I once was taught this belief about life and success. The belief was that avoiding bad choices leads to a good life, and in general a better outcome. I even know some people who pride themselves on living life on the straight and narrow, like it’s a badge of honor. There’s one guy in particular whom I used to know, who would brag about how much better he is for not ever breaking the law or hanging out with the wrong crowd. There was pride in his voice whenever he got a chance to reiterate that his dad taught him to be better than those other people.
Sometimes I make good choices, other times bad ones. Even so, I too have judged a person or two in the past for making bad choices.
But one day, a few years back, a co-worker asked if I’d be cool with her taking some last-minute time off to go pick up her brother in L.A. The WHY behind that request affected me so deeply, I quite literally think about the guy and his story at least several times a year.
You see, the saying goes:
Show me your friends, and I’ll show you your future.
In 2011, the powerful Law of Association swayed 24-year-old Brad in a direction that ultimately changed the trajectory of his life. Brad is a kind, smart, loving guy who would do anything for his family. Problem was, he was working a dead-end job for shit pay, and lacked direction and drive. Simply put, Brad was stuck.
His friend, however? Ballin’.
She had an interesting and seemingly rewarding gig. She made more money in a week than he did in 2 months, and went on week-long trips to Japan, a place he never thought he’d get to see.
The gig? To fly to Japan with unspecified items in your luggage. His friend had done it 4 times, and made it back home just fine.
The gig initially paid $5,000 a trip; but once you proved you could do the job, they’d give you bigger jobs for $10,000. The opportunities seemed endless.
And holy crap, Japan?! It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. For a moment, this friend of his was a powerful association; one he aspired to be like. He began seriously considering the opportunity.
When it comes to associations, sometimes they’re fictional characters too. His favorite shows only confirmed that this could be the ride of a lifetime. Walter White from Breaking Bad was a huge inspiration to him, and proof that even when things go really wrong, they always seem to work out at the last minute.
He was confident this gig would pay off, and so was his girlfriend (at the time). They were eager to level up to their friend. When the opportunity was presented, Brad said yes and their trip was scheduled. He was so confident about it he even sold his younger sister and her boyfriend on the idea. He helped them get passports so they could do it too, right after them.
Then, the day comes.
It's showtime.
They drove to a house in Vegas, where two Japanese guys took their luggage. They were asked to wait in a hotel nearby. Two hours later, the guys arrived with their luggage.
They were told the job entailed sending items of sensitive nature to Japan. For example, one time it was important, business documents of sensitive nature. Another time, it was the ashes of a deceased family member. They went on to explain that it could be anything, and if it were drugs, they would be disguised as something else. For example, melting down drugs and molding them in the shape of a shirt or toy. They were given strict instructions not to open their luggage, and were assured that someone would be with them every step of the way, and if trouble arose, that person would come to the rescue.
For a moment he wondered why they were trusting a bunch of kids with this. But the way they explained the story was so interwoven it was almost believable. Japan, here we go.
The plan?
Las Vegas > Los Angeles > Japan.
While at the L.A. airport, Brad considered backing out. He figured, we got this far, what if we went home and never looked back. It was only a fleeting thought. In truth, Brad was giddy with excitement. He was still living in that Breaking Bad world, and so far, things were working out just like they did in the show.
12 hours later, they arrived in Japan and waited in line to be cleared at customs. The final step.
They weren’t cleared; instead, they were asked to step aside. Their luggage was sitting at a table wide open. Inside the luggage were boxes.
“What do you have in here?” the officer asked, as they pulled out box after box.
“It’s gifts for friends,” Brad said.
“30 boxes of smoked salmon for friends?”
“Yes,” he said, “they are gifts.”
He was doing his best to improvise. However, boxes of salmon for friends in Japan was a story they weren’t buying. There is plenty of salmon in Japan..the story wasn’t panning out. The officer led them to the x-ray machine and pointed at the screen. "See that? That's not salmon,"he said with certainty.
They handed his girlfriend some scissors and demanded she open a box; except, she was shaking so hard Brad had to open it himself. It was like opening a Russian nesting doll. He opened a box and found a silver vacuum-sealed bag that glistened at first sight, like it could be diamonds. He ripped that open and there was another bag. Then a third bag.
Upon opening that third bag, a bunch of white powder flew out. The pro who got many people through customs seemed to have dropped the ball on this job. Suddenly, about 50 guards ran toward them like in the movies, and they were arrested.
Brad was pissed. "Where the fuck is this guy who is supposed to save us right about now?"
He wasn’t there because he didn’t exist.
Eventually, the interpreter arrived and so did the FBI. As it turns out, the gig was different from what was explained.
They weren’t meant to return safely. They were mules.
Mules: Individuals who transport drugs, not knowing they are actually there to distract customs officials so that a much larger contraband could be sneaked in unnoticed.
