So though he had known that he was auditioning for pays a consulting fee, pose in online chat rooms as underage teens living in that small town.
If an adult man starts hitting on one of these fake kids, the Perverted Justice decoys save the transcripts of his chats.
In reality, the home he was in was not empty at all. At the moment, it contained almost two dozen people.
There were cameramen and technicians and producers from .
The cameraman pulls back, revealing again all the ingredients at once: the bush, the cop, the wheelbarrow, the red fence.
A few seconds of this and then the view drifts upward to a chaos of tree branches against an overcast November sky. Even on the basis of just those two syllables, most would intuit that the owner of the voice is either a radio or television reporter.
Imagine how an episode of flagrant public drunkenness in the life of such a man might sear itself into the memories of those who witnessed it.
At the time of the party, not much more than a decade out of law school and still in his thirties, he was already district attorney of his home county. A couple drinks and then a few and then who knows how many until he was well and truly lit, until he was finally a staggering mess, until he was finally so far gone that the prospect of walking home, never mind driving, was an Everest summit attempt.
A cop guards the open gateway that leads from the house's driveway to the side yard, in case the man inside attempts to flee.
At first the camera is static and the shot is simple: the cop, the gateway, vertical red fence planks, a right foreground portion of green bush.
Just outside, hidden in a moving van, there were at least a half dozen more people -- local city cops, the so-called Takedown Team -- all armed and ready to spring at a moment's notice.
A couple of months ago, when Schrack showed up at an audition at the NBC studios in Burbank, California, he hadn't really known what he was getting himself into.