[This is my first blog post. It's super long, but it's a awesome story and it's 100% true. This happened in February 09. I hope you enjoy]
This morning I received a voicemail from an old friend. It was good news, she found out who snitched on me; her friend had gotten busted after selling to them too. After 7 months of stress, dropping out of school, moving 800 miles away and finally figuring out the circumstances of being snitched on, I finally feel safe enough to tell my story.
I was broke. My relationship of 2 years with my girlfriend was over, my dad had died a year before that and I was alone, addicted to opiates again and bitter and depressed. I was going to university 15 hours a week and working 20-30 hours at a restaurant. I had recently been over prescribed suboxone, I say over prescribed because my doctor kept pushing more on me and my insurance charged the same whether I got it filled for 30 pills or 120. Eventually I was scripted 24mgs a day and took about 4mgs a day. So I'd sell a couple suboxone to my friends who had helped me out in a pinch. Although opiates were popular in this town, there was never enough to go around and I felt compelled to help out my dopesick friends who had helped me out in the past. As the months passed the money got the better of me and if I needed money to cover some bills, or to get drunk I'd sell to people I didn't really know. Well I only sold to 2 people who were 'friends' of friends. I couldn’t help it, very low supply and very high demand and I was a dope fiend stuck in the middle.
(The day of the bust)
I woke up groggy, not looking forward to my day of classes followed by 6-7 hours of slaving away in the restaurant. I started my morning with a dark brown tasty glass of poppy pod tea. Although I wasn't using heavily, I had been chipping when the mood struck me. I was still coping with breaking up with my girlfriend and my dad's death I told myself. Subsequently my dad's death provided me a small chunk of money to indulge in all the substances I desired which only furthered my anxiety and depression. I was barely alive; I was more a drug taking machine than a person. Using anything I could find to drown out my emotions, looking back I was hardly conscious of anything.
My dogs got me out of bed with wet morning breath doggy kisses all over my face and after several dozen I gave in to their pleas for attention. They were whining and crying like they usually do in the morning. It wasn't an annoying plea for help, if you knew these dogs you'd know it's impossible not to love them, it was more a "pllllllllease take me outside daddy" type of whine. I smoked a cigarette and after some doom and gloom morning news I said “ok ok already lets go outside”. The dogs were ecstatic as usual. The frantically raced around the living room and nervously fidgeted while I tried to put their leashes on. Scrappy pawed at the door. And like I did for the past 2 years, I turned the door handle and let my dogs out.
It was February and the crisp cold air hit me as so as the door cracked. I had grown so familiar with this routine that I hardly put any thought into it, much like my life at that time. I had yet to close the door behind me when I noticed two six foot tall 200 lb men in shiny leather jackets and dress pants approaching my apartment. Weird I thought, they don’t look like friends of my neighbors. Before I had time to feel uneasy, they approached me. Not like you’d approach a friend, more like how you’d approach someone you were trying to intimidate. Like a pair of school yard bullies trying to work me over for my milk money they asked “Are you Dankstersauce?”, “Dankerstauce who was on probation in Monroe County?” I slightly felt at ease, I had faked my way through 3 years probation with monthly email check-ins and stopping by when I had the time. But I had completed probation, I was a free man. I thought this simply was a mix up. They moved in closer and told me to put my hands on the outside of the apartment building. After frisking me down, they said “get your fucking dogs inside.” I was dumb founded, still half awake, half alive and trying to figure out what these police officers wanted.
This all happened so fast I had never shut the front door and as I turned to take my dogs inside, one of the detectives stood in the doorway. In a very nonchalant way he asked if “You mind us looking around?” I replied “NO, I don’t consent to any searches.” I undo the dog’s leashes and as I look back up I see both detectives are now closer. The one in the doorway is now inside my apartment and his goon is now in the doorway. They badger me with the usual “Well you must have something to hide” shtick. I tell them “No. It’s my constitutional right; I don’t have to let you in.” Police must really hate the constitution because he leaned in and nearly shouted “I got your dope! I got your phone calls! You’re in some serious shit and it’s in your best interest to talk to us!”
They say they have my suboxone; which is hardly “dope” in my opinion. They go on to say I need to let them search my place and snitch on 3 people to make it all go away in more words and more scare tactics. I tell them I’m not letting them search. They reply “Fine this officer will stay here while I get a search warrant and then the judge will really want to fuck you over.” I tell them I’m going to call a lawyer. This REALLY upset them, even more so than mentioning the constitution. As I began looking through my cell phone for my lawyer (who happens to be my dad’s childhood friend) their demeanor completely changed. They were my friends now. “Hey relax guy, we’re trying to help you here.” The one detective says. I tell him “it’s not your job to help people, your job is to help convict people.” The other detective follows my words with “WELL THEN YOU BETTER HELP YOURSELF BECAUSE YOU”RE FACING MULTIPLE FELONIES! SAY GOODBYE TO BLUELIGHT UNIVERSITY! YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS FOR A FELON TO GET A JOB?” These two seemed irritated or they’re just great actors. They must deal with stupid people on a regular basis.
All the while they were screaming at me and intimidating me, I hardly realized they were creeping into my house more and more. After literally 30 minutes of them screaming at me, not letting me call a lawyer and doing everything in their power to scare me, I caved and let them search. They promised I wouldn’t be charged for anything they found. “Heh pigs and their empty promises” I thought. But after this much unexpected drama and scare tactics I didn’t verbally consent to it but I very stupidly let them search. A note to everyone, these guys are good at what they do. I always prided myself on knowing what to do and how to talk to police. But these bastards caught me SO off guard and really hit me hard with everything they had…several times and double teamed me with their interrogation tactics. It’s mad easy to watch a video about what to do but when you’re face to face with two 6ft tall +200lb detectives, it suddenly becomes a lot harder to think straight.
Here is what they left my house with that day:
One glass pipe, 2 chillums, 2 water bongs, an n2o cracker, a case of n2o, my case of 75 dried poppy pods, 60 or so Soma, 2 grams of weed, 2 grams of weed laced with DMT, stacker 3 caffeine pills (why?), (this is where it gets bad) a digital scale, a couple hundred empty gel caps, one pound of lye, several quarts of Naptha, several spent jars from extracting DMT, my journal in which I vividly noted the extraction process I used and contained a ‘manifesto’ of sorts I had written about psychedelics/spirituality and the constitution (ya know all those things the government hates) as well as some trip reports. There were some other drugs and paraphernalia confiscated that is currently slipping my mind but last 6 on the list were the ones I was most worried about.
While they were tearing my bedroom apart, I snatched my jars of DMT without either officer noticing. One is a beautiful hand blown glass jar; the other is a regular sized pharmaceutical pill bottle. Both are filled with DMT, roughly 6-8 grams in total. As they continue to confiscate my collection of fine substances, I ask to go to the bathroom and hide the DMT under the sink. About an hour later, the search is over. It’s clear that if I snitch on 3 people, all the stuff they confiscated and my “multiple felonies” for selling suboxone will disappear forever. I’m completely shocked to the point where I’m nearly shaking. Then I thought it would be a good idea to actually shake, I figured I’d do a little acting. I totally cooperated; I told them I’d snitch even though I had no intention of ever snitching. So there I was a shaking sniveling little bitch, their own personal snitch, I was at their service.
As they leave my bedroom and begin to walk down the hall they pass the bathroom. The one officer starts looking through my bathroom. He pulls out the pill bottle containing about 3 grams of deemz for underneath the sink. He slowly raises it to his face, inspects it and then holds it up for me to see. “What’s this?” he asks.
[The thrilling conclusion in my next post!]
