By Ed Figueroa, Guest Columnist
After spending many years with a large, professional police department – during a time when law enforcement agencies actively pursued both white-collar and blue-collar crimes – I came to understand the depth and complexity of organized financial crime.
In those days, big-city departments often worked closely with federal agencies on white-collar cases involving money laundering, fraud and corruption. It was a different kind of policing – one that required training, commitment and the ability to see beyond the obvious.
What many don’t realize is that white-collar crime doesn’t always look like crime at first glance. It’s subtle. It’s deeply embedded in systems. And unless an officer has been properly trained in how to recognize and investigate it, these crimes often go unnoticed or unaddressed. I learned this firsthand from veteran investigators and specialized training programs, and it opened my eyes to the reality that this type of crime is often all around us – hidden in plain sight.
Over the years, I’ve watched as rural areas, including our own, have changed. Gentrification has brought new faces and new dynamics. Unfortunately, some of these changes have allowed white-collar crime to take root and spread.
In fact, our own community is plagued with money-laundering schemes and fraudulent operations masked under the veil of 501(c)(3) nonprofit status – crimes that are sophisticated, subtle and often overlooked. These cases require the kind of investigative training and observational skills that most local departments simply don’t have.
In small towns, where law enforcement training is often limited to basic certification programs and budgets remain tight, officers rarely receive the kind of specialized instruction needed to spot and investigate complex fraud or organized corruption. And when training is provided, it is often too shallow or outdated to be effective.
Criminals of such sophistication understand the path of least resistance in law enforcement – and they deliberately choose communities like ours in which to set up shop. Worse yet, they are often welcomed or shielded by established white-collar operators who have quietly entrenched themselves over decades.
Years ago, it was common for the FBI and other federal agencies to step in and arrest corrupt public officials in rural areas like ours. But when was the last time we saw that happen here? The absence of that oversight only strengthens my point: the system has been watered down to the point of blindness.
This creates a troubling cycle. White-collar criminals – often tied to local business interests or even government positions – are adept at avoiding detection. They tend to hold influence, shape policy and quietly control the power structure.
As a result, they help ensure that intelligent, experienced officers who might pose a threat to their operations are never hired or retained. Instead, low pay and limited opportunities mean our departments often attract officers who, through no fault of their own, lack the training, tools and institutional support to pursue these complex cases.
What makes this even more concerning is the persistence of nepotism and cronyism in rural government. I have seen the same people, or people from the same networks, cycle through positions of power over and over again, for decades. This stagnation blocks real progress and allows those engaged in wrongdoing to operate unchecked. The result is a community where both white-collar and blue-collar crime thrives – while those with the skills to challenge the system are kept on the outside.
I have lived here for 25 years, and in that time I’ve seen many families raise children who later choose not to return, seeing no future here. That’s heartbreaking – and telling. Without reform, without meaningful leadership change, we risk becoming a community defined by economic decline, corruption and rising crime.
We need a new generation of leaders with strong ethics, fresh ideas, and the education and commitment to make hard but necessary changes. We need to pay officers and officials what they’re worth, and invest in the kinds of training and oversight that can break this cycle once and for all.
Unless you’ve walked in the shoes of someone who’s investigated these crimes firsthand, it’s difficult to grasp just how pervasive – and damaging – they can be. I know there are retired federal agents and seasoned officers in this community who will understand exactly what I mean. But they’re retired, and many have understandably stepped back.
Real change requires truth, courage and commitment. We still have the chance to move this county forward – but only if we are willing to recognize what’s been holding us back.
The writer is a resident of Cherokee County.