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Writer's pictureOwen Pelletier

Prologue for my book

Updated: Feb 11, 2023

Friday May 31st, 2013


It was a gorgeous warm summer day. I had just spent the better part of the day welding at the Saskatchewan Moose Jaw Palliser campus. It was the end of the fifth week of a seven-week training course for level 3 welding. I was holding my own in class and I was looking good to complete this course and leveling up. I was living in Regina with my girlfriend and our newborn son Carter who was born in April 2013. I was tired due to not getting enough rest because I was making the daily commute back and forth between Moose Jaw and Regina. It was an hour one way but after five weeks of this, it was beginning to take a toll on me mentally and physically. I arrived home and checked on my family, they were both well. I had a shower and sat down to relax. Just then I received a text. It was the bros from the gang. They wanted me to help them out by working a shift on the trap line. Selling cocaine was a regular part-time job of mine. As I sat there pondering if I should go or not, I weighed the options. Stay home with my family and get some much-needed rest, or go drive around with a bro and make some cash. I wanted to get some weed and smokes for the weekend and order some pizza so I decided to go out and make some money.

I texted the bros back and said “come get me.” I was only planning on going out for a couple of hours. After cruising around for an hour, things were going smoothly and the streets seemed quiet. My partner and I were both already clearing profit so I decided to grab myself some weed. We pulled up to another bros house and parked the car. The sun had just set and the street looked quiet. There were a few cars parked on the street and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The house had a small white picket fence in the front yard with a seven-foot-high white fence in the back yard that you couldn’t see through. While my bro waited in the driver seat with the vehicle running, I exited the vehicle and briskly walked across the street and jumped over the small white picket fence in the front yard. My pockets were bulging with drug money, drugs, my personal cell phone and the trap line cell phone. All I needed was my weed, which I was about to procure. Kicking open the large white fence in the backyard with my right foot, I jumped onto the small back balcony and rasped a quick knock on the door. I have done this many times and I have never encountered a problem. This bro always had good weed and I was eager to get my smoke on and relieve the stress of school and trapping. Just then a flash of light caught my attention from the corner of my right eye. As I turned my head to the right to see where the light had come from, I noticed flashlights searching the ground in the backyard. Turns out there were eight gang unit officers in plain clothes doing a raid on this particular house. Talk about the wrong place at the wrong time, which is a common theme when living the gang life. Upon hearing me open the fence and knock on the door, the G-Units immediately focused their attention on me. One of the officers asked me in a stern, loud, authoritative voice, “Hey! What are you doing?” Realizing that this was not an ideal situation to find myself in, I replied in my most innocent, passive, adolescent-sounding voice, “nothing… just checking if my friend is home.” As I reflect on this event in my life, I am amused and amazed today by the absurd ridiculousness of it all. However, I can now see that it was a blessing in disguise. The officer who spoke to me then began to approach me. The thought of running did flash through my mind if only for a moment before I decided against it. He then grabbed my wrist and asked me my name. I replied, “Owen Pelletier.” As soon as I said my name his eyes lit up like fireworks on Canada Day. He then gripped my wrist tighter and looked back at the other officers who were still searching the ground. He said to them, “look who we have here guys.” Then he told me to put my hands behind my back and he cuffed my wrists. He then told me that I was under arrest. As a gangster, I was always getting arrested, it comes with the territory. However, not exactly sure why this time and genuinely surprised, I asked him what was I being arrested for. He replied, “Owen Pelletier, you are under arrest for murder!

This is the house where I was arrested for murder.




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