A 10-year quest to bring a hidden story to light
Over nearly a decade, this story began to feel less like a manuscript and more like a life work pressed between folds of memory and hardship. I followed threads that led from the relatively quiet (less so all the time) streets of Toronto to the far flung corners of Hong Kong, Mexico, the United States, England, and beyond, chasing the truth of Operation Tiger Trap, which I had told was one of – if not the – greatest successes in the history of the DEA. It was a pursuit that promised a book, a documentary, and a television series, a tapestry worthy of a wide, waiting audience.
The path seemed clear. A major literary agent saw the spark, recognized the heartbeat of the tale and spoke offered a contract before we had even finished our first meeting. The plans expanded with enthusiastic momentum and I allowed myself to imagine a future where I would finally get to tell the story that I had come to realize was an important one to share. A story that mattered. A different lens on the war on drugs. The failures are well documented but this was a success! Perhaps contained within in was a recipe for Turing the tide in a war that almost seemed designed never to be won. Then the world shifted with a tremor no one could anticipate: the first pandemic lockdown. Travel restrictions put a sudden and complete end to the globe-spanning that had carried me between research sites, isolating me at a desk that had a map of world fragments — part of a story. Not enough.
What followed were gruelling years. The research I had pursued across two years of travel—interviews with law enforcement officers and traffickers, scouring the hidden corners around the world where the threads of operation tiger trap still persisted—unraveled with the changing tides of the crisis. I toiled to finish what distance and danger had interrupted, only to watch work continue to languish in a drawer, nearly complete, abandoned by circumstance as the world reeled. The lingering ache of that moment—when a story that deserved to be shared was simply left untold—was a quiet, persistent heartbreak.
Yet even the heaviest chapters give way to renewal. Earlier this year, my producer friend Jake appeared in the margins of the narrative, with his uncanny instincts for film and television. He breathed new life into the project, and the orbit began to realign. Plans that had stalled pre-pandemic resurfed, now envisioned as a documentary that would compel the audience to see, hear and feel the scope of the operation from those who lived it on both sides of the law. The opportunity — which is still ongoing — represents not merely a second chance to share the story; it is a second chance to fulfil a promise not only to the people who so generously donated their limited time and shared their incredible personal tales, but to myself, that I could report back on all that I had learned with the sense of urgency and responsibility that the story continues to command.
As the pages begin to turn once more, the aim remains clear: to bring this chapter of history— the battle that was won in the war that is still being lost— to the world as a book that invites discussion, and engages conscience, and a television documentary (and someday a limited drama) series narrative that honours the people whose lives intersected with Tiger Trap. The journey is far from over, but the road holds a promise as steadfast as the years that brought us all here. I owe the people who told me the tale of Tiger Trap. The bill has come due.
The book will be finished this year and published next. Even if that means self-publishing on Amazon. I am saying it here so that all of you hold me accountable. All 11 of you. There can be no turning back now. It is written. So shall it be done.
So what is Tiger Trap? Follow me as I retrace my steps around the world searching for the answer to that question. Get ready, because it’s going to be a wild ride.