American scandal uses dramatizations that are based on true events.

Some elements, including dialogue, might be invented, but everything is based on historical research.

It's April 18, 1989, at a cheap hotel in an industrial area of Newark, New Jersey.

Victoria Vreeland takes a sip of coffee and stares out the window. The room's cramped, with stains

on the wall and a shabby carpet. But Vreeland isn't here for the amenities. She's watching a beat-up trailer in a lot across

the street. Vreeland is an investigator for the New Jersey Division of Criminal Justice, and behind

her a colleague sits at a desk watching video footage of the trailer. They've been here every day

for weeks, and the room is littered with empty coffee cups and full ashtrays.

The lot across the street is owned by the Lucchese Mafia family.

They're running a garbage disposal business out of the trailer, but investigators suspect

that they're dumping medical waste illegally.

Rieland's job is to watch suspected mobsters come and go and listen in on their conversations

thanks to a court-authorized wiretap.

So far, she hasn't discovered much.

But as Vreeland watches today, an RV turns into the lot and a man climbs out.

He's dressed in a dirty t-shirt and a fedora.

Vreeland has seen him here before.

But rather than going into the trailer, the man drops to his knees and starts crawling across the ground.

Riland waves her partner over.

Hey, hey, come look at this.

Her partner comes to the window and peers out at the man in the fedora.

What's he doing? I don't know. It's like he's looking for something. Maybe he lost a contact lens.

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