In the old days before reporters got holy—at least in their collective minds—freeloading was a perk of journalism. Tickets to sporting events, rock concerts, theme parks, free drinks and meals were accepted without a second thought given to the impropiety of sponging off politicians and other people we wrote about.

And I was as guilty, if not more so, than most news people. My freebie habit was particularly bad in the booze days when I hung out in bars frequented by an array of public officials and career scoundrels. Freeloading even overlapped my early years as a self-righteous investigative reporter. 

I still squirm recalling my acceptance of season football tickets from a Florida state representative who was an alumni of the University of Miami. In my defense, receipt of the gratuity was inadvertent. He invited me to sit in his block of 50 seats at one game. Two days after accepting the invitation, season tickets arrived in the mail. I called to return the tickets, however, he convinced me I was doing him a favor because none his friends attended games during the era that the Hurricanes were a second rate team. That was true. Only a half dozen fans occupied the seats around me. But that barely eased my conscience. Fortunately, except for the interview that prompted him to send me the tickets, he was not part of any future stories I wrote.

About the time I was sitting in Orange Bowl Stadium watching the Miami Hurricanes lose, reporters stumbled over the word “ethics” in the dictionary. And in a moment of inspiration, the word “journalism” was attached. Ever since, reporters have tried to refine the phrase to improve our craft. The phrase has made it easy to say, “no thank you,” and mean it. Most news organizations now prohibit reporters from accepting free lunches, let alone season football tickets or family passes to Disney World—a perk that I am familiar with. Twice.

If politicians abided by the same standards as journalists, it would certainly make the job more challenging for FBI agents and other lawmen. “Lead me not into temptation” is a Biblical prayer that has been forgotten by a lot of folks wearing bracelets connected to the wrists of both hands. Entrapment is the easy way of enforcing bribery statutes. 

FBI ”sting” operation in Louisiana has resulted in the recent indictments of three black Mayors in small towns along the west bank of the Mississippi River. They were offered proverbial “carrots on a stick” in the form of free tickets to football games, cash payments, expensive meals and offers of debauchery in New Orleans strip clubs.

Were the targets of the sting already predisposed to take bribes? Or were the favors orchestrated by the FBI so subtle and tempting that the officials unknowingly committed crimes? The entrapment issue is already being raised in a motion filed this week in federal court in Baton Rouge.

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Over the course of my muckraking career, I exposed law enforcement misconduct in at least eight “sting” operations. One of the most outrageous and far-reaching was the so-called Brilab case covering a half-dozen states and a waste of millions of dollars. The Brilab exposé was part of an ABC Close Up documentary I worked on in the late 1970’s.

Even more egregious than Brilab abuses was a 1990’s U.S. Customs sting operation called Exodus. It was the subject of a series of reports I did for CNN. I write about the investigation in Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger.

A Congressional staffer suggested I investigate the flagrant entrapment of two men caught in a Custom’s “sting” of arms dealing—a legal but sinister business. Agents had lured two German buyers to the United States by misrepresenting the legality of the merchandise being offered for sale. The men were secretly videotaped buying today’s equivalent of B.B. guns.

The Exodus arrests were announced with great fanfare. Then Attorney General Richard Thornburg portrayed the two indicted men as “merchants of death.” In reality, it was the first arms venture for both buyers. Neither had been in trouble with the law before. And they would avoid prison in this case. Because of the unsavory tactics of investigators in assuring them that the deal was lawful, the charges were thrown out of court. The case led me to other Exodus abuses.

One target was a retired Egyptian Air Force General hailed as a hero in his country. He was considered a close friend of the U.S. military. But after responding to an ad in a weapons magazine, he became entrapped by agents, who repeatedly vouched for the legality of the sale.  By exploiting his lack of understanding of American slang, investigators elicited incriminating statements.

“There was a lot of talking, mostly by the government,” an irate federal judge said in dismissing the charges.

Exodus was not limited to arms sales. A California electronics salesman was secretly videotaped finalizing the sale of an obsolete supercomputer to a Belgium informant―a snitch being paid a bounty for ensnaring suspects. During negotiations, he assured the seller that the computer was Paris-bound. But at a final secretly-videotaped meeting in an Orlando, Florida hotel room, the informant said the computer was actually being shipped to an embargoed Eastern European country. On camera, the salesman backed out of the deal. It was too late.

Agents stormed his hotel room at the same time he was explaining the turn of events to his lawyer in a telephone call.  Again, the arrest was portrayed at a news conference as ensuring the safety of U.S. citizens. And again, the charges were eventually dismissed.

I have no idea about the guilt or innocence of the three Mayors and other officials indicted in the recent Louisiana case. Coincidentally, one of the three Mayors was the subject of an exposé I did more than 20 years ago. Because of the time that has elapsed, he will remain nameless. Besides, I don’t recall the outcome of the mini-scandal, although I collected an Investigative Reporters and Editors citation for the story.

Maybe the guy was an easy target given his background. I don’t know. What I do know is that everytime the word “sting” creeps into a story, my skeptics antenna goes up.

My memoir, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, is available at amazon.com and independent bookstores. It offers much more than $19.99 worth of laughs. The book is an account of my illustrious (I choose the adjectives) career.