Operation Fast & Furious: When Feds Armed Cartels

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Just before midnight on December 14th, 2010, Border Patrol agent Brian Terry stumbled through the rugged terrain of the Arizona desert.

The 40-year-old steadied himself and breathed in the dry winter air.

He and his team were a little more than 10 miles from the U.S.-Mexico border.

They were looking for bandits who were targeting drug smugglers.

This part of the desert was a major hotspot for criminal activity.

In part, because the jagged landscape was difficult for vehicles to navigate, it was the perfect place for smugglers to cross the border, especially under the cover of darkness.

Terry could sense the exhaustion in his fellow team members.

With their Christmas break just hours away, they were all eager to get some well-deserved rest.

As soon as Terry got off, he would head straight to the airport to fly home to his family in Michigan.

A sudden alert jolted everyone to attention.

There was activity in Peck Canyon, close to the border, where something, or someone, tripped a sensor.

Terry's thoughts about home vanished.

Now, it was time for action.

The team descended into the Rocky Canyon.

Moving through this terrain was dangerous enough in daylight.

Now, at night, every shadow could hide a deadly threat.

Terry squinted into the darkness, tensing as he spotted several figures about 100 feet ahead.

He and his team readied their weapons.

Following standard protocol, they'd start with non-lethal beanbag rounds, but their sidearms were ready if the situation escalated.

Terry shouted that they were border patrol agents and ordered the suspects to stop.

The dark silhouettes froze for a moment.

Terry held his breath.

Two men on his patrol fired warning shots from the beanbag guns.

In response, the figures opened fire with real bullets.

Terry and his team took cover as gunshots echoed through the canyon.

They returned fire with their own rifles, trying to avoid the bullets ripping through the dark toward them.

After just a few minutes, the chaos was over,

and Brian Terry was dead.

Back in Michigan, his family waited for a homecoming that would never happen.

The bitter truth was that the guns that killed him had gotten to the bandits thanks to the U.S.

government.

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From Balin Studios in Wondry, I'm Luke Lamana, and this is Redacted Declassified Mysteries, where each week we shine a light on the shadowy corners of espionage, covert operations, and misinformation to reveal the dark secrets our governments try to hide.

This week's episode is called Operation Fast and and Furious, when feds armed cartels.

The nearly 2,000-mile border between the U.S.

and Mexico has long been a lightning rod for controversy.

And back in the early 2000s, while politicians raged about drugs and migrants moving north, a deadly current also flowed south.

American guns poured into cartel territory, arming Mexico's most violent drug war in history, and the violence was spilling back across the border.

With Mexico's strict gun laws, cartels and gangs relied on weapons smuggled from the United States.

Their method was straightforward.

Hire Americans with clean records, known as straw purchasers, who could legally buy guns and pass them on to traffickers.

The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, or ATF, was charged with stopping this flow of weapons.

By 2008, nearly 90% of firearms seized and traced in Mexico originated in the United States, mostly from Arizona, Texas, and California.

But while ATF agents were busy making cases against individual straw purchasers, thousands of weapons kept flowing south.

So, a year later in 2009, the Phoenix ATF office tried a new plan.

They wanted to go after bigger fish.

Instead of arresting straw purchasers, agents would allow them to move guns untouched.

Then the ATF would track the guns across the border to expose the entire criminal network.

At least, that's how it was supposed to work.

Operation Fast and Furious, named after the Hollywood film, was a colossal disaster.

It was plagued by seemingly incomprehensible and reckless decisions.

And ultimately, by allowing weapons into Mexico, their agents endangered the lives of both American and Mexican citizens.

Hundreds of innocent people were killed by the very guns the ATF was supposed to be tracking.

It took the actions of one agent to expose just how badly the operation went.

In challenging the ATF, the agent faced the ultimate whistleblower's dilemma: follow orders or follow conscience.

His actions raised a chilling question: what happens when law enforcement enables the crimes it's supposed to prevent?

In December 2009, John Dodson walked into the Phoenix, Arizona ATF office with a smile.

