew I served him except him and me—and then his security and attorneys. It was as discreet as possible.

And that job became the one people remembered. Because if you can serve him, you can serve anybody.

Chris:
That’s the real lesson: being discreet is professionalism. TV makes process servers look like clowns. In real life, attorneys want it clean.

Greg:
Exactly. People say, “Oh, you’re like that guy on TV.” And I’m like, “No.” I’m not chasing someone down the street with a camera crew. I’m not here to humiliate anyone.

I try to be as invisible as possible—and if someone’s respectful, I’ll help them understand what to do next in a general way: “Call your insurance. Call your attorney.”

And yes, I’ve served divorce papers where the person truly had no idea it was coming… and you think, “Well, maybe that’s part of the problem.”

Chris:
Funny… and heartbreaking. Both.

Before we close, give us one lighter story.

HUMEROUS STORY

Greg:
I’ve got one. Years ago, suburban house. And this is something I tell every process server: when you knock, stand to the side—don’t stand directly in front of the door. And don’t wear sunglasses. Make eye contact.

Guy opens the door. Morbidly obese. At first, I thought he was completely naked. No shirt, no shoes—nothing. Then he turned and I could see white underwear… I literally couldn’t see it from straight on.

And what blew my mind was how casual he was—like opening the door to a total stranger in his underwear was a normal Tuesday.

Chris:
That’ll reframe your idea of “normal,” won’t it? You realize there is no universal normal.

Greg:
Exactly. Everybody thinks their world is normal, and they’re all looking at each other saying, “Those people are crazy.”

SPIDEY SENSES

Chris:
Let’s close with instincts—“spidey senses.” Do you ever get that feeling where you’re grateful you listened to it?

Greg:
100%. You learn to listen to it. If I’ve got a bad feeling about a job, I don’t take it. And I’ve never had a client chew me out for that. They get it—there are other companies. I’m not putting myself in jeopardy.

Chris:
I had a cop ask me once why I didn’t carry a weapon. I told her, “If I knew I needed one, I wouldn’t be here.” This is a $35 paper. I’m not bringing a gun into my life over $35.

Greg:
Exactly. If I roll up and there are five people on the porch drinking, smoking, fighting—whatever—I drive on by. Come back another time. I’m not getting rich doing this, so I’m not risking my safety over a $35 job, like you say.

WANT TO BE A PROCESS SERVER?

Chris:
We’re going to end it here. Do I have permission to reach out again and do another one of these sometime?

Greg:
Absolutely. We can talk about getting into the business, how the landscape has changed—who does this work and what it looks like now. I’d be glad to.

Chris:
If you’re listening because you’re interested in this line of work and you’re in Kansas City—call Greg. He just invited you.

Greg:
I’d love to talk to you. And if you want to work for me, even better. That’d be fun.

The Debrief

P.S. I’m taking this conversation live tonight at 8:30 pm CT. If you have questions about the "CEO Serve" or the "2% Rule," and the human behaviors around them, that’s where I’ll be answering them. You can also ask my anything in regard to what a private investigator or process server can and cannot do.

Curious: See this link
Note: I’m not not broadcasting the zoom link. I don’t want a crowd.

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A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
Read full legalese here

© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved

I created The Process Server Chronicles because I’m finally opening the vault.

You’re here for the stories. The cases that involve names you’d recognize and locations I’ve had to scrub for “plausible denial.” But more than the drama, you’re here for the Field Craft. You’re here to understand the why behind the what.

In these chronicles, I’m changing the timelines and the landmarks to protect the liability, but I’m leaving the human nature untouched. This is an invitation to look over my shoulder as we dissect the behavior of the guilty, the desperate, and the routine.

The case files are open. Come on in and see what happened.

Visit the Detective’s Lounge.

A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
Read full legalese here

© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved

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Insider Access Audio found below. (This is the last of the Case Files where everyone has Insider Access. See the Hierarchy of Access.)
Welcome to the Chronicles. And make sure you leave by the back door.

“Ever want to make more money?”

What kind of question was that? I was working at a fast-food restaurant.

Tommy sat at his usual table. Plain clothes day. He had a stack of papers in front of him. Thick stack.

“I think you could do the kind of work I do.”

I looked at the papers. Looked at him.

“What kind of work?”

He slid three across the table.

“Thirty-five dollars. Each.”

I served chicken for a living. Hamburgers, too. Roy Rogers, Olney, Maryland. Late fall, 1986. Newly married, living in a cheap apartment in Laurel. “Assistant Manager,” they called it. At 21, I called it paying the bills. Barely.

I was looking for something better. Bolder. A place where I could actually go somewhere. Just give me a chance, give me the work. Ever been there?

