Let me tell you about the summer when my uncle, a small business owner in Brooklyn, stopped trusting the cops—right around the time <a href="https://2www.net?utm_source=68095466032ce3954d21b5df&utm_medium=683496290afcb654419f671c&ref=https://edx.sjv.io/c/4122312/1639400/17728?prodsku=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.edx.org%2Flearn%2Feconomics-finance%2Finternational-compliance-association-essential-elements-in-anti-corruption&u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.edx.org%2Flearn%2Feconomics-finance%2Finternational-compliance-association-essential-elements-in-anti-corruption&intsrc=APIG_12319″ target=”_blank” rel=”noopener noreferrer”>Michael Dowd’s name started making headlines. I never thought a story could sound so unreal, almost cinematic: drugs, bribery, betrayal, even murder woven into the very fabric of my city’s finest. Here’s the underbelly of law enforcement you never heard about in the academy or at the dinner table. Buckle up: this isn’t your typical cop story—this is about the faces behind the fall, and the cost of breaking the sacred oath.
Section 1: When Minimum Wage Meets Maximum Temptation – The System That Breeds Corruption
Step back into the early 1980s, and you’ll find the NYPD at a crossroads. The city was struggling with budget constraints, and those financial pressures trickled down to every beat cop on the street. If you were a rookie officer back then, you weren’t just fighting crime—you were fighting to make ends meet. The reality of NYPD history during this era is more complicated, and more human, than the badge might suggest.
The Budget Squeeze: Policing on a Shoestring
Imagine clocking in for your shift, knowing you’re earning little more than minimum wage (see transcript 0.29-0.31). That’s not just a number on your paycheck—it’s a weight on your shoulders. The city’s budget crunch meant that every hour of overtime was scrutinized, and every arrest had a price tag. Research shows that overtime costs directly influenced arrest policy. In fact, the average crack cocaine arrest racked up a staggering 18 hours of overtime (0.37-0.39). That’s a huge drain on resources, and it forced department leadership to make tough calls.
So, what did that mean for you as a cop? The message from above was clear: “Don’t make drug arrests, manage the budget” (0.32-0.34). The directive wasn’t about justice or cleaning up the streets—it was about keeping overtime costs down. This policy, intended to save money, had an unintended consequence: it left the streets wide open for drug trafficking. The NYPD’s history during this period is marked by this uneasy balance between law enforcement and fiscal survival.
Low Pay, High Risk: Vulnerability on the Force
When you’re working long hours for minimal pay, the job starts to feel less like a calling and more like a grind. Add in the fact that civilians often saw you as the enemy (0.31-0.32), and the pressure mounts. Studies indicate that low pay increased susceptibility to bribery and corruption. It’s not hard to see why some officers started looking for ways to supplement their income—especially when the system itself seemed to encourage looking the other way.
Michael Dowd, a name now synonymous with police corruption in NYPD history, put it bluntly: “You’re working minimal wage. Civilians are against you and you’re directly told not to make drug arrests” (0.29-0.34). For Dowd and others, the temptation was everywhere. The city’s war on drugs was raging, but the people tasked with fighting it were told to stand down.
From Law Enforcement to ‘Taxing’ the Streets
So, what happens when you have the authority of the badge, but none of the support? For some, it became a side hustle. Dowd’s entrepreneurial spirit led him to a simple, if shocking, solution: if you can’t arrest the dealers, why not “tax” them instead? (0.47-0.51). Instead of locking up drug traffickers, officers like Dowd began collecting payments in exchange for protection. This wasn’t just a few bad apples—this was a system with cracks wide enough for entire criminal enterprises to slip through.
Dowd described the feeling: “Greed is powerful, bro. But what happens then? You become God” (0.54-0.58). The money was so good, he claimed, “I was making more than the president of the United States by protecting one of the largest drug trafficking organizations in New York” (0.58-0.59). That’s not just a boast—it’s a stark illustration of how police corruption can flourish when the system itself is broken.
“I was making more than the president of the United States by protecting one of the largest drug trafficking organizations in New York.”
Systemic Cracks: How Corruption Took Root
This wasn’t just about individual greed. The NYPD’s policy of discouraging drug arrests to manage overtime budgets created an environment where corruption could thrive. Officers were incentivized to look the other way, or worse, to actively participate in the criminal economy. The directive to “manage the budget” overrode the mission to serve and protect, and the cost was paid in public trust and street-level safety.
