The Case

by Lee Cunningham

  If he did make it out of prison alive, Heath had planned on dropping out of the life he had known, and starting over, in a different state. He thought he might go to Alaska and become a fisherman, or maybe a gold miner. It didn’t really matter, if he had no more reminders, and could free himself from the guilt and the pain…the incredible pain. He couldn’t handle the never ending guilt and pain in his mind, always reminding him of who he had become, and what he had done. And, he didn’t want to see any of his old druggy friends, the pieces of shit that had helped him along the path to his destruction.

  Shane had continued to visit him in prison, especially nearing the end of his term. And visiting, Shane brought reminders of all the pain. But, Shane’s visits, letters and phone calls also brought love and hope, even though Heath always reminded himself of the regret and shame.

  Shane had not given up on Heath, it seemed, so Heath had allowed himself to hope for the future, for a life. Shane told him he could either feed the regret and pain of the past, or feed the hope and promise of the future. Shane said, that the one he fed the most, would survive and devour the other. It was his choice. Heath knew then that he had a choice.

  But as always after the visit, Shane would leave the prison, and Heath would be alone, fighting for survival, alone once again. Heath thought how it hadn’t seemed fair, back then. Shane still had Pete, and his job, and hope, while he didn’t have anything that his brother didn’t provide for him. Heath finally realized he was no longer the man. He understood he would never be the man again. But he still had the craving for one thing the meth had provided...the feeling of being someone important. Maybe he could make it happen again. Sometimes he wondered.

  To make matters worse, he almost got “shanked” in prison by some low life biker who wanted Heath to be his “boy,” his “punk.” When Heath kept refusing, he made enemies with the biker. An “illegal,” also in prison for sales of meth, had stopped the biker dude by beating him senseless. He broke the shank off in the biker’s hand, sending him to the infirmary and out of Heath’s life for a while. The gang that backed his new friend were the cartel “muscle” for a heavy weight dealer. They had saved Heath, but now Heath owed them, big time.

  He started out hanging out with them, lifting weights in the gym. He began running and training again, using the track at the prison. These guys took care of Heath, and promised him they would set him up in business when he got out. They were going to pull him up again. He thought he was going to be the man again. One more time. He vowed he would be more careful, this time.

  Heath now lay in bed in the motel room, thinking back to how he had planned and trained every day in the joint. There wasn’t anything else to do. His crew was impressed by how fast he bulked up. He had always been athletic. He could run for an hour, without stopping, and still have plenty of reserve. His chest became massive and his biceps were huge. He was in the best shape of his life. With no meth to screw him up, even the craving had stopped. The crew, his crew, got him extra food, and he ate like a horse.

  And then finally, the long years in prison were over, and Shane picked Heath up at “the wall,” where released prisoners from this hell hole were handed over to loved ones, or a taxi, on their last day. Heath recalled praying that Shane would be there. He didn’t want to face that first day on the outside alone. He just couldn’t.

  And Shane never disappointed Heath. He had always been there for Heath, and Pete and Claire, and everyone. And, as much as he was elated to see Shane waiting for him when he walked out the gate, he was angry that Shane was there, waiting to pick him up, once again. Shane, the good son, rescuing Heath, the bad son, the prodigal son, the failure, once again.

  Heath had gone to work immediately for Shane’s friend, who owned a landscape business. It was a good business in California, and Heath knew landscaping architecture. He could make this work, he thought. But he would always be in debt to Shane, never free. And, there was the nightly craving, the insatiable desire to be high. It had returned. It had been hiding, while he was locked up in the joint, and working out. Now the meth told him he was free, and could do anything he wanted. It left him alone when he worked during the day. But then came the lonely nights, and the meth tormented him all night, sometimes even in his sleep.

  Meth said it could make him the big man once again, much easier than working himself up through the landscape business, starting from the bottom, with a boss to answer to all the time. After all, life was easy sitting in an apartment, watching TV all day, collecting food stamps, and living in federally subsidized housing, like his new neighbor…when you made a few thousand a week selling meth. But life was hard, when you went to work and busted sod all day, and then came home too tired to even watch TV. “What kind of choice was that?” meth taunted.

