He smuggled thousands of pounds of weed across the Mexican border into Arizona.
I remember one time my dad told me a story about him.
Growing up he’d beat his ass whenever he fucked up on the field/court or said some shit out of line.
Hard ass dude.
Before he even got up to the door he said the smell was strong as fuck. Opened the door, every single wall in the place was lined floor to ceiling with kilos of weed.
He refused, then left.
Uncle continued making runs across the border.
A decade passed. Maybe a little more.
I was 4 at the time.
Uncle was on trial and expected to serve 20+ years (he had priors too).
It was at a bowling alley and I still remember the shirt he wore to this day.
Some weird short sleeve button down with a bunch of cars on it or something.
I was playing outside like a normal 5 year old and I come inside and see my dad crying.
Only time I’ve ever seen him cry to this day.
He went to prison and was dead within a week.
Found him dead in his cell.
Officially no one knows what happened.
Still don’t know.
Maybe I’ll find out one day.
Don’t sell drugs kids.
Because to this day, 15 years later, ever since my uncle went to prison my aunt (his wife) has lived with him.
That’s some fucking loyalty right there.