Since his days training for the Army in nearby Fort Huachuca, Dodson longed to return to Arizona.

He fell in love with the heat, the people, and the culture of the Southwest.

After five years of dedicated service in Virginia, he was hand-picked to work on the Phoenix team's new operation, and he was more than happy to be back in the desert.

Dodson rode the elevator to the sixth floor and walked to the briefing room.

The offices were all made of glass and the walls were a bright white.

It almost felt like any other corporate office, not the headquarters for taking down gun traffickers.

A woman in a dark pantsuit walked into the room.

She introduced herself as Special Agent Hope McAllister.

For Dodson, McAllister's reputation preceded her.

She was known as the expert on gun trafficking over the border.

Dodson shook her hand and McAllister launched into her briefing.

She said Dodson was going to be a part of a special team called Section 7, working on the most important operation at the ATF.

McAllister explained that local Phoenix gun shops had notified them about a particular customer.

He made frequent purchases of high-caliber weapons and was almost certainly a straw buyer, either for the arms smuggler or the cartel directly.

Dotson nodded.

This sounded like a pretty standard ATF case.

Confirm the straw buyer is getting the guns for someone else, arrest them, and take the guns off the street.

But McAllister explained they weren't going after this low-level straw purchaser.

They would be going after the big dogs.

McAllister explained they had a federal mandate to track the gun pipelines from the U.S.

to the cartels with complete support from the Department of Justice.

That meant unlimited funding, undercover resources, and even judicial approval for wiretaps.

As McAllister went on, Dotson started to feel uneasy about the operation.

He didn't like the way she seemed to brag about the wide latitude they had.

Measures like wiretaps were an invasion of a suspect's privacy.

They should only be deployed if they were absolutely necessary.

McAllister then explained that the plan was for the ATF to let the gun shops keep selling to straw buyers.

After that, Dotson and his fellow agents would track the guns as they moved into the hands of gun smugglers.

If they pulled this off, it would be the biggest case in ATF history, one that might be able to rival anything the FBI or DEA had ever cracked.

Dodson sat in stunt silence.

The idea of purposely letting guns fall into the hands of arms traffickers seemed insane.

It was certainly dangerous, but McAllister was the expert, and so against his better judgment, he kept his reservations to himself and told her he was excited to do his part.

Dodson left the briefing room with mixed feelings.

This operation could cripple the arms trade going into Mexico, but it might also end up getting a lot of people hurt.

Two weeks later, Dotson sat behind the wheel of his government-issued Chevy Impala.

He was parked outside the Lone Wolf Trading Company, a gun shop in Glendale, Arizona.

Dotson was there on a tip.

Inside, a suspected straw purchaser was buying a large supply of firearms.

Dotson was used to following leads and getting illegal guns off the streets in Virginia, but this time, he could only watch.

His orders were to let the sale go through.

He waited with his partner, Alindo Casa.

Dodson wanted to turn to Casa and bring up his concerns about the operation, but Casa was new to the ATF.

He didn't seem like he'd be comfortable rocking the boat.

Special Agent McAllister radioed in and let them know that the gun store's owner said the straw buyer was leaving.

Dodson looked toward the front door.

Right on queue, a lanky man emerged, wheeling a big crate on a dolly.

In total, he had purchased 15 AK-47s.

Dotson shook his head in disbelief.

This was about as clear-cut a straw purchase as he had ever seen.

If it was up to him, he would arrest the guy right now.

But the buyer got into his car and spun out of the parking lot.

McAllister's voice came over the radio and instructed them to follow.

Dotson trailed the buyer at a distance.

Eventually, the car pulled into the garage of what seemed like a typical suburban home.

Dodson jotted down the address.

Then he asked McAllister what was next.

She said they had a camera on the house.

They'd monitor the buyer, and if they noticed activity, they'd make a plan.

So for now, they needed Dodson to head back to the office.

Dodson wanted to snap back at her.

He thought the order was insane.

There was a stash of guns in that house, undoubtedly heading for the cartel or other criminals across the border.

There were a million ways to smuggle them out that one camera could easily miss.

