I talked to an investigator for the Olmsted County Public Defenders Office last week. Now that I have been sentenced, Katie and I are no longer banned from communicating with each other. Part of my plan. This also means that I am allowed to testify on her behalf during her trial. D.A. didn’t see me coming! I plead down to 2nd degree possession, which means technically that I’m not a drug dealer,. Since she is charged with the same crimes as me, and double jeapardy can’t apply to me, I can finally take the rap for all of the dope. Something I probably should have done back in December, but, we don’t talk to cops. If they want to put people away, make ’em work for it.
COPS, technically an acronym, Constable on Patrol. I don’t know if cop has become an actual word in the English language yet.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
“Katie ____, open up! R.P.D!”
Katie and I stare at each other with blank expressions. She’s not ready. But there’s little choice. She has a D.O.C. warrant. She has to go if I stand a change. We say our good-byes. She opens the door and shuts it behind her. Two minutes later, more knocking.
Pissed off, I open the door. I say, “What?”
“Can you step outside and talk with me, please?” says the officer. I should have said no. I don’t know why I did a lot of things the way I did that night. But I stepped out. Big mistake. With my back turned, Katie asks if she can go in the room and get her purse. A cop says, “yeah.” Flashlight searching high and low for the purse on the bed, a cop spots a tiny bag of weed on the floor I had dropped earlier. Fuck! The other cop comes out and asks for my consent to search the room. And for whatever reason I will never know, I say, “Go ahead and search.” Ugh.
For fuck sake, who ever would look up in a light fixture when looking for dope? Everybody. Especially the cops. Out in the lobby I am casually chatting with officer Lou, who had pulled me over the week before for speeding and let me go, and the officers come out and say, “Who want to go to jail?” I raise my hand. The cuffs go on. Booked in for 1st degree sale of methamphetamine. [Editor’s…er, mom’s note: actually it was 4 felony charges for possession of meth, heroin, marijuana, and cocaine.]
Only murder is higher up in our state as far as sentencing. That’s right. Selling more than 10 grams of meth within 90 days in the State of Minnesota is punishable by up to 30 years in prison. Most first-time sex offenders are given probation. Granted, 30 years is for the most extreme meth cases, but all 1st degree controlled substance crimes carry mandatory minimum sentences. Fuck my life.