the year is early 1998. i had just moved to morley from balga and was having a hard time adjusting to finding new spots to
cop stuff at and my boy from balga introduces me to a house across from bayswater waves swimming pool. open house. big
sticks. big 2 points for fifty bucks, even though that didnt interest me.
anyway, my boy introduces me to, lets just call him 'shawn' for identification purposes. now, shawn was half maori and half
aboriginal and was adopted into an aboriginal family coz he was pretty much an orphan. top guy, but a potential loose cannon.
i acquaint myself with shawn and end up there at the business/house pretty much everyday, copping sticks and smoking them
there. shawn, was quite generous in return, shouting me quite a few sessions n alcohol n what not.
anyway, shawn was the king of the business's little brother. the kings name was, lets just call him steve. steve was an ex
state champ boxer, golden gloves n all that shit. went to school with johnny kizon in balga n shit. during his boxing days,
he was loved by the whole criminal underground due to him being from balga and having a couple of other brothers who were
also reknown for crime, namely the KGB crew of the mid to late eighties.
so steve buys shawn a car one day, and to celebrate, shawn invites me and my boy from balga over for a night of drinking n
smoking. shawn is unable to leave the house coz hes selling and the customers are too sheisty and frequent to bounce from the
crib for a minute. shawn was like a footsoldier. his 'manager' at the house was a burly tat covered bikie looking dude by the
name of jimmy.
jimmy was a mad junkie, but a staunch guy. jimmy had been sleeping all day in what we used to call a 'deep sleep coma' due to
being awake on meth for like a week. so, me, my boy from balga, and shawn were pretty much the only ones awake at the spot.
shawn asks us to go up to the bottleshop to grab a carton of lemon ruskies for tonight in his new car. we gladly go and
return uneventfully. so, we slowly start drinking... careful not to get too into it as customers are constantly coming n
after 10:30pm, business starts to taper off a little bit and shawn starts drinking with us properly. i remember being the one
packing the bongs at the table. so after just under an hour and a half of doing this, we hear a mad loud knock at the door. i
look at the clock. smack bang 12 midnight. shawn checks the door asking who the fuck is it. police answer, yelling to open up
immediately. we rush into a frenzied panic.
i empty the bowl of weed we were smoking out of the window and shawn runs around, making sure theres no evidence of drug
dealing laying around, which is pretty impossible. then, he asks us, "we clean?" and we thought we were. he goes to open the
i look at the table.
the bong is right infront of me.
i quickly throw it out of the window hoping for it to land in the sand in the backyard. it doesnt. instead, it smashes on
concrete slabs. cops come in. straight out, they start roughing up shawn. theres atleast 30 cops involved in this raid. they
find something to charge shawn with, i forget what and hes in handcuffs on the couch in the loungeroom surrounded by a
handful of cops questioning him about steve and anything n everything.
they discover jimmys room. the door is locked as you cant trust any junkie customers at all and plus, jimmy is asleep inside.
they keep swearing at us to open the door. we tell them, its locked from the inside and jimmy is in there asleep. they bust
the door open. jimmy is still in there asleep, totally oblivious to the raid. they start shaking him. no response. finally,
8+ cops stand over jimmy with the maglites all focused on jimmys face. he wakes up. he's sleeping on a shotgun. they ransack
his room and put all the illegal items on the dining table. by this time, shawn is being escorted away from the premises to
the police station via a paddywagon and jimmy is being questioned by some detectives in his room.
now, jimmy was on a 3 year suspended sentence for previous charges meaning technically, he should be going to jail for 3
years right now, no questions. i didnt know this though. neither did my boy from balga. they take all his illegal items
including thousands of dollars in rolled up bundles. then all the cops bounce. jimmy is left behind. he tries calling steve,
but its like 2am by now and steve is a man with a family and is asleep. so instead, jimmy gets one of his shady co-horts to
come round and drink with him.