Tommy was a regular. Sometimes he’d walk in wearing his Montgomery County Sheriff’s uniform, sometimes plain clothes. One afternoon (plain clothes day) he sat at his usual table while I wiped chicken grease off the one next to him.

Tommy moonlighted as a private investigator. Supplemented his deputy income. He held up a stack of papers. Summonses and subpoenas, he called them. Said he made $35 each for dropping them off to people.

“Here’s three to start with. Knock on the door. Say ‘you’ve been served.’ Move along quickly. When you’re done with all three, go to this address, ask for Christy, tell her I sent you.”

Wait. I could make $105, in 1986 dollars, in one night just delivering three pieces of paper? I was pulling $315 a week for fifty hours.

“Marie, I’m gonna make some extra money tonight. Not sure what time I’ll be home.” Even the phone in the back had chicken grease on the handle.

Marie and I had gotten married a few months earlier in Vegas. (Another story, another time.) I was 21. She was 20. We were gonna grow old together. If we could afford it.

This was “learn as you go.” Around 4:40 that afternoon, I clocked out of my 10-hour shift and kept what I was wearing. Probably not a good idea, but hey, it wasn’t a uniform. Assistant Manager privilege.

First address: down Georgia Avenue into the heartbeat of Montgomery County. They answered the door. Served. No big deal. $35.

Second address: up towards Columbia. Same thing. $35.

This is easy.

It’s now around 7:30 when I pull into some smaller, compacted housing area in Glen Burnie. Can’t remember exactly where. Memories fade. I knocked and knocked. No answer.

A car was in the driveway, though.

Planes from BWI screamed overhead every minute or so while I sat in my car wondering what to do. I knocked again. Something inside told me he was there.

Was he avoiding me?

I walked back to his car. Put my hand on the hood.

Still warm.

He’s home. He’s avoiding me.

So I left. (Seemingly.)

I drove around the corner, circled back after grabbing a quick bag of grease through a drive through about a mile away, then pulled in as far away as I could while still keeping eyes on the car. The lights were on now.

That dude was home.

To this day I don’t know why, and I certainly didn’t understand how serendipitous the next event was, but he came out to go on a walk.

Nothing dramatic happened. I got out as he was heading towards me, unaware. As I approached him, I told him he was “Served.”

“Damn.”

That was it. No TV drama. Just patience paying off. $35.

I pulled into Christy’s townhouse-style office around 9:00 AM the next morning. Day off and some cash would be nice. “You’re the kid Tommy told me about. Which one did you serve last night?”

“All three.”

Christy raised her eyes above her glasses looking me right in the eye. “Huh.”

Shuffling some papers she asked “[NAME REDACTED], what time was that one served?

“I don’t know, 5:15? 5:30?”

“Look. Without an exact time I can’t pay you.” Christy said with, was it ridicule?

“5:17.” I quickly responded. I’m not blowing this.

Christy, about 55 or 60 years old, short hair and definitely in command of this very average Rockville office space, looked me up and down again. “You learn fast.”

We repeated the procedure with the other two service notes and then I stood up to leave.

But here’s the part people always laugh about: she handed me another stack. Twelve more.

“Think you can handle these by Monday?”

I did the math in my head. $420. That’s more than a week at Roy Rogers.

“Yeah. I can handle them.”

What I didn’t know then, what I couldn’t have known when I walked through the front door of that office, was that I’d just quit the restaurant business.

I walked into Roy Rogers the next morning and gave my two weeks notice. Thank God.

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Live Question: I quit my 'safe' job for a stack of papers and a bet on myself. What was the boldest career move you ever made? Was it worth the grease?

The Game

What I Remember About That Day

1. The subject’s car was in the driveway. I remember it was a dark blue Honda Accord.

2. I stopped at a 7-Eleven for the “bag of grease.” Two hot dogs and a Slurpee.

3. Christy’s office was in Rockville, above a dry cleaner that’s still there today.

4. The third serve was in Glen Burnie. I can’t remember the street name. It was about a block off Crain Highway.

5. Tommy gave me his personal pager number that night. He told me to call if I got into trouble.

Your move: True? True(ish)? Fiction?

How to Play:

• Drop your guesses in the comments (TRUE / TRUE(ish) / FICTION for each)

• First person to get all five correct wins bragging rights

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Comment below.

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Insider Access subscribers SEE BELOW to get the full audio breakdown—including the behind-the-scenes on what I cut from the story, how I decided which clues to use, and what really happened when the papers got served.

A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

[FUTURE PAYWALL] ← Free subscribers stop here after first three case files.

Audio of Case #001 The Beginning (Limited Open of Insider Access Feature)

Leave your guesses in the comments.

Leave a comment

So. You thought you had it figured out.

Let’s see how you did.

Audio Reveal - with added insights

Clue #1 - The subject’s car was in the driveway. I remember it was a dark blue Honda Accord.