As drug trafficking in NYPD precincts soared, the line between cop and criminal blurred. The system, designed to save money, ended up costing the city far more in lost integrity and unchecked crime. The unseen cost of police corruption isn’t just financial—it’s the erosion of the very foundation of law enforcement.
Chart: Overtime Hours vs. Drug Arrests in Early 1980s NYPD
This comparative bar chart illustrates the relationship between average NYPD overtime hours and the number of drug arrests per month in the early 1980s. As overtime hours soared, drug arrests dropped—a visual reminder of how fiscal policy shaped the realities of street policing and, ultimately, opened the door to police corruption.
Section 2: The Snowball Effect – Greed, Power, and the Spiral into the ‘Dirtiest Cop’
When you hear dirty cop stories, it’s easy to imagine a few bad apples taking small bribes or looking the other way. But the Michael Dowd case shows how quickly things can spiral out of control. What starts as a minor slip can become a full-blown criminal enterprise—one that not only destroys careers, but also families and entire communities.
From Small Bribes to Major Drug Organizations
Michael Dowd began his career as a street cop in New York City. Like many officers, he faced temptations—small bribes here and there, maybe a little extra cash for ignoring a minor offense. But as Dowd himself admitted, “every time I did something that was inappropriate,” it pushed him further down a dangerous path (2.57-3.00). Research shows that corruption rarely remains small-scale; power and greed accelerate escalation. For Dowd, the stakes grew higher with each step. Soon, he wasn’t just taking cash—he was protecting major drug traffickers, providing them with inside information, and ensuring their operations ran smoothly.
Ego, Thrill, and the Logic of Untouchability
What drives someone to keep going, even when the risks are so high? For Dowd, it was a mix of ego, thrill, and a growing sense of untouchability. He wore the badge, but he also wore the confidence that came with it. “Every time a police officer puts on his badge and swears that oath and takes the job on, he’s basically taking a risk on everything he does that can end him up in jail” (3.02-3.16). The line between right and wrong blurred. The thrill of getting away with it—again and again—became addictive. And the more he got away with, the more he believed he couldn’t be caught.
The Price Tag: Family, Safety, and Public Infamy
But there’s always a price. As Dowd’s crimes escalated, so did the consequences. He became a symbol of everything wrong with the NYPD. As he put it,
“I became the face of New York City’s corruption problem.”
(1.04-1.05). That notoriety wasn’t just a headline—it was a real threat. People wanted him dead. His family, too, paid a heavy price. They faced stigma, fear, and pain throughout the scandal (1.13-1.18). Research indicates that the personal lives of ‘dirty cops’ suffer deeply—families become collateral damage. The shame, the whispers, the constant worry for their safety—it all became part of the cost.
Arrest and Confession: Hundreds, Possibly Thousands, of Crimes
In 1992, the law finally caught up with Dowd (1.07-1.10). The numbers are staggering. He admitted to hundreds—maybe even thousands—of crimes. “So, it may have been thousands because every time I did something that was inappropriate…” (2.53-2.59). The list is long: robbery, extortion, burglary, kidnapping, even murder. Each act chipped away at the integrity of the badge—and at Dowd’s own sense of self. The cop crime statistics in this case are almost hard to believe, but they’re a stark reminder of how far one can fall.
Personal Impact: When Cops Become the Threat
It’s not just the headlines or the statistics that tell the story. Sometimes, it’s the small moments. I remember a time my cousin nervously avoided cops on their own block—an odd thing in a neighborhood where officers were supposed to be protectors. But after the Dowd scandal, trust was shattered. People wondered: if the police could be this corrupt, who could you really trust? The ripple effect of one ‘dirty cop’ story can linger for years, changing how entire communities see those behind the badge.
Crimes Committed: A Visual Breakdown
To put the scale of Dowd’s corruption in perspective, here’s a chart illustrating the types and estimated frequencies of crimes he committed as a police officer. These numbers are based on his own admissions and official reports.
The Michael Dowd case is one of the most notorious dirty cop stories in American history. It’s a cautionary tale about how unchecked power and greed can spiral into something unrecognizable—and how the fallout can touch everyone, from the officer’s family to the people on the street. The numbers are shocking, but the human cost is even greater.
