Joan Jett and BBQ. John Riggins in an Elevator. Meeting DC Celebrities.

Expect the unexpected. In this special episode of the Behavioral Detective, Chris Lengquist shares what happens when a life in investigation collides with cultural icons out of left field.

Step back into Washington, DC in the late 1980s for two completely different celebrity encounters. First, a high-stakes lesson in behavioral architecture and power dynamics on K Street with legendary Super Bowl MVP John Riggins. Then, a lesson in raw, comfortable baseline energy while slingin' pork from a barbecue catering trailer for rock icon Joan Jett at American University.

Finally, Chris previews his upcoming fiction debut, Notice of Assignment, introducing listener favorite Cal Brink—a DC private investigator turned real estate agent who finds out what happens when a ghost from the past turns a simple property closing into a 1,080-mile chase for survival.

Connect with the Inner Circle:

Read more stories: ProcessServerChronicles.com

Join the community: Behavioral Detective on Facebook

 Advance Reader Copies: CalBrink.com

Disclaimer: This production is for entertainment purposes only and does not constitute legal or professional advice. Names and details have been altered for privacy.

Transcript

Speaker 1 0:12

I'm Chris Lengquist, and this is the Behavioral Detective. If you've been following the Process Server Chronicles on Sundays, you know we usually talk about the grit. Tracking deadbeats, stakeouts in bad neighborhoods, and knocking on doors people desperately want kept shut. But here's the thing about a life in an investigation. You never know what's coming out of left field. One minute you're analyzing a target's behavioral baseline to see if they're evading a subpoena. And the next minute you run face first into a cultural icon. When you spend your life hyper-aware of human behavior, you don't turn it off just because a person standing in front of you is famous. In fact, that's when the street science gets really interesting. Because celebrities have a baseline too. They leak information just like the rest of us. Today is a double feature from my days in Washington, D.C. Two completely different left field encounters in the late 1980s. One involves a legendary Super Bowl hero in a corporate elevator on K Street. The other involves a rock and roll Hall of Famer and a barbecue sandwich at American University. Expect the unexpected. Let's get into it. Meeting a DC sports hero in the elevator. A process server chronicles diary. The elevator opened and I stepped on from the top floor of a K Street law firm with a subpoena in hand. The plan was to get back to ground level, look up the obscure address in Northern Virginia in my trusty ADC map, and make an afternoon serve that needed expediting. The plan wasn't to put me in my place. Two floors down, the elevator slowed to a stop, the doors opened, and John Riggins stepped in. John Riggins, Super Bowl MVP for the Washington Redskins, Kansas Jayhawk. The guy who slept on a banquet floor in a tux with Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor giving a speech. Flanked by two men in suits, John and his team were all business. There was an air about them that said, Leave us alone. Still, I couldn't overcome the urge. I had to say something. I'm not usually starstruck.

Speaker 2:56

But John and I, well, we had a connection. Sort of. I turned. Mr. Riggins, I went to Kansas too.

Speaker 1 3:08

He looked right through me with no expression. He wasn't mad, but clearly, he didn't want to be having this conversation. A lot of people did, son.

Speaker 3:23

He dismissed me.

Speaker 1 3:24

It was in the tone of voice. I turned back, smiled to myself and the elevator door reflection, and we all went on our separate directions once we reached the ground floor. Me to my illegally parked Ford Escort, John and Company to a black SUV parked right in front, with a patient driver already opening the rear passenger door. The interaction makes me chuckle when I tell the story. It also put me in my place. Washington, D.C. is full of people you read about, see on television, and cheer or boo from the cheap seats.

Speaker 4:04

You might believe you think that you know them. You don't.

Speaker 1 4:12

That interaction with John Riggins always cracks me up, but it taught me a valuable lesson early on about the architecture of fame. In DC, power and celebrity carry an aura, a deliberate behavioral shield that says, keep your distance. Riggins and his suits had it locked down perfectly. But the ball keeps coming from left field. To survive in Washington in the spring of 1987, I wasn't just chasing subpoenas, I was hustling. I served Joan Jett a barbecue sandwich from a catering trailer, a part-time gig I had with a Maryland barbecue joint to help keep the lights on, on the campus of American University. Spring of 1987. The school had two or three bands playing that day as a treat for the students. My back was to the serving window as I was cleaning up to close it out and get back to my personal life when I hear Got a Sandwich for me. The voice was unmistakable. I'd been listening to it for years. The woman who didn't give a damn about her reputation was asking me for a sandwich. Look, I knew Joan Jett was the headliner, but I didn't expect to serve her a barbecue sandwich. Rockville girl eating a barbecue sandwich from a Casey guy? Perfect. There she was, signature cigarette, dark hair and raw energy.

Speaker 5:49

I love this town. I wonder if she ever thinks about me. In actuality, I still wonder if she thinks about that sandwich.

Speaker 1 6:01

Two legends, two completely different behavioral tells. Riggins used his voice and stone-faced posture to build a wall. Joan Jett didn't need that wall. She had pure, raw, comfortable energy that filled the space before she even spoke. That's the beauty of street science. It's always happening around you, whether you're on the clock or cutting up brisket. Now these two stories are light. They're kind of fun, left field anomalies that make you smile when you look back at your twenties. But sometimes what comes out of left field isn't a sports hero or a rock star. Sometimes it's a ghost from your past that threatens to destroy everything you've built. That's the premise behind my upcoming debut novella, Notice of Assignment, dropping this fall. It takes my real-world experience as an investigator and pairs it with my 25 years in the real estate business. Except for my fictional counterpart, Cal Brink, a simple property closing turns into a nightmare. Listen to this. Imagine it's August 2010. You're a seasoned Kansas City real estate agent named Cal Brink. You think you're just doing a standard investor play. Buying a distressed property in Columbus Park for $29,000. You figure the hardest part of the deal is going to be the renovation. You figure wrong. Because when Cal tears into the basement wall, he finds a hidden box, a silver box. Inside, a revolver, a single photograph, and an old cassette tape. It's cold, hard evidence that connects him directly to a surveillance job he did in Washington, D.C. 22 years earlier. A job from his youth. A job tied to a murder he didn't commit, but a murder he just might have caused. Within 48 hours, the shield is gone. Someone tears his house apart looking for that silver box. By Monday, Cal has his family hidden away. He's driven 1,080 miles straight back to the city he used to work in, and he's walking right back into a dark, gritty world he thought he left behind decades ago. And the kicker? The document that started the entire avalanche was the very last one he signed at the closing table. He didn't read it. It was a notice of assignment. We've all been there, right? Signing a stack of closing documents an inch thick, just trusting the process, ready to get the keys and get out of the room. Cal trusted it, and now he's running for his life. If you want to get an early look at how Cal handles the fallout, get your hands on an advanced reader copies before the fall release, I want you to join the inner circle right now. Pull out your phone, go to calbrink.com and enroll. I'm building a tight community of readers there, and I want you and the club from day one. The premise is right on the landing page, and the advanced chapters are waiting for you. That's it for this special double feature episode of The Behavioral Detective. After registering on Calbrink.com, head over to the Behavioral Detective Facebook page. Tell me who your weirdest left field celebrity encounter was with. Enjoy the rest of your day, if you can. Keep your eyes open, your head on a swivel, and I'll see you next Sunday on the pavement. I'm Chris Lengquist. Thanks for listening.