It's the classic scene of a money launderer being caught by police. Officers rifle through the man's fridge, opening suspiciously bulky objects covered in tin foil. "Here they are, Jim," the grizzled detective exclaims. "The missing fajitas. The whole enchilada."
"Actually, the enchiladas seem to be above board, it's just the fajitas that were stolen," a rookie cop points out, soliciting a glare from the detective.
Here's how it went down: a man working for the Juvenile Justice Department in Texas kept ordering fajitas "for" the department, but instead intercepted them, stole the fajitas, and sold them. He was busted when the catering company called the department informing them of the order of 800 pounds of fajitas. That's when the penny dropped: the department's kitchen doesn't even serve fajitas. And the caterer had been "delivering" to department for nine years, racking up $1.2 million of stolen beef.
Imagine the sheer volume of fajitas to be worth $1.2 million. Did you imagine a large room stuffed to the brim with beef? It's more than that. My math might be rough on this, but I'd wager $1.2 million of fajitas would fill a football stadium all the way up to the moon. You could probably wrap those fajitas around the world seven times, and still have enough to cover the statue of liberty. If you shot that amount of beef out of a cannon, it would probably push the earth out of the sun's orbit and send us careening into the cold, unwelcome bosom of space. A cow the size of the Cloverfield monster would probably be only about $500,000 worth of fajitas, so you'd need two Cloverfield monster cows to equal the amount of fajitas stolen. This is honestly the most impressive heist ever pulled off. Some day, this man will be remembered with the likes of Jesse James or Bernie Madoff, the genius behind the Great Fajita Caper of '17.
We're so inundated with Trump news that we shrug off scandals that would tank any other president.