DC Parking Enforcement: 1980s Fieldcraft of a Former Private Investigator

The boot trucks were like prowler subs

In the high-stakes game of mobile surveillance, the biggest threat to a private eye isn't a blown cover. Sometimes it’s a city parking enforcement officer.

Following a subject through the crowded, chaotic streets of Washington, D.C. in the late 1980s required intense focus. But keeping a target vehicle in sight was only half the battle. The real nightmare started when the subject finally found a rare parking spot downtown or in Georgetown, leaving an investigator dangling in the middle of a live traffic lane.

In this episode, we discuss the mundane fieldcraft of a low-level private investigator. From abandoning a running vehicle with its flashers on to ride an elevator with a high-profile target, to exploiting a massive database loophole between the Maryland MVA and D.C. parking enforcement, this is the raw reality of working the pavement before modern technology took over.

In this episode, you’ll hear:

• Dangling on Connecticut Ave: The split-second decision to ditch a car in the middle of a D.C. street to shadow a target and an unidentified brunette into a prestigious hotel.
• The Prowler Submarines: Navigating the city's aggressive army of parking boots and the absolute priority D.C. placed on parking enforcement.
• The Missing Plate Loophole: How an open secret among private eyes and messenger couriers kept surveillance vehicles moving by abusing a lack of state reciprocity.
• No Badge, No Rules: The tactical differences between police power and an independent operator who simply treats parking tickets as the cost of doing business.

Key Quote: "Private investigators serving subpoenas or waiting on a surveillance didn’t warrant any special treatment by the parking cops... You realize it’s just a part of the day."

Connect with the Inner Circle: If you want to read the full breakdown of 1980s street science, head over to the newsletter at ProcessServerChronicles.com. To get early, advance access to the first four chapters of the upcoming crime fiction novella Notice of Assignment, visit CalBrink.com today.

New episodes of the Behavioral Detective Podcast release every Wednesday and Sunday.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:13

