Chapter 11: A friend of the Devil

A few months later, literally a week after my 18th birthday I received a message from Brandon Rodriguez. We caught up for an hour or so on instant messenger. I told him how I was selling weed and making tons of money. He was in town; he now had his own van and offered to come pick me up to hang out at some girl’s house.

If I had been in school like a normal high school senior, I would not have been able to go but I was in independent study.

Brandon pulled up outside my house and introduced me to his new girlfriend. She was very quiet and looked young. I would have guessed she was fifteen. She had dark hair with bangs brushed to one side covering her face. She wore thick eye makeup.

I jumped in the car with them. She moved to the back so I could sit in the front passenger seat. We drove over to another girl’s house I knew from high school. She was a couple grades below me but pretty cute. She was short, tan and blonde. I think we had a class together or maybe I went on a date with her friend.

After being there for possibly five minutes Brandon asked her right in front of me “Are you attracted to him? " Referring to me.

She blushed and mumbled “yes.”

It felt like he was doing his usual thing hooking up his friends with girls. I made small talk to make the situation less awkward between us. Brandon wanted to smoke a joint and gave me a little money to provide the weed. I had brought about $100 worth with me. I am terrible at rolling joints, so I gave him the minimum amount of weed needed to roll a joint and asked him to do the honors.

I started talking to the girl who Brandon was trying to hook me up with and did not notice when Brandon added meth to the joint. I knew right away when I hit it that it tasted different. I thought at first it was the joint paper but after a second proper hit I knew for sure something was wrong.

"Did you put something in this joint?" I asked Brandon.

"I told you I was rolling a "P-Dog"!" Brandon responded.

"No, you did not! What the fuck is a P-Dog?" I fired back.

"It's got a little bit of tweak in it." Brandon informed me.

I let Brandon finish the joint and asked him to drop me off at Jason’s house. When we got there Jason was not home. I could not just sit on the street outside Jason’s house tripping on tweak, so I stayed in the car with Brandon and his girlfriend.

Brandon decided to drive back to another friend’s house. It was the three of us in the car. As we were driving about five minutes from Jason’s house we got pulled over by the police.

Apparently, Brandon’s girlfriend was underage and had run away from home. The parent’s had called the police and given them Brandon’s information. The police asked us all to all step out of the vehicle and sit on the sidewalk.

As I am getting out of the car there was a small bag of meth on the floor one of them had tried to stash without me knowing. I ended up accidentally kicking the bag out of the car as I got out. The cops saw it and thought I was trying to ditch it before they searched me.

The police searched the car and found enough meth and a scale to charge someone with dealing.

The police ended up taking the three of us to the police station. They took my mug shot. Then they took my shoes and my pants. It felt strange to be walking around the police station in my boxers. They put us all in separate cells on opposite sides of the jail so we could not talk.

I spent the night in jail coming down from meth for the first (and only) time. The reality of the situation really hit hard when the police officer approached my cell and read me my rights. There was no one around me and I could not see beyond a corner where my cell was. It felt like I had no concept of time.

At this point, I figured the only thing I can do is pray. So, I prayed.

"Hey God, as you may have noticed I have gotten myself in really serious trouble. I could really use a miracle right now. If you could somehow get me out of this, I promise I will never do serious hard drugs again. Only weed for the rest of my life."

There was no immediate response.

The next morning the police took us each one by one into an interrogation room with detectives.

"Possession of methamphetamines is a very serious crime. People go to jail for years for that kind of stuff." the first detective told me.

"But let's say you were willing to cooperate and help us catch the real bad guys, maybe we could make all this go away." the other detective added.

"Brandon gave you the meth, right? He's a big dealer?" they asked.

"Nobody gave me any meth. I have no idea if he's a dealer." I responded.

"The officers who brought you guys in say they witnessed you trying to ditch the meth as you got out of the van." the detective said.

"I have no idea how that meth got there. I was just trying to do what the officer said and get out of the car. The meth must have been on the floor, and I kicked it on accident. I just smoke weed. That's it." I told them.

I am sure it was hard to believe me since I probably looked like I was still coming down from doing meth the night before. The detectives took my phone they have confiscated and handed it to me. I turned it on and they added their phone number to my phone.