Fiction. It was a red Ford Mustang. Note the picture card that goes with this case file. Little clues can be everywhere.

Clue #2 - I stopped at a 7-Eleven for the “bag of grease.” Two hot dogs and a Slurpee.

Fiction. Note that I said I went through a drive-thru. I don’t know of any drive-thrus at 7-11s. Also, the picture card has chicken fingers. I actually drive through a Kentucky Fried Chicken off Crain Hwy. (Long before they were KFC.)

Clue #3 - Christy’s office was in Rockville, above a dry cleaner that’s still there today.

Fiction. Note that I described it as a townhouse style office. And, her real name wasn’t Christy. But that’s a whole other matter. The rest of that interaction is dead-on true.

Clue # 4 - The third serve was in Glen Burnie. I can’t remember the street name. It was about a block off Crain Highway.

True(ish). I mean, the street name? No. Too long ago to remember. But off Crain Hwy? Absolutely, as Crain Hwy is a major road through town. And, did you notice the crain (or at least it looks like a crain) in the picture card?

Clue #5 - Tommy gave me his personal pager number that night. He told me to call if I got into trouble.

True. Yes, Tommy (name changed) did give me his pager number. Cutting edge technology at the time. I didn’t need it, thankfully. And again with the picture card above.

Compare Notes | Ask Me Anything

What: The Debrief
When: Wednesday, March 18, 8:30 pm Central
Where: Undisclosed Location - Electronic Transmission
How to Access: Leave this Message in the comments: PSC Sent Me

This is a one-time-only preview into a monthly debrief I will hold by way of zoom.
These debriefs happen on the third Wednesday of every month for my Insiders with Access.

The Debrief

I don’t socialize. But I do get that people paying the bills deserve answers. The reports say one thing but maybe you need more: what wasn’t written, details that were not disclosed or what were the emotions experienced by everyone involved.

That’s the debrief. We can talk Case Files, Off the Records, etc. You are the client. You ask me.

Leave a comment

A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
Read full legalese here

© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved

This is a one-time-only preview into a monthly debrief I will hold by way of zoom.
These debriefs happen on the third Wednesday of every month for my Insiders with Access.

Compare Notes | Ask Me Anything

What: The Debrief
When: Wednesday, March 18, 8:30 pm Central
Where: Undisclosed Location - Electronic Transmission
How to Access: Leave this Message in the comments: Chris Sent Me

The Debrief

I don’t socialize. But I do get that people paying the bills deserve answers. The reports say one thing but maybe you need more: what wasn’t written, details that were not disclosed or what were the emotions experienced by everyone involved.

That’s the debrief. We can talk Case Files, Off the Records, etc. You are the client. You ask me.

Seek permission for entry here.

Leave a comment

A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

I’ve sat on the eastern steps of the Lincoln Memorial at 3:00 am more times than I should admit.

The air is different then: cooler, damp around the edges, like the Potomac is breathing. The marble holds the day’s heat. The city hushes down to the soft stuff: a distant siren that never quite arrives, the occasional radio somewhere doing its lonely crackle.

Lincoln sits behind me. My future is out in front of me. And uncertainty, quiet, patient uncertainty, works on me from the inside.

After a surveillance down in Indian Head, one that went places I didn’t expect, I ended up there again. Same steps. Different weight.

People are capable of incredible good. We build. We serve. We sacrifice.

People are also capable of things that make you want to wash your hands when you get home.

You watch them throw away marriages like receipts. Use their kids as leverage. Hurt each other, emotionally and otherwise, just to get what they want. Sometimes it’s selfishness. Sometimes it’s cruelty. Sometimes it’s both wearing the same jacket.

Some nights it weighed heavier than others.

The city gave me peace.

Indian Head, Maryland

Indian Head had gone bad.

It was supposed to be simple surveillance. Follow her from work to home, then from home to wherever she went when she was supposed to be there with her husband and kids.

“Girls night” every Thursday. Leaving at 9:00 pm like clockwork.

And she was right on time.

First a bar for a while. Then I followed her following another car, a man she’d embraced a little too familiarly coming out of the bar. Then to a house about 8–10 miles away. A rendezvous.

Well, that’s why they hire us.

About an hour later: police lights in my rearview.

Great. Another explanation to give. I’d been burned.

But the badge didn’t stop for me. It drove right by, fast, and pulled up to the curb of the house I’m watching.

Then another right behind it.

And that’s when my subject came running out, half dressed, hair a mess, moving like panic makes you move. One shoe slapped the pavement like she’d lost the other one somewhere between the door and the truth. Her face looked… wrong. Not just “caught.” Not just “embarrassed.”

Bruised?

You can make your own determinations.

But this is what I do. I document the destruction of families. Then go sit alone with it.

And all I could think was: who explains this to the kids?

How?

