I was arrested on December 10th 2009, after an unfortunate accident encouraged by alcohol. That evening I had just come off the plane from New York City and I was dying to get drunk, but getting drunk almost made me die. As soon as I got back to my apartment I opened a bottle of vodka and had my once usual drink of vodka mixed with a slight touch of water. After the elixir hit my brain I started making bad decisions. I left the apartment around midnight and went to my favorite hang out at the time Octopus Lounge. At the bar I downed many glasses of vodka and cranberry juice, at that point I never needed to tell the bartender my order, I was such a regular by this point that they just knew. After a few hours of drinking and mingling I left the bar and went home with plans to go to the afterhours later on. At home I continued to drink the vodka that was waiting for me in my regular routine when I got a call from my friend/customer that will remain nameless. He wanted to come and pick up a bag of cocaine and as a prevalent dealer of such I was equipped. He arrived shortly after 3:30am and we hung out a bit and drank before he made his purchase and left. By that point I was very inebriated and high off of excessive amounts of weed. My plans were still to go to my beloved afterhours but the plans changed when I passed out. When I awoke I was being taken out of the apartment by firemen and brought downstairs to my landlord’s office. I was baffled, confused and very groggy from the indulgence, especially since there was a police officer waiting for me in the office. I realized by the fire alarms and the fire trucks outside that there was a fire but was puzzled by the fact that no one else from my building was outside. The officer told me it was because the fire was in my apartment and in addition that I was under arrest. I was told that upon the entry to my apartment by the fire department that one of the firemen discovered a considerable amount of cocaine on my kitchen counter and the authorities were called. I was escorted to the 14 division police station and left in the interrogation room. After an hour a couple of detectives came in to question me about the cocaine and inform me that they would be returning to my apartment with a search warrant while I remained detained. “If we search your apartment are we going to find anything else besides the coke?” one of the detectives asked. I told them no and they left me in the room for another two hours. When they returned one of them said, “I thought you told us that there was nothing else in your apartment?” I maintained my claim when the detective finally dropped the bomb shell. “What about the loaded .44 that we found in your computer tower?” he asked rhetorically. I realized then that my life was about to change. I was detained and transported to the Toronto Don Jail. Four days later I was released on bail with a lot of conditions including a 9pm curfew.
Fast forward two months, I continued selling drugs and getting drunk in a new apartment when I was raided by the vice squad. This time I wasn’t getting bail and I was sent to await my trial back at the Don jail. That was February 17th 2010 and that was the last time I ever had a drink. That was my wake-up call and I’ve been awake ever since.
Besides prison saving my life music also saved my life. I’ve been an artist/manager/record company CEO for a long time and on my first night on an extremely rough range I displayed my lyrical skill while we were on the nightly lock down. The next morning every hip hop lover wanted to know more about me and my profession.
Eventually I was sentenced to 3 years and 9 months in a Federal penitentiary and I knew I had to better myself with the time I was given away from the outside world. I began attending the AA Pathway to Freedom group every Sunday and never missed one meeting. In February of 2010 I received my one year medallion that I carry with me everywhere to remind me of my accomplishment. I began attending an AA meeting in downtown Toronto at 7:30am and searched out others until I found all the ones that I was comfortable with.
I am now twenty months sober and loving the feeling and I owe it all to God, Alcoholics Anonymous and prison. Prison was my turning point and if it wasn’t for that time away I probably would have still been a drunk suffering from financial strain, jondis and social disorder. The alcohol was definitely catching up to me and eventually I could’ve died from alcohol poisoning, sorossis of the liver or just end up homeless from a financial downward spiral. When I used to see homeless people I used to think, “Those are real alcoholics.” That could never happen to me I thought, now when I see them I don’t separate myself from their misfortune because if I continued on my destructive path I would eventually be sitting next to them begging for change outside of the liquor store.
I don’t regret a day in jail because without that experience I wouldn’t be able to experience the real freedom that I live now being a productive sober man.