Damian Marrett - White Lies: Bending the Truth--All Part of the Job For an Undercover Cop

Being a crook was a whole lot of fun. From a personal perspective, I particularly enjoyed the not-getting-caught part of the equation. Granted, there was probably more danger and risk associated with working undercover than breaking the law, but then the gut didnt sink and scramble when cops knocked down the door either. Unlike my criminal associates, I had no fear of a ten-year stretch.

I was twenty-four when I first started working as an undercover for the Victoria Police. I was not only young for the job, but I also looked young. In the right light I could pass for eighteen, and my long blond locks had more in common with surfing culture than the traditional policing one. Accordingly, I didnt need to cultivate an undercover personaI never even looked like a copper in the first place.

My attitude wasnt dressed up in blue either. Id always been a bit of a rebel, and old friends from school were usually surprised when I told them Id joined the police force.

I never picked you for being a copper.

Yeah, well, you know

You were mental at school.

Yeah, well, you know

I thought youd be on the other side.

Hey, fuck off.

I mightve been a bit of a lad as a young bloke, but so were a lot of other coppers as well. They dont suck the personality out of recruits when they walk through the academys gates. They give it a red-hot go sometimes though.

But if I didnt quite look or act the part of a dutiful copper, there were others working undercover who took it that little bit further. Senior Detective Pete Sutton was one such operative.

In Victoria Police vernacular, Pete Sutton was a shitman. Regrettably, the poor bloke looked like a piece of shit.

However, on Petes part, the look was intentional. He was the type of working undercover who specialised in one field. He was just playing a roleone he rarely, if ever, strayed from: throwing himself into looking like crap with reckless abandon. Think David Wenhams Johnny Spitieri in the Aussie crime flick Gettin Square and youve got yourself a composite sketch of Pete Sutton in the line of duty.

A description probably wouldnt do the bloke justice, but his face was pockmarked and pallid. Up top, his wiry nest of mousey mane had a late eighties feel about itbusiness at the front, party at the back. Skinny like an Olsen twin, policeman Pete was the spitting image of every lippy little pest dealing smack outside every housing commission high-rise in Australia:Are ya Jason, mate?

Nah, pal. My names Damian.

Nah, nah, mate. Are ya chasin?

Pete always dressed the part. A classic ensemble involved flannelette expertly tucked into acid-wash jeans, a scuffed-up pair of Kmart sneakers on his happy feet. His authentic streetwear was unparalleled in covert circles. Pete Sutton was the complete shitman package.

On the street, uniformed coppers were all over the bloke like a raging skin condition. When he stepped outside his house, a squad car would surface out of nowhere before his moccasins (or Kmart sneakers) had a chance to scuff the footpath. Not only was Pete Sutton the complete shitman package, he was a cop magnet into the bargain.

If none of his dodgy crim mates was around when he was pulled over, Pete would guardedly reach for his badge, knowing full well that, if he didnt, the cops would be all over him likeuma raging skin condition. Sometimes the uniformed boys wouldnt believe the badge was his, and theyd radio in to check if a Freddy had been pinched. They figured that no copper was capable of carrying himself that badly.

Because he looked and talked like street scum, Pete was used primarily by Victoria Police as an introductions man; hed act as a go-between, placing like-minded parties together. Pete could also lend credibility to a situation that required some underworld beefing up. He was pretty much the undercover units connection to the street, and if you were mates with him, it followed that you could be trusted by certain sections of the criminal world.

Pete Sutton wasnt the only undercover used for a specific purpose. Detective Senior Constable Chris Priest was another specialist. A monster-truck of a man, Chris always looked like hed been out scrapping the night before. Not only big of bone, he also spoke with an unpolished authority that suggested he could handle himself if things turned to shit. To top it all off, the bloke had that Islander look about him and, just like many of his Pacific brothers, Chris Priest was truly frightening when challenged.

The big fella wasnt a one-trick pony by any stretch, but he was at his most comfortable and confident playing the role of a money man. Hed be the one in charge of the show moneythe cash we had to present to the target in order to demonstrate that the deal was on, even though we had no intention of parting with the moneyif we were conducting a large-scale drug deal. When muscle was a necessary ingredient on a job, he was the first operative chosen.

Poles apart from big Chris Priest, we had a bloke join the undercover unit who was young, smallsoft, even. A business degree behind him, he looked like your typical Volvo-driving, Hawthorn-supporting, cardigan-wearing accountant. I think he even used to bring a thermos into work every day. Sorrythat mightve been me.

All up, he was a nice enough guy, but he had no street presence about him whatsoever. Even so, with a financial background behind him, we thought itd be an advantage to have him on staff as our expert on white-collar crime and money laundering. To be honest, though, I wasnt sold on the idea. I had a feeling from the word go that crooks would walk all over him at the earliest opportunity.

It panned out that way, too. En route to one of his first jobs, we received word through a phone tap that the crooks saw him as a soft target. After he arrived at the meeting they were prepared to stab him then rip him. The operation was aborted immediately, and our mild-mannered accountant decided that he wasnt cut out for undercover work. He was actually quite traumatised by the whole experience.

These are just a few examples of types that were required by the undercover unit. Everyone had a role to play. If we suspected a target couldnt control himself around the opposite sex, wed sometimes use female operatives, primarily for decorative purposes. The procedure involved was straightforward enough: the female undercover would cast a line and reel the target in by the dick, then greed would finish him off. This situation occurred more frequently than youd think. Its a sad indictment on the male of the species that way too many blokes think with their special friend downstairs. I must also stress that women were used in more varied (and less discriminatory) work situations than the above scenario. Sometimes they cleaned our offices.

Just like any film or TV production, the Covert Investigations Units casting process was critical. Covert Investigations was formed in November 1993, almost three years after Id started working undercover for the Victoria Police Drug Squad. Fortuitously, I was one of eight undercover operatives chosen to play a part in the new organisationfour had been chosen from the Drug Squad, and the other four from the Bureau of Criminal Intelligence.

I said goodbye to the fairly dingy Russell Street headquarters of Victoria Police when we moved into our own specially designed office space in Melbournes inner suburbs. The location was, and still is, a closely guarded secret.

The whole outfit was more professional than the Drug Squad, and I was hoping a variety of jobs would open up to me as a result. I was even given a special agent number. Unfortunately 007 had been taken by someone else. I was 003. Marrett, Damian Marrett.