 That plan was embraced. I was provided the murder weapon. I was provided instructions on how to do it. I went to Mexico. I found a Mongol in a tavern, captured him, beat him with a baseball bat, duct taped his hands and ankles, buried him in a shallow grave, took pictures of it, cut the vest off of him. You know, then I took the bloody vest and the Polaroid pictures back to the Hells Angels.