They were the “flashy” ones. The distraction. The main story. They crossed 11 kilograms of meth. Or attempted to, better yet.
$11,000,000 million dollars of distractions.
The FBI said it happens all the time. That day, the joke was on them. They were transported to the police station in a van with the windows covered. It sure wasn’t the idea Brad had when he envisioned that Japan vacation they should have been on by now.
He couldn’t believe it was real. He swore it was a dream. Except when he woke up the next morning, he was devastated to find that real life awaited him in his cell, not a dream. He wondered if his sister and her boyfriend went through with it…after all, that was the plan.
Days later, in one of the embassy consulate visits, they told Brad that he could face up to 15 years in Japan. He was devastated. His little sister had just turned 6. He was scheduled to miss out on her life. He thought about how old mom and dad would be when he got out. He wondered how the fuck he would repay this debt to them. The pain, the disappointment, and the weight of having a son imprisoned in another country because they attempted to cross millions of dollars of meth. He had never done anything like this before.
In High School, Brad didn’t care for books or school for that matter.
He described himself as a bad kid, a typical football player/jock who cheated his way through school. At the police station where he spent his first 3 months, there was only one book in English: The Green Mile. It is then that he was introduced to the world of literature, and the stories that have the power to both transform and transport you anywhere. He read the book 9 times, devouring every page.
Three months later, he was transferred to a detention center to await trial, where he became acquainted with the rigid and unforgiving rules of the military-like Japanese prison system.
They got 15 minutes of outdoor time, and the walk up the steps to the outdoor space was their exercise for the day. They were fed based on their height and nothing more. Brad was hungry and lost 88lbs.
They showered twice a week, and spent all day in their cells. They were required to sit in a specific spot in their cell, facing down. Moving, standing, stretching or lifting your head were a problem. Permission was required to use the toilet in the cell. If you moved, tried to stretch your leg or do just about anything other than sit facing down, they’d yell at you and break you down.
At night, the cells were always lit and the inmates were required to sleep facing up so that the officers could confirm that they were breathing. The guys to his left and right had just tried to kill themselves, so this rule was particularly important.
Life was different there.
A year and 3 months later his final trial was underway. The judge gave each of them 9 years and a $40,000 fine. Unfortunately, until you pay the $40,000 fine, your 9-year sentence cannot begin.
His girlfriend’s parents paid her fine and she began her 9-year sentence immediately. Brad didn’t have that money and neither did his family. His parents insisted they’d do whatever it takes, but Brad asked them not to. The burden on them was already heavy. If you didn’t have the money, you could pay it off through work. One day of work was $100.
Brad worked a total of 400 days in prison before his fine was paid and his 9-year sentence could begin.
When he arrived at the prison to do his time, things were different. You were required to work 8-9 hours a day, for $7 a month.
He was assigned to a woodworking factory and spent years honing his (new) craft. He also learned Japanese. One of his cellmates dreamed of life in America and wanted to learn English, so they taught each other their languages. By the time Brad was working at the woodworking factory, his skill set, work ethic, and ability to speak their language earned the respect of everyone there, and it wasn’t long before he was the one training others, earning the term Honcho, which is slang for leader.
6 years into his sentence, he requested to be transferred from Japan to Los Angeles under a treaty transfer. He didn’t want to spend 3 more years in another country, unable to see his family who only visited once; a trip from the US to Japan is quite expensive. He also lost touch with his girlfriend, who eventually became an amicable ex. There were pros and cons to transferring to Los Angeles. If he finished his sentence in Japan, he’d have a record in Japan. If he finished it in the U.S., he would now be a felon in the U.S too.
His family was so worried about the possibility. They’d seen plenty of prison shows and knew prison life in America would be different. Violent, gang-ridden, throat-cutting, rape all around. He opted to transfer anyway, and was approved. He was brought back to Los Angeles to finish his term, with 3 years remaining. Goodbye Japan.
It took him a while to acclimate to an environment where people looked each other in the eye. The strict, limited human interaction psychologically affected him in a way that was invisible to him until he arrived in America. He hesitated to interact with anyone out of fear that the guards would see him. It took time to return to normal.
Eventually he did. He noticed American prison was a cakewalk compared to Japan. They could exercise whenever they wanted, they didn’t have to work, you could buy an iPod, and call your family. Brad described it like Disneyland.
The problem was that this L.A. prison required him to acclimate to his surroundings; to be “harder.” In the process of taking on this new persona, he befriended some people who led him down a dark path–one he felt like he needed, to get some things out of his system. This meth that landed him in prison was readily available there.
In a moment of rebellion, he decided he might as well try this freakin’ drug that landed him in prison. Brad tried meth.
