A Truck Stop Brothel Ring Operated Out of My Hometown...

And I've delved into half-a-century old archives to untangle this wild fuckin' ride.

Feb 04, 2024

“A prostitution ring involving eleven businesses in three states…pay-offs in money and flesh to a public official for protection…the operation of a dozen truck stops and health centers as bawdyhouses…. All of these activities are part of a picture painted by a federal grand jury in a sweeping twenty-count indictment returned yesterday in US District Court in Lynchburg.”
-Danville Register and Bee, August 12, 1977

You could see the end coming from the beginning: it was one of those wild situations so dangerous and illicit, it’s got goodbye written all over hello. The moment these wheels began turning, the end–was already set.

And this–

could not end well.

That’s the thing about illicit desire:

We know it can’t end well, but we can’t help ourselves, anyway.

This story came to me from the locked trunk of a dead woman.

A lot of people don’t want to be involved with this story. In fact, the person who provided me with my first glimpse into this case–a fellow native of my small southern hometown, a person I’ve known my whole life–

is one of those people.

So we’ll just call her my friend.

When my friend’s mother died, and she was tasked with the job of packing up her belongings, among her mother’s many possessions, she discovered a locked trunk.

What must be in that trunk, she wondered—and so, she broke the lock.

What she discovered inside:

Hundreds of news clippings, chronicling a scandal of sex and power that rocked our small hometown, nearly fifty years ago.

The local press called this scandal ‘Hookergate.’

Welcome to Danville, Virginia: the last capital of the Confederacy, a dying mill town where cotton once was king, but now Oxycontin takes the throne. Rearrange the letters in Danville, and it spells ‘Evil Land.’ Atop the black silhouette of the abandoned textile plant, the word “home” once burned into the night. That glowing sign–is gone, now. Also gone: my entire generation. Ain't nothing left here for most of us, and most of us – have left.

I rarely return to Danville, except in instances of death, the occasional holiday, and bouts of filial guilt.

Picture it: the summer of 2021. My Granny Audrey had just passed away.

Among those gathered for her funeral–

was my unnamed friend.

After the service, as we drank beers at the local bar, that friend approached me, a large spiral-bound book under her arm.

She plunked that book down on the table in front of me and said:

“You’re a writer. Have at it.”

She flung the book open, flipping through the pages. On each sheet, a xeroxed news clipping, half a century old, headlines shouted loud words, words like “corruption,” and “prostitution,” and “federal crime.”

"Now this," she told me, pounding the pages with her finger–

"this is a story."

Truck stop brothels dotting the modest highways of my hometown? A collaboration of criminals with the highest official of the local law at the helm? Young women traveling across state lines, bouncing from truck stop to truck stop, slingin’ fake names and real dreams? I myself had once lived similarly to these women…. Unauthorized business, black market love….FBI raids, desperate informants, scared people in scary situations, looking for a way out.... A federal trial that would mete out uneven justice, some lives ruined, other lives begun anew….

Over the next few weeks, I would pour through this notebook.

It would take me only a matter of minutes, however, before I knew:

This project is ‘bout to take up the next decade of my creative life.

“Why’d your mom keep all of these clippings,” I asked my friend, later.

My friend smiled, half proud, half-already-filled-with-regret for telling me any of this.

“Well, we had…people involved. Hell, our phones were tapped.”

“So please,” she continued–

“If you publish this shit, keep me out of it.”

What you just read was an excerpt of my upcoming docudrama podcast, Hookergate: Criminals and Libertines in the South, produced by iHeartRadio.

Hookergate drops March 19th, wherever you listen to podcasts.

UNBELIEVABLY I WON A PRODUCTION DEAL WITH iHeartRadio, so you might just hear this shit advertised on your favorite podcast in the weeks to come.

I spent two whopping years producing Season One of this docudrama in tandem with only one other person, my artistic partner, Guy Kelly, who did all of the scoring and sound design. U tha illest, GK.

By the way I also UNEXPECTEDLY FELL PREGNANT AT AGE 40 AND HAD A WHOLE NEW BABY WHILE PRODUCING THIS JOINT LOLOLOLOLOL AND A LOT OF THESE SCENES WERE INITIALLY DICTATED INTO A PHONE WHILE BREASTFEEDING so it’s fair to say, I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished, although also shitting bricks that people like it.

Anyhoo, what you just read is the intro to the podcast. You’ll hear it on Episode One, if you tune in. If you don’t tune in—why do you hate art?

Thanks as always for reading.

DROP A COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO HEAR MORE ABOUT HOOKERGATE! Do you want more excerpts? Should I tell the story of what it’s been like to produce this docudrama true crime podcast? It’s quite the process—I could be down for a meta-journey post. What about behind-the-scenes stories of my insane adventures collecting interviews and finding archives? BRO IT’S BEEN A WILD RIDE. Please comment and let me know what ya want to hear!

—L.B., 2024