“I knew the police were looking for me. For two weeks I had been on the run, driving from town to town, trying to avoid staying in one place for more than an hour. In order to procure money and drugs, I had been breaking into houses throughout three different counties. The last house I had broken into was my father’s. While there, I had stolen his .40 caliber Ruger pistol, complete with Teflon-coated rounds commonly called cop killers. 

“As I drove through Lowell, Michigan, I picked up my friend. The ride out of town was quiet. I knew that he had seen the pistol wedged between the seats. He picked it up, slid back the slide, and saw that it was loaded. As he clutched the gun, he gave me a quizzical look, but he didn't say anything. Today was going to be a day that neither of us would ever forget. I was in a state of hopelessness and part of me believed that we had both given up on life. What I planned on doing next was going to alter the course of our future. 

“As I drove toward Grand Rapids, Michigan, multiple officers from the Kent County Sheriff’s Department descended upon my car. Minutes later the situation came to a head as I reached for the gun.”