“FUCCCCCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK” was all I could think. They had just cleaned me out of my entire stash that took weeks to acquire! A drug collector, a drug addict, a drug aficionado, a connoisseur of fine substances….yes I am all of these things. But I’m not a fucking drug dealer!!! These thoughts flew through my head in a split second while I collected myself. I was so shocked, so frustrated and completely at a loss for words. The only words that could come to mind was the smartest thing I have EVER told a police officer. I was still riding the acting vibe. My palms facing the officers, a look of curiosity on my face, my shoulders raised in a “huh” fashion. I calmly respond: “I don’t know” with all the honesty in my heart. I literally pretended I had no clue what it was, it must be my ex girlfriends I thought in my head. I tried my hardest to not even pay attention to it, the police look for signs of stress so I tried my hardest to pretend that the jar didn’t matter a bit to me. After giving me his card and telling me to call him tomorrow the officers left.
Bewildered, confused, pissed off. Words cannot explain how I felt in that moment. At that time in my life drugs were my entire existence. I had just lost my entire world. But miraculously somehow didn’t get go to jail. I stumble back upstairs for a cigarette and out of curiosity I walk into the bathroom and check under the sink. And at that moment the Gods smiled on me. Staring back at me were two full jars of beautiful sunset yellow DMT crystals. Out of everything they took, they left 7 grams of DMT. It was in a hand blown glass jar, what else goes in hand blown glass jars? How stupid are these drug task force detectives?!?!?!!!
To this day I still believe the DMT spirits were on my side. They were probably stoked that because of my ingenuity and determination, I helped turn on several dozen college students to the world of DMT. People who may have never had the chance to do DMT had the chance to slip into another dimension because of my work. And I either gave it away or sold it at a price to cover my costs and no more. My work might have even sparked some others to extract their own DMT which in turn would have turned on even more people. Because of this I believe the DMT spirits smiled on me that day.
(part 2 “Get ready to snitch boy” coming later)…time for a cig. I know it’s a long read, but I had to share it. Fucking 7 grams of DMT…they took everything else but left 7 GRAMS. It still makes me happy even though the deemz were smoked months ago. I can’t believe it, it’s the closest thing to a miracle I’ve ever experienced and really made me question my agnosticism.
The days that followed the bust were hell. I wan anxiety ridden and believed everywhere I went I was being followed and rightfully so. I noticed the amount of police and sheriff cars that drove past the apartment complex increased quite a bit. It became the usual to see them drive by real slow or stop in front of building, sit there for a minute and drive away. Something they never did before. I figured it was only a matter of time before the detectives read my DMT journal and realized what I was up to. I believed it was only a matter of time before they tested the DMT laced cannabis, only a matter of time before they made the connection with the hundreds of empty gel caps and digital scale. I was royally fucked. I was assuming multiple years in prison. Not jail. Prison. This is where snitching almost seemed like a good idea but there were some major hang ups. All I could think about was the terror these officers put me through and the possibility that I could do that to someone else at my choosing. It felt awful. I couldn’t do that to someone. I couldn’t do it to someone I hated. All I could think about was destroying someone’s life at my discretion, it felt SO wrong. I hated what “john” did to me and I couldn’t do it to someone else. At the same time I potentially had some major charges facing me.
The detective called me the next day and asked me to make a buy from one of my dealers. Which really had me twisted, this was a small town and the ‘dealers’ were small time guys who just did favors for each other. There were no nefarious, criminal minded ‘dope peddlers’ hiding in the shadows, just other college students who helped each other out on occasion. On top of that I had just moved to this small college town a year earlier and all my ‘dealers’ were also close friends. As a matter of fact they were my only friends. I told the officer I was working on making a buy.
This continued for several days, each day coincidentally I either had work or class or my ‘dealers’ were out or had to work. And the way the officers wanted me to snitch was fucked up. They wanted the buys to happen in public, 2 times. Well everyone I dealt with sold either in their home or mine. So it’s pretty fishy to suddenly change the way you buy or sell, or demand the dealer change their MO. I told the cops my dealers were small time and busting them wouldn’t get them anywhere, I said I’d go to the bars and look for dealers there. I never went to the bars looking to buy, this was a total ploy on my part to buy time and it worked. The detective called less often and less often. The last time they called me I told them I was clean and I’m not using anymore but eventually someone would call me looking to sell and I’d inform them when this happened.
Around this time I got a lawyer. The day of the bust I went to lawyer and he was worthless. The wrinkled old douche bag told me that I either snitch or have a felony on my record forever. About a month later I had enough money for a retainer and I found a great lawyer. The second lawyer I talked to specialized in drug cases and told me I could either snitch or plead down to misdemeanors. Now I no longer talk to the detectives, my lawyer called them and told them where I stand. The detectives never called my lawyer back. Luckily (luckily is an understatement) the search on my apartment was illegal, they wouldn’t let me call a lawyer and the drug I was selling was hardly recreational and I sold it under the pretense that it was only to help people with withdrawal. Not that the police care why you sold it, but it would look better to a jury/judge than selling another drug that had no legit (or semi-legit) purpose. After I lawyer-ed up the detectives never called me or my lawyer. It’s been over 6 months since this incident, my lawyer said if they didn’t do anything by fall or winter chances are they wouldn’t do anything.
