CAUTION STAY 100 Meters Back Or You Will Be Shot - Page 9 (An Alaskan Homecoming)
An Alaskan Homecoming
The journey back to my native home was uneventful. It was winter when we arrived and very cold. The next day I went across the street to where Mike lived (apartments on Bodenburg) and made my presence known. We smoked some marijuana and talked about naked women and how we would get more marijuana.
what is your opinion on marijuana good or bad?
Mike invited me to coffee at the Valley Hotel in downtown Palmer. He was telling me about an older friend of his by the name of Bonnie Hartman. I had nothing to do, so I agreed to go. Mike was talking about how crazy this Bonnie friend of his was. He wanted to introduce us. We made it to the Valley Hotel and here was this older woman in her 40s sitting at a table with her two sons and another guy I was introduced to by the name of Arin Flim.
Mike and Arin were being very childish and acting as if they were subordinates to Bonnie. She in return would call them “******’ little retards.” Her oldest son “JJ” was a very vocal smart-ass. He and I got along quickly. That night Bonnie and I didn’t say much to each other. And Mike told me the next day that she didn’t like me at all. I wasn’t entirely surprised, and made little difference to me one way or the other.
That is until I was brought in fully to the reality that Bonnie sold weed.
Fortunately it was her oldest son that I became friends with first. For a week, Mike and I would show up at their small home in the Palmer Arms Apartments in the very center of Palmer intermittently. Every time we would go and have coffee with JJ.
Bonnie was starting to respect me. Mike would act like an out-of-control child and I could clearly see that she viewed him as a source of cheap entertainment. Whereas Bonnie and I actually started to engage in real conversation. So it was at this juncture where Bonnie and I became friends. It was quite funny that Mike feared her because she portrayed herself as a purely insane homicidal maniac to him. I could see it was an act on her part, and she confirmed this to me on several occasions.
Eventually it came to a point where she couldn’t tolerate him, and in a pre-planned event that JJ, her, and myself discussed. She invited Mike over while we were all there to witness the act. The poor guy came over, and was cordially invited to sit at the table in the kitchen.
He wasn’t expecting Bonnie to pull out a Bowie knife and stab it into the table in a way that scared the crap out of him. She had him thoroughly convinced that she was a female version of Charles Manson. While Bonnie was yelling at Mike for annoying her, we sat and listened and were quite amused. We knew that she wasn’t really going to do anything to him.
From that point on, I remained good friends with the Hartman family. Mike didn’t visit her anymore. Often Bonnie would take JJ and I to her daughter’s house on ********** Rd. We would enjoy the fruits of her homegrown weed there quite often.
In May of 1995 the next door neighbor kid started coming over to the house. He was bringing me startling amounts of weed for no cost at all. The kid was 12. I became suspicious that his father was growing marijuana.
A week later he invited me over to his while he was home alone. Ordinarily I would have never considered such a thing. But given the recent gift giving, I quickly accepted his invitation. The kid ordered us a pizza and offered up some weed to smoke. We just chilled for a bit, and he asked if I wanted to see his dad’s ‘garden.’ “Sure!” I said. I knew this would happen and the kid didn’t disappoint. I wanted to know where the grow room was so I could steal the weed later.
The kid opened the basement door and we walked down the steps into a very dark room. Then switched on a light and there was a large area covered in very mature plants that all had good sized buds on them. I attempted to talk the kid out of a good chunk of weed. But he said he wouldn’t because his father would notice the missing buds and beat him.
Soon after I returned home next door. Later that night I met with Bonnie and JJ, and told them of what I had witnessed earlier in the day. We all agreed we needed to visit my neighbors’ while they were gone.
On June 02, 1995 I decided that morning that I had to get the great weed caper accomplished. I opted not to get Bonnie involved, instead I called my friend Chris here in the Butte. He was an extremely overweight kid who rode on a three-wheeler. That ATV really did a good job of accenting his fat physique.
About 10 a.m. that morning Chris arrived at my house. He asked what I wanted. I stated my intentions to break-in and steal the neighbors weed. He reacted by telling me I was completely crazy. But I assured him
they were not at home. With a little bit of cajoling Chris finally consented to help me.
Within ten minutes we were at the neighbor’s kitchen door which had a window we could shatter to get in. I used a heavy tool to clear the window out of the way. From there I reached in, unlocked the door, and we were ready to harvest. Well, except for the one basement door made of plywood. I used a pry bar to rip out the door. Chris and I then went to the basement with a flashlight in my hand, a plastic garbage sack, and a few small cutting tools for the plants.
After making a few cuts on some plants, Chris got cold feet and fled. I was on my own in the neighbor’s basement. I furiously cut, until I filled the 33 gallon plastic bag.
I then escaped and made my way to the next-door empty property on the opposite side of the family homestead.
A lot of drama ensued. The neighbor suspected me, but I vehemently denied involvement. Even though on several confrontations I had his weed in my pocket.
It was this event that prompted me to join the Army National Guard to get away from the consequences of my actions. I made an appointment with a recruiter and the wheel went into motion. Basic training was scheduled for November, 1995.
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