Our county is a dry county.   People have to drive to neighboring counties to get their "hooch" legally.

When my husband was a young drinking man a bootlegger lived across the river from the town where he lived.  The only way across the river was a ferry. It operated if the water was not too high or too low and only from 6 AM to 6 PM.
When the river was low and the ferry closed Hubby would go across the river on an inner tube to get his beer for the weekend.  On the return trip he would sit in the tube with the beer on his lap and hand paddle back to his car.
This was an illegal operation but a profitable one for the bootlegger.  They bought at regular price and sold at much higher prices, supply and demand at its best.
Years later with Hubby's river runs behind him we were asked to help the police with a "sting".  It was another bootlegger who was selling more than purchased alcohol but a little home made too. Normally bootleggers are left to their own devices if they lay low and don't cause too much trouble. Hey, everyone has to make a living. I guess they may have sold to some minors because the police were determined to arrest them. 
With my husband's previous reputation, it was no problem.  I, on the other hand, was not a drinker. People who knew me also knew that.  Hubby told me what we were doing that night...what?   I don't drink.  He opened a beer can, poured it on me and said, Act drunk. Now you smell like one.  I'll do the talking.
This was an adventure for me.  Never did anything like this.  I had only read about things like this in a book!  I had a few alcoholics scattered through my family tree so I knew how they acted.
We pulled into the yard in the middle of no where. Dogs barking, we opened the car doors.  I stumbled.  I walked very precisely as if trying to prove to the world I was sober...that's what my uncles did.  Hubby placed his arm around me to support his drunken woman.  
The door opened.  The dogs got closer and barked louder.  The man yelled, "Shad up!" and the dogs disappeared.  By this time my wobbly legs were not so much of an act.  This man was scary!
Hubby shook the man's hand with one arm still holding me steady.  The bootlegger got a whiff of me and knew what we were after.  Hubby asked the man for product, he gave him the money from the police department.  No recording needed.  We had the booze, they had the police money and we were witnesses.
Hubby carried what we purchased as I wobbled and mumbled under my breath...we made it!!!  No one was shot.  Why in the hell did I ever agree to something this dangerous?  I guess it was the thrill, the risk, and the fun.
The bootlegger was "drummed" out of business.  They never knew we were the hangman's noose. I guess all's well that ends well.