  Now meth reminded Heath he had the contacts from prison, the prison “bro” that was connected, and could intro him to a “family” that would give him a new start, in the business he really knew, the meth business. His prison bro had told Heath he could even arrange for Heath to own a landscape business, if Heath wanted. His friend, Bobby, said it would be the perfect cover.

  And meth reminded Heath that he still had his old drug contacts, and Heath would love to see them sweat out their embarrassment, seeing him on the top, again. They would come crawling to him for drugs. Then, he would be the one not returning their phone calls. What sweet revenge!

  A daily conflict began to rage in Heath as he struggled with these most difficult choices. He could be somebody again, in the world that had destroyed his life, or he could go straight. He had talked a big game in prison, to get close to some muscle that would protect him then. Now, he thought he must, at least, give the crew his old contacts to pay back his debt. It was quid pro quo. He had to repay, one way or another.

  But he was clean now, and knew he really hated the world of meth, full of its tweakers and phony friends, all looking to get high on someone else’s dime. He didn’t want to go back to that world of insanity. He wanted to pay his debts through the landscape business, and, with enough employees to run, maybe he could make these powerful new prison friends rich. Maybe that would be enough to repay his debts.

  But Heath feared they wouldn’t be interested in that kind of arrangement. After all they were gang members, drug dealers and cartel associates, not venture capitalists. And so, Heath feared the phone call that may come one day. He hoped and prayed it would not come, and suppressed the cravings. Once again, he turned to working out in the gym, and running.

  Heath had done well working for Shane’s friend, all the while planning and saving, waiting for an opportunity to take over the business. He was exceptionally good at this business. He had been on top before as a landscape architect, and found it to be a true work love.

  He had been an exceptionally good employee, and had endeared himself to the owner quickly. To his surprise, the opportunity presented itself, and he bought the business, agreeing to share profits with the owner for two years, while he purchased the business and equipment, using his share of the profit. In less than 3 months Heath had doubled the profit, and increased the crews dramatically.

  In less than two years, Heath had quadrupled the business, paid off his remaining debt with the owner, increased his employee’s wages, and set up a profit sharing plan for his workers. He had assisted eleven illegal aliens with obtaining a work visa. Once the business was his, everyone there asked to stay on and work for him. One of his leads, Manuel, said Heath was, “the man.” Soon, Heath received phone calls every week from people seeking employment, and a fresh start, with a good job. He was trying to do it all correctly, this time…for himself, and for his family.

  But today, Heath rolled over in bed, at his motel. He pulled the comforter over his head. Maybe, he hoped, he could go back to sleep to forget, a little while longer. But he just kept thinking back to the past, remembering.

  Heath had occasionally kept in touch with his prison buddies, especially Bobby, the one that had
promised to someday intro him into the “family” with all the connections. Finally, just as he feared, the call came, and Heath knew he had to explain to Bobby that he couldn’t go back. He had chosen to give up the easy-money drug world for the hope of a real life with his own business, in landscaping.

  Heath explained to Bobby that he had worked hard and purchased the company, and now could repay his prison debt with cash. He even offered to help some of Bobby’s crew who wanted a good life, when they were released. Bobby had just laughed at Heath and explained that the only career Heath would have was one in METH. And Bobby insisted. Bobby reminded Heath how well he knew the drug business, and had loved it. He said even now Heath must know he couldn’t resist it.

  Bobby had even threatened Heath, reminding him of the huge debt that was still unpaid…and that Bobby’s crew knew where Heath’s daughters lived. Bobby said it was all there waiting for him, calling to him, luring him once again, one last time. And in an instant, Heath knew he had to return to the drug world, for all the wrong reasons.

