During the investigation, the agencies used covert surveillance to observe thousands of people purchasing narcotics on the block of Weymouth Street in Kensington, according to the release. In , a series of search warrants were executed and the DEA discovered that Carrion was the supplier of narcotics in the organization.
Covert surveillance showed him carrying large trash bags into stash houses several times. In that cab, officials found more than 3, containers of crack cocaine in a bag. Evidence presented during the trial also showed he used code words while discussing heroin with street dealers, according to the release.
His federal drug conviction will ensure that he serves a lengthy prison sentence for his drug-trafficking activities. How to stay warm in the winter without breaking the bank. There were two survivors, the family said.
Temple University Hospital said one was in stable condition. Six family members had moved there a decade ago, and the family had grown substantially since then, adding eight children, he said. Jeremiah, who struggled to keep his composure at times, said officials had reached out to surviving family members from both apartments to help find them new homes. The fire department previously said none of the four smoke alarms in the building appeared to have been working.
But housing authority officials said Thursday the building actually had 13 tamper-resistant, year detectors, all of which were operational during the last inspection in May Fires involving Christmas trees are much more likely to be fatal than other types of house fires, according to the National Fire Protection Association, a nonprofit safety group.
Then he unleashes an exploding stream of gas into the air, rapidly firing left and right and cackling devilishly like a kid with a water pistol. The balloon man, who asks not to be named, has a shaved head and a New England accent. The Disco Biscuits performance is about to start. And the fans in line are high from his laughing gas. Some of the dealers are locals, contracted out for the night, while the rest hail from Massachusetts and Rhode Island. Throughout the year, the Nitrous Mafia travels from state to state, selling balloons at concert sites.
The scene in Williamsburg is only a small preview of what happens in summer, when the outdoor festival season kicks into gear. During these campground events, which last two to four days, the Mafia, which is divided into two rings, based in Boston and Philadelphia, can burn through hundreds of nitrous tanks. And for some musicians and their fans, the illicit trade is a bummer. But Dmitri, who has been in and out of jail on multiple occasions, defends the operation. You can keep walking.
But he hopes things will pick up during the summer. When asked, he denies his crew is an organized crime ring.
It is inevitable. At any East Coast summer music festival, from Maine to Miami Beach, the opening chords eventually give way to the whistling of tanks. In parking lots and alleyways. In mountain crevasses and open fields. The Nitrous Mafia is there. Unlike traditional drugs, which have long-lasting effects and can carry a fan through a concert, the high from N20 is cheap and quick.
He no longer does balloons, but remembers the days of buying 15 in a row. But some jam-band fans complain that the nitrous racket is harshing their idyllic pursuit, recalling a time, they say, when laughing gas was a part of the hippie ethos. It used to be, in the old Dead days, that some hippies got their hands on a tank, and it was a mellow and loose kind of thing.
He almost took out my daughter, who was a little baby. Forced to play a four-day game of Whac-a-Mole, the guards at festivals move in on one dealer with a tank, and another pops up on the other side of the park. They disappear. For concertgoers, the most dangerous risk of nitrous is the potential for users to pass out and hit the pavement.
They fall like flies all over the place. Last year, a festivalgoer turned up dead at Gathering of the Vibes. Within days, the jam-band blogosphere lit up, hurling accusations at the Nitrous Mafia, with claims that the victim was beaten with a tank, sprayed with gas, and burned alive. Weeks later, a toxicology report ruled that he died from a simple drug overdose, but the episode was still a black eye for festival promoter Ken Hays, who came under fire from Bridgeport authorities for failure to control the scene.
Despite confiscating about tanks, the security guards at Vibes proved no match for the gas mob. The event is scheduled to run July 29 to August 1. Twenty-four years old, Sean sips a bottle of lager and speaks in a raspy whisper. His dreadlocked hair spills over his Grateful Dead visor and down his back, and a green bandanna hangs loosely from his neck. In a few minutes, he will take the stage as a guitarist for one of the bands playing tonight.
A self-described hippie, he was considered a valuable member of the Mafia because he blended in at festivals. Sean explains that the Boston ring of the Nitrous Mafia is made up of about 16 members split into two units, with the entire operation run by the Rhode Island kingpin, Dmitri—the guy with the New England accent slamming the tank against the wall in Williamsburg.
With the help of false paperwork, gang members fill up tanks of various sizes at a local nitrous shop, which is a kitchen-supply store called New England Fountain, located in Burlington, Massachusetts. During his employment, the two Boston crews would duel each other every night to see who could make more money.
Members of each unit split 30 percent of the profits, while the remaining 70 percent was funneled back to their bosses. The Philadelphia ring is larger and split up into several sub-crews who know each other but operate independently, says Sean. Sean, who admits that he has been in and out of jail for drug charges, was recruited into the Mafia last year during a time when he had no money and no food and was struggling to see his favorite bands.
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