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John Morin stories
John Morin is a former Lansing resident who now lives in Holt.
The raid Laws had changed and medical marijuana was a reality in the State of Michigan. I realized that sixty years had passed me by, and no one lives forever. Sheri has medical reasons that allowed her to get a card. The dispensary prices were high, and to save on money, she sought out a care giver. That wasn't the solution either, and so I set out to build a small grow operation in my basement. I knew of Marc Colon Jr. as a fellow employee where I worked. He knew how to grow weed, and I recruited him teach Sheri how to do it. I had a long day job and had no interest in working it, but I would build the setup and buy the equipment. Having modest success, I branched out and built the best privately owned operation in the City of Lansing in my garage, according to city inspectors and the LPD. But I get ahead of myself. Sheri became a care giver for five individuals. I paid for all cards and medical exams for each person. Those people included my brother, Sheri's brother, my son, my daughter in law, and one neighbor. With that, everyone received free marijuana each month. This way I was helping family, making sure Sheri would have some resources if anything happened to me, and having Sheri involved with others. I work long hours and she is at home alone, climbing the walls in boredom and loneliness at times, I'm sure. Now she had something to do that was enjoyable and be part of helping others. So the day Sheri called me at work to tell me that there were two church people at our front door, and they had asked her about being involved in what they were doing. They were helping out the homeless and prostitutes in our neighborhood. She then mentioned that they were black. I said to her if they were with a church, they are probably good people. I reminded her that character is all that matters, color defines no one in my eyes. I was happy that she was involved with them. They came over on a few weekends with the church van full of kids to stop and see Sheri while I was working out in my garage. Sheri had a smile and was happy helping others, it was many months later that things changed. It started with a threatening voice mail left by Simial Funches, the guy from the church. I questioned Sheri about it and when her answer was vague, I told her that I had saved it and not to erase it. It was a few weeks later that Sheri informed me that both Simial Funches and his girlfriend Nycole Williams had been arrested for drugs and guns. Concerned, I told her that all relationships with those people was to end and if there was a problem, I would handle it. A few days later Sheri tells me that the church posted their bail, to which I said, "maybe they are innocent, but stay away for now". I had many thousands of dollars involved in the grow operation and keeping a low profile was important. Sheri was in charge of it and had a lot of responsibility. During this time frame, Ingham County Prosecutor Stuart Dunnings met Stephanie Kirby, a young drug addicted prostitute that Sheri had met in the neighborhood. Stephanie had been abused much of her childhood, and never got the break in life that could lead to a different path. One day, just around dusk, Stephanie came skipping down the street from the car wash. She was excited, spilling out that she had just been dropped off by Mr. Dunnings - you know, the prosecutor. She turned and pointed to a car, and said see, the black car. As she turned back around she declared that she was going to be one of his top girls, as she told Sheri how happy she was about it. Myself, I turned back to go in the house shaking my head, realizing that I was wrong in telling all the prostitutes to go hang in front of the mayor or chief of police houses, it was the Ingham County prosecutor all along. But who do you call? We had heard about the treatment of prostitutes by the police from the time we moved in; to get to involved could bring further drama by the police into my life. My alarm bells went off around May 14, 2015. Sheri came and sat down and poured her heart out that Funches had gotten her back into drugs, and she was scared that he was either trying to rob us or set us up with the police. I got on my computer and went to the OTIS site and sure enough, this guy isn't a preacher, he's a lifelong predator. Sheri is asking me to help her get locked up for rehab. I want to know where he lives, but Sheri is afraid, he carries a gun and has constantly talked to her about killing me. She tells me that she had tried to avoid him, but he threatened to hurl rocks through her car window. I had told Sheri previously that under no circumstances was she to call the police; they could not be trusted. In looking at Funches current case, he had a trial scheduled for May 28, 2015. I told Sheri she had to hold out for two more weeks. She had to be there for the grow operation to be legal. Sheri had told me that on one occasion, Funches had placed his gun on the dining room table, and when Sheri seen it was pointed in her direction, she moved it. His reaction was to pick it up and put it to her head asking her if she was scared. From what I seen on OTIS, and the charges he faced, I believed that no police department would use him as an informant. Sheri then handed me her key to the garage so no one other than Marc could get in, and she could only get in when Marc was there. I patiently waited for May 28. Seeing his record and the police having an open and shut case, Funches was going back to prison for an extended stay. May 28, 2015, I arrived home after a long day at work, got out a glass of pop as Sheri grabbed her keys to go out. I asked about Funches and she told me that we could talk when she returned. I set my pop in the arm chair couch cup holder, grabbed the remote, turned on the TV, stepping outside to wave bye to Sheri. She was just short of the sidewalk. I had turned to go back inside when I caught in the corner of my eye a speeding police car turning from Prospect, then numerous police with weapons drawn poured from between houses across the street, one diving through the car passenger window yelling turn off the car, put your hands up, put it in park. I had also told both Sheri and Marc, who had been there when Sheri told me about Funches, that I could handle about one, maybe two raids, but don't do anything illegal, and we will be fine. What I was witnessing was a coordinated raid by LPD and ATF. I quickly raised my hands. Yes, other thoughts went through my mind, but this is my house and I will defend it, and that meant yelling "TV remote". Putting the TV remote down, I did not want anyone to wonder about what was in my hand. Slowly, sore from work, I laid down on the porch, handcuffed, and then stood back up. A plainclothes detective came up and asked where all of the cameras were, to