This is the finale in a mini-series of posts that starts here.
Although these documents contained within are part of my life, they are not
considered public record until I publish them. All the same, I would appreciate
it if all names, places, and references were considered fictional, and the succeeding
and preceding accounts and descriptions not be disseminated without express
written consent or implied oral say-so.
So it would appear that the documents I scanned into the
first post were fairly difficult to read. No matter, you’ve read the story
countless times before if you’re a follower. What I didn’t realize when I
posted that first narrative, the one with mostly pictures, is that I forgot to include
another police report; one from the point of view of another officer. It is
critical to the story, and it shows how police work with informants, and how
easy it is for them to let somebody go, once they give up some information. I’m
sure I could have gone the same route, but I held on to the criminal code of
ethics, and ended up doing prison time for it. I have no regrets.
These three pages show the process of observation from a
parking lot across the street by a uniformed officer, to what I would assume was a routine traffic
stop in the lot of my hotel, to a search of the vehicle which revealed a meth
pipe, weed, a grinder, and other various paraphernalia. Oh yeah, and a pistol.
Now, generally a pistol in the vicinity of any amount of
controlled substance will be an offense for which all occupants of the vehicle
could have been arrested. In this case, the owner immediately started talking
about the people in the room, which included me. He gave up my co-defendant’s
name, the fact that she had a warrant, and he even went as far as to say that
he thought she was selling methamphetamine out of the room. I hope these
pictures turn out because the proof’s in the account.
Of all the things that stick out in my head, my words, “Go
ahead and search” are the only words I remember saying that night. I remember
when I said it, I knew I was fucked, but I was lackadaisical and continued
chatting with my co-defendant while we were outside smoking under supervision
of a couple officers. I knew I would be going to jail, I knew I would end up in
prison, and I knew that my life would change within a matter of minutes. I
could have said no, but it would only have been a matter of time before a
warrant came. I could have packed up and run when she came back into the room
and told me that the cops were outside. But I didn’t. Action, like inaction, is
a choice. I chose to accept what was coming to me. I don’t think I knew why I
was doing it, but sub-consciously I must have known that this was the time to
lay down my sword and surrender. And that is what I did.
Over three years later and my life is free of the chaos I
once thrived on. There are challenging times, but nothing as obstructive or
destructive as the life that character I played lived. I see it all in my head
as a movie. This movie has a happy ending, but I must always remember that,
like some of the garbage on the big-screens today, there’s always room for a
sequel.
