There is a feature article about the circumstances that led to my arrest in the current issue of Rolling Stone Magazine. The article focuses on the elusive, malicious figure who was at the helm of the entire seedy, smelly operation. On the cover, it’s referred to as “The Pot Princess of Beverly Hills.” (Inside, it is dubbed “The Gangster Princess of Beverly Hills.”)
Being on house arrest, I was (of course) at home when the magazine hit the newsstands. At least I’m not in prison – I am the only person in the case who is not in prison right now. A friend I’ve known since childhood called me in the morning to tell me that she was coming to my apartment with Starbucks coffee and an issue of the new Rolling Stone.
“Cady was an aspiring actress fresh from the small town of Bremerton, Washington — a pretty, friendly and goofy oversharer.” -Rolling Stone Magazine (written by Sabrina Ruben Erdely)
I just re-read the article from front to back. I think that the journalist, Sabrina Ruben Erdely, did a fantastic job. The real-life story is so convoluted, and the people who lived within it did so under a veil of such secrecy and deception, that I’m sure it was not an easy puzzle for an outsider to make sense of. Even now, I still look back and find so many elements to be incredible– and I existed in the eye of that storm for years.
It’s over now.
Yes, I have an ankle bracelet on for a year, and yes, I spent thirty days in federal prison—but, all of this was, ultimately, my exit route to safety. I see that now. Being arrested extricated me from something that I didn’t know how to escape from, and that could have easily ended my life, eventually. It’s kind of amazing to think that on June 14, 2010, when I was confronted with an Mp5 sub-machine gun that was aimed at my face, that I was on my way to safety.
I feel like a piece of me died during that whole, horrific experience. I remember, while in the throes of it, I had constant nightmares about being chased down by either Cartel members or federal officers with guns. I was afraid to go to sleep some nights. I suppose that one of those nightmarish scenarios may have been imminent, and the one that became a reality may have been something along the lines of Divine Intervention for me.
Maybe parts of us are meant to break off and die, at certain points in our lives. I think now that perhaps the piece of me that I feel I lost in that fire was the part that made me susceptible to ever allowing myself to become a part of it in the first place. If that’s true, then I say good riddance. Life goes on. It must. If I let myself wallow in the heartache of the past, then I won’t be able to experience the joy that can be waiting for me in the future.
“Keep your face to the sun, and you will never see the shadows.” -Helen Keller
87 days to go.