when dude rocks up, jimmy offers me and my boy a drink too. my boy declines, but i accept. so, we're drinking drambuie at
like 2:30am, smoking 16mg cigs and making a game of it. each round is a lap of the racetrack. me n jimmy are in the lead.
everyone else pulls into the pits. we finish the bottle.
jimmy show us a jar of pure psuedoephedrine that the police didnt take coz it looks just like water. i eventually pass out at
like 430am in the loungeroom and the next morning, jimmy fucks off mad early, before steve rocks up. when steve arrives, he
already knows what happened last night. he asks where jimmy is. we have no idea. shawn goes through court that day and a
condition of his bail is that he is not allowed to reside or even be at the business house. instead, he stays with his sister
up in beechboro on turon street.
during that day, steve is at the house, trying to organise a re up on business. he's short 1 footsoldier and 1 manager
straight off the bat, so thats his first priority. he calls his uncle peter, who's in his mid 40s, overweight, and sells
sticks out in mandurah. thats steves new manager. then, he turns to me, the guy who's been giving him all the details of the
nights events and asks if i want a job. im all like 'hell yeah', figuring its wayyy better than stealing. so steve continues
to try n get the business hooked up with product and while doing this, he gets a very interesting phone call.
police... calling him asking him if hes got gear for them.
he abuses them and hangs up. he calls shawn immediately asking who the fuck gave cops his number. shawn is no dog and pretty
much steves brother but he has no idea how they got his number. then it clicks.
we figured that when the cops were questioning jimmy, they squeezed him for steves number so he didnt get locked up for 3
years. jimmy dogged it.
we listen to the police scanner and hear a call about jimmy that day. he's in bayswater with his woman threatening to kill
people. police are now looking for him, aswell as us. cops find him first.
eventually, steve gets a hold of speed n weed n i start my job as a drug dealer.
now, after that first initial raid, which we find out to be mirrabooka police, they get a mad hard on for us. they had a 30
day warrant and they proceed to raid every second day. on the day they didnt raid, they would just 'visit'. i still remember
the cops name. senior sargeant highfield. a right asshole.
uncle peter was mad smart on the cop game. he had a million n one tricks for evading drug squads. ant powder in the carpet to
fuck up sniffer dogs noses. shit like that. so, while the cops are raiding like crazy, theyre finding absolutely fuck all. i
make sure to learn all of peters tricks and even make a few of my own. we eventually try n get the cops charged for
harrassment, blaming all the drug dealing on jimmys snitching ass. it works. the warrant expires and snr sargeant highfield
is demoted to first class constable. we dont fuck around though, and get the idea to move the business to a new house.
this seems like an awesome idea coz they'd been selling out of that house for atleast a good 5 years. we decide to move to
where shawn is staying at in beechboro. it was his and steves sisters house, all government housing. we trade houses with
her. she moves into broun ave, we move into turon street. shes reimbursed for her trouble. we have one of us stay at broun
ave, giving the customers the new address. on my 2nd day of doing this, i notice police trying to pick up customers and
squeeze them for affidavits saying that we're selling. cops get nothing, and i tell every customer to tell the cops we've
shut down shop. while sitting on the front porch that night, i see the undercover cops drive past. i flip the bird at them.
they quickly do a u turn and pull into my driveway. i immediately tell them "you aint getting nothing from them are you?"
they respond with a diatribe about how theyre trying to save my ass coz im operating on a bikie gang called the gypsy jokers
territory. i laugh in their face and tell them to, and i quote "fuck off".
now, at turon street, we ran a tight ship. it was me, shawn and a new manager, chris. chris was just a lil older than me and
shawn so we were like 3 gangster ass bachelors who basically had the busiest drug spot on the west coast...easily. all of us
under 25. well me and shawn were like 18. me n shawn would take turns running shifts, and chris would run some shifts
inbetween dropping off cash and picking up more merchandise from steve.