Section 3: The Anatomy of a Crime Scene – Humor and Horror Intertwined
Step into the world of dirty cop stories, and you’ll find the line between horror and humor is often razor thin. Nowhere is this more apparent than inside a real Brooklyn murder scene, where the chaos of urban history collides with the everyday grind of law enforcement. If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to walk into a homicide in the heart of a New York police scandal, let’s break down the gritty, surreal details—straight from the front lines.
Inside a Brooklyn Murder Scene: Beer Bottles, Heat Waves, and a Bodega Run
Picture this: It’s July in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. The air is thick, the temperature is pushing 100 degrees, and you’re called to a dead-on-arrival—someone murdered, slumped on a couch with a knife still lodged in his side (4.05-6.00). The apartment is suffocating, with no air conditioning and the unmistakable stench of death. But what really stands out? The place looks like the party never stopped. Beer bottles litter every surface, cigarette ashes overflow from trays, and the only thing missing is the crack—because, as the officers joke, “no one leaves crack behind.”
In this moment, the surreal becomes routine. Officers, waiting for the detective squad and the boss to arrive, find themselves rummaging through the scene. The VCR is still running, and on the TV, a porn tape flickers—a morbid reminder of the victim’s last hours. The heat and boredom push the boundaries of professionalism. With every beer bottle in the apartment empty, the solution is simple: head downstairs to the bodega, grab a six-pack of Coors Light, and settle in for the wait. As the officer recounts, “You can’t make this story up.”
Dark Humor as a Coping Mechanism
Research shows that officers in high-stress environments often rely on dark humor to cope with the chaos and trauma they encounter daily. In these dirty cop stories, humor isn’t just a defense—it’s a survival strategy. The absurdity of the situation, from the porn collection on the VCR to the impromptu beer run, helps officers manage the tension and fear that come with the job.
But this coping strategy can blur ethical lines. As the officer candidly admits, “Did you steal someone’s porn collection? Maybe. Really? It could have been. But the guy—they were dead. They couldn’t use it anymore” (4.16-4.47). The environment itself seems to fuel opportunism and apathy, turning crime scenes into places where the rules are flexible and the temptations are real.
Morbid Souvenirs and the Ethics of Opportunism
It’s not just the beer or the jokes. Officers sometimes help themselves to non-evidentiary property—cash, gold coins, or, as in this case, a porn collection. The justification? “When someone’s dead, it’s really hard for them to complain about what’s missing.” This blend of necessity, apathy, and opportunism is a recurring theme in the urban history of New York police scandals.
Studies indicate that crime scenes reveal not only the nature of the offense but also the mindset of those tasked with solving it. The casual attitude toward property, the willingness to cross lines of decorum, and the normalization of small thefts all point to a deeper issue within law enforcement culture.
Partners, Bosses, and Covering Tracks
Interactions between officers, their partners, and superiors add another layer of tension and humor. In this story, the boss arrives and surveys the scene, only to issue a classic command: “I want every beer bottle in here printed. And in the refrigerator.” The officer, caught with a beer in hand, knows exactly what’s coming. As she quips:
“Of all the people in this police department, it would be your fingerprints inside the refrigerator on a Coors Light bottle at a homicide scene.”
This anecdote, while humorous, underscores a harsh reality: the expectation of corruption is so ingrained that it becomes a punchline. The boss isn’t surprised to find the same officer’s fingerprints at most homicide scenes—she expects it. In fact, out of four homicide scenes in the 94th precinct that year, Dowd attended three. It’s a telling statistic about both the frequency of violence and the recurring cast of characters drawn to these moments.
Table: Elements Found at Crime Scenes and Their Disposition
| Element | Disposition | Notes |
|---|---|---|
| Beer Bottles | Evidence / Consumed | Some collected for prints, others drunk by officers |
| Porn Collection (VCR Tapes) | Stolen | Non-evidentiary, taken by officers |
| Cash/Gold Coins | Stolen | Frequently pocketed, rarely reported |
| Cigarette Ashes | Ignored | Overflowing, not considered evidence |
| Crack Evidence | Gone | Never left behind at the scene |
The anatomy of a crime scene in these dirty cop stories is as much about what’s missing as what’s left behind. The beer bottles, the porn tapes, the missing cash—all tell a story not just of the crime, but of the people who respond to it. In the end, the realities of law enforcement in crisis neighborhoods are often stranger—and darker—than fiction.
