Livonia — I frequently track targets on foot through grocery stores, malls, sporting events—even weddings and funerals. Keeping an eye on them, covertly recording their activity, and accounting for other civilians in close proximity is difficult in ideal circumstances. Many times, I’ve been trailing a target on foot inside a busy store and a nosy person has taken notice of a mistake I’ve made—my camera was visible or I was behaving suspiciously—drawing unwanted interest. Once in Walmart, I was spotted by store security guards and mistaken for a union activist trying to film employees. They attempted to take my cameras away, until police arrived and allowed me to leave with my equipment.
Other times, I find myself surveilling a target in my hometown, where friends see me and wonder what I’m up to.
Such an unusual event once occurred at the Livonia Spree, one of the largest fairs in the state, which has taken place annually each June since 1971. The event gets bigger each year and is capped off by an extraordinary Sunday fireworks display, rivaling the neighboring Detroit Fourth of July show.
On one such Sunday, I was surveilling a target in Flat Rock, not exactly in close range of my hometown, who left with a group and drove up to Livonia. When they arrived at the Spree, with me following behind, the place was jammed, and most of the roads were blocked off. I was forced to tail my target on foot from several blocks away.
I thought to myself, “Jesus Christ, I probably know half the people in here,” as I entered the Spree, keeping my target in sight. If I lost him in there, I probably wouldn’t find him again.
The Spree is a sprawling encampment of rides, rollercoaster, and tourist-trap level carnival games run by some pretty rough guys who look like prison courtyard extras. The rides look like death traps, but that doesn’t stop the suburban normie teenagers from lining up around the block for them. Dads are always huddled nearby to inspect the shoddy construction of the rides, which are dismantled and rebuilt in less than 24 hours, with looks of fear and concern.
The main draw for locals is the beer tent. The sprawling outdoor makeshift bar covers the Eddie Edgar Ice Arena main parking lot with approximately a hundred tables, several beer taps, and a large standing room. It’s a Super Bowl-tier event for Livonia residents. Local bands of various talent levels play on a stage, and the event has become standing-room-only. The tent has become so deeply ingrained into the summer culture of Livonia that during Spree week the bars within the city are virtually empty. Anyone could walk through the tent at night and see half the people they grew up with and most of their neighbors.
This is fun if you’re looking to enjoy a night out with friends and family, less so if you’re trying to remain discreet and surveil a target.
I didn’t have to wait long for the shit to hit the fan.
My target made a direct b-line for the tent, and, this being the final night of the Spree, it was overflowing with people. I walked in and immediately a close friend saw me and shouted my name. Great.
With one eye on my target, I mixed in with a large group of guys I knew and grabbed a bottle of water to stave off the mid-90s heat. My buddies know what I do, but they were shitfaced, so I was careful and stayed quiet. If I told them I was working, they’d want to know who the target is, and they’d all turn and look, even if I told them not to. It’s just human nature.
A clever friend of mine noticed I was being quiet. “What are you doing, dude?” he asked. “I’m f****** working, man,” I replied. He chuckled. “Stay to my right and block me a bit while I shoot video of this guy.”
I pulled this off, hiding in plain sight, surrounded by dozens of people I knew, well in fact—my target completely unaware. To my delight, I was even able to keep close to my mark for the fireworks, the sign for Livonia residents that the summer is officially in full swing.
I followed my target out of the Spree through a sea of thousands of people and under the cover of darkness. The sounds of people laughing and enjoying the summer night filled the air. My target was 30 feet ahead of me, completely distracted.
I walk among you, but I’m not one of you.
J.Z. Delorean is a writer for Michigan Enjoyer and has been a Metro Detroit-based professional investigator for 22 years. Follow him on X @Stainless31.
