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When members of the Houston Police Department lied to obtain the warrant for the raid on 7815 Harding, in which Rhogena Nicholas and Dennis Tuttle died Tuesday, Jan. 29, 2019, we all thought that it could never happen to us.

Even after the details emerged, ballooning into a scandal which made international headlines, we all thought “okay, that’s the last time that someone, guilty only of existing, will be killed in their own home or arrested on false charges”.

I fear that may not be the case.

Furthermore, I fear I may be next and wish to get my story out before police bullets split my skull or sternum.

At approximately 2:00 this afternoon, an unknown man rang the doorbell of my parents’ home on Fonville Drive in Houston.

My mother answered and was informed by the man that he would like to buy the red Mazda Protégé5 in the driveway. Because I purchased this car brand-new for my mother in 2002, the title is in my name, so I went out to meet him.

When I stepped out onto the front-lawn, I discovered the man had left, so I stood there looking in both directions and wondering what was going on. After a moment I saw a black S-10 pick-up with tinted windows turn onto Fonville from Aldis.

I watched the pick-up as it approached, slowed and stopped directly in front of me.

As I leaned in though the lowered passenger’s window, the man asked me how much I wanted for the car and what was wrong with it. I informed him that it had no major problems and that I possessed the parts required for any repairs but had been otherwise occupied with my parents’ health problems.

After naming what I believed to be a reasonable price, the man declined, then enquired about my father’s pick-up and my parents’ Suburban, neither of which were for sale.

All talk of cars finished, the man then asked me if I “had anything”, explain that he suffered from depression and a panic-disorder, had to drive to Dallas—about 400 km—and just couldn’t without “something”.

I replied that I didn’t possess or use drugs, at which time he pressured me to either sell or give him some Valium.

At this moment, I realized that he was either a confidential-informant or an undercover police officer.

I informed him that I had last had Valium in 2011, but time and a lack of health-insurance had deprived me of any medicine not directly necessary to my survival.

Perhaps realizing that the bust was a “bust”, he quickly left.

I am afraid for the following reasons:

  1. The Harding Street raid was bootstrapped into existence by an officer who allegedly lied about “CI” buys of Heroin from the victims. It is now widely acknowledged that neither victim did anything wrong prior to defending themselves from what they believed was a home-invasion robbery.
  2. Some of my neighbors have been talking s**t about the presence of a video-surveillance system on my parents’ property. One even told my mother, “I don’t know what you all are doing over there, that you need all of those cameras”!
  3. On more than one occasion, I have, with the aid of counsel and dashcams, beaten HPD in traffic court.
  4. I have been vocal in my support of Proposition B, even allowing HFD to place a pro-Prop B sign on the front lawn.

Coincidence? Perhaps.

That said, I cannot help but remember what many of my law-enforcement instructors said back in New Mexico, when I was pursuing a degree in criminal justice.

“There’s no such thing as coincidence, except on the extremely rare occasions when there is”.

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