turon street was instantly bustling with loads more traffic. neighbours noticed. i remember always frequenting a local corner
store for junk food n i got a sausage roll that gave me food poisoning for 2 weeks. after a very busy 3months, we eventually
get raided by first class constable highfield from the mirrabooka police station....again. he was mad pissed we got him
demoted. i was still sick with food poisoning when this happened. i had just finished my shift, and had just gotten paid from
dealing. i was waiting for chris to come back from a drop off n to take me to bayswater train station so i could go spend my
pay in the city, buying shoes, clothes, cds, new bongs n shit like that. chris gets pulled over up the street, so he couldnt
even warn us.
at this time, we had 2 brothers working for us, to give me and shawn more time to spend the cash we were making. lets call
these 2 brothers addy mac, and mac addy. they were from the country and always needed their hands held on deals coz their
math skills were bad.
addy mac was supposed to running this shift. he has 2 packets of speed left when highfield busts in. he chucks the 2 packs in
the ripped up couch and thinks they wont find it. i know they will. police immediately rush me and start talking shit to me.
shawn wasnt at home at this time and so he was safe from any charges. the only one cops recognise is me. when highfield
busted in, i saw something in his eyes that i have only seen in the eyes of a thief when he breaks into a store. that gleam
of desperation and eyeing anything and everything rapidly. i like to call it 'junkies eye gleam'.
i figured he was just desperate to catch us in the act. i get taken into my room and strip searched, and while ransacking the
house, they find a bunch of stolen goods in my room. not really giving a fuck, i gladly accept accusations of receiving
stolen goods. highfield is in the loungeroom, ransacking the couches and finds my 600 bucks on the floor in a sunglasses
case. he immediately rushes to my room where im just doing up my belt and confronts me about it asking 'wtf is this?". with
an apathetic sheepish grin, i reply, thats my dole(welfare) money. he retorts with a punch to the face. i fall back and look
at him puzzled, like WTF? i stare at the cop who just strip searched me in disbelief and tell him, 'you saw that shit, thats
police brutality'. he just laughs and highfield joins him in the laughter. i proceed to call them both fuckin' pig dog cunts.
highfield returns to the loungeroom and proceeds to search. he finds 1 electric cattle prod, 4 machetes, 2 samurai swords n
some knives. knowing that im already copping a charge for the stolen goods, i take it upon myself to own these weapon charges
too, as i figured addy mac n mac addy wouldnt be able to hang in a cop shop without giving up someone.
police continue searching and find the 2 packets addy mac chucked in the couch. i really didnt want to cop an amphetamine
charge, especially when i didnt even use the shit and i wasnt even working it at that exact moment.
i look at addy mac n mac addy n give them a dirty look. i tell the cops, it wasnt mine, i dont know who the fuck it belonged
to and told them it was probably jimmys from months back coz it was the same couch from broun ave. they dont buy that but i
stick to it. they say they're going to charge someone for it and tell us to sort out who that will be. i give addy mac n mac
addy another dirty look. i tell the cops, it aint mine, but if you have to charge someone with it, then it might aswell be
so, the cops, happy that they have gotten enough loot for the day, decide to haul me away to mirrabooka police station, which
is ages away from beechboro. as theyre doing so, steve rocks up, alerted by chris that the police are there. cops aint got
shit on steve....ever. but they know hes the boss. they talk shit to him as they put me in the back of an undercover car. i
tell chris n steve that im going to mirrabooka police station n that i might need bail. they nod.
as the cops are taking me there, one cop tells me that he hates steve with a passion. he says that when he trains at his
local police and youths club (pcyc) in balga that they have pictures all over the walls of steve there in his boxing days. he
says it pisses him off and he wants them to get taken down. he also adds that he would pummel steve in the boxing ring to
which i respond with a "pfffffft...2 of his younger brothers would beat the shit out of you, let alone steve himself". his
colleagues agree, to which he responds with, "yeah, but i would just use this" and points to the semi automatic pistol on his
hip. i call him a bitch from the backseat and get taken to the police station.
while there, highfield tells me he doesnt want to charge me for the amphetamines. he says he wants to help me out. yeah,
right....but i really dont want that amphetamine charge. he says, he will either charge me for the amphetamines or the
receiving stolen goods. i take the stolen goods charge, which was a bad mistake now that i look back at it, but i know what
motivated me that way.
