Busted

26 September 2005 by dwb

I knew this was going to happen the moment we met that little fucking Pimp kid. Even while trying to do the right thing and not work with him, the little fucker showed up the next day at our hotel with a few girls (who were over 18) in an attempt to pimp them out. Apparently he knew the taxi driver we were using and he brought that little fucker right back to us.

Here is a rough play by play of what happened.

At around 7:30am someone was knocking on my door. I’m naked, dazed and pissed off, but I get, turn on a light, wrap a towel around my bottom and walk over to open the hotel door. The moment I cracked it open, the force from the other side pushed it open as fast as they could. Within an instant, I was on the ground with what feels like boots on my neck, arms and legs, rendering me totally unmovable. There was fast, loud shouting in Spanish and I could see the barrels of a few large machine guns pointing at my head. Oh… my… God. I’m I being kidnapped? Is this the police? Am I going to die? All thoughts racing through my mind at a million miles a second. I came as close to shitting in my pants as a person can get, without actually shitting in their pants.

Colombian police raided our two hotel rooms SWAT style. About 20 military police and 5 or 6 more plain clothed special agents woke us up and turned our rooms upside down. Every pocket, every bag and every pillow case was checked as well as our computers and all our mini DVs that we had been shooting on.

During the process, we had no idea what was going on. After they slowed their speech down, I was able to understand they were there for the pornos and they left it at that.

We had two rooms, Derrick and I in one room, Kincade and Sand in the other. All the gear and mini DVs were in Kincade’s room, and the computer was in my room.

About 20 minutes after the raid on my room the phone rings. It’s kincade.

Kincade: Dude, are the police in your room?
Me: Yup.
Kincade: We’re fucked man.
Me: Did they find the camera?
Kincade: Yup. But they can’t figure out how to turn it on.
Me: Good, don’t show them. They will never figure it out.
Kincade: OK. You know Sand has weed, right?
Me: I do now. Yea, we’re fucked.
Kincade: I’ll call you back.
Me: OK, keep your cool. We’ll work through this.

20 minutes later my phone rings again.

Kincade: Dude, they figured out the camera and are watching the movies.
Me: Fuck!
Kincade: No worries though, the weed is hidden.
Me: OK, check back later.

About 30 minutes later, the phone rings yet again.

Kincade: They found the weed.
Me: That’s the good news I was looking for.
Kincade: See you at the jail boss.
Me: Yup.

After spending a few hours in the room, we were taken to a holding cell at the station.

We spent the next three days there. It was the longest three days of my life. No word of what the charges were. No phone calls allowed. No nothing.

On the last day, they come to the cell, open the door and tell us we are free to go. WTF!?!?

As it turns out, Colombia has a huge problem with pedophiles and people shooting child porn. When the pimp showed up at our hotel uninvited, the manager called the police as I’m sure it looked suspicious why a boy was coming to our hotel room with girls, who even though were over 18, they looked young.

The police came for us thinking we were fucking with kids. Of course we were not but they didn’t know that. They did a full investigation that took three days to confirm we were only shooting porn with legal models. Once they knew we were legit and their investigation was complete, they let us go but kept our gear. I was told we will get it back later but I’m not going to hold my breath on that one. Truth be told, I could care less, I have my freedom. The police didn’t give a shit about the weed, but kept it anyway.

I thought we were locked with the key tossed away, but they later said they could care less about the girls we had shot as long as they were of legal age. They were only there looking for pedophiles or child pornographers, which we are not, so we were free. They said shooting legal models there was not a problem, but I’ve had my fair share of fun in Cali, Colombia and it’s time to move on.

As we walk out of the station, Kincade turns to me and says, “where to now boss?” I didn’t know if he was just that hardcore or if he didn’t really fully understand the situation we were in. Either way, he’s a fucking Storm Trooper.

This was the 2nd most scary moment of my life. The 1st was in Venezuela a few years ago with my brother when we were taken off a bus in the Andes mountains (on the Colombia / Venezuela border) at gun point by guerrillas. They took all the men off the bus, lined us up and pointed guns at us while the leader checked our documents. It was without a doubt a shit your pants moment. In the end they let us all go but until we were put back on the bus, I thought death was just around the corner.

I think I’m going to check Colombia off my list of countries to shoot in. Eh, maybe not. What are the odds of this happening again? Right?

Leave a comment | Categories: Colombia, Drama Factor, Keepin It Real, On The Road, Porno, Uncategorized | Tags: Cali, Colombia, Mr. Kincade, Pimps, Police, Uh-Oh, What The Fuck