Routine traffic stop

I got a phone call one morning, from a friend of mine. The same friend that was in the car with me when I got jacked with the pistol. She was hurting. Sick. She had gone out to her mother’s house in San Pierre to kick, she was done using and was ready to stop. Lord knows I’ve tried that before. Needless to say, a couple days had gone by and she had had enough. She asked me if I could bring her something to help her get well, she promised me she would get me back as soon as she was able. This was one of my very best friends, and I know that she would have done the same for me, in fact, she had, many times. Plus I was actually doing pretty well as of late, with my hustles and all, so I figured a nice road trip was in order. I did a nice thick one and got ready for the journey. I took about five bags with me, three for her, and one each for my friend and myself when we got there. It was an overcast early fall day with some light drizzle. Perfect. Something about the gloom makes for a good day when I’m using, not sick, and holding, otherwise, all the days suck.With the car in gear we set out for our hour long trek toward the middle of no where. At the time, my sound track probably included lots of jam bands, sublime, and blind melon. We cruised and smoked cigarettes like we were being paid to do so. We felt good about being able to go and help our friend get well. So with ‘Mouthful of Cavities’ blaring in the speakers, a Newport menthol in my left hand, the wheel in my right hand, and a good deed up ahead, I was on top of the world. This was about to change, suddenly. County road 250 intersected with highway 30 and on I floated. Toward Laporte county. I crossed into Wanatah and came to highway 421. My dope fiend Spidey senses started tingling, and I suggested to my friend that maybe we should hide the bags, and not just roll around casually with multiple bags of heroin in our pockets. We consolidated the bags into the cellophane off of a pack of smokes and she shoved the small plastic package up inside her. This was a smart move. I turned onto 421 south heading toward San Pierre and started to take a large viaduct hill as I did so, now, it was day light hours, so I didn’t even think about the fact that I had a head light out, but the vehicle we were traveling in had day time runners, and one of them was visably out. Son of a bitch, would’t you know it? An Indiana state trooper was sitting at the bottom of the hill on the other side, and as soon as I started my descent, he hit his lights. Damnit. As I passed him, he fell in behind me, and I casually pulled over to the side of the highway. Now, we had no needles or spoons on us, we were going to use some clean new ones that my other friend had at her house, so this was good. No worries there, but we did have about half a gram of quality heroin stuffed inside my friend’s vagina, and I really hoped at the time, that she had really shoved it in there. She had. “liscense and registration” came the voice through the open window. “Got a headlight out there.” ” Goin’ a little fast too, where ya headed?” “Um, but sir, it’s day time, were going out to San Pierre to see a friend of ours we hadn’t seen in a while, maybe have some dinner.” I lied.” alright, well the speed limit is 20 until you get just up there, this is technically a school zone, just sit tight, this should just be quick.” It wouldn’t be. After about 5 minutes of razor sharp nerves, two more white cruisers pulled up, and I just had to have my friend make sure the dope was WAY inside her, it was. Good. Because it was about to get crazy. I looked in the rear view mirror to see the first responding officer with his door open, but standing behind it, with his radio in hand. “Herbert Stepherson, roll both front windows down, remove the keys from the ignition, place the keys on the roof of the vehicle, and both of you put your hands on the ceiling of the car” came the voice through the bull horn. We both just looked at each other. This was bad. I complied. “Next, take ONLY your left hand off the ceiling, driver and use it ONLY to open the driver side door ONLY.” More directions. I complied. “Now exit the vehicle slowly, DO NOT TURN AROUND, interlock your fingers behind your head and walk backwards SLOWLY toward the sound of my voice, passenger, do NOTHING.” I complied. I may have made it about 15 paces backwards before I felt an officer at each arm, throw cuffs on me and walk me to the front end of the first cruiser. They sat me on the brush guard of the car, and sent a female officer to our car for my friend. They cuffed her and ransacked our vehicle. “Um, excuse me sir, don’t you guys need a warrant for that?” “You are the warrant, Mr. Stepherson, and it’s an out of state felony drug warrant, so, no.” They took their sweet ass time destroying the inside of the car, and then made sure they could humiliate me as much as possible, after searching my pockets, searching her, and removing our shoes, like I’d be dumb enough to ever hide something in my shoes, they laid me down on my belly, on the side of a highway in a puddle. “DO NOT MOVE, Mr. Stepherson!” I complied, I knew what this was all about, I had a probation violation warrant out of Georgia for possession of cocaine. The dog did his thing around the car, and even after the dog “hit” on the vehicle, they found nothing. But one small issue remained, they would now be informing me that my license was suspended. I was sure I was going to jail today. “Mr. Stepherson, you better thank your lucky stars that Georgia isn’t willing to come get you right now, and since you were so compliant with us, I am just going to issue you two citations today, one for driving while suspended, and one for speeding, the headlight will be a warning. You two are free to go, Mr. Stepherson, I am giving you permission to drive from here, since your friend’s contact has fallen out(the story we told). “But just know something sir, we know who you are, and we know what you are. We will be waiting, right here for you, when you head back from San Pierre. I brushed the mud and rain off of my shirt, and strolled to the waiting car. And you best believe my hands didn’t leave 10-and-2 and we did not speed the entire time to San Pierre. This was a very common occurrence in my using days. You win some, you lose some, but in the end, you always lose


The dope game and the using lifestyle is a non stop game of cat and mouse. They can afford for me to get away with it 1,000 times- but i cannot afford to get caught once. My life was fueled by fear and compulsion. I felt like the cops were constantly watching me. 

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