They told me: "We want to meet with you a few more times before we decide the outcome of our investigation."

They let me go home a few hours later.

Over the next two weeks the detectives kept calling me and trying to get me to meet with them. They wanted me to snitch. I am pretty positive Brandon had told them I sold weed and they kept asking me where I got it from. I just played dumb and said I got it from some random guy off the street. I thought maybe I could convince them Brandon was lying to cover his own ass.

One day when I was just coming home from school, they were already waiting for me outside my house in a soccer mom looking minivan. They were dressed in plain clothes. They told me to get in the car with them. I felt like if I did not get in the car they were going to arrest me.

One of the cops got out of the passenger seat. He patted me down and checked for weapons. Not sure why.

Then told me: “Get in the backseat!”

I got in and they drove me over to Manhattan Beach. I knew we were going to Lil Ron’s house without a word of them explaining where we were going.

“Know the guy who lives here?” One of the detectives asked me.

Once again, I attempted to play dumb.

“Not that I know of?” I replied.

“We know you know Ron. You guys are buddies, right? You smoke together, once in a while he sells you a bit of weed?” the detective asked.

“I don’t know him personally. I have heard of him, but I never bought weed from him. I did not know he lived here.” I told them.

The cops did not seem to be buying my story.

“Just call him up. Ask for a dub. Go inside and get it and bring it back. That’s all we need.” the detective told me.

“I don’t know him; I don’t have his number and if some random guy called him or showed up at his house, I am sure he would probably be suspicious.” I told them

I had Lil Ron’s number, but I never really personally called him to do business. I always let Jason handle that since they were family. Most of the time we all just met at Jason’s house. For me to call Lil Ron or show up at his house really would have been weird.

Lil Ron was always kind of a dick to me and the rest of the world for that matter. He was a pill fiend and had robbed enough people he probably deserved to get arrested. I still didn’t nark on him.

I really did not owe Lil Ron anything. I felt like it was partly self-pride. I knew once you are a nark you live with the mark of a coward for the rest of your life. You refused to take responsibility for your own mistakes and passed on the punishment. I don’t think I could live with the guilt of ruining someone else’s life. Even Lil Ron’s.

Also, Lil Ron was working for some serious gangsters. If they somehow found out I was connected to them getting arrested, I would be killed. I would love to tell you something cool like I live by some code of the street but in reality, I was fucking terrified for my life. That was the major contributing factor as to why I kept my mouth shut.

After convincing them I would not call Ron, they drove me to another house about ten minutes away on another side of town. I knew of the drug dealer who lived there but I truthfully did not know him enough to call him and do business. I did not even have his number. I told the cops that.

As we were parked outside the dealer's apartment building, out walks Mark. The guy I used to smoke with every day after school sophomore year.

He had become more popular and more involved in sports so after sophomore year we stopped smoking after school and we rarely talked. He was obviously leaving the dealer's house after buying weed and the detectives knew it.

The one detective turned to the other and asked:

“You want to go grab this guy and see what we can dig up?”

“This could be the break we need to catch this dirt bag!” the other added.

“Ok for once I actually do know someone." I interrupted them.

"I know that guy he goes to my school. He is a big jock and doesn’t smoke or do drugs. He talked shit to me about smoking at school before.” I tried to convince them.

“I think he actually lives in that apartment building.” I told them.

I lied through my fucking teeth.

“Well at least you are good for something!”

They left Mark alone and took me home and dropped me off.

Mark if you are reading this buddy, you owe me one. While you are enjoying your life as a professional athlete somewhere please know you almost did not have any of it and you did not even know it.

I assumed that because the police had released me, they did not have enough evidence to arrest me otherwise they would have done it already. I assumed the way they were talking about Brandon being a meth dealer he would be taking the fall for everything.

About a week later I received a court summons and official notification I was being charged with possession of enumerated substances with the intention of sales. They were charging me for the meth and the weed and selling it as well.

Apparently, Brandon and his girlfriend had cooperated with the detectives and basically lied and said everything was mine. I refused to nark on Brandon, so the detectives got Brandon to nark on me.

