Story Time in Current Events

I was just watching Antonio Garza’s latest video about the time she got arrested. It brought up an old memory of mine, the time I got arrested. So! story time:

First, I need to explain my city. Winnipeg is the murder capital of Canada. We also have a reputation as the most racist city in Canada. Yay us! Out here in my city, my people, first nations people, are the scum of the earth. The hate is real. So anyway, once upon a time when I just turned 19 I was arrested for robbing a convenience store. Was I guilty? Hell nah people, but this is what happened:

My siblings and I all lived with my mother at the time. My brother had a drug problem and I had an attitude problem and so we did not all live in harmony. This was a time before I had a good relationship with my mother. I was a monster to her back then. So! Anyway! My brother had these friends that called themselves thugs. I called those dweebs fugs because they was ugly as fuck. He brought them over all the time and they would steal from me, they would fuck their girls in my bed and they were so sure that they were complete gangsta’s. They were all around 13-17 at the time. I hated my mother for letting my brother have those people over. A lot of them are dead now actually. They either overdosed, committed suicide or were murdered. One of them had turned his life around and was shot point blank in the face with a shotgun in front of his daughter and his pregnant girlfriend. Another day another murder in my city. I was actually heartbroken about that one.

So this one night, in January, they all decided to rob a 7-Eleven for cigarettes. They all borrowed jackets from our home to disguise themselves and they then bear maced the cashier and stole all their cigarettes. My brother stayed home to let them in when they returned. I was asleep when I was woken up by a group of these fugs barging into my room, which I shared with my brother. A police officer had a dog follow their scent to our door. When he knocked on the door they all ran upstairs into my room to pretend that they had been asleep the whole time. My mother had a friend staying with us at the time. She was asleep in the living room until that knock on the door. When she answered it she told the officer that there must have been some mistake and she sent him away. She was a recovering crackhead that was staying with us while she was trying to get her life and family back together. She’s got street cred as the kids would say back then. She ain’t no snitch. Especially since her son was involved.

Now, there was a new fug in the group that night. He was an enormous native that was around my age. When the cop showed up that night he lost his shit. He started throwing and smashing things in my room like he was trying to get away… ugh. Also, he was wearing my coat. My brother calmed him down and the rest of the night was… calm? For me at least. I went back to bed. My mother was furious! So was her friend! My mother will never admit that she has “street cred” either so they spent the next day trying to come up with a story to tell the police, should they return and they also discarded of all the evidence. I was not impressed, I wanted my mother to turn everybody in. However, I was enjoying the free cigarettes. Also when I say that my mother has street cred I mean it. I don’t know what kind of life she led before she had me. I locked my keys in my car once while it was running and she swung by pissed off about it. That I had bothered her. She showed up with a screwdriver and broke into my car in two seconds and left. I was like… who are you?!

So anyway, the night after the robbery, I was sitting on the steps of our home in my winter coat and I was just smoking a cigarette before bed when 7 cop cars pulled up. I was like… oh shit and I went inside. Seconds after I closed the door it was kicked open and I was put into handcuffs and I was read my rights so fast that I could barely even remember that moment. I did ask to put my coat on and they refused to let me. They said that it was evidence. Turns out, my coat was the only one that my mother and brother did not discard. I never did get that $250 coat back. They put me in the back of the cop car, while I was in a t-shirt and it was -40c out and they left all the windows in the car open. They drove me around for over an hour telling me to confess. There is no need for an investigation if they have a confession right? They told me that they had me on camera and that I should confess. I told them that I did not lose 300lbs overnight and that I knew who they did have on camera but they did not care. They just wanted me to confess. I got to a point where I could not even speak because my teeth were chattering from being so cold. They eventually bring me to the police station where they did wrap a blanket around me on the way in to save a little face. So then they put me in a holding cell and wouldn’t let me use the bathroom without a confession. I said that I wanted a lawyer and they gave me a cordless phone and said I get one phone call. They did not even give me the yellow pages. I called the only number I knew by heart, which was my best friend. I don’t even remember our conversation.

