I was taking a break from my college studies in my undergraduate
years and was living with my girlfriend in a small apartment in
---, New Hampshire.

We had just shared a pipe (rare for her) when we heard a knock on
the door.  When I opened it, a cop was standing there and he
asked me where I was driving the night before.

Truth is, I was driving a friend to his buddy's house when I
overshot the turnoff.  I turned around in the nearest driveway,
and I guess the owner of the driveway didn't like it and called my
license plate into the police to complain.  Hence the visit by
---'s finest.  :b

The 'Peace Officer' took one look into my apartment, marginally
explained why he was there and asked if he could use my phone to
call his supervisor.  As I went to the phone, I dropped a bean-bag
onto the pipe lying on the floor (as casually as I could) and handed
the reciever to him.   He asked me to dial (which I did) and I got
some cop who asked me what I wanted.  I was totally confused at this
point.  The cop in my apartment kept giving me confusing
instructions to answer the other cop's questions while looking
around the apartment...he uncovered the pipe and less than a gram of
leaf sitting on the floor.   I finally gave the phone to him and
said I didn't want to talk to anyone anymore.  He took the phone and 
spoke with the other cop and hung up.  Me placed me under arrest for 
a variety of things including possesion of drug paraphanelia and
marijuana and asked me if he could search the apartment.

I said no.

He said that he had enough evidence to search the apartment, and
if I refused, he would station someone in my apartment, get a judge
to issue a search warrent and rip the place apart (his words).

A little digression.  At that time I was intrigued by the prospect
of growing my own pot.  I had read a few articles, bought a book and
had actually set up two flourescent lamps in a bedroom closet and
had 6 plants, each about 4 weeks along growing there.  At that time,
my girlfriend and I were very close and private, we didn't have many
friends, and we were a little scared of the few contacts that we
made if we (I) wanted to find drugs.  I thought it would be a
wonderful thing if I could both avoid the subversive element that
existed when dealing with prohibited plant products in the
underground market by growing my own couple of plants and indulging
in my own interests by growing these things in the privacy of my own
apartment and watching them grow day by day.  (The fascination of
watching plants grow hasn't left me.  I now teach biology at a small
liberal arts college in Maine.)

I said okay.  (Right? Wrong? I dunno.  I've been debating it ever
since).  He went into the bathroom, kitchen, bedroom, saw the light
under the closet door and went to investigate....I said "there's
something I think I should explain to you....", he looked at me for
a second vaguely, then opened the door.  One hundred sixty watts of
light spilled out on the floor around him and the next words I heard
were...."you are under arrest....."

Lotsa cops, lotsa flashing lights.  I was tired.  I took an open 
beer from ontop of the frig and drank...I was attacked by two cops 
who werinsisting that I was under arrest and I wasn't allowed to 
drink alcohol.  *sigh*  My girlfriend looked at me and gave a silent
admonishion to be good.  I stared at the first cop and put the beer
down slowly.  My girlfriend gave me a look that pretty much silenced
me.  There were kinda-cops with blue jeans and guns that (for lack
of other things to do) poked up at the tiles in the kitchen ceiling
(without really looking for anything) and just hung out, while
better dressed cops cleaned out my closet and tagged everything that
was in there....("razor blade, for cutting marijuana", "metal foil,
for drying marijuana"...)  Literally, the epithets for all that they
found in my closet were sometimes ludicrous.  Yes, I had six pot
plants, I had two flourescent lamps (double), I had the pots they
were in, a book and a jug to water them.  Anything else was pretty
much conjecture.

So, I was taken away, my girlfriend arrested for the same crime as I
though released on personal recog.  I wasn't, but sent away to
rochester county prison where I was warned by the screw-in-charge
that there was an inmate who would "grab my balls" if I wasn't
careful (yeah, great, what more?) and I spent the next day until the
judge could see me.  The night was cold, the blanket insufficient,
lotsa bitches...basically it sucked.

The next day I was taken to the courthouse (a sunday) in cuffs and
was brought before the judge.  My girlfriend was there and we made a
lot of motions of hugging and kissing and silent, unsaid messages
between us (musta been a real show for the people present, but it
was a bit show, a bit real).  Some kinda-cops were on our side..
"manufature?  how do you 'manufature'"?  The judge made some speech
about it being Christmas early and gave us a total of 500 dollars in
fines and told us never to do it again.  I don't believe I even gave
my reasons behind trying to grow it rather that buy it on the
outside.  Academic I guess.

Near as I can figure, the cops stepped over the boundary somewhere
during the whole thing and I was left with just a fine (even though 
the cops said it was the biggest bust in Newmarket in ten years).

I paid it off in about 5 years.  I kept getting nasty letters
whenever I forgot to send in the minimum 5 bucks/week, though I
borrowed some bucks from my little brother (thanks Joe!) at the end
and just squared it away.

Kinda a nice note at the end....the fragments they found at the
beginning were just some shake I gleaned from a half ounce that I 
had gotten previously...the rest was in the bathroom hutch in a bag 
that they never found...When I got back the the apartment afterwards 
with my girlfriend and a buddy, I was describing the whole ordeal, 
and casually brought out a pipe and the rest of the pot and loaded 
it as the story unfolded.  Lotsa laughs...:)

They also neglected to record the aquarium of psilocybe cultures in
the hall closet...good thing they weren't fruiting, so I didn't have
to keep the light on...

I went to the police station about a week later and actually tried 
to get most of my stuff back!  They nixed the lights and the razor 
blade :), but they let me have the book back ("I think the first 
amendment covers this nicely" I said...I was ballsy back then and 
just wanted to needle them somehow).  When I said "Do you suppose 
there's any chance I can get my pipe back?", they tossed me out of 
the station.

A rotten experience, all-in-all.  Any input on what I *should* have 
done in that situation or any insights as to what the cops would be 
nice...


cheers