Case File #001 From Deep Fryers to Process Serving

Chicken grease. Legal documents. I needed more money.

Mar 15, 2026

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.

The Game

What I Remember About That Day

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

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

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

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

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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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.

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

0:00

-5:47

Leave your guesses in the comments.

Audio Reveal - with added insights

0:00

-3:14

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.

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The Debrief

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The Process Server Chronicles

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