They'd certainly be used to kill people, maybe even innocent ones.

Dodson knew he couldn't outright question the orders of his supervising agent, but as politely as he could, he asked McAllister if she was sure.

She reaffirmed that he was needed back at the office.

As he drove off, Dodson had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He was starting to wonder if transferring to Phoenix was a huge mistake.

In March 2010, Dodson was back at the ATF office.

He sat at his cubicle and rubbed his temples.

He was battling a serious headache.

After three months of monitoring straw buyers and letting them go, he was just as confused as ever as to how the operation was going to be successful.

The ATF seemed to be making zero progress, and Dodson couldn't tell how they were tracking the guns they were so willingly letting leave the country.

Agents logged serial numbers into the ATF's database, but there was no GPS tracking happening since the intelligence center responsible for it was holding things up.

So they could only recover weapons at crime scenes.

After the damage was done, the ATF had already connected the guns to more than 100 violent incidents.

Most of the crimes were kidnappings in Mexico, but some were more high-profile, including an attempt to assassinate a police chief in Baja, California.

Any hope Dodson initially had about the operation was dwindling.

If McAllister and the other higher-ups had a grand plan, they sure as hell weren't letting him in on it.

Plus, for an operation named Fast and Furious, things were moving painfully slow.

The name was chosen after the ATF agents noticed that many of their suspects spent time at an auto repair shop and raced cars on the streets, just like the thieves in the Vin Diesel movie.

Dodson couldn't help but spot the irony that the cop in that film let the bad guy walk away.

As he stood over the situation, another agent popped his head into his cubicle and asked if he'd heard the news.

Dodson shook his head no.

The agent explained that the ATF recently learned that the cartel bosses they were going after were federal informants protected by a joint FBI-DEA operation.

Dotson knew that the ATF had been focusing on a middleman named Manuel Salis Acosta, who was coordinating straw buyers.

But McAllister had refused to arrest him since she was convinced the ATF could use him to catch someone higher up.

But now that the ATF had learned Acosta's bosses were informants, they'd hit a wall.

No one could could touch them.

The irony was brutal.

After letting so many guns slip through the border, it turned out Acosta was the biggest fish they could possibly catch.

But after hearing the news, Dodson felt a strange sort of relief.

At least now, maybe they'd finally arrest Acosta and end this nightmare.

Then Dodson could go back to what he came here to do.

stopping guns from reaching Mexico in the first place.

He walked over to McAllister's office and found her with another supervisor.

He asked when she wanted to move in on Acosta.

McAllister cocked her head, confused.

She asked why they would move in on him when they just tapped his phones.

Dotson stared back at her.

He felt his blood pressure rising.

He said they already had enough evidence to arrest Acosta, so there was no need to tap his phones.

Plus, there was no chance of capturing anyone above him.

McAllister rolled her eyes.

She told him the Department of Justice was watching this case closely.

It was going to be a huge win for their agency.

The other supervisor chimed in, saying that they couldn't give Dotson more details.

He just wouldn't understand.

Dotsu knew that blowing up with them wouldn't achieve anything more than getting him punished.

He walked out feeling stunned.

It seemed his bosses had no plan at all.

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A few weeks later, Dodson was back in his car, waiting in the parking lot of a gun shop.

After months of waiting, guns were finally being tracked using GPS.

There was just one problem.

The only model that was actually equipped was one smugglers rarely bought.

Even when gun store owners offered deep discounts to known straw purchasers, no one had touched it.

Until today, just like before, Dodson and his partner, Casa, watched outside as the straw buyer made his purchase.

As the buyer drove off, Dodson knew he was supposed to wait for instructions rather than follow the car himself.

McAllister radioed him directions based on the GPS signal, but the directions were severely delayed.

Dodson didn't know it at the time, but due to interagency bureaucracy, the data was being monitored by a federal technician in El Paso, 450 miles away, then transmitted to an ATF analyst who then relayed the information to McAllister.

The whole process put Dodson and Casa almost 11 minutes behind their target.

