That Moment

There's a time every once in a while in the life of a criminal when you know you're fucked. Either you're caught, getting robbed, swindled, and/or cheated. For this story, I want to share with you a little more about what happened in the hotel room the night I was arrested. For me, this time, it wasn't a sudden moment. It was a series of events and bad decisions that lead up to the eventual moment of the of the cold steel bracelets being slapped on.

My future co-defendant was about to leave the room for the night. She got a call from her ride saying they were almost there. She said goodbye and she left. One minute later she came back pounding on the door. She said her ride was surrounded by cops, not very good news for them. This would be a good time to say that she was an active DOC fugitive, and she had just recently cut her ankle bracelet off. We sat on the bed and pondered what to do. I decided to turn on my police scanner app and as I was doing that, her phone rang. It was her ride. He was with the cops, and he had given them her name.

On the police scanner there was nothing other than chatter about the Super 8 motel that I was currently in, and her name being thrown around. Now, her ride and the cops didn't know what room she was in, so that could buy her a little time to plan an escape. But we just sat there. It didn't get real until she got up to look through the peephole and saw the hotel manager walk by and point at our door. FUCK!

At this point I started to realize the potential. I needed to hide everything quick. I had two ounces of meth, a plethora of meth-smoking paraphernalia, and a tiny bit of weed. I don't know why I didn't just flush the dope. I only owed $1,800 for it, and my boss would have understood. But I didn't, I hid it in the place everybody  looks first: the light fixture. Just as I hid the last of everything and laid down on the bed, there was a booming knock on the door. Ever the comedian, I said, "I wonder who it is?" No response. They were there for her and I told her she had to go. She knew I was right. We said goodbye.

The door shut and for a calm, quiet two minutes, I sat there contemplating how much worse it could have gone. Then, another knock. I went to answer the door, and they asked me to step out. I didn't know that I didn't have to, so I did. They said management complained that there was a lot of traffic in and out of the room and did I have any explanation for that? Just then, my co-defendant who was in cuffs but still right outside the door asked if she could go get her purse. An officer said OK, and the manager let them back into the room. Uh-oh. It took that officer ten seconds to spot the tiny bag if weed I had carelessly tossed on the floor at the last minute. Probable cause for a search warrant achieved. They asked if they could search the room at that point, and I just said, "Fuck it. Go for it." I didn't care anymore.

You see, I was so sick of the lifestyle, and so disgusted with myself as a person, that I knew right then that getting arrested was the only way out. I knew I couldn't do it on my own, because I had dug myself in so deeply. I knew I would eventually go to prison for the shit, and I was ready for it right then.

The cops found everything and we were both charged with first-degree sales of meth. It was my first drug charge and I eventually bailed out and went right back to it for six months. She stayed in jail for eight months. I eventually testified that all of the drugs were mine and she was released after pleading to a fifth-degree possession charge and given time served.

I'm grateful every day that I've been through what I have in life. I wouldn't be me if I hadn't. But in that moment, things can be scary. And that's one of the many reasons I choose to stay clean. I know where I'll go, and what I'll do if I ever go back out into that world, and none of it will be good.