Shacker in Shackles: Part 2

The entire thing was like a scene out of OITNB. I had to get naked, squat and cough, wear an orange jumpsuit type scrubs thing. And they handed me a rolled up mattress w a toothbrush, roll of toilet paper, and a piece of paper w phone numbers of people I got off my phone to call on the phone in the cell room thing.

Don’t worry tho, they may have put me in a room w meth heads and people coming down from Ice (don’t ask me what that is, bc I have absolutely no idea…)…

But they took me in as one of their own and explained the whole process to me.

Yeah, I totally made friends w meth heads and heroin addicts in jail.

Not the drunk tank.

JAIL.

At some point, after much irritation, I found that you can’t call any phone number that has an out-of-state area code… 

SO.

This girl (whom I think was a heroin addict), offered to call her boyfriend who would then call my friend Victoria to explain what had happened. He also looked up my mugshot for me and told me I looked a hot mess. (Eye roll).

He literally got his roommate’s phone and put it up to his, so I could talk to Tori through 2 phones.

I mean, IDK about you but I think that’s hilarious.

She then called my mom to explain the situation and let her know I needed to be bailed out. Drunk. She called my mom DRUNK to tell her I needed her to bail me out of jail for selling a controlled substance. wtf.

However…

…my bail was set at $70,000 

YEAH

SERIOUSLY.

…let’s just say she wasn’t too happy. Continue reading

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Shacker in Shackles: Part 1

Like any good story, it started out as any other day. By which I mean, it was so mundane, I honestly do not remember what I had been doing earlier that day leading up to the event. I remember finally getting comfortable in my bed and being ready to finally Netflix the rest of the afternoon away, until it was time to get ready for that night’s festivities.

When I heard the knock at the door, it actually crossed my mind to just ignore the person and continue my episode of Grey’s Antomy. I figure it was probably just maintenance doing a routine check of the smoke detectors or something… Boy, was I wrong.

I finally decided to just open it.

I checked through the peephole, and saw  nothing. But I didn’t think anything of it, so I still opened the door; you know, being curious and all.

What I found, was 4 older men I knew immediately were cops, or something of the like at least.

I wished I’d just stayed in bed watching Grey’s Anatomy instead.

They asked to come in. Obviously I said that was fine, bc you can’t really say no to a cop, can you?

They asked me to take them to my room, for more privacy; so, of course, I obliged.

When there, they pulled out some papers and said “we have a search warrant for your apartment” bc they had me on surveillance “dealing drugs”.

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!!???

Let me make this v clear – I am not a drug dealer. I don’t sell to my friends when they want just a bump of my Coke or one of my adderall for a test. I don’t do that. I don’t share my adderall and I don’t share my Coke, or at least except this one time.

So when they said that, all I could respond w was “…what????

WHY DIDNT I STAY IN BED AND IGNORE THEM AT THE DOOR???

One of the jerks chuckled. We’ll call him Asshole 2, since Asshole 1 was doing all the talking. I think the other 2 were just there for show to make me more intimidated or something.

The rest was kind of a blur in a way, but I was completely cooperative and gave them everything I had.

I had no choice. I didn’t want to go to jail.

They told me I could be an informant instead, to which I was uneasy about agreeing to, as that meant being a snitch and narcing on my friends, and friends of friends.

While I was offering everything I had, Asshole 2 verbally came at me w “so where’s your scale?”

Me: my what?

Asshole 2: your scale, don’t play dumb.

Me: I don’t have one.

Asshole 2: I’m going to ask you again, where is your scale? We’ll find it if you don’t give it up, and you’ll only make this worse for yourself.

Me: I don’t have one!

A2: Where is it!!?

Me: I don’t have a fucking scale, I am telling you!! Christ.

A2: don’t you raise your voice at me

Me: well what am I supposed to do, I am telling you I don’t have one. Search the fucking apartment – search the kitchen – search the ceiling – search the walls. There’s no fucking scale here bc I am NOT A FUCKING DRUG DEALER.

It all went on for quite a while after that, if I’m perfectly honest w you…

Well, anyway, they took me down to the precinct so I could fill out the paperwork to become an informant. While in the car tho (which was like a tinted out and fierce looking black suv, if I weren’t so pissed off I probably would have appreciated it at the time), they started by going like “so as an informant-“

Me: I know – I have to wear a wire and turn people in. I have make 2 buys from each person before you can make an arrest. I’m aware.

Asshole 1: Jesus, is there like a class teaching all this stuff to everyone?

Me: No, I just watch a lot of cop shows and word gets around (in a sort-of DUH tone)

When we finally got there, the rest of the crew left me w Asshole 1 as I filled out forms. Name, DOB, home address, mailing address (isn’t that the same fucking thing???? I’ve never understood why they ask for them separately. So dumb, this day of age) charges, # of people to turn in (5, kill me now please – more so I don’t get murdered by some pissed off fucker), et al.

I voiced at one point, as Asshole 1 and I were sharing a conversation over what my major and minor in college were – that for obvious reasons I felt uncomfortable w being a snitch. 

To which he responded by telling me “well don’t feel too bad about it, one of your friends snitched on you.” 

HOLD UP.

They said I was caught on surveillance. I assumed that had meant like cameras on the street outside restaurants and whatever. Not that someone had NARCED on me. 

WHAT THE FUCK.

Right away, I knew exactly who it had to of been. I wasn’t a drug dealer. I’m NOT a drug dealer.

But I sold to one friend twice, the only person ever.

And honestly, I felt safe doing it since HE WAS THE ONE I BOUGHT THE COKE FROM.

So, since they are stupid idiots and left me w my phone – I immediately texted the guy I thought was my friend and whom I’d bought/sold to and was like WTF DUDE. 

Well, that didn’t quite go over so well. Emilie (the bastard, back-stabbing, snitching, loser of a friend) called Asshole 2 and told them I texted him.

Next thing I know…

handcuffs are on my wrists.

Asshole 2 is yelling and screaming at me in the car, telling me how stupid I was, and how I should expect to be expelled from school and spend the next 20 years in jail.

Which I yelled back at him telling him to shut the fuck up.

 

Fast forward 2 weeks, I learned my mugshot had been posted in every GroupMe conversation between the bar staff and owners of all establishments Downtown.

Fuck.

My.

Fucking.

Life.