CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
2000- The Take-Down Part II
The cops hustled me into the squad car and took me down to the 79th Precinct. I just kept repeating the same story over and over and over.
“I had absolutely no idea those guns were in there. And a friend of a friend asked me to store some stuff for them in my front closet. That’s not my backpack and those aren’t my laptops.”
“I usually travel most of the week and there’s a bunch of different people who watch my apartment for me. They stop by to water my plants and get my mail for me!"
“I would never have any kind of weapons in my house, ever!”
This was the “detainee” version of my white girl script.
Once at the precinct, I was interrogated by local police, someone from the DA’s office and agents from the ATF and HRA. They told me if I gave up names, they’d forgive the miniscule amount of heroin they’d found and let me off the hook with probation only. I just rolled my eyes and stuck to my story, that I didn’t know anything about any guns or EBT cards. That I’m usually not there on the weekends so I didn’t know what was going on and had no idea who was responsible for either. They continued trying to wear me down. I refused to cave. I have never been a snitch.
It was a horrific day at the precinct. After all the various law enforcement teams gave up on drilling me, they stuck me in a hot holding cell with this drunk lady who’d pissed on herself. July 4th is a shitty day to be stuck in the 79th Precinct.
9 hours later, I was transported to another holding cell- this time at the courthouse. I’m pretty sure that’s where I went, but really, I have no idea. Even though I’d been keeping my dope usage down to bare bones level, withdrawals were hitting me pretty bad at that point and I was just trying not to throw up all over the place. Eventually, they hauled me over to Rikers.
I knew with the guns and the EBT shit and my refusal to name names, there was no way I’d be eligible for bail.