it was the junkie eye gleam. i knew what highfield wanted. he wanted that speed. he didnt want to write up the speed in the
evidence log at all. he wanted it for himself. i let him have it so i wouldnt get shit cop behaviour and so i could get the
fuck outta there without getting beat up more. he tells me i would have to say no speed was taken. i decline a video
interview anyway, get processed, and get released the fuck outta the police station and walk down to mirrabooka bus station.
i see some peeps i know there from my thieving days. i give them daps and tell them the score. i call a cab, and bounce the
fuck back to beechboro.
once back in beechboro, i see that business is back on already. i give everyone the lowdown on what happened and we go into
damage control. less than a week after the raid, we get mysterious government cars up n down the street. we identified them
as the local housing authority. they issue us with a notice to get out of the premises and if we dont, steve n shawns sister
will forever lose this house and police will evict us anyway and potentially charge us in the process.
this doesnt sit well with us. not knowing what else to do, we decide to move back to broun ave, the old spot. barely there
for a week, and we get word from a prostitute customer that cops are squeezing customers already. she says she got squeezed
and gave us up. chris pimp slapped her n told her never to return. shawn knew what was coming and bailed on business for an
outback bush vacation. loyal to the business, i stayed with addy mac.
addy mac was a speed junkie himself. it was a wintery morning, around 11am. i was watching the windows for customers and
cops. shawn calls me and sings "the heat is on" by glen frey through the telephone. i call him an asshole and hang up.
meanwhile, addy mac is in the back laundry with his cousin linton. theyre shooting up speed with syringes.
then, i spot something.
for what seemed to be minutes in my head i was thinking "jehovahs witnesses". suits with no coats, and ties flying in the
breeze. walking in a pack of 4. i snap the fuck out of it and identify them as detectives and immediately rush towards the
back laundry where addy mac n linton have just disposed of a syringe down a floor drain. yelling "cops, cops, get the fuck
outta the way"... addy mac immediately turns and runs out the back door.
at the time i had a full grown, fully trained rednose pitbull by the name of tyson. best dog i have ever had. i tell it to
attack shit, and it did. the neighbours behind us had a nasty habit of jumping the back fence to score drugs. we didnt like
that, so one day i skitched tyson on them. they were running for the back fence like mice trying to escape a cat. anyway,
tyson saw addy mac run for the back fence and instinctively, chased after him. addy mac was too quick for tyson, as he caught
him by surprise, but i was kinda ripe for the picking. just as im about to jump the fence, i feel a tugging on my adidas
shorts. fuckin' tyson. i yell at him n kick him off and jump the fence.
i land awkwardly, and a matchbox filled with 2 eightballs made into packets falls out along with my ericsson ga 318 phone. i
keep running through my back neighbours backyard. i hit their front gate with a vicious nature and clear it with the
quickness. now, all that is infront of me is a small park and a busy walter road west. i get to see addy mac again. hes
already half way across the park. being a fulltime weed n cig smoker, i try to keep legging it, but i can feel a stitch
forming beneath my ribs already. i try to push past it. now, im half way across the park and addy mac has already crossed
walter road west and is in side streets.
i look back to see a cop, dressed in a suit minus coat, jumping the same gate i jumped. i attempt to run harder, but my lungs
are protesting and the stitch is getting insanely bigger. i dont stop though. at this point in time, i had a epiphany.
this shit is like a motherfucking movie. me, urban young youth drug dealer. him, cop chasing me with his tie flying over his
shoulder as he ran. shits a motherfucking movie.
i get to walter road and im trying to cross while not getting run over by a bus and running along side the road. the cop
catches up and by this time, my lungs are fucked. i try to cat n mouse my way around him but he just straight up tackles me
down and drops his knee into my back.
