How a 1985 U.S. Marshals ruse — sending fake prize letters promising Redskins game and Super Bowl trips — turned a brunch at the Washington Convention Center into one of the most audacious mass arrests in American law-enforcement history.
On December 15, 1985, hundreds of ordinary-looking people arrived at the Washington Convention Center expecting a free pre-game brunch, two coveted Washington Redskins tickets and a chance to win an all-expense-paid trip to Super Bowl XX. What they walked into instead was a meticulously staged law-enforcement operation: Operation Flagship, the U.S. Marshals Service’s now-legendary sting that resulted in the arrest of 101 fugitives.
The operation reads like a movie script because it basically is the kind of story Hollywood eats for breakfast. Over six weeks of planning and three dress rehearsals, marshals and Metropolitan Police officers created Flagship International Sports Television — a completely fictitious promoter — and mailed invitations to roughly 3,000 last-known addresses of people with outstanding warrants. The invite promised free game tickets, transport, brunch and a raffle for bigger prizes. Approximately 167 people accepted the invitation; 101 walked in and were taken into custody.
What made Flagship so surgical — and safe — was the level of tradecraft. Some 166 undercover officers played roles as ushers, cheerleaders, mascots, caterers, emcees and maintenance staff; local deputy marshals were deliberately kept out of the venues so fugitives wouldn’t recognize familiar faces. Even the fake names carried wink-wink clues: invitations were signed “I. Michael Detnaw” (the word “wanted” backward), and callers were redirected to a “Markus Cran” (a backward nod to “narc”). The operation cost the Marshals roughly $22,100 — an astonishingly low price per capture compared with typical fugitive-apprehension costs at the time.
For officers, the goal was simple: bring dangerous fugitives in from the streets without violent confrontations. For the public and press, the scenario was equal parts ingenious and surreal. Marshals invited media outlets to witness the sting, and national outlets — including the Washington Post — documented the sweep and the criminal histories of those arrested. The charges ranged widely (assault, narcotics violations, robbery, bond violations, parole violations and more), and the operation instantly became a case study in creative policing.
Flagship’s legacy has echoed through law-enforcement lore and pop culture. The U.S. Marshals Service later commemorated the operation in its historical record, and ESPN produced a “30 for 30” short titled Strike Team that re-examined the sting decades after the fact. More recently, the audacity of the plan inspired fictional takes: filmmakers have nodded to Flagship in movies and TV shows, and even director M. Night Shyamalan cited the operation as an influence for his 2024 film Trap. The tactic — using a harmless, attractive lure to gather and safely detain suspects — is taught and debated in policing circles for its effectiveness and its ethical complexities.
Why does Operation Flagship still fascinate? Partly because it flips expectations: instead of dangerous confrontations, the Marshals created a cheerful, almost carnival-like atmosphere to coax fugitives into custody. Partly because it offers lessons on resource allocation — the operation saved taxpayer money while elevating the Marshals’ public profile — and partly because it raises thorny questions about entrapment, deception and the optics of law enforcement using elaborate ruses. Those questions are why journalists, historians and filmmakers keep coming back to Flagship’s mix of cunning, efficiency and moral ambiguity.
If you’ve seen modern thrillers where criminals are lured into a trap disguised as a party, there’s a good chance the writer checked Flagship’s playbook first. But beyond cinematic echoes, the operation remains a stark reminder of the lengths to which law-enforcement agencies will go to balance public safety, officer safety and fiscal responsibility — and how a simple human desire (free football tickets) can be used, with careful planning, to do a lot of good and provoke a lot of debate.
0 Comments