FOLLOW THE EXIT SIGN 2
"Destroy & Rebuild"
My Wakeup Call
“Facing State drug and possible federal gun charges, my future looked bleak”
After the raid, I tossed and turned that entire night barely getting any sleep. Before my eyes could close fully, it was morning again. The fact I hadn't slept a wink, I knew the events that went down the night before was all but a dream. In reality, I was looking eye to eye with state drug and possible federal gun charges. In other words, at the time my future looked bleak. To get caught with one gun was bad enough; but with three guns, I was cooked. Lying there in bed, my mind would not stop reflecting back to that funny lookin’ dude who was with Billy when he grabbed that half-bow.
The phone I had been cranking on, got caught up in the raid. The business line I barely ever used was dead at the time and overlooked by the cops. Now down to one phone, I grabbed the yellow and black rugged Motorola from the nightstand and called Billy up blocked to catch him off guard. Ringing only a few times, he picked up sounding straight suspect.
Billy was like "Ah, hello?" Sounding scared or better yet petrified like he had something to hide. I was like, “What up fool, what's good wit you?” You know, just playing it off. He was trying to play it cool. The cops took the trees I’d grabbed the night before and when Billy left my crib, he got the last of what I had. As far as he knew I was out, but I was playing it like I had just got on. Soon as I was like, “This S...” it was over.
Fool didn't even take a second to consider before he let me know, he was straight. Clearly failing my test, Billy said he was gone pass on the offer because he wasn't messing around no-more. How you go from copping Cuties and halves to the next day being out the game? Billy was straight suspect and I could only imagine what I was going to do when I caught up with that clown! I was thrown by how he changed up that drastic, that quick. On top of that, he hung up dead in my face. I called straight back but was ignored at every attempt to get him back on the line.
I prayed the feds weren’t trying to hit me with a conspiracy. First of all, we had that fine white chick, Sammie. She was this female from the burbs who I had thought I knew like that. From what I could see, she was 100, but all it took was for her to catch a case and put them peoples on to me. Sammy was running what appeared to be an air-tight operation because all her customers were uppity white folks who had money in the little hick town she lived in. Contractors, business owners, your everyday working class Americans who smoked and snorted coke on the low.
Sam’s story was that she had grown up around all her fiends and gone to school with a lot of their kids. At the same time, she was like a twenty-year-old white chick who sold coke and crack. Come on man, how stupid was I? That is entirely too suspect! Though she hadn't given me any real reason to be suspicious of her, I couldn’t trust nobody. When it come down to the police, you never really know what actually going down until you see the paperwork.
Real talk, you can’t go by what the streets say; you got to read it in black and white for yourself. The police could've gotten the drop on my cousin and tracked him down. He had been on the run for a while up until the raid. Then again, the raid team was made up of state, county, and the city cops, not a fugitive apprehension team or the U.S. Marshals. There was them two agents there though and to keep it a 100, the cops were actually surprised to find who out who Tez was. It appeared they never knew he was in Battle Creek until they hit the door. My Cousin Cortez was solid and looked to be facing time any way it went. So, what reason did he have to tell on me? Exactly, there wasn't one!
No way, there was no way I sold to an undercover. My cousin either! The only way Tez had served anybody was if he knew them or if I sent them to him at the spot. Everybody, I mean, everybody had to call first before just showing up. If anybody would drop through that I didn’t tell him was on the way, he would call and get the okay before just serving them. A lot of times custoes would just go to the back window and get served from there. I remember one time, Corey almost pushed a couple cats’ wigs back on that none sense.
That night, three dudes came to the front door after midnight, and at 88 Wilts, we were tooled up (had plenty guns). From what Cortez said, whoever the cats were, was trying to bully they way into the crib to get some trees. Cousin Corey wasn’t going though. When they saw that BIG Forty (40 Cal.) in his hand, them folks turned around real quick, talking about, “Dang homie, it’s like that?”
“Just like that”, Cortez responded. I wasn’t around that night but whoever the men were didn’t know they were messing with the wrong one. Cousin Tez the Chi-town Hustler, wasn’t going out like that, he was gone burn one of them boys if they jumped stupid.
What if there was an undercover in the car with one of my customers who had come through? I would have been straight then, right? I didn't do any hand-to-hand, or so I thought. As long as I hadn't done a hand to hand transaction with an officer of the law or got caught on wire tap or talking on the phone to a rat, I was straight. That was way far from the truth. All the boys needed was a “CI” (Confidential Informant), an “unwitting source”. Or at least that’s what my paperwork said that my paid lawyer got from the state police when the warrants finally came out in 2009.
From my understanding of the law, in order for the police to get a search warrant for a crib, someone had to sell to an undercover or informant out of that house. I never knew that if an undercover or informant simple was with someone who bought drugs, that the person who had sold the work, had sold to the undercover too. It was like a Catch 22, mixed with a dose of entrapment.
Catch 22 - 1: A situation in which a desired outcome or solution is impossible to attain because of a set of inherently illogical rules or conditions.
2: A contradictory or self-defeating course of action.
Entrapment [en-trap-ment] noun 1: the condition of being entrapped
2: the action of luring an individual into committing a crime in order to prosecute the person for it.
Maybe that is why when I was in the back of that van being interrogated, the officer asked what I would say if he told me I sold dope to an undercover?" But my response stayed the same.
"That's impossible! There is no way I sold to an undercover, cause I don't sell weed."
You know I was lying straight through my teeth with a straight face. That had come from years of lying my way out of trouble as an adolescence. The lies never paid off, in the long run, all they did was make matters worse. Once you tell one lie, it takes three to get out of that one and to cover up that three, it takes two more. Caught like I had been, red handed, there was no way out. Facing state drug and possible federal gun charges, my future did not look promising.