Being a drug dealer in a big city was always a risk. You had never been caught. Not yet. You had never batted an eye at the possibility of getting caught. A little weed never hurt anyone, right? Apparently you were wrong. Having weed was a federal offense in your city. That's why the auburn-haired cop had you against a wall, your hands pinned behind you. The lights in your face weren't helping.

"I swear to god, if I find even an ounce of weed on you I'm sending your ass to jail."