which I said I had none up. He then asked how much drug money had I spent fixing up the house. Everyone in the neighborhood could have told them that many years and my sweat made it what it was. He then said that it was my lucky day, they were there to save my life. He then asked if they could go inside and look around, they wouldn't damage anything. I gave them permission. While they looked around, Sheri was placed in a police car and I was set in another behind her. After a while they decided to open up my garage using a battering ram. After a couple hits, I informed my female police guard that I had enhanced the doors and they would not be capable of getting in, and if they got thru that one, four others behind it were even more secured. She laughed and told me that it would only take a few more hits. Neighbors hearing the booms as the ram hit the door came outside, which repelled the officers every time, and after many more hits, she asked me where the keys were. I turned my leg so she could access my pants pocket. Once in hand, she ran out yelling "I got the keys", the hero of the day. In my eyes she was a zero whose arrogance made her look ignorant. With access to the garage, they took everything. Anything left was destroyed. They damaged each door on their way out. After a lengthy stay in vehicles, we were brought back into the house, which was a shambles. They ordered Sheri to sit on one side of the couch, but when she did, she stood right back up. The couch was wet, at which time I turned and saw that my glass of pop was now empty, sitting on the table. I turned and looked at Sheri and told her they had dumped my pop on the seat. No one in the room disagreed, but then demanded she sit in the chair. She complied. I was aware that the police were trying to impress upon me that they were in charge; I had no power in the situation. Another cop came out of the front bedroom asking me if I had built it. He took me over to the secret hide room I had built, claiming they would have never known it was there if not for the videos; that he was very impressed with the whole house. I gave them the combination to the safe. It could not be removed from the room because I built the walls after I put in the safe. The doorway was too small for the safe. My bigger safe in the basement caught their eye and I was asked to open it. They asked me if I had any guns in it. I didn't. I did enjoy the look they gave one another when I reached down, turned the lever and opened it. It wasn't locked. I was asked numerous times about selling marijuana, but we did not sell anything to anybody, and I was unaware of Sheri having sold any. I was put back on the couch next to Sheri while most went out to the front porch to discuss what they had. A female officer had been searching the back bedroom and carried out a small, two surveillance camera set up that Sheri had bought me a year earlier. She noticed and spoke up that it had been a present and wasn't any part of the marijuana. There was a black uniformed officer sitting at the dining room table with a computer. He spoke up stating that we no longer own anything, they are going to take anything they want, do you have a problem with that? They keep getting tougher and tougher. So I turn to Sheri and told her not to worry, everything would be fine. That angered the officer and he told me that he would drive my head through the wall if I said another word. Of course when you have little of substance you resort to threats of violence. Next stop, Sheri was taken to the Southside precinct for questioning. I had always told her that if questioned, tell them you need to speak with either me or an attorney. She held to that and through all the threats and bluster, much not on the recording, she held to what I said. In looking at my "confession", I noticed that much of the conversation from where they started does not exist, things that would have given context to statements I made on tape. My interrogation happened at the downtown police station. Later I was booked and lodged into the city jail. A bit later, Sheri was brought in and put in a cell next to me. I was aware they hoped to have us implicate ourselves in some kind of criminal activity, or hope that I would turn on Sheri and help them convict her. Neither happened. When Sheri's mother was on her death bed at Sparrow Hospital, I made a promise that I would care for Sheri and protect her as long as I lived. I don't break promises, and everyone that knows me knows that about me. After a long weekend, we had to wait until Tuesday to see the judge for the charges and bonds. I was able to contact family who put up the bonds. Since we were co-defendants, the judge ordered no contact between us. I let Sheri stay at the house while I rented a room. After bonded out, I went home, having to break in, getting some clothes and keys while my sister took a couple pictures of the condition of the house. They damaged the computer monitor. They took the hard drive. A police scanner had it's antenna snapped off. The bingo bag of Sheri's mother had all the dobbers smashed into her clothes that had been thrown onto the floor - I could go on for hours. It would take days to clean the place. Pots of dirt from the basement had been dumped onto the throw rug and ground into the red oak floor. I had already decided how to defend the charges and wondered who I would get as an attorney. I had decided on five goals. First was that the person responsible was going to be determined and I would attend his court dates when he goes to prison. Two, every charge would be dropped. Three, all of my property would be returned. Four, the grow operation would be restored and fully operational. Five, the City of Lansing was going to pay for this fiasco with a lawsuit. How did I do? I'm writing this, am I not? So it's time to find lawyers. LPD Incident Report, May 19, 2015 LPD Incident Report, May 27, 2015
Final thought about the police operation. Sheri was given a dangerous drug for them to get her to comply with their plan. Simial Funches was on bond for drugs and guns and while on that bond he is providing the mind altering drug while the police are outside in their vehicle. First, any informant when going into a suspect's house are supposed to be searched beforehand. He brought drugs everyday to create this crime. Were the police aware of this, and just ignored it to get to what they were wanting? What was their plan if she fell over dead from the drug? Just crawl out and pretend it never happened? This case exposes how far the police will go to convict someone. This is how they served and protected my house while I worked long hours everyday and paid my taxes every year. And who told him he could bring over a gun to my house? Still many questions, but at that time it was off to find a lawyer, and I was shocked at who Sheri found.
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