When I sat in the holding cell I had nothing better to do but read all the names that were scratched into the table and walls. I counted all the ones that shared my last name and I remember thinking about how it was actually quite a lot. This is the life my mother was keeping us all from when she left my father and kept us away from that family. So anyway, they transferred me to a different station and into a different holding cell. This one had even more relatives carved into the walls. Then I heard some yelling and banging. My brother was in the cell next to me. My mother was in the cell next to him having an asthma attack. My sister was in the cell next to her and her boyfriend was in the cell next to her and my mother’s friend was in the cell next to that one. The only person missing was my other sister who came home from out of town just as we were all being taken away by the police. I was in there all night. My brother and my mother’s friend were screaming and acting like gangsta’s and I just could not sleep. I had to pee so bad.

Eventually, two officers come in and they were high as fuck. One even missed his chair and fell on his ass. They were laughing so hard that they had to excuse themselves. When they came back they wanted my statement. I was the last person to give a statement. I was ready to sell out my mother and my brother because I was so pissed about this but my mother used her power of white privilege and I was not allowed to include her and my white brother in my statement. For real y’all, they basically told me what to say in my statement. My mother and my brother’s involvement was to be kept out of this story. They gave me the names of the people that were involved, my brother’s fugs and I had to use those in my statement. #thriving.

So yeah, they waited a couple of years for these fugs to turn 18 and then charged them all for armed robbery. Including the son of my mother’s friend that was staying with us, the crackhead. She didn’t hate on us for that because she was absolutely terrified of my mother and also she was just thankful that my mother took her in. I do miss that woman sometimes but she was a baddie. She took advantage of my kindness quite a lot now that I think of it. She brought me to her house once shortly after she was released from jail. It was in a rough end of town and it was trashed by the kids in the neighbourhood. Those kids were waiting for her at her house and she got them to beat the shit out of the girl that we picked up on the way there. I did not see that coming and I was not able to stop it. That girl was the one who made the decision to trash her house apparently. That woman, my mom’s friend, used to steal shit whenever we went out somewhere. She would be slipping things into my pockets without me even realizing. I remember leaving Blockbuster and her taking several DVD’s out of my bag and I was like… wtf?! And there was a random block of parmesan cheese from the grocery store that we went to before that. I remember the night she relapsed. She kept getting me to walk with her down the street so she could meet her crack dealer. Then she would get me to keep an eye out while she smoked her cracked behind a garbage bin. She needed my cigarette ashes also. I did not know how to say no back then.

So yeah, my mom’s friend went to rehab and my mother got evicted because of that whole fiasco and my sisters moved out with their boyfriends and my mother took me and my brother with her to her new apartment. Where he continued to be a problem child and I eventually got a job in that area and I moved out on my own. My brother eventually got enough of his shit together to move out also. Until the day that he accidentally chopped his finger off at work. He picked his thumb up off that floor, through it in a bag with ice and made his way to the hospital. As soon as he was released from the hospital, without a bill y’all #freehealthcare, he went to a police station where he told his truth. That truth did not have anything to do with that robbery. He finally told us all about what was happening in his life during that time. The reason why he and his fugs were so messed up. My brother was 24 when he had that accident at work and he was thinking about what he was going through when he was 15-17. He decided that he had enough of hiding from it. When he told his story to the police the crown wanted his case. He was relocated to BC where he got the rest of his shit together and he remains sober to this day. He was flown back and forth between provinces for the next couple of years to give testimonies in court. He and his fugs put some serious criminals behind bars. Those men will be released one day and that is why my brother still lives in BC. It is also why his friend was shot in the face point blank with a shotgun. It is also why his other friends took their own lives. I’m not even allowed to talk about it because these men will be free one day and my brother is terrified about what could happen to us if they decide to go after the men that put them away. I’m not worried about it though. I’m just proud of my brother for getting clean and not turning into what his fugs have become. He got his power back. My relationship with him is not the best. During that time in his life, we hurt each other quite a lot. He would hurt me physically and I would hurt him mentally. My baby brother grew up to be bigger than me lol. But not smarter. If I could do my life over again I would have kept him close. I would have been the good influence that he needed. I would have been a good influence that everybody needed. But we’re all grown now and we’re all doing pretty well. My mother can sleep at night without having to worry about her children. I mean, I’m sure that she does.

But yuh, now I’m a baddie. In my city, I’m the head of game here. The pleasure and the pain yuh. I’m the queen of the gay mob Al-Gayda. They call me Mr. Bubbles because I’ll pop ya… lol jk I’m an unemployed, 33-year-old gay man who lives in his sister’s basement. This should be rock bottom for me but I’m just so proud to finally be boyfriend material. Anyway, I’ll leave this long ass boring entry alone now.
ta

Last updated June 12, 2019