I ended up with some serious luck (or help from the DMT spirits). I learned that I was the first person snitched on by “john”. I was basically used as a tester so that the cops could learn to trust this informant. I also happened to get busted while the drug task force was switching their ranks; one of the detectives was the old head of the department and the other was the new head. Apparently I was a learning bust for the new detective too. On top of that I believe the economic situation made busting me and going through a long drawn out trial for misdemeanors wouldn’t make sense to an already over stressed court system. And this drug task force covered about 1/5 of the state, obviously I wasn’t a very high priority. If they had a search warrant it would have been a completely different story.
Bewildered, confused, pissed off. Words cannot explain how I felt in that moment. At that time in my life drugs were my entire existence. I had just lost my entire world. But miraculously somehow didn’t get go to jail. I stumble back upstairs for a cigarette and out of curiosity I walk into the bathroom and check under the sink. And at that moment the Gods smiled on me. Staring back at me were two full jars of beautiful sunset yellow DMT crystals. Out of everything they took, they left 7 grams of DMT. It was in a hand blown glass jar, what else goes in hand blown glass jars? How stupid are these drug task force detectives?!?!?!!!
To this day I still believe the DMT spirits were on my side. They were probably stoked that because of my ingenuity and determination, I helped turn on several dozen college students to the world of DMT. People who may have never had the chance to do DMT had the chance to slip into another dimension because of my work. And I either gave it away or sold it at a price to cover my costs and no more. My work might have even sparked some others to extract their own DMT which in turn would have turned on even more people. Because of this I believe the DMT spirits smiled on me that day.
(part 2 “Get ready to snitch boy” coming later)…time for a cig. I know it’s a long read, but I had to share it. Fucking 7 grams of DMT…they took everything else but left 7 GRAMS. It still makes me happy even though the deemz were smoked months ago. I can’t believe it, it’s the closest thing to a miracle I’ve ever experienced and really made me question my agnosticism.
The days that followed the bust were hell. I wan anxiety ridden and believed everywhere I went I was being followed and rightfully so. I noticed the amount of police and sheriff cars that drove past the apartment complex increased quite a bit. It became the usual to see them drive by real slow or stop in front of building, sit there for a minute and drive away. Something they never did before. I figured it was only a matter of time before the detectives read my DMT journal and realized what I was up to. I believed it was only a matter of time before they tested the DMT laced cannabis, only a matter of time before they made the connection with the hundreds of empty gel caps and digital scale. I was royally fucked. I was assuming multiple years in prison. Not jail. Prison. This is where snitching almost seemed like a good idea but there were some major hang ups. All I could think about was the terror these officers put me through and the possibility that I could do that to someone else at my choosing. It felt awful. I couldn’t do that to someone. I couldn’t do it to someone I hated. All I could think about was destroying someone’s life at my discretion, it felt SO wrong. I hated what “john” did to me and I couldn’t do it to someone else. At the same time I potentially had some major charges facing me.
The detective called me the next day and asked me to make a buy from one of my dealers. Which really had me twisted, this was a small town and the ‘dealers’ were small time guys who just did favors for each other. There were no nefarious, criminal minded ‘dope peddlers’ hiding in the shadows, just other college students who helped each other out on occasion. On top of that I had just moved to this small college town a year earlier and all my ‘dealers’ were also close friends. As a matter of fact they were my only friends. I told the officer I was working on making a buy.
This continued for several days, each day coincidentally I either had work or class or my ‘dealers’ were out or had to work. And the way the officers wanted me to snitch was fucked up. They wanted the buys to happen in public, 2 times. Well everyone I dealt with sold either in their home or mine. So it’s pretty fishy to suddenly change the way you buy or sell, or demand the dealer change their MO. I told the cops my dealers were small time and busting them wouldn’t get them anywhere, I said I’d go to the bars and look for dealers there. I never went to the bars looking to buy, this was a total ploy on my part to buy time and it worked. The detective called less often and less often. The last time they called me I told them I was clean and I’m not using anymore but eventually someone would call me looking to sell and I’d inform them when this happened.
Around this time I got a lawyer. The day of the bust I went to lawyer and he was worthless. The wrinkled old douche bag told me that I either snitch or have a felony on my record forever. About a month later I had enough money for a retainer and I found a great lawyer. The second lawyer I talked to specialized in drug cases and told me I could either snitch or plead down to misdemeanors. Now I no longer talk to the detectives, my lawyer called them and told them where I stand. The detectives never called my lawyer back. Luckily (luckily is an understatement) the search on my apartment was illegal, they wouldn’t let me call a lawyer and the drug I was selling was hardly recreational and I sold it under the pretense that it was only to help people with withdrawal. Not that the police care why you sold it, but it would look better to a jury/judge than selling another drug that had no legit (or semi-legit) purpose. After I lawyer-ed up the detectives never called me or my lawyer. It’s been over 6 months since this incident, my lawyer said if they didn’t do anything by fall or winter chances are they wouldn’t do anything.
I ended up with some serious luck (or help from the DMT spirits). I learned that I was the first person snitched on by “john”. I was basically used as a tester so that the cops could learn to trust this informant. I also happened to get busted while the drug task force was switching their ranks; one of the detectives was the old head of the department and the other was the new head. Apparently I was a learning bust for the new detective too. On top of that I believe the economic situation made busting me and going through a long drawn out trial for misdemeanors wouldn’t make sense to an already over stressed court system. And this drug task force covered about 1/5 of the state, obviously I wasn’t a very high priority. If they had a search warrant it would have been a completely different story.
