feeder. I would deal with people right off the street, bus stops, liquor stores and any other place my buyers might kick it so I could sell, sell, sell! There were three other large sized marijuana dealers in our immediate area we’d hear about from our customer base. We’d hear about how cool this one was with his prices, or what kind of attitude this one had and we were happy to take on their overflow as equal opportunity providers. Along the way we listened to our instincts and advice from Charlie and Kent that it was time to move to another residence. My careless behavior had blown up our first spot.
This time we rented a two bedroom house with a backyard down by the beach. We got a couple of puppies from the pound to play with, bought a video camera and sat in our own laps of luxury doing it our way. The Mexi-Indi’s were such a hit with their low cost and high quality that the market came to us. One such bold individual did his homework on where the Mexi-Indi’s were coming from and came from some inland Mission Viejo area with an offering.
He went by Tripper. He was in his thirties, with dark hair, dark eyes that darted around on a head that swiveled to see what was around him. My brother and I looked at him like he might be a threat and sized him up. He didn’t look big enough or athletic enough to be one physically if we got to him before a weapon was involved. He felt our scrutiny and offered something about a mutual acquaintance and “I’m a like-kind individual and sometimes sheer boldness is necessary.”
We didn’t budge so he looked around again and reached for something in his jacket pocket. I almost sprung at him on instinct but caught myself short from impact as I saw his hand come out with a plastic bag of product. We pulled him inside and inspected it. It was a golf ball sized nugget of lime green fluffy stickiness without seeds or stems. We went from skeptical to familiar pretty quickly after that. It turned out that Tripper had his own agenda. He said, “Now that you see what I’ve brought to the table, where are the Mexi-Indi’s? I’ve been looking for those for years.”
My brother and I had a conference and decided the make of Tripper’s brand was copasetic and entered him into the fold. We did good business with him for months.
CHAPTER 24
The squad cars parked a street away and around the corner from our house at six in the morning. We were eating cereal and watching our puppies growling at each other over their bowls of food. The pounding on the door was so loud that adrenaline shot through my veins and I sprinted to the front door to look through the peep hole. I saw a tightly bunched group of law enforcement officers. My brother ran into his room to see the same travesty through his window. He grabbed his backpack full of flavor and money and ran into my room to the bedroom window that faced the backyard right behind me. I had a heavier backpack with four pounds and $20,000 on the line. The backyard was clear and freedom was only one fence from being hopped. I slid the window open and pushed the screen out right as Sheriffs in bullet proof vest and jackets filled the yard. At the same time at the front door a final warning was yelled and the front door exploded.
With our exit strategy ruined I faced the front door and saw a pyramid of officers pointing nine millimeter gun’s into all angles of our house. From left to right, one was crouched down on a knee, the next one was semicrouched, the middle one was standing in a shooter’s posture, to his right another one half crouched and then another one on his knee. I saw the two detectives that looked like they were in charge of the operation with Sheriff Jackets over plain clothes and a set of hand cuffs in their hands.
“Get down!! Get down on the ground!!” He pointed to the ground like it was necessary.
We tried to comply but our puppies chose this time to rush at the intrusion. As valiant as they were they were still
This time we rented a two bedroom house with a backyard down by the beach. We got a couple of puppies from the pound to play with, bought a video camera and sat in our own laps of luxury doing it our way. The Mexi-Indi’s were such a hit with their low cost and high quality that the market came to us. One such bold individual did his homework on where the Mexi-Indi’s were coming from and came from some inland Mission Viejo area with an offering.
He went by Tripper. He was in his thirties, with dark hair, dark eyes that darted around on a head that swiveled to see what was around him. My brother and I looked at him like he might be a threat and sized him up. He didn’t look big enough or athletic enough to be one physically if we got to him before a weapon was involved. He felt our scrutiny and offered something about a mutual acquaintance and “I’m a like-kind individual and sometimes sheer boldness is necessary.”
We didn’t budge so he looked around again and reached for something in his jacket pocket. I almost sprung at him on instinct but caught myself short from impact as I saw his hand come out with a plastic bag of product. We pulled him inside and inspected it. It was a golf ball sized nugget of lime green fluffy stickiness without seeds or stems. We went from skeptical to familiar pretty quickly after that. It turned out that Tripper had his own agenda. He said, “Now that you see what I’ve brought to the table, where are the Mexi-Indi’s? I’ve been looking for those for years.”
My brother and I had a conference and decided the make of Tripper’s brand was copasetic and entered him into the fold. We did good business with him for months.
CHAPTER 24
The squad cars parked a street away and around the corner from our house at six in the morning. We were eating cereal and watching our puppies growling at each other over their bowls of food. The pounding on the door was so loud that adrenaline shot through my veins and I sprinted to the front door to look through the peep hole. I saw a tightly bunched group of law enforcement officers. My brother ran into his room to see the same travesty through his window. He grabbed his backpack full of flavor and money and ran into my room to the bedroom window that faced the backyard right behind me. I had a heavier backpack with four pounds and $20,000 on the line. The backyard was clear and freedom was only one fence from being hopped. I slid the window open and pushed the screen out right as Sheriffs in bullet proof vest and jackets filled the yard. At the same time at the front door a final warning was yelled and the front door exploded.
With our exit strategy ruined I faced the front door and saw a pyramid of officers pointing nine millimeter gun’s into all angles of our house. From left to right, one was crouched down on a knee, the next one was semicrouched, the middle one was standing in a shooter’s posture, to his right another one half crouched and then another one on his knee. I saw the two detectives that looked like they were in charge of the operation with Sheriff Jackets over plain clothes and a set of hand cuffs in their hands.
“Get down!! Get down on the ground!!” He pointed to the ground like it was necessary.
We tried to comply but our puppies chose this time to rush at the intrusion. As valiant as they were they were still
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