I was born an American to Nigerian parents and the reason I am in prison today is ‘cos of trauma.
I am serving a 15 year prison term and I will tell you this, I feel safe, I feel secure here in the prison.
Here’s my story.
Being an American citizen made me easy target for drug lords looking to move packages around the world. And I was that stupid kid who didn’t even realise it!
My friend and I, who also had Nigerian parents but born in the US were recruited by a drug lord. Now I’m not gon’ mention the Boss’s name, I got into deep shit already, though that’s been taken care of but you don’t need that for this story, right, you just need the basics.
I won’t reveal too much, even the name I bear here is an alias, not my real name and when I leave the prison, I have been guaranteed a witness protection program and I ain’t blowing that shit for you!
Anyway, so my friend, let’s call him Big Ben or BB for short cause he was a big black dude, six four, yeah. We thought we was smart, we thought what we needed was cool rides, throw huge pool parties, smoke weed and skip school.
But that’s how you become easy target for pimps looking for couriers. Being an America citizen opens doors for you, you enter into many countries without visas. We was gullible, stupid boys at 19, sagging trousers and skipping school to smoke dope!
‘Grain’, that’s the name of the brother from the hood who got us into this shit! He was a tall, skinny, black and scary guy who chased us down one day for talking to his girl. At that time, we didn’t realise it was a ploy to get to us, to frighten us into submission to what he truly wanted us to do for him. So, after he roughed us up, he made us a proposal we couldn’t resist.
The proposal? Courier drugs from Africa to America and the Caribbean. The money looked good, the chances of being caught, slim. BB and I did the trip twice, we got big bucks, I mean cool neat, fxxxking bucks for these. The American dream was looking like it could be a reality for us. Now, the thing with being a courier is you get used to easy money quickly and so did we.
On our third trip, we were supposed to pick up packages in Europe and bring to Yankee. Again we went, got the packages and headed home, cleared through security, nothing detected and we got back to base. Our packages were weighed and it was discovered that BB’s packaged was five kilos short!
How the hell did that happen?
This ain’t true! We denied tampering with the packages but those niggas didn’t believe us. We was dragged before the big boss, tied to a pole and beaten, for more than 6 hours!
We cried and begged and told them over and over again that ‘hey man, ain’t skimming you off your shit! Stop this!’
So you know it was BB’s package that ran short, right? So he got more beat up than me. But I swear, BB did nothing to those packages, I think the guy from the other end is ‘ponsible for this. So they made me watch as they continued to bludgeon my friend BB. Those mudafukas made me watch!
BB soon became a bloody blub; he was barely even speaking, his eyes were swollen with blood, his arms and legs broken, his …shit!
I was made to watch, I would pass out, those bastards would revive me to continue watching, until BB died, yeah, he wasn’t moving no more, he was just like meat full of blood.
So now, these mothafuckin bastards didn’t stop at that, they cut him up; yeah, they began to cut him to pieces; they cut him up like you dice meat, like he was some beef, some meat for a restaurant. And I was made to watch.
I was released to go home.
You know what that kind of sick shit does to the mind? Yeah, it messed me up big time!
So now a few days later, I was called up by ‘them’ big boss to go pick up more packages from South America. It’s not safe for me to mention specific details cause like I told you, my life is in danger.
Ok, so now these sick bastards got me by the balls because they would do what they did to BB to me. I can’t tell if indeed BB’s package was truly short by five kilos, what if it was all a ploy to make me do their bidding all the time? These are sick bastards, you know!
So this got me thinking.
I knew I had to give myself up to the authorities. I went outta the country, I got the dope, I weighed it, crossed check to be sure I got the right kilos, cause I didn’t want any nigga fxxxing me up! When I landed back home, I walked straight to security and turned myself in.
Yeah, I did just that!
I told them I was carrying dope, I told them what it weighed, I told them I had done three trips so far, I told them who sent me, named names, location, all of them niggas who killed my BB, I ‘fessed up, mehn, I did!
I was arrested of course, charged to court after some and my lawyer got me a plea deal. I got a reduced sentence from 25 years to 15 years, cause I busted the shit wide open. Been given an anonymous identity, so you don’t know shit!
Yeah, I’ve done five and I still have lots of prison years to do but as soon as I am done, will enter into the witness protection program.
That’s the only way this black ass of mine gon’ be safe. What this also boils down to is me never seeing my folks ever again; small price to pay for not getting chopped up like some piece of meat!
