As the police diver descended into the cold and murky waters of the Schurizad River, I waited by the shore hoping for a successful search. Approximately one month earlier, Peter Genz had tossed a weighted duffel bag containing eight rifles into the waterway beside a major eastern U.S. city in a desperate attempt to conceal evidence of his crime. Genz had no idea what to do with the rifles and was afraid to store them at home, where his two small children might stumble across them. I waited patiently as the diver began his patterned search of the riverbed, making sure to cover each grid thoroughly while avoiding assorted debris that could ensnare his oxygen hose. After more than two hours of continuously trudging over the rough terrain, he located the duffel and slowly brought it to the surface. I nervously bit my lip while I watched the police officer pull out all eight rifles and the metal barbells that Genz used to keep the bag on the riverbed. As the weapons lay alongside the gravelly shore, we remarked that we now had the “smoking guns” to nail not only Genz but his police officer uncle Fred Wallace.
Peter Genz was the last person anybody would ever suspect of dealing cocaine. The 36-year-old carpet layer was a devoted husband and father and a diligent employee of Branson’s Carpet Company, a firm with deep roots and an excellent reputation in the community. Although he occasionally smoked marijuana and was known to hoist a beer after work, ...