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  • I was twenty years old at the time, and had made  plenty of bad decisions I'm happy I grew out of  

  • eventually. I was living in PhoenixArizona, having run away from home  

  • years ago and now just hopping from place to  place, staying with friends, acquaintances,  

  • and the acquaintances of friends. Given my  reprobate past, most of these people were shady,  

  • and in hindsight it's little surprise that  one day, I'd be caught up in a police raid.

  • My problems back then weren't with drugs, but that  didn't stop me from being around a lot of people  

  • who took or dealt in them. This fateful October  day, I had been crashing with friends of friends  

  • as I made my way out west- living somewhere in  Santa Monica or Long Beach outside Los Angeles  

  • always sounded nice. I needed some time to rebuild  my finances though, so I was renting a tiny,  

  • dinghy bedroom in a large five-bedroom  house on the outskirts of Phoenix.

  • I knew my fellow roommates dealt in drugs, most of  them were junkies themselves abusing the old rule,  

  • sell, don't partake”. They weren't big time  or whatever though, mostly just selling pot and  

  • pills to local kids and other junkies. I'd seen  a few druggies party or crash out at the house,  

  • but I'd never really seen anything hardcoreit seemed harmless at the time. At least as  

  • harmless as having a debilitating addiction  that slowly destroys your life could be.

  • I had been working the late shift the night  before, so I was pretty tired when I heard  

  • a forceful knock on the door at about 4:30 am. My  room was closest to the front door, and my fellow  

  • roommates were almost always sleeping off some  hangover by this time, so when the second knock  

  • came I wasn't surprised that nobody had answered. I remember hearing the voice behind the knock  

  • yelling something out, but I wasn't sure what- I'd  only been asleep for a few hours at this point and  

  • was completely out of it. I sort of just  stumbled to the door, half-conscious, right  

  • as the third knock came. I still don't remember  what the voice was saying, but I know now it was  

  • probably doing something like announcing itselfand the fact that there was a search warrant out  

  • on the house. Little did I know that a whole  squad of police officers was waiting outside,  

  • ready to pounce the moment that door opened  a crack- or to bash it in if it didn't. 

  • I only remember thinking that this must be one  of my druggy roommate's junkie customers, blitzed  

  • out of his mind and angrily demanding drugs at  the crack of dawn. I was furious as I ripped  

  • open the door, ready to tell some junkie off, but  definitely not ready for the blitz that came next

  • If I had been sleepy and groggy before, I  woke with a start as a rather burly officer  

  • immediately grabbed me by the arm and tore me  out of the house. Before I could even come to  

  • my senses I was already passed off to two other  officers who were handcuffing my hands behind  

  • my back. At the doorway, a squad of several  officers burst through the now open door,  

  • and I could clearly hear the yelling that  had been a symphony of random noise in my  

  • near-unconscious state just moments earlier, “This  is the police! We have a warrant for the house!”. 

  • I was dragged away from the house, hands cuffed  behind my back and immediately moved to a van  

  • waiting outside. Bewildered, the only thing  I could think of saying was, “I'm not high!  

  • I don't use drugs! I'm just really tired, I had  a late shift last night!”. Seems funny now, but  

  • at the time I was so scared I honestly thoughtmight have wet myself, and the last thing I wanted  

  • was for the dozens of cops that appeared to be  surrounding the house to think I was a criminal

  • Despite being initially roughly manhandledthe officer that came to speak to me after  

  • I got thrown into the van was courteous, though  definitely not warm. He told me that I was not  

  • under arrest, though placed an emphasis on the  wordyet”, and that I was merely being removed  

  • from the house for my and the protection of  the officers inside. He explained that they  

  • had a search warrant for the house on suspicion of  being a drug distribution center- which of course  

  • he wasn't wrong about- and that it and my  belongings inside would be searched thoroughly

  • I asked the officer if I was going to go to  jail, and he assured me that unless there was  

  • a warrant for my arrest, or they found drugs  amongst my belongings, then no I would not be.  

  • I tried to explain my situation, telling the  officer that I was merely traveling through the  

  • area and was there temporarily. The officer  sort of gave me a knowing smile and nodded,  

  • saying that as long as they didn't find drugs  or weapons in my belongings I'd be fine then

  • I realized that he had probably heard my excuse  a million times, and each time from men and women  

  • who were definitely guilty of doing something  illegal and trying to plead their innocence.  

  • Oh, no officer, I don't know anything about  the ten crates of meth in my closet- I'm just  

  • traveling through and renting the room!”. Matter  of fact, by this time one of my fellow roommates  

  • had also been brought into the van, and  when he heard me tell the officer I was  

  • just briefly renting the space, he began to  nod eagerly saying, “Yeah, yeah! Me too man!”. 

  • I got furious inside, because I knew that this  particular roommate was definitely selling drugs  

  • and probably had a pallet of uppers and downers  in his closet. I wanted to yell at him to shut  

  • the hell up, he was endangering my own freedombut I thought better about it, it might make it  

  • seem even more like we were in cahoots, not  less, and by this time it was becoming clear  

  • that every action I took and every word I said  was building a case for my innocence- or not

  • By now more of my roommates were being brought  into the van, and inside, the police were starting  

  • a thorough search of the house after securing  it. First they did a sweep looking for any  

  • individuals who might be hiding, and I was very  grateful that none were- by now it very much felt  

  • like my own fate was tied to the general good  behavior of the entire household, and I doubted  

  • that my criminal roommates would happily plead my  innocence when cases came down against them all.  

