January is National Human Trafficking Awareness Month. By human trafficking I mean prostitution, or pimping. Prostitution seems to be a forgotten crime that somehow has become cool. Snoop Dogg, 50 Cent, Jamie Lee Curtis (Trading Places), and Julia Roberts (Pretty Woman) made pimping and hooking glamorous and forgivable, a victimless crime, right? That’s not how it goes.
In the early days of my career, I got a call from a mother in Virginia. She had recently moved from California with her daughter, Jenny. Jenny got mixed up with the wrong crowd and fell in love with an older guy who she was convinced loved her back. So much so she would do anything for him, including having sex with other guys to help him make money. He was pimping her. Not exactly the Pretty Woman story. Anyway, Jenny’s mother found out and tried to get Jenny to stop, but she was in love. So, mom moved the family to Virginia to be with grandma and start a new life. Mom thought getting out of town would solve the problem. The first few weeks went well, but one night after an argument, Jenny threatened to run away. The next day she was gone. Mom figured she went right back to boyfriend, who happened to be on my caseload, name was Joe. Joe was a known pimp who was connected to a larger street gang. He paid his gang taxes by pimping girls. Unfortunately, I had not seen Joe in quite some time and issued a warrant a few weeks before. I told mom I’d do my best to find Joe and hopefully find Jenny. I contacted some of my more advanced officers to see if they knew anything. Most were sympathetic and used that as the motivation. Some of the gang specialized officers did some looking around, turns out Jenny did contact Joe and he put her back to work. However, Joe had some issues with a rival gang so he moved her to Las Vegas and put her to work there. The rival gang found out about it, stole her like she was property, and repeatedly raped her to get back at Joe, then put her to work for them. Jenny was found strapped to a mattress, strung out on heroin, with McDonald wrappers to keep her company between clients. Joe couldn’t care less. Jenny will have PTSD for life. The call to mom in Virginia that afternoon introduced me to new kinds of empathy.
Joe was sentenced to nine years in the California State Penitentiary for Human Trafficking. However, due to criminal reform legislation, justice realignment, and prison overcrowding, he was out of custody and on parole in five.
Five years later, Joe was again on my caseload, but now on Parole, not Probation (one is after custody, the other is in lieu – google it). Joe was out for a few months and doing fine. One afternoon I got a call from a federal agency. They were interested in Joe and wanted me to detain him and bring him in for “questioning.” I couldn’t help but get a little defensive. I was doing my job, Joe was no longer pimping, why would they be interested? Regardless, The Green Mile and I got out early the next day and went to Joe’s apartment. It’s best to get there early; better chances they will be home, sober, alone, and asleep. Safety first. We got to his apartment, and girlfriend let us in. Once in the bedroom, we worked our way through the thick slumber funk of human filth and woke Joe with some freshly brewed handcuffs. He cooperated without incident. The feds wanted us to take him to a local high school gymnasium. In addition to the many reasons that was strange, it was summer time, the school was closed. Understandably, Joe had questions, and we had no answers. Looking back now, the feds likely wanted us all in the dark.
The gym was set up like a job fair, with cubicles and desks everywhere. People sitting in front of each station being processed. One station, then the next, until you get on the bus at the end. But instead of finding a job, you are going to prison. An agent greeted us at the door and took control of Joe. Joe asked what this was all about; he was no longer pimping.
“I did my time, I haven’t done anything wrong since,” said Joe with concern in his voice.
The agent smiled a little, like he couldn’t wait to respond, “You did, but that was for the State of California. You crossed state lines, and continued your criminal activities in Las Vegas, that makes it a federal offense. You owe the country some time.”
“What?? … Why didn’t I do federal time when I did the state time, concurrently?” Joe used his best legal terms in hopes for some flexibility. The agent smiled calmly and silently escorted Joe to the first station, like he was giving him a tour of Jurassic Park. He didn’t provide Joe with an answer. That was just the beginning of Joe’s disappointment for the day.
As he walked away, the look of shock and fear on Joe’s face could be seen all around the gym, but it wasn’t unique. Everyone at every station had the same look. The feds had brought in all the gangsters involved in the pimping ring in Las Vegas years before. Joe did 20 years in the Federal Penitentiary. The feds don’t play games, he will do every minute of that 20 years; all after he did nine (five) with the state.
That was 10 years ago, at this point, Joe is about halfway through his time. I don’t feel bad. Like Snoop Dogg says, pimpin’ ain’t easy.
Weird Beard Blog 
I think it’s a raw, deeply moving story that reveals the real consequences of human trafficking in a way that’s often overlooked. The way it pulls you into the complexities of the issue—how exploitation isn’t just a matter of a few bad choices, but an ongoing cycle of abuse, manipulation, and trauma—is incredibly powerful. It challenges the romanticized narrative that so many people have, especially when they see it portrayed as something glamorous in media. Your story paints the picture of how the system, society, and even the individuals caught up in it often don’t realize the full scope of the damage until it’s too late. Well done.
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