cop cars flock all over the park. mad cars are slowing down to watch me be arrested by like 15 cops. they drag me back to the
house and interrorgate. again with the strip search. i call them fags for it. afterwards, they sit me down on a bunkbed we
had in one of the rooms. it had metal tubing with plastic stops over the ends to make it look nice. we used to put rolls of
cash in the tubing and replace the plastic cap. that day, i know i stashed 8 grand in 1 side and the other had atleast 10
grand. cops kept asking me where all the money was at. they only got me with like 450 bucks in my pocket n 30 sticks. i put
my hands up in the air, each one right next to the metal tubing containing the cash and tell them "i aint got shit for yall".
theyre oblivious and im smiling in their faces.
i find out that the raid is a joint venture between morley police and 79th division of the city. 79th division is like a
major crime squad.... usually strictly for serious cases.
morley police provided intel on us, which included not using the front door as we had ours mad reinforced at a cost of like 2
grand. while still at the house, morley police told me that they didnt care where the fuck we went, just aslong as we were
out of their area. another cop gloats to me about the guy that caught n tackled me. 'youre one unlucky bloke, that officer
plays for east perth football club'. i comment to the cop that tells me this that he is wayyy too much of a fat fuck to ever
catch me and that he should lay off the donuts. i catch a punch to the gut. such a low blow seeing as i had both hands
handcuffed behind my back. 79th division then take over the arrest and take me to an undercover car. 2 cops. 1 detective, one
constable. detective in plain clothes and the constable in uniform.
on the way to the city, i eavesdrop on these 2 cops having a conversation. it went something like this.
uniform: you know, theres talk around the station that you took an extra 2 last week.
plain clothes: yeah, but we all took 2.
uniform: yeah, but theyre saying that you took an EXTRA 2.
the plain clothes detective went to retort before they both remembered im sitting in the back seat. they ask me if i heard
anything to which i respond with a 'heard what?'.
playing dumb can be an asset.
they take me to curtin house in the city and we go up to the 4th floor. i get put in a plexiglass holding cell in the middle
of their desk filled offices. they go to talk amongst themselves. i notice that their demeanour has become quite friendly.
i think to myself. how the fuck am i going to get back to morley?
they return and ask me if all the money seized was mine. i get to thinking, i need cab fare. either way, ive lost that money.
i should shoot for getting back to morley. i say 50 bucks was my dole (welfare) money. they look at eachother. they tell me
they'll see what they can do about that and ask if i want a smoke or a coke. i accept both. they go to get them.
now, all government buildings in australia are strictly smoke free. its a law n shit. i didnt have any cigarettes on my
person when i was arrested, yet they came back with a winfield red and a can of coke. i smoke n guzzle. while i do so, they
inform me that the only way i would be able to get that 50 bucks back is to say that no money was seized in a video
interview. remembering what highfield did before, i agreed. i do a video interview and in it, they make a point of asking me
if any money was seized in the interview. i smirk, look at both of them and say no. afterwards, these pigs are being mad nice
to me, like a long lost nephew or some shit. i just wanna get the fuck back to the spot. they process me, and im released.
on the elevator back down, the plain clothed detective escorted me. in the elevator, he opens his wallet. theres my 450
bucks. he pulls out 50 bucks and gives it to me along with his card. he tells me that if i ever get in trouble with ANY cops,
to give them his card and he would sort it out for me. as soon as i got out of that elevator, i ripped that card up. i still
remember his name though. detective michael bone. what a pig he was.
i catch a cab back to the spot and go straight to the backyard and retrieve my phone and the matchbox. i call addy macs phone
to see what happened to him. he hit the side streets, jumped some peoples fences and stole random clothes off of their
clothes line in the process, to change his identity. smart move. he makes it all the way back to turon street undetected. he
tells me when he was half way across the park, he could feel himself slowing down. then, he says, the amphetamines kicked in
and his arms started pumping harder as he ran faster. i remember thinking... "you lucky bastard".
ok, thats enough. i have plenty more stories that happened during this same time frame plus before and after but its like
4:30am and i need more caffeine and nicotine simulation.