Section 4: Oath and Irony – Why Integrity Training Often Misses the Mark
When you think about police integrity training, you probably imagine a room full of eager recruits, all ready to serve and protect. But what if the reality is far less noble? Michael Dowd’s story, as revealed in the transcript (8.39-8.56), cuts right to the heart of this uncomfortable truth. He didn’t join the NYPD in 1982 out of a sense of duty or a calling to law enforcement ethics. Instead, as he bluntly admits, “I joined because I wanted a job. No, that’s not why I joined… it was an immature yes.” (8.54-9.13)
This “immature yes” is more than just a personal anecdote. It exposes a systemic flaw in how police integrity training is approached, not just in NYPD history but across law enforcement agencies nationwide.
| Year Joined NYPD | Age | Integrity Training Example |
|---|---|---|
| 1982 | 21 | “Don’t take $5 from a motorist…” |
The Oath: A Moment of Pride or Just a Paycheck?
Dowd’s journey into policing didn’t start with a burning desire to uphold justice. He originally trained to be an accountant, dropped out for personal reasons, and ended up at the police academy at 21 (8.32-8.42). When asked if he joined to serve and defend, his answer is clear: “No, that’s not why I joined. I joined because I wanted a job” (8.50-8.56).
Standing there, reciting the oath, Dowd admits he didn’t really mean it. He describes his commitment as “an immature yes,” a phrase that perfectly captures the disconnect between the ceremony of swearing in and the reality of why some recruits are there (9.01-9.13). He felt pride in the moment, but not conviction. This is a crucial distinction. If the oath is just a formality, what does that say about the foundation of law enforcement ethics?
What Police Integrity Training Really Teaches
If you look at the integrity training Dowd received, it’s telling. The lessons focused on what not to do—like “don’t take $5 from a motorist”—rather than why honesty and trust matter (Data Table). The emphasis was on consequences: what happens if you get caught, not the deeper impact of your actions on public trust or the community.
This approach isn’t unique to the NYPD. Research shows that many police integrity training programs across the country are built around rules and repercussions. They rarely address the core values that should underpin law enforcement ethics. Instead, recruits learn to avoid trouble, not to embody integrity.
The ‘Immature Yes’: More Common Than You Think
Dowd’s “immature yes” isn’t just his story—it’s a reflection of a broader issue. Many officers take the oath without fully understanding or believing in its significance. The reasons for joining the force are varied: job security, family tradition, or simply needing a paycheck. The result? A shallow commitment that can leave officers unprepared for the real ethical challenges they’ll face on the street.
You might think this is just a personal failing, but it’s really a systemic one. If the training and culture don’t foster genuine investment in law enforcement ethics, how can we expect officers to uphold them when it matters most?
The Hidden Cost: Broken Trust and Public Perception
Surface-level integrity training doesn’t just fail individual officers—it undermines the entire relationship between police and the public. When officers aren’t taught about the societal cost of broken trust, it’s easy for ethical lapses to become normalized. Studies indicate that the real cost of corruption isn’t just the crime itself; it’s the erosion of public trust, which can take generations to rebuild.
Dowd’s story is a stark reminder of this. His lack of conviction at the start didn’t just affect his own career; it contributed to a culture where cutting corners and bending rules became routine. The ripple effect is felt in every community that loses faith in its police force.
What Real Integrity Training Should Look Like
So, what’s the solution? If you want to create truly ethical cops, police integrity training needs to go beyond warnings about getting caught. It should focus on:
- Why honesty matters in law enforcement
- The real-world impact of ethical decisions
- How broken trust affects entire communities
- Personal stories—like Dowd’s—that illustrate the consequences of shallow commitment
Modern law enforcement ethics training should challenge recruits to reflect on their motivations and understand the weight of the oath they take. It’s not enough to recite words or memorize rules. Officers need to believe in the values they’re sworn to uphold.
“I joined because I wanted a job. No, that’s not why I joined… it was an immature yes.”
The irony is clear: the very systems designed to instill integrity can sometimes set the stage for its absence. If you want to change the outcome, you have to start at the beginning—with the oath, and with the training that follows.
