When I was about 14-years-old, our neighbor across the street was busted for drug dealing. I lived in Hawaii, in a middle-class neighborhood, and the neighbor was a nice enough guy. No one would’ve expected it — well, except for my mom who thought it “strange that his work van only leaves the house at night” and he ran a “Baby Proofing Service”. Who baby-proofs a house at 10 o’clock at night? she’d ask.
Anyway, I remember my dad waking me up late one night to watch the cops swarming his house, tearing down a false wall in the laundry room and hauling out boxes of (presumably) drugs and money. It was very exciting. After the cops left, my dad roamed the neighborhood and found our neighbor’s two golden retrievers and brought them home. A few days later, our neighbor got out on bail, and saw the dogs at our house. He came over and told us that we could keep them, because he was probably going to jail for a long time. Those two dogs were so great – Champagne and Haiku (they were already named). Beautiful dogs. His house was claimed by the government, and was sold fairly quickly. I liked the new neighbors – Alika and his family. He was a few years younger than I was, and we ended up being pretty good friends.
The mid-level drug dealer has to be incredibly careful not to get caught. It’s one thing to get busted with a little bit of marijuana, get slapped on the wrist, and be sent home. It’s another to have your home, cars, boats, and entire lifestyle be taken away and sold at auction.
Check out this verrrry sophisticated marijuana grow operation. The guy
has got had a nice house on a big piece of property. I just wonder what the new owner will do with the extra “room” underground.
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