My Criminal Past

Okay, so in my past, I was a piece of shit. I admit it, but I moved on from it. I served 11 years in prison (another story to be told at a later time). Now, I advise people on the side how to protect their homes and businesses from guys like me. Yes, I am or was an expert. It is time to give back. But first, how did I get to that point? Here comes the first story...

I grew up in a dysfunctional home. "Oh God, here we go!" you might be thinking, but it is true. I was adopted at the age of three days old. I found out the truth at five years old. Let's just say it wasn't a pleasant experience finding out the truth.

As the years went by, so did the abuse—emotional, physical, and mental all tied onto one ball of disaster. Remember this when you raise your child. The consequences will come later... trust me.

Our family didn't have a lot of money. My grandparents were well off, and paid for a lot of our expenses. I did go to private school for about 5 years. Poor me, right? Well, this is where my criminal career started. Hanging around a bunch of spoiled, rich kids was not the best thing for me. Basically, they had stuff and I did not. Are you following me now? I resented the fact that I was teased and bullied all the time for what I didn't have. So, I came up with the bright idea that I could have what the other kids had... I would steal their shit. I got what I wanted and I could make them whine like babies when they realized their prized possessions were gone. Boy did I. Stealing paid off handsomely. I had no conscience. My home life was terrible. I was being bullied all the time. The only way I "fit in" was by having "stuff." Of course, this is the way I felt back then, but it continued over the years. A monster was born, and it was just starting...

As the years went by, I continued my stealing spree. I became quite crafty at a young age. You see, I learned early on that stealing was all about timing (more on that to come when I give you some inside tips on how to truly protect your homes and businesses). I was wiser than my age. Fucked up, sure, but wise. The “benefits” paid off nicely. People started liking me because I always wore the hip clothes (even as teen) and the fact that my pockets were always full. The problem was I didn’t know how to quit. It is a powerful feeling knowing you can have whatever you want just by taking it. Sure, I was still in the early stages of my thievery, but it would soon become something I couldn’t control. Let me rephrase that… I didn’t want to control it.

Of course, my “parents” became suspicious of my newfound wealth and started keeping tabs on me closer. Well, that of course when my father wasn’t being the shit out of me and degrading me verbally. My mother was no better. She followed suit, but in her own special way. I didn’t care what they thought of me. I was my own “man” (funny how in our teen years we think we have it all figured out, right?), and I was going to do what I wanted to do. Um, no… that was not the case.

I was getting away with my thefts for quite some time, and then it all came crashing down in one swift stroke. Life was about to get a little harder for me…