Section 5: Breaking the Blue Wall – Loyalty, Secrecy, and Survival
If you’ve ever wondered why police officers rarely report each other’s misconduct, the answer lies in a powerful, often unspoken code: the blue wall of silence. This term, discussed explicitly in the transcript (12.19-12.23), captures the deep-rooted loyalty and secrecy that shapes law enforcement culture, especially in places with a storied past like the NYPD. Understanding this code isn’t just about knowing the rules—it’s about survival, trust, and the real risks officers face when honesty collides with group loyalty.
The Blue Wall of Silence: Why Cops Don’t Snitch—And Sometimes, When They Do
Within the ranks, there’s a general rule: you don’t snitch on your fellow officers. As described in the transcript (12.13-12.19), “the police all kind of agree that they won’t snitch on each other.” This isn’t just tradition; it’s a survival mechanism. The blue wall of silence acts as both a shield and a prison. On one hand, it protects officers from external scrutiny and internal betrayal. On the other, it can trap them in a cycle where covering up for each other becomes the norm, even when it means compromising law enforcement ethics.
But here’s the twist: sometimes, the first person to “snitch” on you is another cop. The transcript puts it plainly:
“The first person that’s going to snitch on you is going to be a cop. However, more chances than not, they try not to.” (12.26-12.37)
So, while reporting does happen, it’s rare and often a last resort. Research shows that honesty within the force can come at a steep personal cost. Officers know that breaking the silence might mean risking their careers, reputations, and even their safety.
Survival Instincts: Why Teamwork and Mutual Cover-Ups Trump Honesty
Imagine you’re on patrol. You and your partner have a story straight, and without cameras watching every move, “you can pretty much…get away with most things that are not unreasonable” (12.01-12.10). This isn’t just about bending the rules; it’s about making sure you both get home at the end of the shift. The logic is simple: if you can’t trust your partner to have your back, you’re vulnerable—not just to disciplinary action, but to real danger on the street.
That’s why teamwork and mutual cover-ups often trump honesty. Officers rely on each other in high-stress, unpredictable situations. If you report your partner, you risk becoming isolated. And isolation in law enforcement isn’t just uncomfortable—it can be deadly.
Real and Perceived Dangers of Betraying Fellow Officers
Let’s get real for a moment. What happens if your best friend on the force betrays you? The transcript paints a vivid picture (12.40-13.09):
“What cop wants to go out on patrol knowing that if something goes down and it goes a little sideways…let’s say you and I were working together and you just told on me last week and now someone’s pummeling you to death in the street. I have a chance to help you or I can call for backup and wait, you know. So, you don’t want that relationship with me, right? I mean, we’re trying to get home tonight.”
This scenario isn’t just hypothetical. Officers know that loyalty can mean the difference between life and death. The fear of being left without backup, or worse, being actively sabotaged, is enough to keep most officers silent—even when they know something is wrong. Studies indicate that group loyalty can override commitment to the rule of law, especially when personal safety is on the line.
The Irony and Cost of the Blue Wall
There’s a deep irony here. The blue wall of silence is meant to protect officers, but it can also be destructive. It discourages whistleblowing, even when reporting could prevent harm or correct injustice. In the long run, this secrecy erodes public trust and undermines the very law enforcement ethics that officers swear to uphold.
It’s not just about individual choices, either. The culture itself makes reporting rare. When it does happen, it’s usually because there’s no other option—when the risk of staying silent finally outweighs the risk of speaking up. But by then, the damage may already be done, both to the community and to the officers themselves.
Anecdotal Tangent: When Loyalty Breaks Down
Think about it: if your closest ally on the force betrays you, what then? Trust is shattered, and the sense of camaraderie that once kept you safe now feels like a trap. This is the hidden cost of the blue wall of silence—not just to the public, but to the officers who live behind it every day.
In the context of NYPD history and beyond, these dynamics have shaped countless careers, cases, and communities. The closed culture, the dangers, and the ironies of police whistleblowing and loyalty are as real today as they’ve ever been. And while the conversation is changing—thanks in part to technology and public scrutiny—the blue wall still stands, casting a long shadow over the badge.
Section 6: Aftermath and Reflection – Can a Crooked System Heal?