There will be a lifetime of split Christmases to follow. Awkward school events. New “rules” at two houses. A lot of tears nobody gets to see. A lot of damage that doesn’t show up in a police report.

At 3:00 am, the memorials glow. Lincoln. Jefferson. Washington. Granite and marble from every corner of the Republic: Massachusetts to Tennessee, Vermont to Georgia. The Capitol. The White House.

Big, clean symbols of what we tell ourselves we believe in.

The pursuit of happiness. Security. Individual rights.

I wanted to believe it.

I was raised on service. Cub Scouts. First Baptist Church. Taught that happiness meant serving others, not yourself.

This work made me question all of that. Or it made my search for God, meaning, and purpose more urgent.

Depends on the day.

When you watch bad behavior and bad decisions, hear lie after lie, day after day, you begin to understand why good people who swore an oath to uphold the law and serve their neighbors get jaded. Hurt. Untrusting.

I get it now in a way I didn’t before.

I’ve sat in a car, hungry, watching someone make the exact decision that will ruin their life, thinking: Dude. Don’t do that. If you don’t do that you won’t get caught.

And then the darker part of my brain whispers: Here. Let me prove it.

But the city… the memorials… the traffic and the protests and the energy… the whole place buzzing with people who still believe they can build something better. A free nation calling out to anyone who burns for the chance to do something meaningful, whether they came from across the world or across town.

It’s a privilege to live here. To be born here.

This tug of war between service and self-care grew case after case.

In the beginning, it was exciting. I was instinctually good at reading people, understanding what they were saying what wasn’t being said. I learned fast that people crave connection, and that connection could lead to information that would move my case forward.

But con men do the same thing.

By the end of my short career watching human behavior on the darker side, I was questioning what I wanted to represent.

What I wanted to do with my interactions with others.

How I walked away from this work—and why I had to—is a story for another time.

But I’ll tell you this:

Those steps at 3:00 am taught me something I couldn’t learn anywhere else.

The city gave me peace.

The work took it away.

I had to choose.

Insider Access subscribers get these regularly. Reflective pieces. Behind-the-scenes context. The stuff that doesn’t fit in Case Files but matters. If you want this part of me, you are going to have to pay the retainer.

Pay the Retainer

This is a one-time-only preview into a monthly debrief I will hold by way of zoom.
These debriefs happen on the third Wednesday of every month for my Insiders with Access.

Compare Notes | Ask Me Anything

What: The Debrief
When: Wednesday, March 18, 8:30 pm Central
Where: Undisclosed Location - Electronic Transmission
How to Access: Leave this Message in the comments: Chris Sent Me

The Debrief

I don’t socialize. But I do get that people paying the bills deserve answers. The reports say one thing but maybe you need more: what wasn’t written, details that were not disclosed or what were the emotions experienced by everyone involved.

That’s the debrief. We can talk Case Files, Off the Records, etc. You are the client. You ask me.

Seek permission for entry here.

Leave a comment

A Chris Writes, LLC Publication 
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics 
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended 

© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved. 

You still here? Ask me anything over at https://www.facebook.com/processserverchronicles

I monitor all communications. Responses based on need.

Insider Access Audio found below. (Everyone has Insider Access for first three Case Files.)
Welcome to the Chronicles and pull your window shades shut.

“Stop!”

I’m already through the gate. The arm’s going up. The guard is on the phone, yelling at me through the window, waving his hand like he’s trying to flag down a helicopter.

Uh, no.

I keep driving.

Let me back up. (Not literally.)

Montgomery County is full of rich people. BMW-driving, well-educated, high-earning rich people who’ve spent their entire lives learning that rules are suggestions. Not all of them, sure. But enough that you notice the pattern.

And marriage? Four years in, I’m still in love. My subjects? Often married 20-25 years. He goes to work every day where someone younger and closer tells him how great he is. She raises the three kids: lacrosse, cheerleading, shuttling them between private schools and doctors appointments and parties at Congressional Country Club off River Road.

Then one day after the kids have moved out, maybe not the same day, they wake up and ask “Who is this person?” Sad really.

She’s reviewing their taxes one lonely evening and notices something weird.

Mortgage interest deduction. For an address she doesn’t recognize.

A condo. Three miles from their house. In that fuzzy area between Bethesda and Rockville.

Next thing I know, she’s hired an attorney who’s hired my boss who’s hired me to deliver a quarter-inch-thick envelope to her soon-to-be-ex-husband.

But not today.

Today, I’m tasked with confirming who’s living in that condo. Specifically, getting a name. Evidence of occupancy.

The building is one of those 8-10 story types with a guard gate at the entrance. Great.

Good thing I’m young, drive a crappy car, and by default I don’t dress all that nice. No one pays attention to me.

