Letter 11

You were arrested just 6 days before you died. You had borrowed a friends car and drove into the city from the motel. You bought drugs with the money from the sale of some of your camera equipment. As you made it back to your car, two undercover cops arrested you. It was moms birthday, February 2.

You had a lot of shit on you.

Nine grams of crack and a bindle of heroin.

The day before you ended your life you told our sister about the arrest. You never said anything that whole week while you were in the motel. You told her that the two officers gave you a lesser charge if you became a confidential informant. The amount you had on you was enough to get charged with intent to distribute. I guess you said what you had to to get out of there because not only did they let you go, but, they let you go with all your drugs.

You had told Aimee that they were up your ass at the motel but once you lost your phone, the communication ended. They couldn’t reach you. You told Aimee you don’t know where you lost it at but you were afraid it was in your dealers car.

Our family friend and your childhood buddy, Shea, was offering for you to come down to his place in North Carolina the week before you got arrested. He told you you needed a fresh start and that he would do what he could to help you get clean. You were thinking about it and sounded somewhat hopeful when telling Aimee about this, but it never happened.

You never made it there.

I believe in my heart of hearts that that arrest was the nail in the coffin for you. You were already in so much pain and to try and carry that additional weight, well, it killed you one way or another.

After the dust settled Dad was able to find out who the arresting officers were because the papers were mailed to his apartment. You still had that address on your license. After some calling around he was able to pass on the cell phone number to one of the undercover cops.

I called him while sitting at my kitchen table in New Orleans.

He told me that he and his partner felt a sort of kinship with you. They had both served our country and were veterans just like you. You didn’t have a record and they felt like you had a chance at getting your life together. I sat and listened him say things that may have been nice to hear, but didn’t really align with sending you back out onto the streets with all those drugs after you had just signed yourself out of the VA hospital detox a few days prior.

There were so many things at play here. I found myself wanting to hold these cops accountable for what they did. In my eyes they used your life in trade for the possibility of a fucking promotion. What if you got locked up. Could that have been the turning point for you? Who knows how many people they and every other undercover agent had done this to. But in the end Jess, there was nothing on paper. It was your dead word against theirs.

I wanted to fucking scream.

I felt so powerless.

In fact, I am so powerless over everything that transpired at the end of your life.

Nothing can change the outcome.

Nothing.

After I work my way through this dark valley I’m in, I’m going to shine your light. I’m going to take your story and I’m going to help people all over the world.

You are going to help people all over the world.

I’ll be your hands and feet, I’ll be your voice, Jesse. I’ll be your eyes. I’ll ask you for your guidance when I’m behind your cameras lens. I know you’ll show me what needs to be seen and captured, and I know you’ll lead me to what needs to be followed.

I know you’ll be with me every step because this is your legacy.

This is your love.