Beagle League Confidential Episode 28
September 2, 2003
Written by Dan Bogey

(Read the Previous Beagle League Confidential Episodes here)

The first part of "Operation Biggie Down" consisted of simply finding co-colluder and principal witness for the prosecution, Jason Eminem. The only time I had seen him was draft day and once in the restaurant with Biggie and his posse. I had spoken to him on the one once while in the process of making the convoluted trade that resulted in my coveted Corey Patterson sentenced to a career of enslavement on Biggie's player plantation. I frantically searched through the pile of notes, lists of possible free agent acquisitions, and drafts of unsent letters of forgiveness intended for Sweet Lorraine. Miraculously, I found Jason's number scribbled on a piece of O'Hara Funeral Home stationary. It was all I needed.

I took the number down to the library where I matched it to an address in the Criss Cross Directory. Here I also discovered Jason Eminem's real name, a Philippino, multi syllabic monstrosity that the English speaking tongue or the printed word could not do justice. But the name led me to collection of local yearbooks where I traced it to his eleventh grade class picture confirming I had the correct evildoer.
Now that I knew where he lived and approximately what time he'd leave school, it was a piece of cake to figure out his route and plant myself there at the proper time. First I decided to avail myself of a little visual aid, courtesy of Mrs. Scrabula's newfound affection. In one of the periodic evenings spent in front of Mrs. Scrabula's TV since Sweet Loraine had hardened her heart against me, I noticed a closet full of the clothing that had belonged to her late husband. A couple of items struck my eye for their vintage authenticity so I asked Mrs. S. if I could briefly borrow them. Although I could tell she was confused as to why I wanted to wear a forty-year-old black trench coat in the last days of a sweltering summer and a wide brimmed fedora that had gone out of style with tail fins, she kindly allowed me to have them. With Sweet Lorraine out of the house at her part time job, I was free to model my new look in front of the full-length mirror. I shot my cuffs, pulled the hat low over my eyes and curled my lip like Richard Widmark in Kiss of Death. Tony Soprano had nothing on me. Forget those punk ass video gangstas Jason was used to, I aimed to present him with a real, old school Gangster, with a capital G.

I got into the stinkmobile and began cruising the route Jason would be most likely to travel on his way home. Sure enough, after a few passes up and down the route, I saw him emerge from a video game store and separate himself from a group of his homies going the other way. I let them disappear around the corner before I pulled over to the curb in front of Jason.

"Hey, Jason, need a ride?"

He didn't recognize me, so I pulled up my hat and gave him a nice friendly smile. His head did some kind of hip-hop nodding thing in recognition and he said something that seemed like:

"Yo, Nate Wanker, wuzup?" and slow bopped around to the passenger side and got in the car. I immediately pulled the hat down and rolled up the window. The air was on as high as it could go, but I was sweating profusely because of the goombah coat. I steered with my left hand, while with my right in the coat pocket I used a Mentos roll to approximate the barrel of a gun in tried and true B movie fashion.

"Jason, just answer me a few questions and nobody will get hurt."

He laughed as if it was a big put on, but I turned sharply away from the street leading to his house, on to the road out of town. Then I cut off the air and in a moment the fetid stench of the Mr. Po' Boy saturated trunk wafted its way up to the front seat.

"Wuz that smell?" Jason cried, with a look of nervous confusion chasing some of the hip-hop bravado from his face.

"Oh, that's the last guy who didn't feel like answering a couple of simple questions."

"Whatever, man, no problem. Whatchew wanna know."

"Just a little about your trading activity with Biggie over the last couple of years, Jason. Except you've got to talk very slowly and clearly right here into this little tape recorder."