McAllister's voice crackled over the radio.

She asked if anyone had eyes on the straw buyer's car.

Dodson could hear desperation in her voice.

Dodson and the other agents radioed back to say no.

Finally, McAllister sighed and responded that they'd lost the tracker.

It had gone somewhere the signal couldn't reach.

Dodson had enough.

He gripped the steering wheel hard and raced around for a few more minutes trying to pick up the buyer's trail.

But there was no sign of him.

Dodson angrily punched the steering wheel.

His horn echoed around the empty industrial park he'd ended up in.

They'd finally had a chance to actually track these guns to a major player, the kind of operation they should have been running all along.

And now that had failed.

Though he knew the blame lay with his superiors, he was still racked with guilt.

More guns were now going to flood the streets, courtesy of the ATF.

A month later, in May 2010, Dotson pulled into the ATF office parking lot.

He turned off the engine and just sat in the passenger seat.

He used to love his work, but the longer Operation Fast and Furious went on, the more he dreaded heading in each day.

He was a cop who couldn't arrest criminals.

His job was to prevent crime, but he was being ordered to do the exact opposite.

He finally got out of his car and walked toward the lobby.

As he got into the elevator, he was joined by the last person he wanted to see, Hope McAllister.

As they rode up to the sixth floor, McAllister asked him a surprising question.

She asked him for his honest thoughts on the operation.

Dotson squinted at her.

He couldn't tell if she was setting a trap.

Guns had been found at over 100 crime scenes in Mexico.

But instead of saying that, he stared straight ahead and told her her not to ask questions she didn't want the answer to.

When the elevator doors opened, Dotson hurried to his desk, but McAllister kept pace behind him.

She insisted that she wanted to know.

Dotson stopped.

It didn't matter if he ended up getting in trouble.

If she was really asking, he was going to give her an answer.

Dotson said he thought the case was a disaster.

The operation was going nowhere.

If his bosses still believed they were going to catch a big fish, they were kidding themselves.

There was no way for for them to arrest anyone beyond Acosta.

His voice rose as he went on, and soon he was shouting about all of the disastrous errors that had been made.

He told McAllister that all they'd done for the past few months was facilitate gun trafficking, not stop it.

It was as bad as if they had sold guns to the cartel themselves.

By this point, everyone around them was listening in.

Some watched, dumbfounded, staring right at him.

Others purposely avoided eye contact.

Dotsa didn't care.

If he was going to get his feelings out, he'd rather the whole team hear it.

McAllister gave him an icy stare.

If she agreed with anything he was saying, she didn't show it.

Dotson said the AK-47s they were letting out would eventually be used against civilians and law enforcement on both sides of the border.

They were putting their fellow officers in the crosshairs.

Someone was going to die, and that blood would be on their hands.

McAllister said nothing.

Dotsaid wondered if she thought he was crazy or if she recognized there was some truth to what he was saying.

He didn't bother waiting to find out.

He turned and sat down at his desk.

Nobody shouted at their bosses like that at the ATF.

Eventually, he knew they'd find a way to get rid of him.

As it turned out, Dotson was right.

After his outburst, the ATF reassigned him as an FBI liaison.

clearly trying to sideline him.

But Dodson didn't mind.

He would finally be working with competent people.

Seven months after the confrontation, on the morning of December 16, 2010, Dodson was getting ready to head into work when the TV caught his attention.

CNN was reporting on Border Patrol Agent Brian Terry's death.

It had happened two days earlier.

Dodson couldn't help but worry that the guns from Fast and Furious had been involved.

With dread filling his gut, he finished getting ready and headed for the office.

After he arrived at his desk, Dotson heard his phone ring.

He checked it.

It was Larry Ault, his old colleague from the Fast and Furious case.

Alt was one of the few people who seemed to share Dodson's frustrations about the operation, but he hadn't heard much from him since his reassignment.

Alt asked Dodson what he knew about Brian Terry's death.

Dodson said he only knew what the news had reported.

Alt paused for a moment, then confirmed Dodson's worst fear.