I stop by a florist. Pick up some gorgeous flowers. Write a generic card: “Thinking of you.”

Then I head to the condo.

At the guard gate, you know, the kind with the arm that goes up and down to remind you that you’re not good enough to enter without permission, I tell them I have a flower delivery for unit 327.

“Flowers? Everyone loves flowers.”

The guard makes a call. I’m told where to park. It’s a bit of a drive once I’m inside the gate. Not like my apartment complex at all. And the cars are all European, like that’s the norm.

I knock on the door. It opens almost immediately.

She’s attractive. Excited. Big grin. The kind of anticipation you only get when you think someone’s thinking about you.

“Flowers for you,” I say, holding out the clipboard. “Just need you to sign here.”

She signs eagerly. No hesitation. Her handwriting is neat, confident.

I thank her, hand over the flowers, and turn to leave.

No tip. Figures.

As soon as I’m in the hallway, I beat feet. It’s a long walk back to the parking lot, then the drive to the guard gate, then waiting for that arm to go up. If it goes up.

The guard recognizes me as I approach. Smiles. Asks if everything went all right.

“All good,” I say.

He hits the button. The arm starts to rise. The phone rings.

He answers it, still smiling at me, waving me through.

Then his face changes.

“Stop!”

I don’t.

Turns out, the woman was so excited about the flowers that she immediately called her man to thank him and profess her love.

He, knowing full well he hadn’t sent any flowers, immediately knew the jig was up.

And called the guard gate.

By the time I got back to the Rockville office, there was quite the flurry. Something about “false pretenses” and “unethical behavior.” That was fast. Lawyers talking to lawyers. It’s a foreign language.

Whatever. That was for my boss to handle.

I never said who the flowers were from.

Just: “Flowers. Please sign here. Thank you.”

What I Remember About That Day

1. The flowers were red roses—expensive ones, not grocery store junk.

2. The guard’s name was posted on a little plaque at the gate: “Security Officer: Dennis.”

3. The card said “Thinking of you” in my handwriting, no signature.

4. She was wearing a silk robe when she answered the door—burgundy with gold trim.

5. The condo building was called “Rock Creek Suites.”

6. I got a receipt from the florist and expensed it to the client: $47.50.

Your move: True? True(ish)? Fiction?

How to Play:

• Drop your guesses in the comments (TRUE / TRUE(ish) / FICTION for each)

• First person to get all five correct wins bragging rights

Stop here and make your guess in the comments before scrolling down. Once you see the reveal, you can’t unring that bell.

The Process Server Chronicles drops every Sunday. Free through first three Case Files. Then $80/year for Insider Access.

Subscribe now

Comment below.

Insider Access subscribers SEE BELOW to get the full audio breakdown—including the behind-the-scenes on what I cut from the story, how I decided which clues to use, and what really happened when that guard yelled “Stop!” Spoiler: I kept driving.

A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

[FUTURE PAYWALL] ← Free subscribers stop here after first three case files.

Audio of Case #047 The Flowers Delivery (Limited Open of Insider Access Feature)

Leave your guesses in the comments.

Leave a comment

So. You thought you had it figured out.

Let’s see how you did.

Audio Reveal

CLUE #1: The flowers were red roses—expensive ones, not grocery store junk.

TRUE.

Red roses mean love. White roses mean friendship. Or so I’ve been told. I wanted her to assume they were from her man. And frankly, red roses in a vase with baby’s breath mixed in is stunningly impressive.

Worth every penny of the client’s money.

CLUE #2: The guard’s name was posted on a little plaque at the gate: “Security Officer: Dennis.”

FICTION.

Like I can remember a security officer’s name that far back. I think I can kinda remember his face. But really now, it has to be fiction. I don’t even remember if there was a name tag or plate.

The hyper-specific detail—”Security Officer: Dennis”—was designed to sound real. That’s the game. Names on plaques feel official. Memorable. But this one? I made it up.

CLUE #3: The card said “Thinking of you” in my handwriting, no signature.

TRUE(ish).

Well, I’m at least 99% sure. Memories can get fuzzy. But what else would I have written?

Generic. Vague. Just enough to make her think someone was thinking about her. Which, technically, I was, just not in the way she hoped.

CLUE #4: She was wearing a silk robe when she answered the door. Burgundy with gold trim.

FICTION.

I do remember what she was wearing. But for privacy and liability reasons, I’ll hold that to myself.

The burgundy silk robe with gold trim? That level of detail sounds like I’m painting a vivid picture for you. And I am. But it’s not her robe. And those colors? A nod to the then Washington Redskins and their colors. It’s a fiction designed to make the scene feel real.

CLUE #5: The condo building was called “Rock Creek Suites.”

FICTION.

No idea. Can’t remember. Don’t care. Made it up. Even searched Google to make sure there isn’t a place called that, just to make sure I’m protecting privacy.

