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Informer:

FORMER DRUG ADDICT TALKS LIFE OF DANGER WORKING WITH POLICE

He walks a winding road knowing he can't afford to look back. 

It's a beaten path lined in drugs, firearms and crime.  But he's not part of the problem.  John Doe is part of the solution. 

Doe, whose identity is being concealed for his own protection, is a nameless, faceless man who works among Cleveland County's roughest pill pushers, drug dealers and gun smugglers. 

An informant for Shelby Police, Cleveland County Sheriff's Office and other organizations, Doe's been fighting an undercover war on crime for nearly 20 years. 

He does so as a ghost in human skin -- seen but not known. 

Into the Unknown

"Oftentimes they're that information source within the circles we can't get in," said Shelby Police Chief Jeff Ledford. 

Doe flies under the radar not because he's humble.  He remains anonymous because he could die otherwise. 

"I don't even go anywhere near Ramblewood anymore," Doe said.  "Made so many drug buys in Ramblewood.  I am well known ( there ).  If my face was to be seen, I would be in the death section of the paper the next day.  Not a doubt in my mind."

It would likely be the same situation behind bars. 

"If I ever had got charged for anything in this county and I get arrested and they put me in a cell, I'm absolutely sure if I'm not killed, I'd be hurt pretty bad," he said.  "There's a lot of people in jail, a lot of people in prison, that I have put there."

Police confirmed Doe knows what he's talking about. 

It's the "thrill of the chase" that keeps him coming back.  And the money doesn't hurt either. 

Ledford said informants are often paid by police on what information they can provide and the validity of it. 

Flirting With Danger

Doe wasn't always out to rid the streets of narcotics. 

"I was on drugs real bad ...  heroin, cocaine, pills ...  didn't matter, whatever I could get a hold of," he said without batting an eye. 

Doe, then 20 and married, changed tunes when his wife gave birth to a daughter. 

"I knew I had to get off dope.  I could not stand the thoughts of that little baby girl growing up and doing what I was doing."

Little did he expect, but his opportunity for liberation came knocking one night in a Spartanburg, S.C.  motel room. 

A detective asked Doe that night to ask a trio of robbery suspects about a drug purchase.  Doe obliged and followed orders, which led to a "wild night" of takedowns. 

Doe said the bust's payout and adrenaline rush sparked interest in more cases. 

He eventually found the dangerous work as a means of catharsis and way to kick old habits. 

"I figure if I got the drug dealer off the street, I had nowhere to buy the drugs," he said.  "It was kind of like a hard way of getting off of it.  ( If ) you go to rehab ( and ) get out of rehab, the drug dealer's still there.  The dope's still there.  The temptation is still there."

Ledford said informants, in many cases, use their duty to right previous wrongs. 

"And that's how they do it."

A World Unseen

Informants, a "necessary part of our work," are firmly entrenched in the policing world, Ledford said -- a "very interesting world" at that. 

And because of it, Doe's line of work does produce some interesting stories. 

Take one case with Shelby Police for example, as authorities moved in to take down an older dealer from Kings Mountain. 

"This gentleman had four or five guns in his face and he would not open his ( car ) door," Doe said.  "He was steady counting his money like he was going to get to keep it."

It takes a con game to be a successful mole, Doe said, and a backbone to stay calm under pressure. 

Doe had to use quick thinking in one case near Cleveland Regional Medical Center when a suspect selling crack cocaine grabbed his hidden camera and inquired about it. 

"She said, 'What is this?'" Doe said of the woman.  "I reached up and said, 'Whoa, you're going to break my chain.' She still sold me the dope.  She still got charged.  She had to know I was wearing a camera because she grabbed it."

Without an informant's inside scoop, police are sometimes left in the dark. 

"It's extremely helpful because in a lot of cases without them, we couldn't have the information we need ...  or corroborate the informa-tion we know or have heard," Ledford said. 

Death Proof?

"Yes," Doe conceded without a moment of hesitation, his work is scary.  But it's worth it in the end. 

"Those particular drugs that are off the street and now in evidence ..  could have been the drugs your neighbor's child ended up ( over-dosing ) on.  You never know."

But with the job comes a risk that one day Doe might not return home alive.  It's a harsh reality made even more obvious after speaking with The Star. 

Twenty years and only one black eye to show for all the criminals he's put away.  But Doe isn't as invincible as he seems. 

"I do believe there is somebody up there looking out for me," he said after a few quiet moments.  "I've been very, very, very lucky.  My mom hates what I do.  She begs me not to do it."