Two of the guns recovered at the scene had been traced back to the ATF.

They had come through Operation Fast and Furious.

Dotson's heart sank.

The day he had warned McAllister about had finally come.

Almost as soon as he had hung up with Alt, his phone rang again.

This time it was George Gillette, one of his ATF supervisors.

He asked Dotson to come meet him at his office.

Dotson knew what Gillette thought about him.

He was a troublemaker, an agent who made too much noise.

The sudden summons couldn't be good.

But when Dotson arrived, Gillette was warm and inviting, asking casual questions about his work with the FBI and whether anything was on his mind.

Dotson knew Gillette must be phishing, trying to find out if the FBI knew about the connection between Terry's death and Fast and Furious.

But Dodson played dumb.

Minutes later, the meeting ended with Gillette's same insincere smile and, good talk, thanks for coming in.

Racing back to his FBI desk, Dodson tried accessing the ATF database.

But he'd been locked out of all Fast and Furious files.

He knew the agency was trying to cover its tracks.

They were trying to make sure that no one spoke up about what they had done, especially Dotson.

But his mind was made up.

The truth would come out, whatever the cost.

On January 25th, 2011, Dotson was enjoying a rare, cool Arizona day at the park.

While his teenage kids hung out with their friends nearby, he worked on his golf putt.

It helped him think, and lately, he had a lot to think about.

Dodson wasn't the type to seek attention.

He didn't want to run straight to the media and talk about Fast and Furious in front of a camera.

Not only could it jeopardize his career, but exposing himself publicly as a federal agent might endanger his family, too.

So Dodson decided to go through official channels to report what had happened.

But it was much harder to do than he'd imagined.

Dodson had called the office of the Inspector General more times than he could count.

He'd also anonymously notified ATF Internal Affairs and their chief counsel, but no one had responded to him.

Eventually, Dodson did get a hold of someone outside the government.

He got in contact with an independent reporter named David Khodry, who had been investigating the link between the ATF and gun smuggling into Mexico.

Dotson set up an anonymous email and asked Khodry to pass it along to anyone asking questions about Fast and Furious.

So far, he hadn't heard anything back.

As Dotson mulled over his predicament, he realized he'd gotten distracted once again.

He turned his attention back to his putting.

He tapped the ball lightly, but it drifted left, missing the target.

He gritted his teeth in frustration.

Then, Dodson's Blackberry vibrated in his pocket.

His eyes widened when he saw it was an email to his anonymous account.

It was from a staffer for Iowa Senator Chuck Grassley.

Dodson felt a rush of excitement, mixed with fear.

He typed up a quick email response and hit send.

A few minutes later, Dodson was sitting on a bench in the park, talking on the phone with two of Grassley's staffers.

Dotson told them everything, and he volunteered to send documents to back it all up.

As they wrapped up the conversation, the staffers thanked Dodson.

They promised they would do their best to protect him, but warned the blowback from the ATF was going to be rough.

Dotson hung up and looked over at his kids, happily playing basketball with their friends.

He worried how all of this was going to affect them, but he knew he was doing the right thing.

That same day, the ATF senior agent in charge of Fast and Furious, Bill Newell, smiled for the cameras in the press room at the ATF office in Phoenix.

Dozens of guns were laid out on a table in front of him, AK-47s mostly, as well as some AR-15s and handguns.

Law enforcement representatives and reporters from all over the country filled the room.

On paper, this press conference was supposed to report a big win for the ATF, but it's possible it was an attempt to cover their tracks about Brian Terry's death.

They had just arrested a straw buyer named Jaime Avila, who was the source of the guns that killed Terry.

The ATF would be making it look like they had acted swiftly in catching the people responsible for Terry's murder, even though they had allowed the smuggling to happen.

Newell looked down at the display in front of him.

It was quite the exhibition.

He wasn't going to mention that these guns were just props from lockup.

He stood up and read his prepared speech.

He laid out after the tragic murder of Brian Terry, the ATF had sprung into action.

After Avila's arrest the night before, agents raided more straw buyers across the city and arrested 19 of them.