The name sounds plausible for Montgomery County, right? Generic enough to be real. Fancy enough to fit the story. But nope. Total fabrication.

CLUE #6: I got a receipt from the florist and expensed it to the client: $47.50.

FICTION.

I do know I paid for the roses and submitted a receipt when I got back to the office. But I do not remember the total.

Oh, by the way, as continually broke as I was back then I’m sure I got reimbursed that day, but I simply cannot remember. I couldn’t use a credit card back then because, well, after I maxed it out and tried to use it (combined with late payments) the credit card company did the smart thing and had a merchant confiscate it at a Blockbuster.

That’s a true and whole other story.

But $47.50? Complete guess. The specificity makes it believable, though, doesn’t it?

Join the conversation over at facebook.com/processserverchronicles/

A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
Read full legalese here

© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved

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Compare Notes | Ask Me Anything

What: The Debrief
When: Wednesday, March 18, 8:30 pm Central
Where: Undisclosed Location - Electronic Transmission
How to Access: Leave this Message in the comments: Chris Sent Me

This is a one-time-only preview into a monthly debrief I will hold by way of zoom.
These debriefs happen on the third Wednesday of every month for my Insiders with Access.

The Debrief

I don’t socialize. But I do get that people paying the bills deserve answers. The reports say one thing but maybe you need more: what wasn’t written, details that were not disclosed or what were the emotions experienced by everyone involved.

That’s the debrief. We can talk Case Files, Off the Records, etc. You are the client. You ask me.

Leave a comment

My Canon A-1, long lens and Kodak T-MAX-400 “high-speed” black and white film captured the darker side of money and relationships. Insurance fraud. Cheating spouses. Future court cases.

Sometimes it got to me. I’m not the guy, never was, that takes his problems home to his family.

So, occasionally, between cases and serves, I’d find myself wandering down Macarthur Blvd to the C&O National Park at Great Falls. While habit would have me photograph the couple meandering hand-in-hand down the towpath and wondering what nefarious activity (a slip into the woods?) they may be up to, I would instead turn my attention to the Great Falls, where the Potomac steps down about 60-70 feet in a hurry.

The savage roar and flailing water made for a great photo opportunity. And a great escape for a man looking to forget about last night’s events.

Freezing individual drops of water fleeing the violence at 1/1000^th of a second was lifelike. The droplets would be fleeing, looking for a better life anywhere else before crashing into the rocks to be dissipated by the wind and sun. Or worse. Being reabsorbed into the collective.

The peace of the canal. The restraint of the locks. The towpath to somewhere. Or nowhere. The roar of the Great Falls. It all blended together there. Like this city I served.

Been there? Done that? Make a statement.

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A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

Consider this file leaked! March 8 is our “official” start date. I’m told someone gained access early so I’m getting this out to my crew that has been following the buildup.

Insider Access Audio found below. (Everyone has Insider Access for first three Case Files.)
Welcome to the Chronicles and lock your doors.

January 1993. Our son was four months old, my wife was at work, and the phone rang with a rush job. Must serve today. Premium rate. Hmm, I liked the sound of that.

Here’s what you need to understand about process servers in the DC area: we’re not driving Ferraris. We’re driving ‘87 Ford Escorts with questionable brakes, living in Gaithersburg apartments a stone’s throw from the local Blockbuster, trying to stay one step ahead of the wolves.

So when a law office calls with same-day money? You say yes. You figure out the details later.

The detail I needed to figure out: My wife’s at work and I have no babysitter.

I bundled J into his carrier. You know, the kind that locks into the car seat base. Yes, he was dressed warm. Don’t worry.

We headed to Rockville, the place where lawyers congregate around the courthouse. Picked up the subpoena at the law office. The paralegals made the appropriate cooing noises. Everyone loves a baby.

Then south on 270 to the Beltway, inner loop to Annapolis Road, then deeper into PG County. I’m keeping the exact location to myself. Not sure why. Not even sure the place still exists. Still, professional courtesy.

Standard suburban office building. Three stories, glass and stone, the kind of place where people wear ties and nobody getting served expects to get served.

Third floor. Carrier in one hand. Subpoena tucked inside my jacket.

The receptionist couldn’t get enough of J. “Oh my goodness, how old is he?” I’m very proud, thank you for asking. By the way, cut down on the perfume. She assumed I was making an important delivery. I didn’t correct her.

She personally went to retrieve the gentleman I’d requested.

A guy with a baby. Completely safe. That’s what she saw.

Mr. Three-Piece-Suit came strutting out. Tortoiseshell glasses, white, tall, wavy brown hair. I’m bald and short, so this annoyed me on principle.

“Are you [NAME REDACTED]?”

“Yes?”

“Can we speak in private?”

