Pittsburgh Stealers

by Emmett Harris

Asset forfeiture, that lovely spawn of the government’s war against drugs, has once again reared its grotesque head in the hills of western Pennsylvania. This time it was a state trooper who performed the shakedown, apprehending the alleged guilty parties near the town of Somerset. The pork-laden lanes of the state’s turnpike served as silent witnesses to the event. Oh . . . I almost forgot . . . the car’s driver, Dien Vy Phung, was also present.

The date was April 4, and Mr. Phung was acting as chauffeur for the accused when he was pulled over by the trooper for speeding. It didn’t take long for the situation to deteriorate. According to Somerset state police barracks commander Sgt. Anthony DeLuca, “The trooper walks up to the car and, all of a sudden, Mr. Phung starts sweating.” Perhaps it was a glandular condition. Perhaps it was a particularly warm day. Or perhaps it was because he was driving an overdue rental car with a suspended license. We may never know exactly why Phung started perspiring, but doing so was enough to arouse the suspicions of the on-scene officer.

He then stung Phung with five hours of questioning. Sometime during this barrage Phung assented to a search of the vehicle, whereupon a drug-sniffing dog discovered the accused. The 310,020 greenback stowaways were huddled close in two duffel bags locked in the car’s trunk. Being unfamiliar with their rights, the stacks of money failed to protest police plans to administer an ion scan that would identify drug residue. They did, however, remain silent.

The test results indicated the cash had been associating with various unsavory characters, such as cocaine, heroin, and marijuana. Since the money wasn’t talking, Mr. Phung volunteered that they had plans to go into the nail salon business. He couldn’t vouch for their whereabouts before he picked them up, but nothing about their demeanor seemed to suggest that they were the root of all evil. The state troopers weren’t so sure.

“We’re working on trying to figure out this whole thing,” said DeLuca. “Is this drug trafficking? Is this a money-laundering scheme? [The bills appeared grubby, as if none of them had bathed in weeks.] It very well could be. It just doesn’t add.”

Phung’s attorney, Matthew Zatko, who also happens to work for cash, countered that the money did in fact add up--to exactly $310,020. Nonetheless, investigators were able to convince Somerset County Judge John Cascio to keep the money on ice and suspend habeas corpus until some kind of crime could be uncovered. Sure it’s contrary to the way things are supposed to be done, but these funds could have been involved in the drug trade (!) and we are at war. In the meantime, each dollar is being treated fairly and will in no way be used to fatten the police and prosecutorial budgets.

Zatko claims the police are like a bunch of five-year-olds. “You ask the troopers how much money had drug traces. The answer is, ‘I don’t know.’ Tell me who put the drugs on the money. They say, ‘I don’t know.’ Tell me how it got on the money. ‘I don’t know.’” It’s exasperating. The troopers all should be put in time out.

A local from the area even suggests that it’s possible racism could be fueling this instance of intense scrutiny. “They wouldn’t be treating the money like that if they were white. No, they always have to pin something on greeny.”

Police had no comment on the charges.

Presently, Zatko is building a court case. Mr. Phung has returned to his home in Canada and his job as an auto bumper assembly line supervisor. The cold cash is still in the hoosegow. And the state police are busily searching for a reason, any reason, to render unto Caesar via seizure.

As Sgt. DeLuca puts it: “We’re looking at the bigger picture. There’s something that’s not right about this, and we’ll hold onto the money until we find everything is on the up and up.”

May 22, 2002

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Emmett Harris lives upwind of the Kennedys on Cape Cod. 

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