Apr 6, 2021
4 min read
My Snitch
He sang like a nightingale
I’ll call him Steve — because I’m not supposed to know who he is. But it didn’t take long for me to figure out who served me up on a silver platter to his prosecutor so he could stay out of prison — and I could go in.
Steve worked at an advertising agency with which I did some business back when I ran my own agency catering to and middle-manning for an army of escorts and…