We step into the private, windowed meeting room just off reception while the receptionist joyfully kept an eye on J. I pulled an envelope out of my jacket pocket.

“You’re served.”

Polite. Professional. But served nonetheless.

He looked at the subpoena. Looked at me. And as he followed me back out into reception he looked at my son.

“Nice. Using the baby.”

Honestly? I hadn’t thought of it that way. I was just a guy doing his job, raising a kid, trying to keep the lights on in Gaithersburg.

But maybe he had a point. Maybe I should take my almost-five-month-old on more services. Heck, maybe even a surveillance. What could be the harm?

Before every mother reading this prepares to call Child Protective Services: he’s now 33, and office services to businessmen rarely go bad. Out of the office? That’s different. But a third-floor office building at 2 PM on a Tuesday? The biggest danger was the elevator getting stuck.

Still, I can already hear the outrage.

And honestly? I’m here for it.

We made it back to the car just as the temperature dropped to 23°F. J slept the entire way home. I stopped at Blockbuster and rented The Fugitive. Seemed appropriate. All I had left to do was explain this to my wife.

What I Remember About That Day

1. The receptionist’s perfume—way too much of it

2. The exact temperature when we left: 23°F with windchill

3. Three-Piece-Suit’s exact words: “Nice. Using the baby.”

4. The office carpet was industrial gray with blue flecks

5. What J did during the entire service: slept like a champion

6. Stopping at Blockbuster on the way home to rent The Fugitive

Your move: True? True(ish)? Fiction?

How to Play:

• Drop your guesses in the comments (TRUE / MOSTLY TRUE / FICTION for each)

• First person to get all five correct wins bragging rights

Stop here and make your guess in the comments before scrolling down. Once you see the reveal, you can't unring that bell.

Leave a comment

A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

[FUTURE PAYWALL] ← Free subscribers stop here starting with 4th Case File drop.

Audio of Case #129 Take Your Kid to Work Day (Limited Open of Insider Access Feature)

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What I Remember About That Day Reveal

1. The receptionist’s perfume—way too much of it TRUE
   Smell is one of the deepest memories triggers we possess.

2. The exact temperature when we left: 23°F with windchill FICTION
   No idea. Remember, cars in the 80’s didn’t have temp reading on the dashboards. Was it cold? Yes. But I have no idea of the temp.

3. Three-Piece-Suit’s exact words: “Nice. Using the baby.” TRUE
   Absolutely true. I still remember that clearly. Deeply embedded because it sent me on a mental exercise about the appropriateness of what I had done.

4. The office carpet was industrial gray with blue flecks FICTION
   No idea. I mean, I can’t even remember the carpet of my last house.

5. What J did during the entire service: slept like a champion TRUE(ish)
   He may have been a awake here and there like babies do. But he was as good as gold through the whole pickup and delivery process.

6. Stopping at Blockbuster on the way home to rent The Fugitive FICTION
   Seems like a good idea though, right?

Audio Reveal and Behind the Scenes Commentary

Want to discuss this case? Insiders can visit the Evidence Room. Knock on the orange door below to enter.

The Process Server Chronicles drops every Sunday. Free through first three Case Files. Then it’s game on. Case Files and clues are free to everyone. So are The Tell, Field Craft and On the Record editions. Off the Record, Access to me on a secure zoom once a month and audio files are for Insiders only. $80/year. You want me to work for you?

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A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it all. More than I wanted, anyway.

Whether it be from the front seat of my black ’87 Ford Escort in DC as I photograph a woman stepping out on her husband and kids and into the world of forbidden fruit or from across the closing table in KC as a buyer realizes they just left $3,100 on the table because they, and their agent, didn’t understand the rules.

Money. Sex. Jealousy. Pride.

I’ve traced it. Photographed it. Documented it. Reported it.

Legal drama. True crime. Odd as well as predictable human behavior.

I’ve been in it in cold court rooms. Stood in it in the humidity of Washington, DC. Witnessed it in the dark of night.

The Process Server Chronicles is this soon-to-be sixty-one-year-old man’s debriefing of the front lines of working with people.

Some people take office jobs down long hallways doing detail work, then peer through their computer at the lives lived by others.

These chronicles aren’t about judgement; not my job.

Nor are they here to solve your problems or teach you anything. Just documented observations and my escape from being pulled under.

These are my stories.

Consider this your notice.

New Detective Here?

Answers come from asking questions, making visits and following up on any shred of information. Start digging around: Entry Protocol, About, etc.

Visit us over in the Detective’s Room: https://www.facebook.com/processserverchronicles

Comment, share and ask. Dig into old case files and search for material that wasn’t distributed en masse. Don’t just wait for things to come to you. Yes, that happens. But get in, dig around, ask around, talk.

That’s where things break open.