Next thing you know, he was in the business of selling meth. He also ran a poker table. And sold knives. He made a lot of money and now understands why there are people who are released with intentions of getting arrested again, so they can go back in with drugs that they can sell at a premium inside.
He became the people that surrounded him. Then, 6 months into his sentence in L.A., he was released early, and it was a blessing. The closing of this chapter quite literally prevented him from amplifying the new chapter he had started writing: becoming a drug-dealing criminal who is in and out of prison.
Fast forward to my teammate asking if she could get Thursday off at the last minute. Little did I know she was driving to Los Angeles to pick Brad up from prison after all of that.
I couldn't help but ask whether he regretted “it.” You know, agreeing to do it to begin with. Arriving at the airport in L.A. on Day 1, wondering whether he should turn back around, only to move forward anyway. Doing a hard drug in prison, particularly the one that robbed him of his freedom for years. Becoming a meth distributor and dealer. Selling knives. Self-sabotaging. I had to know whether he felt regret. Here’s what he said to me.
During that time, Brad:
*Read 312 books, and developed a newfound respect and appreciation for literature. He fell in love with reading and learning.
*His relationship with his parents deepened. Growing up, there was little to no communication at home about anything beyond surface level. Feelings, how one is doing, mental health, none of that was talked about. There's a lot of love in their family, but they hardly knew each other in the ways that really matter. Through their letters, Brad watched his parents open up and share more than they ever had. He got to know them better than he ever had in person.
*He spent years learning and refining his woodworking skills in Japan. Before prison, he was working a dead-end job. The skills he acquired paved the way for his own business. At the moment, opportunities are endless.
*He committed to doubling up on the time he was given after being released early. It seems his wishes were granted; within months of his early release, he met the love of his life—a woman who deserved the kind of man he hadn’t been back in 2011. By the time his 9-year sentence would have ended, he had already met his wife and they had two daughters.
*Lifelong friendships took root in Japan. He met some guys he now calls friends. Great friends who taught him important lessons and challenged his own judgments about people and their bad choices.
Here's the thing. A lot of people go to college to level up. They spend thousands–sometimes hundreds of thousands–of dollars to prepare for their future. They hope that the time, energy and resources they poured into their education will pay off. Some people like myself did that. I couldn’t find work after graduating. Some of my student loans landed in collections and my credit was ruined for many years. My first job after college was at Old Navy, working part-time, driving a 2-hour commute for 4 hours of work at $7.75/hr. Mind you, I did the right thing. I stayed out of trouble, worked hard, persevered, etc.
Brad crossed millions of dollars of meth to Japan, spent years incarcerated there, did another 6 months in L.A., where he tried meth, then sold it, among other illegal things. When he was released, he went onto build a business, find love, and brought two amazing girls into this world, who have become his purpose. Planning for their future and providing long-term stability drives him more than anything. Brad is smarter and happier. His skillset is extremely valuable, but the way he sees the world and the lessons he’s learned that molded who he became, were the most profound.
The experience saved him from the person he was becoming. It happened for the person he became.
“People die for the people they love,” Brad said. “But when you choose to live for the people you love it makes a statement.”
Brad’s story shattered some of the black-and-white beliefs I was clinging to, like the notion that success, growth, and happiness could never come from something as extreme as smuggling meth to Japan. Brad got more from that experience than I did from college. No joke.
If this experience transformed him, does it mean this bad choice was a good choice?
What if the black and white rule book we were handed would have prevented him from making that choice. Would it be a superior option to remain stuck, unable to see a path forward, working a shit job?
What if his dad’s efforts to protect him growing up—buying him a PlayStation and every other console to keep him home and out of trouble—were ineffective, not for lack of care, but because they prevented the growth he needed?
And if it’s true that we are who we associate with, was his friend who influenced him to do it a BAD association, or was she a GOOD one? After all, he is Brad 3.0 because he was a mule; because he was deceived.
If Brad’s bad choices were actually the best ones he could have made, while avoiding those kinds of choices has been the right call for some of us, then maybe it’s time we stop pretending we know better or that we are better. Maybe it’s time to admit we don’t have everything figured out, and that we’re NOT better than anyone who has made a different choice. Sometimes I get stuck within the confines of my rigid beliefs. Stories like these remind me to be better than to imply our paths should look the same.
Brad’s story taught me that things are more complex than they seem. He reminded me that good, kind people can make decisions that deserve the consequence of prison. He taught me that no matter how bad things get, it’s only temporary. If we can get past the pain and have perspective, nothing is lost.
Brad was an excellent example of the Law of Association, and the profound impact of those you choose to surround you. Most importantly, Brad taught me that success, growth, drive, and ambition are sometimes revealed through hardship. He taught me that you can have all of those attributes buried deep inside you, and sometimes, the only way to bring them out is by making bad choices.
-KARLA