They also busted a ring of drug smugglers and got all these weapons off the street.

With each success Newell mentioned, the ATF, DEA, and IRS supervisors in attendance clapped the loudest.

The U.S.

Attorney for Arizona, Dennis Burke, seemed pleased as well.

The ATF had delivered a major win for both state and federal law enforcement.

What Newell didn't mention was that the ATF had been monitoring Avila for months, allowing guns to flow across the border.

As soon as Newell finished, a hand shot up from the press pool.

It was a local reporter, a man Newell didn't recognize.

The reporter said he had heard rumors about this case.

He asked if it was true that the ATF was allowing guns to be smuggled into Mexico.

Newell's stomach dropped.

It took everything he had not to reveal his shock and anger.

He didn't know how they'd made the connection, and he was furious to be put on the spot like this.

Newell narrowed his eyes in the man's direction.

Through gritted teeth, he just said, hell no, and turned around and walked right out of the room.

Other reporters shouted questions after him, but Newell just kept on walking.

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Following Newell's disastrous press conference, the media and the government continued investigating the connections between Fast and Furious and Brian Terry.

And since he was the only ATF agent willing to speak out, Dodson was also the only one who could provide hard evidence of those connections.

He leaked a number of classified documents to Senator Grassley's office after transferring them from his secure ATF computer.

Grassley in turn sent a letter to the ATF asking about the policy of gunwalking.

And as a result, the higher-ups at the Phoenix ATF office turned their sights directly on Dodson.

Dodson's co-workers, led by Hope McAllister, gave him a cold shoulder at every turn.

His bosses chewed him out and accused him of lying.

His former supervisor, George Gillette, tried to force him to write an incriminating memo, admitting he had misled Grassley's staffers.

Senator Grassley had to write another letter threatening legal action if they continued to harass Dotson for being a whistleblower.

The ATF brass backed down, but they still treated Dotson like an outcast.

With pressure coming in from all sides, the ATF sent an official response to Grassley's office via the Justice Department.

Not only did they deny any knowledge of walking guns across the border, but they claimed to have made every effort to arrest straw buyers.

The ATF went even further just a month later at a town hall.

The agency's director said Dodson was nothing more than a disgruntled employee who didn't understand what was happening.

Dodson could barely wrap his head around the fact that the entire Justice Department was co-signing an obvious lie to a U.S.

senator, no less.

But worse than that, they were pushing the blame onto him.

Dodson had hoped, even assumed, that the ATF would eventually do the right thing and admit their operation had failed.

But instead, they tried to attack his character.

They left him with no choice but to go public.

That's why, on a sunny Sunday afternoon, Dodson sat in a darkened conference room as a sound engineer clipped a microphone to his lapel.

Dodson had spent his entire career trying to keep a low profile.

but now he was about to go on CBS Evening News.

As the interview began, the reporter gave him a reassuring smile.

She started asking him questions about his kids, his life in Phoenix, and finally his work at the ATF.

And before he knew it, they were getting to the heart of the story about Operation Fast and Furious.

Dotson answered each of the reporters' questions honestly.

He wanted to be as clear as possible to the American public.

He was ordered to let U.S.

guns go into Mexico.

His supervisors didn't care about the straw purchasers if it meant they could catch a bigger target.

Over the course of an hour, Dotson explained that he had tried to warn his superiors that someone would get hurt.

Most of all, he said how sorry he was for Brian Terry's family.

With each answer he gave, Dotson felt a little bit of weight lift off his shoulders.

After the interview, the cameraman came up to Dotson and shook his hand.

He told Dotson that he was a local with family in both Arizona and Mexico.

He thanked Dotson for his courage.

He felt safer knowing that someone had told the truth about what was going on.

Dotson thanked the man in return, but he couldn't express what hearing that meant to him.

He had spent so long in the upside-down world of the Phoenix ATF, but now it seemed that finally he could help prevent any more harm.

This interview would hopefully mark the beginning of the end of the ATF's gunwalking.

In June 2011, the House of Representatives Oversight Committee held hearings about Operation Fast and Furious.