When you watch Private Eyes in Hollywood, they always find the perfect parking spot right across the street from the target. Real life on the pavement of Washington, D.C. tells a completely different story. In the late 1980s, mobile surveillance wasn't just about keeping a car in your sights through the gridlock and yellow lights. The real nightmare started when the subject finally found a parking spot in Georgetown or downtown, leaving you stranded, dangling in a live traffic lane with nowhere to go. I'm talking about abandoning your vehicle with the flashers on to ride an elevator with a target, facing down an army of parking enforcement trucks that prowled the city like submarines, and exploiting a brilliant pre-computer loophole that kept a private eye one step ahead of the boot list. Put on your hazard lights and stay close. You're listening to the Behavioral Detective. Today's edition of the Process Server Chronicles is DC Parking Enforcement 1980s Fieldcraft. The boot trucks were like prowler subs. The story comes from Washington, D.C. Multiple dates, multiple cases. Following a vehicle within the District of Columbia could be tricky. There are the usual considerations, keeping the subject vehicle inside at all times without being made, keeping up at intersections with yellow and red lights, getting snarled in heavy traffic. And those are just a few of the uncontrollable variables of a mobile surveillance. Another variable was parking, especially downtown, Georgetown, or anywhere near the Capitol, to name a couple of examples. Parking was always at a premium, even for the persons you were following. The bad news was the subject could sometimes circle a block multiple times, slowly. They'd be starting and stopping and looking to fit their 14 foot long cars into 15 foot long spaces. The good news was they were almost always so engrossed in finding a spot that they wouldn't even notice me right behind them. Just another car in the inevitable traffic jam. Then the magic would happen for the subject's car. A space would appear, they'd work their way in, and I'd be left dangling. I didn't want to be identified. I also didn't want to lose them. Now what? In one particular case, I simply drove up another six or eight cars and stopped in the lane, put on my flashers, and exited the car. I caught a glimpse of the subject and the unidentified brunette as they entered a prestigious hotel just off Connecticut Avenue, Northwest. To know where they were going inside the hotel, my choice was to end the surveillance or leave my car alone, flashers flashing in the middle of a DC street, and enter the hotel. I chose the latter. I was able to ride the elevator with the subjects and follow them to their room, offering friendly greetings along the way. When I saw the door they were entering, I just kept walking, went down the emergency stairs and back down my car. Approaching my car, I greeted the parking enforcement officer, waited for her to finish riding the ticket, and then accepted it. After pulling my car around the block, I got on my company-issued radio and called the other investigator assigned to this high-profile follow. I gave him the room number. Then, because I was known to the subjects, I returned to the office while the other investigator stayed on the surveillance. My job was finished on this case. Except for the paperwork. Days later. I don't know where my front license plate is, I said. The woman behind the counter at the Maryland Motor Vehicle Administration in Gathersburg, Maryland, gave me a look. I'm pretty sure she had heard this before. Maybe even from me. You'll need to sign this affidavit, she said as she handed me a paper and pen. The truth was I didn't currently know the location of that license plate. I had discarded it the day before in a public trash can, so it really could have been anywhere by now. I didn't even bother to review the document because I had signed something similar a couple of times before. Moments later, after paying $15 for a set of new license plates, I walked out the front door to continue my day. The mundane fieldcraft. Let's be clear. As a private investigator, I didn't have a badge, no police powers were ever implied. A badge would open doors I couldn't, but a badge also had rules I didn't have to follow. It could work both ways. A perfect example of this was parking in the city. No parking or permit-only signs permeated the city. Despite the ready availability of mass transit, cars were ubiquitous. Therefore, the district had an entire army of parking enforcement officers that scoured the city every day. Most wrote tickets. The days would have plenty of possibilities. Then there were the parking enforcement trucks that carried wheel boots. They reminded me of submarines that prowled the ocean's depths on constant watch for the dangers to our national interest. Yes, parking in Washington, DC was equal in importance to the national interest of our country, or so it seemed based on the amount of resources committed to enforcement. In a no parking zone, it was not unusual to see a car with diplomatic plates, or a police car from one of the many jurisdictions that patrol DC, or undercover police cars of which everyone knew how to identify. They parked in no parking zones without fear of reprisal. Me? Nobody cared about what I was doing. Private investigators serving subpoenas or waiting on a surveillance or picking up legal documents didn't warrant any special treatment by the parking cops. Just as I would not be given any leeway by the real police if I rolled through a stop sign or eased through a red light carefully to keep up with the subject. The loophole? Keep in mind I worked the streets of DC in the 1980s and early 1990s. Computers were still working their way into our everyday, useful lives. If you got a parking ticket, you went into the database until it was paid. That database must have been updated and distributed daily. It was an open secret amongst messenger couriers and private eyes that you could accumulate up to three tickets before being placed on the boot list. Once the prowler subs, I mean trucks, had you on their list, a parking boot was an unwelcome possibility. These boots would wrap around one of the wheels of your car, immobilizing the vehicle. You weren't going anywhere until you paid the ticket down at traffic, and then hoofed it up to the impound lot where your car would be waiting. This happened to me once, but that's another story. Here's the thing. Maryland and Washington, D.C. didn't have parking reciprocity. If you were a Maryland resident, once you had three parking tickets on your current license plate at a fine of $35 each, you could simply work the time into your schedule to visit the Maryland MVA. Unless you've lived or worked in cities like Washington, D.C. or New York, this may seem rude or unimaginable. Live, work, and drive in those cities, and you realize it's just another part of the day. If you want to discuss the ethics of this or get insider views of a life of a process server and private investigator, join me over at Behavioral DetectiveHQ. It's on Facebook. It's a private group. I'll let you in. Authors Update. I'm pretty proud and I'd like to share that I finished writing my first book. It's a novella titled Notice of Assignment. It's now been sent off to my editor and will be released this fall. It's a fictional piece. Someone who has read it said this. That seems like a mouthful. But oddly enough, I think it's spot on. It involves real estate, Washington, D.C., and Kansas City with Cal Brink as the protagonist. To learn more or be added to first alert emails about notice of assignments, timelines, and release, visit calbrink.com. Thank you. An affidavit at the Maryland MVA, a fresh set of $15 license plates, and a trail of unpaid DC tickets left in the rearview mirror. To anyone who hasn't operated in a major city, treating parking fines as a standard cost of doing business might seem wild, but in the DMV trenches, it was just another Thursday. Without a badge or police powers, I didn't get special treatment. I had to rely purely on my wits, my timing, and the open secrets of the street to get the job done. That raw street science and adaptability under pressure is exactly what makes a great investigator, an elite salesperson, or a sharp entrepreneur effective at their job today. The technology changes, but human nature never does. If you want to read the full breakdown of this Fieldcraft Chronicle, head over to the newsletter at Process ServerCronicles.com. And don't forget to visit calbrink.com right now to claim your exclusive early access to the first four chapters of my upcoming crime fiction novella, Notice of Assignment, dropping this fall. We'll see you right back here on Wednesday for a brand new tale from CalBrink. Until then, watch the signs, keep your eyes open, and stay sharp. You've been listening to the Behavioral Detective.