"One late night in 1997, youthful drug-dealing me was driving to dinner with a young woman in tow when the police pulled me over, so they claimed, for failing to wear a seatbelt. A pair of officers huffed up on both sides of my Honda with their flashlights beaming, brightness that revealed the not-so-hidden strap I kept under my dashboard for protection. “He’s got a gun! He’s got a gun!” they screamed, ordered us out of my ride, and proceeded to search it, whereupon they found several grams of crack in a baggie bag beneath my seat."
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