  So, he planned and compromised what he had fought to resist, hoping to do both for a little while, and then get out of meth once, and for all. He could leave the business to be run by a couple of the more trustworthy and sharp illegals he had hired. Manuel could run the business as well as he could. Two of his foremen were maybe as good, or even better, than Heath at supervising the crews. He could negotiate, purchase and arrange delivery of product by phone, whenever he had to be involved. He thought he could pull this off, just maybe, and be the good man once again, doing it the right way. If he could only get enough money, maybe he could even pay Pete back, he had thought.

  Finally, the day of the meet and “intro” came, and Heath had driven to Sacramento to meet his buddy from prison, Bobby Saldana. It was an Indian summer hot day in late October, the year before Shane had taken the job in Carson City. He and Bobby sat talking at a pizza restaurant, located off I-80, on the outskirts of Citrus Heights, sharing a beer like two old friends. Bobby had asked Heath to bring a list of dealers he knew in the Sacramento area. These were the “safe” dealers Heath had bought from, or sold to, in the old days. These guys were all good experienced dealers, careful who they dealt with, and they all only dealt serious weight. Heath knew most of them very well.

  Bobby had been impressed, and quickly arranged for a second meeting, with his bosses, to be held a few days later. But that first night, Bobby took Heath out to dinner at a nice restaurant in downtown Sacramento. Bobby paid for everything, including an $80 steak and lobster dinner, and a bottle of wine, that cost twice that much. Heath said he didn’t want to do any drugs. Bobby explained he and his boss were all about the money, not partying.

  And Bobby warned that if Heath “came in” with the family, there was no using. Being a druggy wouldn’t be tolerated. It was literally a death sentence. His boss was just about the money, lots of money, with no distractions. Bobby assured Heath that if he worked out, there would be no end to the money. Bobby said Heath could finally have everything he ever wanted.

  Over the next few days, Heath called all his old dealers, this time offering not to purchase, but to intro them to a big-time mover, one who could supply them with all the cheap meth they could sell. Heath arranged twenty-two meetings where he intro’d Bobby to his old suppliers, one at a time. Bobby provided sample “8 balls” to every one of them. Bobby explained the 1/8-ounce sample of meth was a gift, with no strings attached. A simple goodwill gesture, with more to follow, was all that Bobby wanted from each meeting. Each dealer weighed and tested the product, and found that it was indeed, 3.5 grams of nearly pure methamphetamine.

  Bobby explained that the gesture accomplished two purposes. It proved Bobby wasn’t a cop or a “CI” (confidential informant), and it allowed the dealers to sample the quality of the meth. Bobby promised it would be both higher quality than what they were currently buying…and 1/3 cheaper than the price they were currently paying to any of the cartels. Bobby offered each person who dealt with his group only, a guaranteed lower price and “protection,” from both the law and the cartels. He provided each dealer with enough information to convince them that his deal was for real, and he could deliver what he promised.

  By the end of the week, all twenty-two dealers agreed to purchase, solely from Bobby and his group. Bobby arranged for one more meeting at the end of the week. At the same pizza store on the way out of town, Bobby introduced Heath to his boss, Hector Alvarez. Hector had already received purchase orders from Bobby for nearly 500 pounds of meth from these new dealers.

  Once the first trial deals were made, all twenty-two dealers agreed they could move between 15 and 100 pounds per month, each. These dealers had been paying $13,000 per pound to one of the cartels for their supply. Bobby’s group was charging $10,000, and providing additional benefits. Everyone stood to make a killing, and spread more meth on the street than ever before. All the dealers could grow, in both size and wealth. It looked like a win-win for everyone. And they all had Heath to thank.

  Hector had given Heath a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and handed him a large, heavy zippered bag. He welcomed him into the family, and said they would be in touch with additional instructions. Heath could take it easy for a few days, and take care of his landscape business. Hector promised they would talk more about the business in the future, and agreed to consider helping Heath expand the landscape business, which he could still run, apart from the world of drugs.

