"And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb,
and by the word of their testimony; and they
loved not their lives unto the death."
- Revelation 12:11
 

This is my testimony.
- Dennis L. Bates

It was 7:35 a.m. An hour earlier I had smoked some marijuana with my girlfriend and two of her roommates.

"Freeze! Don't move! U. S. Customs. We have a search warrant!"

I said, "They're here."
 
My girlfriend sat upright on the bed. "Who?"
 
"Them," I said, pointing at the doorway just as half a dozen agents carrying guns poured into the room. One man ordered me to get out of bed. He was standing so close I could almost touch the revolver in his hand.
 
"Don't make any sudden moves," he barked. I climbed slowly out of bed, my hands raised. My girlfriend and I were in one bedroom; the two roommates were in the other.

They ordered us to stand up against the wall and "spread 'em!" Some of the agents had gone into the other bedroom and were ordering our roommates to do the same.
 
They made a quick search of the apartment. The agents decided everything was secure - that no one was hiding, waiting to open fire on them. We were moved into the dining room.
 
One of the men wore a jacket that read U.S. Customs Agent. "Look what I just found." He waved a plastic baggie in the air. "Marijuana. It was on the table."
 
I was still high on pot.
 
They began to search the apartment. Rugs, mattresses, closets, dresser drawers, everything.
 
We remained seated in the dining room. One of the agents guarded us while the others searched. I looked at the girls and said, "Don't give them any information."
 
"What did you say?" asked one of the agents. "I told you to be quiet, understand?"
 
The place was leased by the girls. I felt bad for putting them through this. I whispered, "I'm sorry," to them.
 
One of the agents heard me. "Dennis," he said gently, "you know what we're looking for and why we're here. Make this easy on yourself. You're not the one we want. Just give us the information we need, and you can get out of this mess."
 
He was convincing. I wanted to believe him and almost decided to cooperate. But I knew he was bluffing. I shook my head. I wanted an attorney.
 
The girls looked worried. Everything they owned was in this place. I figured I wasn't helping things by being stubborn. "Okay," I thought. "The agents win. I'll give them the drugs they're looking for." "You can stop the search," I said reluctantly. "I'll show you where the stuff is."
 
The agent motioned for me to get up. He instructed me to move slowly. The agents followed me into the bedroom. I reached beneath the bed. The agents watched me closely. I pulled out a shoebox full of steroids and pushed it over to the customs agents. One picked it up.
 
I hoped that would stop the search. It didn't. They searched harder. Clothes and personal belongings were scattered all over the place.

The girls were questioned. The questions focused on me. Had they seen me shoot up with steroids? Was I selling steroids? Did I use other illegal drugs besides marijuana? Things like that. None of the girls answered.
 
"If you don't help us you're going to jail." The girls stayed silent.
 
Frustrated, the agents turned their attention to me. "Dennis, you're just a small fish in a big ocean. You're not the guy we're after. Cooperate with us."

I remained silent. 

Chapter 2: The Beginning