When I was a kid, 5yrs old, I lived with my father in a 3 bedroom house.

He wasnt at his best at this point in his life, mostly due to the shitty friends he kept. Turns out one of them was a mexican national who had escaped federal custody. He met my dad at a bar. They became friends. Then one day this guy was arguing with my dad about bringing drugs into our house. Apparently the fugitive wanted to bring over a ton of pot to our house and keep it in our garage. My dad threw him out of the house and told him not to come back. Our garage was a separate structure, away from the house. My father then told me to take a bath and get ready for bed. He was doing the same, I think. And, being a small child, I liked playing in the bath with little toys until my dad would get tired of waiting and come get me. And so, that's what I was doing that night. The water was already cold, and my skin was wrinkled. And I heard a loud crash, and yelling. Then the bathroom door broke open with a loud crash and I hear this pop pop pop sound that deafened me. Then this cop grabs me and literally hurls me from the bathroom into the wall of the hallway. He had kicked in the bathroom door and shot at me, hitting the rubber duck in my hand, and the tile just behind my head. There was a ricochet from the tile that hit me in the face. As i fell to the floor in the hallway is when I noticed blood coming from my face. The cop pressed his boot so hard in my back that I had his footprint in my skin for days afterward. He put me in handcuffs and threw me in the floor in front of my handcuffed father; who at this point was screaming obscenities and threats of death at the cop.

The fugitive had broken into our garage after my dad kicked him out of the house, and had begun unloading the drugs. The cops then rushed in to make the bust. Turns out the supplier and the buyer were separate government entities and were using the middleman (fugitive) to attempt to bust a "kingpin" in return for a lenient sentence for the fugitive. My dad never sold drugs to anyone.

It took 3 months for him to get out of prison. Charges were eventually dropped. However, in the meantime I was sent to an abusive foster home. I was beaten often. I had to lie at school and say I fell, or I got hit in the face playing baseball. My dad was not allowed custody of me after he was released, and I spent the next 10 years being physically, emotionally, and verbally abused.

In the court proceedings, the cop that almost executed me in the bathtub was basically patted on the head and told "good job". He expressed no admission or remorse for almost taking my life.

I kept records, photographs mostly, of the physical abuse I suffered in foster care. Before I went to college I got the address of the bad cop. I wrote him a letter telling him how his and his fellow's actions had basically destroyed my childhood and almost ended my life, but how I overcame their evil anyway and was going to make sure I wouldnt end up being the same kind of asshole who would smile at the thought of executing a child. I sent him pictures of my broken body with the wounds I recieved in foster care.

He comitted suicide a few days after receiving the letter.