  At that first meeting with Hector he instructed Heath to go celebrate and to buy a nice, used, half-ton pick-up. Hector wanted him to drive something more reliable, but not too flashy. Hector told him to call Bobby after he made the purchase, to advise Bobby what type and color truck he was driving. He told Heath to buy a matching camper shell in the same color as the pick-up, and to make sure that both the tailgate and the camper shell were lockable.

  Hector said the money for the truck and Heath’s first payday, were both in the bag. And with that, the meeting was adjourned, and Bobby gave Heath a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. Heath recalled thinking it would take time to get used to the kissing thing.

  Heath left the meeting, and sat in his old “beater” pick-up. He unzipped the bag. There were two bundles of money in the bag. One bundle counted out at $50,000, and had a typed note that read, “Welcome to the family. Your first months’ pay. Keep up the good work!” The second bundle counted out at $40,000, and had a typed note attached that read, “Buy a nice one, not too flashy, with a matching and lockable camper shell. Do it tomorrow. Relax tonight. H.”

  Heath remembered how he had sat, looking at the bundles of money sitting in his lap. He had been paid $50,000, and got a new pick-up, for less than one week’s work. He had never made that much in a month selling meth before, and he hadn’t even had to handle any drugs…and yet it terrified him, and he hated it.

  What he had been able to do this time, was to arrange for Sacramento area dealers to commit to selling nearly $1,000,000,000 in street value drugs, for their new cartel, in the first year of business. The change would allow the cartel to take over the area market and eventually control most illicit drugs in central California. The cartels projected yearly take, as the market expanded, and competition diminished, would grow exponentially. Heath really was “the man” again, and he feared things would be different this time, even worse than before.

  He had picked up the zippered bag to throw it on the rear seat. He noticed the bag was still heavy. He looked inside. There was a box in the bag, covered by a shop rag. He took it out and opened it. It contained a .45 caliber semi-auto handgun with extra magazines and ammunition.

  The attached typed note read, “For your protection. Practice and get good with it. We’ll be in touch. H.”

  Heath recalled how he suddenly realized, that there must be some additional risk he would need to take in the future, if he needed a gun. A bolt of fear coursed through him like a lightning strike. His hair stood on end. He knew at that moment, wh
atever he had gotten into…regardless of what they asked him to do, he just couldn’t go back to prison. Not again. At that very instant, he wondered if he had already blown his chance at a normal, happy life.

  He had been both excited and scared. He stuffed the gun back in the box and placed it, and the cash, back in the zippered bag, with the cash on top. He remembered thinking about what he should do at that exact moment. He was an ex-felon in possession of a handgun…but he was in the People’s Socialist Republic of California, as the convicts nicknamed the state. They didn’t even deport illegal felons with multiple convictions, in possession of firearms. They wouldn’t do anything with him if the cops found the gun, anyway. He figured he might go to jail, but he would just bail out the next day.

  He had decided quickly, and drove to the closest car dealer he could find in the area. A short two hours later, he had agreed to trade his “beater” pick-up for a two-year old, half-ton pick-up, with less than 5,000 miles on it, paying the $33,000 difference in cash. The prior owner had purchased a matching and lockable camper shell, and had just traded the whole outfit in on a new truck an hour earlier. Heath would pick the truck up the next day, once it was checked by the dealer. He had settled into his new role, and successfully passed the first test, he thought. He had immediately called Bobby, and reported his purchase.

  Heath also remembered not knowing what to do next, and how he had driven around in his new ride the following morning, getting to know it, and feeling somewhat better about the whole affair. Eventually, he decided to go to his bank, and put $6,000 in his checking account. He had then opened his safe deposit box. He placed the $50,000 in the box, with a note to Shane directing that should anything happened to him, the money would go to Pete.

  He would leave Shane directions to the bank later, with a letter of authorization for the bank to allow him access to the box. He had already placed Shane on the paperwork at the bank, giving Shane access and control of his accounts and the safe deposit box. He was planning redemption, using ill-gotten gains. He knew he wasn’t quite “healed” yet, but he felt a little better.