When the police pulled up
outside, the party was in full swing. Prime Suspect was very drunk,
but he seemed to sober up quite well when the AFP officers introduced
themselves and packed him into the car.
`So,' said one of the officers as they headed toward his home, `what
are you more worried about? What's on your disks or what's in your
desk drawer?'
Prime Suspect thought hard. What was in his desk drawer? Oh shit! The
dope. He didn't smoke much, just occasionally for fun, but he had a
tiny amount of marijuana left over from a party.
He didn't answer. He looked out the window and tried not to look
nervous.
At his house, the police asked him if he would agree to an interview.
`I don't think so. I'm feeling a little ... under the weather at the
moment,' he said. Doing a police interview would be difficult enough.
Doing it drunk would be just plain dangerous.
After the police carted away the last of his hacking gear, Prime
Suspect signed the official seizure forms and watched them drive off
in to the night.
Returning to his bedroom, he sat down, distracted, and tried to gather
his thoughts. Then he remembered the dope. He opened his desk drawer.
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