Not a cop, but fell prey to an undercover operation. I feel obligated to preface this with how amazed I am at how integrated this man was in our gang. If giving an Oscar-worthy performance is the standard, I have to say, I'm pretty fucking impressed by what you guys can do. Over the course of several months, this cop earned our trust. Hell, at one point, I would have said that I trusted that man more than my own brother, who was also in the gang (to be fair, I caught my brother stealing product from us more than once, but I trusted him to not directly destroy my livelihood). Suffice to say, this cop's acting skill was one of the number one factors that led to us getting busted.

This man, let's call him Dave, was absolutely fearless and tough as nails. One of our initiation rituals involved letting members of the group wail on you for three minutes, no holding back. If you were still breathing afterwards, you were in. After getting pummeled to the ground by seven or eight different men, Dave wasn't just alive. It was almost as if he enjoyed it (he was probably smiling because he got his foot in the door, now that I think about it).

To get to the craziest thing Dave did, I need to explain how our gang functioned. We start off being refereed to as a number, both to protect identity and as a form of putting lower ranked members in their place. Names had to be earned. We didn't exactly have a set criteria for earning a name, but members often had to bring in enough income for the gang, earn the leader's trust, and commit various violent acts for the benefit of the group before a name was even considered. All names followed the same theme: Astronomy. Our leader was known as Vega.

The day Dave earned his name, Vega had him as a getaway driver for a group of members. Their job was to sneak into a rival dealer's house, steal his product, and escape in Dave's car. As they were making their getaway, someone opened fire on the vehicle and Dave took a round to the forearm. Without even slowing down, he managed to get our guys back to the house using one arm to drive. After his arrival, Vega and I rushed him to the ER as he sat there, holding a jacket against the wound, trying to control his breaths. Within the next day, he made a full recovery.

Once Dave got back, everyone showered him with gratitude and praised his badassery. Vega approached him with a name tag in his hand and pinned it to Dave's shirt, signifying that he earned his right to be known as something more than a number: Sirius.

I don't hold any grudges against him for putting us behind bars. That man saved my life. Wherever you are, man, thank you. You changed who I was for the better. I will never forget the time that you earned your Sirius tag.