Inside the minds of dangerous criminals. Their crimes and sides of the story.

My dad was a cook for my entire life. I learned everything I knew about cooking from him.

He used to be a pilot. He had a pilot's license. He had all the gear, everything. I never questioned it.

One day while we were working together, it kind of popped into my head that I never knew why my dad was a pilot. Did he fly commercially for fun? Who knows? I asked him and he candidly gave me a nice account of his life. You see, he had used to fly white snow and weapons out of the Carolinas into New York. Then he showed me his leg where he'd been shot during a takeoff when they'd done a deal, and they opened fire on the plane as he left, because they thought they'd gotten screwed. He told me that when my mother was pregnant with me, that his substance people wanted him to work down in Cancun with them because they were opening a club. They had all the permits, they had the contracts, all of it paid off in substance and weapons money.

My dad made the choice not to move to Cancun with me, as he wanted me to grow up in New York instead.

His friends eventually opened the club and everything went great for them.

They kept asking my dad to come down and be their chef. They'd pay for everything.

They were making a ton of money.

Eventually the club was raided, and it turns out all the

permits they'd gotten were part of a sting from the Mexican government. They had known the people

who were opening the club were dealers, and they were simply waiting for them to pool all of their

connections in one place. Everyone was arrested and sent to prison. Some of them didn't even get out

until the 2000s. I basically found out that both of my parents were doing white snow themselves.

Never would have guessed it, to be honest. My dad didn't regret it, and he said that he still did it for fun about once a month.

He stopped when a friend of his died suddenly of a heart attack after doing a bump and opening a bottle of beer in a bar.

My father eventually passed away from kidney cancer. I miss him every day, of course.

He gave me my love of science and an education, gave me my appreciation of good quality food, too.

My sense of humor as well. I look just like him. And now I am tearing up.

My ex-boss hounded me for two weeks about finding him an ounce of some green herb. One day he said that he had back problems and he really needed something. I felt sorry for him, so I was able to find him an ounce of some bud and I sold it to him. Three days short of a year later, I was arrested and charged with a felony. I don't sell the stuff, I'm not a dealer. I was able to pinpoint the only time I've

ever sold anything to anyone. Now I'm stuck with a Class D felony for distribution of Mary

Jay. It frickin' sucks, man. Apparently if they'd waited a full year, the evidence would have been

null and void. I really wish I could have been out of state at the time. My ex-boss was a confidential

...