When you hear about police corruption, especially a case as notorious as Michael Dowd’s, it’s easy to focus on the headlines—the crimes, the courtroom drama, the eventual downfall. But the true cost of this kind of betrayal runs much deeper, echoing through families, neighborhoods, and the very heart of urban history. The aftermath isn’t just about one bad cop; it’s about the invisible wounds left behind, and the uneasy question: Can a crooked system ever really heal?
Broken Trust: The Ripple Effect on Communities
Imagine living in a community where the people sworn to protect you are the very ones you fear. That’s the reality for many after a scandal like Dowd’s. As one interviewee put it,
“It destroys the very fabric of what people trust in law enforcement because when you need help, you got to call somebody and the person that shows up has to be trustworthy.”
(10.21-10.32). When trust is shattered, it isn’t just the accused officer who faces consequences. Families of officers, innocent colleagues, and even people who’ve never had a run-in with the law start to look at every badge with suspicion. Research shows that after high-profile corruption cases, community trust in law enforcement can drop dramatically, sometimes taking years—if not decades—to rebuild.
This skepticism doesn’t just fade away. It lingers in everyday interactions: a neighbor hesitates to call 911, a parent warns their child to avoid police at all costs, a business owner installs extra cameras because they don’t believe anyone will help if something goes wrong. The fear is real, and it’s not just about crime—it’s about who you can count on when you need help most.
Personal Fallout: What If It Was Your Relative?
It’s easy to judge from a distance, but what if your own brother, cousin, or friend was accused of police corruption? The ripple effects aren’t just public—they’re painfully private. Families are swept up in the fallout, facing shame, anger, and confusion. Even distant acquaintances might find themselves questioned or ostracized. The story isn’t just about Dowd; it’s about the countless lives disrupted by the actions of one person in uniform.
These aren’t the stories you see on the news. They’re whispered at kitchen tables, debated in church basements, and carried quietly by people who never asked to be part of a scandal. The emotional toll can be overwhelming, leaving scars that last long after the headlines fade.
Systemic Reform: Can Scandal Spark Real Change?
After every major corruption scandal, there’s a familiar cycle: outrage, calls for reform, promises of accountability. Sometimes, public pressure leads to real changes—new oversight boards, stricter hiring practices, ethics training. But as history shows, these reforms often struggle to take root. The culture within law enforcement can be stubborn, resistant to outside scrutiny.
In Dowd’s own words, he once believed he could justify his actions because he targeted drug dealers, not “good” citizens (10.32-10.48). This kind of rationalization isn’t unique; it’s a symptom of a deeper problem in police culture. When ethics are seen as optional, or when officers are told—sometimes even by their own trainers—not to follow the rules to succeed (10.55-11.09), corruption isn’t just possible; it’s almost inevitable.
Studies indicate that while scandals can create momentum for reform, the cycles often repeat. The challenge isn’t just about punishing the guilty—it’s about changing the system so that the next Dowd never gets the chance.
The Tension Between Forgiveness and Accountability
So, where does that leave us? On one hand, there’s a need for forgiveness—for the sake of communities, families, and even the officers themselves. On the other, there’s a demand for accountability. Without real consequences, trust can never be restored. The tension between these two forces is at the heart of every debate about law enforcement ethics.
Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting. It means acknowledging the pain, learning from it, and demanding better. Accountability isn’t just about punishment; it’s about ensuring that the system works for everyone, not just those in power.
Beyond Dowd: What His Story Says About Policing Nationwide
Ultimately, the story of Michael Dowd is more than a cautionary tale. It’s a mirror held up to the nation, forcing us to confront uncomfortable truths about police corruption and the cost it exacts on urban history. The fallout from one dirty cop can be felt at every level—individual, family, community, and society at large.
If there’s hope for healing, it lies in honest reflection and relentless demand for change. It means listening to the voices of those most affected, holding leaders accountable, and refusing to accept corruption as an inevitable part of law enforcement. The scars may never fully fade, but with vigilance and courage, the system can begin to heal.
TL;DR: Michael Dowd’s journey from rookie cop to corruption kingpin isn’t just a wild story—it’s a warning about what happens when systems crack and integrity takes the back seat. From life on the street to the pain behind family doors, here’s why the real cost of corruption is anything but simple.
Hats off to The Diary Of A CEO for providing such insightful content! Take a look here: https://youtu.be/NSsx6mkiaf8?si=7sRDKZEF9OJAbE_o.