My court date was set for four months away. I had just enough time to finish high school before they potentially locked me away in jail for years. At school lots of rumors started surrounding me. People started to say I was a crazy drug addict who smoked meth. A lot of people who I had grown up with and considered close friends stopped talking to me.

In the end I completed my school assignments fast and was allowed to graduate early. The school offered me the chance to be part of my class graduation ceremony despite being in independent study. Although I know my parents would have loved to see it, I ended up declining due to the fact my court date was the same week. It felt kind of stupid to say yes and then not show up because I had gone to jail. That would probably further cement the rumors about me.

The only one of my friends who stood behind me was Jason. Jason knew I protected him from going down with me. We were partners and I kept my mouth shut. Jason used some of his profit to pay back the money I owed Lil Ron from the front after the police took my weed. He did not have to do that. Jason always smoked me out and hooked me up with small sacks when I managed to have money.

About a month after I received my summons Lil Ron got arrested on his own. He was completely fucked up on pills, got into a fist fight with his own father and then called the police when he lost the fight. The police showed up, took one good look at Lil Ron and arrested him instead.

Lil Ron was only 17 and eventually got sent to a juvenile detention camp.

The months leading up to my court day and the days after were some of the darkest times of my life. I had looked up the average results for someone charged with the crimes I was and it was a minimum of several years in jail. To say I was scared would be an understatement. Barely 18 and I was already facing jail time.

I never had a chance to hide it from my parents. Not that I intended to. When they delivered the court summons my mom was there to see it. In anticipation of potential court fees, my dad gave me a job working for him again. My family and I were desperate for help, so my mom reached out to one of her best friends who worked as the assistant to the DA of the city of Torrance.

The city I was arrested in Redondo Beach, and their neighbor city Torrance shared a courthouse. As a favor, the DA of Torrance attempted to get the DA of Redondo to drop my case. Unfortunately, they were unwilling to do it because Torrance had turned down a similar request from Redondo a few months prior.

The day of my court appearance I was shitting my pants. I had gotten a clean-cut hair cut a few days before. I was wearing a nice collar shirt with a tie. Some random guy outside the courthouse had to help me tie it.

It was a few minutes before my court hearing was scheduled to begin. Out of the shadows a well-dressed man with dark hair walks up to my mom and I.

“This is your son?” he asks my mom.

My mom nods.

He turns to me and says: “Don’t worry you are not going to jail! I can’t get them to drop the case, but I can help you get the best outcome that is possible! I have been on the other side of this same case many times and I know exactly what to do.”

My mom whispers to me and tells me this is her friend’s boss. The DA of the city of Torrance. He walked right up to the prosecutor for my case and pulled her aside. They talked for five minutes. It was like one of those hallway court negotiations you see on Television.

“He’s a good kid; he was just in the wrong place and wrong time. No prior run ins with the law. No tickets. Good grades. Don’t ruin this kid’s life.” The DA said.

“Best I can offer is PC1000. Six months of the diversion program but he has to plead guilty!” I overhead the prosecutor say.

 “Deal!”

They finish talking and the DA winks at me.

The prosecutor comes up to me, hands me some paperwork she explains:

“You’re going to plead guilty but because you have never been arrested or in trouble before the court believes you deserve a chance to qualify for a special rehab and drug education program called Diversion instead of going to jail.”

“Once you complete the Diversion program your charges will be dropped from your record.” she added.

I had no idea what the Diversion program was. I was just beyond relieved not to be going to jail.

The room where my hearing was taking place finally opened and the crowd outside took their places inside. My case was the third one on the schedule. The judge was an older Latin looking woman with long gray hair.

Finally, the judge called my name. I got up and went and stood in front of the judge.

The prosecutor handed her some paperwork.

“As you will see in the paperwork I have handed you, we have found an agreement.” the prosecutor told the judge.

The judge quickly reviewed the paperwork.

“Alright, the defendant is ordered to complete the diversion program. I will set a court date for nine months from now. You will return and show me forms from your completed program. If you fail to complete the program or show up for court a bench warrant will be issued for your arrest and you will serve the full sentence. Do you understand?” the judge asked me.

“Yes, your honor!” I replied.

“Dismissed for now.” said the judge.

Chapter 11: Diversion