A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended

© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved

This is a Security Leak. I am not emailing this file to the general list. Consider it a quiet preview for the Seekers who are already in the room. Before we get to the high-stakes Case Files on March 8, you need to understand the 'The Tell.'

‘The Tell’ is the pattern of human behavior that dictates every move I saw standing on peoples’ steps. We start today with a kid I met in deep SE DC in the summer of ’93, a nineteen-year-old with a Kansas sweatshirt and his choice that still haunts me.

The Pattern

Fear makes people stupid. Not cautious. Not careful. Stupid.

Show up unannounced at someone’s door (doesn’t matter if you’re delivering a summons or a pizza) and watch the logic evaporate. Fight, flight or freeze kicks in. Rational adults turn into paranoid lunatics. They hide. They lie. They send their seven-year-old to the door to do recon while they crouch behind the couch like it’s a hostage situation.

All because a stranger knocked.

I’ve seen this play out in high-rise condos and suburban cul-de-sacs, but the clearest version of this “Tell” happened in the summer of ‘93. It wasn’t behind a door; it was in the middle of the street.

The Example

Deep SE Washington, DC. Summer 1993. The kind of neighborhood where a white guy like me in a white Ford Taurus gets questions from friends before he leaves: “Isn’t that dangerous?”

Yeah. Maybe. Not usually. And the summons doesn’t serve itself.

I’m getting out of my car at a public housing complex when I see him. He’s nineteen, maybe twenty, a black man with short hair wearing a Kansas Football sweatshirt.

Kansas. In DC. In 1993. It was out of place.

“Hey, Kansas!”

He stops. Middle of the street. Just standing there. And I get it. I’m a white guy with close cut hair in a cop-looking sedan, calling him over. From his angle, this goes sideways fast.

But he turns and stares, slowly. Cautious.

Smart.

“You go to school there?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“I’m a Jayhawk. How do you like it?”

Hearing I know Lawrence, he relaxes ever so slightly. Shoulders drop. Fingers loosen. Chin held about an inch higher. Still checking me out.

He shrugs. “Hate it. Hate everything about it. I’m just there for football. Then I’m coming back here. This is home.”

Kansas football in 1993 had a long, storied history of being terrible. And this kid’s grinding through it, hating every second, just to get back to Southeast DC.

“Why not use them like they’re using you?” I asked. “Get the degree. Open up your world. Do anything you want. Then come home.”

He looked at me like I’d suggested he move to Mars.

“Nah,” he said. “This is all I know.”

That’s not caution. That’s not even loyalty.

That’s fear.

Why It Happens

Fear doesn’t just make you hide behind couches or deploy child soldiers to answer doors. It makes you shrink your world down to the size of what’s familiar, even when “familiar” is killing you.

Most people would rather stay stuck in something known and miserable than risk something unknown that might actually be better.

Kansas Kid had a full-ride scholarship. A path out. A chance to do something different. But different meant uncertain. And uncertain meant fear.

So he chose SE DC government housing. Not because it was better. Because it was known.

Where Else You See It

• The employee who stays in a job they hate because “at least I know what I’m dealing with here.” (You’re dealing with misery. Congratulations.)

• The couple who won’t go to counseling because “what if it makes things worse?” (Things are already worse. You’re just afraid to admit it.)

• The person who won’t start the business, take the class, make the move, ask the question because what if it doesn’t work out? (What if it does?)

What to Do With This

I didn’t think about Kansas Kid much after that. I had papers to serve. He had a choice to make. Not my job to fix him. He went right. I went left. And the onlookers from their porches and balconies went back to concentrating on whose apartment I would be going to.

But thirty years later, I still remember what he said: “This is all I know.”

I didn’t know it then, but here’s what that moment taught me about fear:

Fear loves to disguise itself as practicality. As loyalty. As just being realistic. But most of the time, it’s just fear talking you out of the thing you actually want.

And I wonder how many times I’ve said the same thing since 1993. How many times you’ve said it. Not out loud. But in your head. When you talk yourself out of the thing you actually want because it feels too big, too risky, too different.

And yeah, sometimes the unknown is dangerous.

Sometimes the white guy in the Taurus really is bad news. Sometimes the new city doesn’t work out. Risk doesn’t always pay off.

But “this is all I know” guarantees you’ll never find out what else you could’ve been.

And that’s the most dangerous thing of all.

Fear comes in all shapes and sizes. Tell me a fear you overcame.

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You didn’t stumble in here by accident. Neither will the two people you’re already thinking of. If you trust the work, vouch for me. There are rewards for it. But honestly, you already know whether this is worth passing on or it isn’t.

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A Chris Writes, LLC Publication
Not legal advice / not professional guidance / do not imitate tactics
Fictionalized/composite/altered details + no identification intended
Read full legalese here

© 2026 Chris Writes, LLC. All Rights Reserved