More Brothers Needed

Some time ago I was channel surfing and landed on one of my regular stops--National Geographic Television. They were running a 2008 documentary called "Outlaw Bikers" about federal agents who infiltrated criminal motorcycle gangs to gather evidence for prosecutions. A segment on the Mongols Motorcycle Club and the A.T.F. agent who successfully infiltrated them was especially fascinating.

Federal law enforcement had tried for years to break up the Mongols, a club based in southern California with a big laundry list of illegal activities: drug dealing, money laundering, gun-running, robbery, extortion, murder, and assault. But the Mongols were careful and smart, so arrests seldom resulted in convictions. In early 1998, Agent William "Billy" Queen agreed to assume a new identity and join the club to gather evidence. This was no easy proposition. Queen left his wife and children behind in Texas and moved to southern California. Due to the Mongols application process (which included background checks and references), Queen had to have a completely new identity fabricated: social security and credit cards, school records, work history, driver's license, etc. The government constructed his previous life in minute detail. And he, of course, had to remember these details as if he'd actually lived this fictitious existence. Failure--a slip at any time--would almost certainly result in his death.

Queen was eventually accepted and began to ride with the Mongols and gather evidence. He had many close calls due to his limitations as a federal agent (agents cannot commit crimes, only observe), but he was able to convince the gang that he was, in fact, one of them. This charade went on for twenty-eight months. During this time, he had no contact with his wife and children or anyone from his previous life. He was only a few weeks away from gathering enough evidence to complete the assignment when something happened that almost blew his cover--his mom died back on the east coast. Now his fake identity included a mom, but not in that location. So if anyone monitored his travel, he would be discovered as an impostor. He decided to take the chance, and left southern California for three days.

Upon his return, he was telephoned and instructed to come to the home of one of the gang leaders. Queen figured that he had been tailed and would likely be killed. When he entered, the gang members approached him en mass. And then something strange happened: each man embraced him. Each said something: "I love you brother"; "Sorry about your mom"; "What do you need, man?"; "What can I do for you?"

And it was at this point in the story that something strange happened to me. Tears filled my eyes. Because it hit me that these men who were the worst of the worst--murderers, drug dealers, criminals with little regard for anybody or anything--were acting more like Christ than many of us who call ourselves "Christian." They were actually living the "brotherly love" that Jesus taught and expects His followers to live every day. And I'm sorry to say that I've very seldom seen or been a part of anything like it. I can think of one man who has treated me this way (N.V., you are the "real deal"; love YOU brother). Worse yet, who have I treated this way?

And that is a real crime.