With Brian Terry's family in attendance, Dodson delivered key testimony about the ATF's decision to allow gun trafficking.

This is not a matter of some weapons that had gotten away from us or allowing a few to walk so that we could follow them to a much larger, more significant target.

Allowing loads of weapons that we knew to be destined for criminals was the plan.

During the hearings, Deputy Attorney General Ron Weitch claimed the department didn't lie in the Department of Justice's letter to Senator Grassley, but he admitted that the information they provided may not have been accurate.

In the subsequent congressional investigation, it was revealed that the Phoenix ATF failed to notify Mexican officials and the Mexican ATF branch office about the operation.

In November 2010, two fast and furious guns were found at the murder scene of Mario Gonzalez, brother of Chihuahua State Attorney General Patricia Gonzalez.

In an email exchange, higher-ups at Phoenix ATF discussed withholding this information from Mexican officials.

The Mexican ATF branch wasn't informed of the connection until after the news about Operation Fast and Furious went public.

In 2017, John Dodson once again appeared before Congress to give an update on the aftermath of Operation Fast and Furious.

He testified that the ATF's superior officers had retaliated against him for coming forward about the case.

Since his testimony, He had been subjected to multiple internal affairs investigations, and the ATF tried to criminally charge him three separate times.

He'd been transferred 11 times and denied promotions.

The ATF even sought to prevent Dodson from publishing a book he'd written about the experience.

Despite Dodson's whistleblowing, there was very little real accountability for the ATF's actions.

Most of the agents directly involved, such as Hope McAllister, were quietly transferred.

Others resigned.

Criminal organizations will always take steps to try and outsmart law enforcement.

It makes sense that law enforcement would use unconventional techniques to do the same, but Operation Fast and Furious was critically flawed from the beginning and plagued by poor decision-making along the way.

The ATF was eager to step out of the shadow of the FBI and DEA by taking out a massive criminal operation.

In doing so, they ignored their primary duty.

Altogether, nearly 2,000 guns worth $1.5 million

were allowed to walk during the operation.

These guns are still being found at crime scenes in the U.S.

and Mexico.

A.50-caliber rifle found at the hideout of El Chapo, the former Sinaloa cartel boss, was traced back to Operation Fast and Furious.

And 15 years later, there are still hundreds of guns that have never been recovered.

Follow Redacted Declassified Mysteries, hosted by me, Luke Lamana, on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts.

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From Balin Studios and Wondery, this is Redacted Declassified Mysteries, hosted by me, Luke Lamana.

A quick note about our stories.

We do a lot of research, but some details and scenes are dramatized.

We use many different sources for our show, but we especially recommend the book, The Unarmed Truth, My Fight to Blow the Whistle and Expose Fast and Furious by John Dodson.

The article, Operation Fast and Furious, A Gun Running Sting Gone Wrong by Sari Horowitz for The Washington Post, and the segment, Why Operation Fast and Furious Failed on NPR's Talk of the Nation.

This episode was written by Jake Natureman.

Sound design by Ryan Patesta.

Our producers are Christopher B.

Dunn and John Reed.

Our associate producers are Ines Rennie Kay and Molly Quintlin Artwick.

Fact-checking by Sheila Patterson.

For Balin Studios, our head of production is Zach Levitt.

Script editing by Scott Allen and Luke Baratz.

Our coordinating producer is Samantha Collins.

Production support by Avery Siegel.

Produced by me, Luke Lamana.

Executive producers are Mr.

Ballin and Nick Nick Witters.

For Wondery, our senior producers are Laura Donna Palavota, Dave Schilling, and Rachel Engelman.

Senior managing producer is Nick Ryan.

Managing producer is Olivia Fonte.

Our executive producers are Aaron O'Flaherty and Marshall Louie.

For Wondery.

And we're back live during a flex alert.

Oh, we're pre-cooling before 4 p.m., folks.

And that's the end of the third.

Time to set it back to 78 from 4 to 9 p.m.

What a performance by Team California.

The power is ours.