  • In fact, that scared me more than anything- that  any of the people I'd been living with for the  

  • last month and a half might drag me down with  them just because they could. See, that's what  

  • you get when you hang out with lowlifes- you  think they're gonna have your back or do the  

  • right thing when the hammer comes down? Let that  be a warning to you kids, I wonder how many truly  

  • innocent people with bad judgment are hanging out  in prison right now because of idiots like this

  • Once everybody was removed from the house and the  cops were happy that there was nobody else hiding,  

  • they started to separate us one by one  to gather some details. I guess if we  

  • had been serious criminals they probably  would've just driven us straight to jail,  

  • but we were just kids in the late teens and early  twenties selling crap like adderall and pot

  • When it was my turn the investigator I spoke to  asked me which of the rooms in my house was mine  

  • and made a note of it. He asked me where my  personal belongings were located in the house,  

  • and made it a point of asking me ifowned any property such as bags, boxes,  

  • or containers anywhere outside of my room. I  explained that I was just traveling through,  

  • earning some money before moving on, and had  only been at the house for ninety days. He took  

  • my employment information so he could confirm my  workplace, along with my parent's phone number  

  • and a few other family contacts who would  be able to confirm that I was in fact,  

  • a vagabond with no links to my current housemates. He also asked me point blank if there were any  

  • drugs in my room, or if I was dealing, telling me  that if I cooperated now the consequences would be  

  • less later. I don't know if he was telling  the truth or not, but I'll tell you what,  

  • with the possibility of jail staring me in  the face I was as cooperative as possible.  

  • Next he asked me about my housemates and their  activities, and I told him everything I knew

  • That's right, I narced, because if you think I'm  going to be loyal to a bunch of lowlifes who would  

  • throw me under the bus to save even just an inch  of their own skin, then you're probably an idiot.  

  • Sure, it sounds cool in rap videos or to spout  it out on the block that you'd never snitch,  

  • or that snitches get stitches or whateverbut guess what? When the consequences are  

  • real you think any of your friends are going to  choose five to seven years- or more- in prison  

  • over not ratting on you? Get real, why do you  think cops have such a huge network of informants?  

  • Everybody rats, you're living  a lie if you think otherwise

  • Again, not something you'd even have to worry  about if you weren't hanging out with lowlifes,  

  • something I very much regretted at the time. The investigator made a note of everything I said,  

  • then asked if I wouldn't mind making an official  statement down at the station. Hell no I wouldn't  

  • mind, whatever I had to do to make it clear  I had nothing to do with any of this mess,  

  • I'd do. I guess for the cops this was basically  a goldmine, and I was sealing the fate of my  

  • criminally deviant roommates. Oh well, they  should've made better life decisions. I was  

  • not going to risk going to jail an innocent man. Inside the house, an investigator was assigned to  

  • each individual room. Contrary to what you see on  tv, the house isn't turned upside down- thought  

  • it is definitely searched very thoroughly. They  even called in a truck to check the septic tank,  

  • and I really don't envy whoever's  job it was to investigate that,  

  • or have any idea how it was done. I guess  even flushing your drugs isn't safe anymore

  • The cops took photos of each of the rooms both  before and after the search, to serve as evidence  

  • that they didn't trash the place and thus couldn't  be blamed for property damage. Some things were  

  • damaged, either accidentally or on purpose for  things like checking behind a vent on a wall,  

  • and those items were notarized and later the  department would pay for repairs/replacement

  • The cops didn't find anything in my  room of course, but they found plenty  

  • in the other rooms. After the raid when they  took us to holding at lockup I was placed in a  

  • separate cell from my roommates as it became  clear that I was really telling the truth,  

  • and had nothing to do with my roommates. The  police carefully inspected all of my belongings  

  • in my room though to corroborate my story, and  the fact that I didn't own much but a large duffel  

  • bag and a second backpack with a few scattered  electronics definitely helped prove my innocence

  • The detectives sat down with me and had me givedetailed statement, which would later be used as  

  • evidence against my fellow roommates- most of  which were not going to be released that day.  

  • Yeah, sure, give me crap if you want, easy to be  a keyboard gangster or a G on the street until  

  • you face the very real possibility of prison timeLike I said, everyone narcs, and I was innocent

  • I told the cops I wanted to move out of the  house immediately, both for my own protection  

  • and because frankly, I wanted nothing more to do  with these guys and just wanted to get the hell  

  • away from this entire lifestyle. They gave mepolice escort as I returned to pick up my things,  

  • and then gave me a ride to a local motel socould check in. Within days I was already gone,  

  • moving further west and hoping  for a better start in California

  • While it was terrifying and any small mistake on  my part could have sent me to prison for years,  

  • I'm glad for the experience because I very quickly  changed who I hung out or even associated with.  

  • It's just not worth it, and I'd already  come close enough to losing my freedom.  

  • The guys I had roomed with? They found enough  drugs to put some of them away for over a decade,  

  • and remember, this wasn't even anything 'hard'. 

  • Like I said, it's just not worth it. Now it's time to learn about the crimes  

  • that'll get you the worst punishments around the  world, in Smallest Crimes That Will Get You The  

  • Biggest Punishments Around The WorldOr check out this other video instead!

I was twenty years old at the time, and had made  plenty of bad decisions I'm happy I grew out of  

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The Time Police Raided My House (Story)

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    Summer posted on 2020/10/12
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