In the dim light of the Baltimore Police Department's downtown nerve center, Sgt. Wayne Jenkins' eyes darted from screen to screen, taking in the surveillance images. Seething frustration was spilling into the streets that afternoon in 2015. On the city's west side, officers were being pelted with bricks; some were hurt.
Jenkins rushed off to join them. Near Druid Hill Park, amid the shouting, sirens and buzzing choppers overhead, he commandeered a state prison department van and helped pull injured officers inside. He ordered a detective to drive them to the hospital and joined the front lines.
Hours later, in a quiet waterfront neighborhood 15 miles east of downtown, a drug-dealing bail bondsman was roused from his sleep. His supplier needed to offload two garbage bags of pharmaceutical drugs — stolen from people who had themselves looted pharmacies.
It was Jenkins, fresh off his heroics in West Baltimore. He popped the trunk and carried the drugs into the garage. The bondsman would take care of selling them, then split the profits with the police sergeant.
Wayne Jenkins was living a double life.