Indonesia arrests 285 in drug crackdown and seizes over half a ton of narcotics
JAKARTA, Indonesia — Indonesian authorities said Monday they arrested 285 people suspected of drug trafficking, including 29 women and seven foreigners, and seized over half a ton of various narcotics during a two-monthlong nationwide crackdown.
Indonesia is a major hub for drug trafficking in Southeast Asia despite having strict drug laws, with convicted smugglers sometimes executed by firing squad.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Washington Post
36 minutes ago
- Washington Post
Olympian Fred Kerley is at a troubling juncture after allegations of violence
Shortly after the new year, Fred Kerley walked with his girlfriend down a famous street in a glitzy section of Miami Beach, the kind of place that once had seemed so distant. Before Kerley sprinted in two Olympics and became one of the world's fastest men, he was raised by his aunt in a Texas home that at various points housed more than two dozen people. To remind himself of how far he had come, he had the word 'Bless' tattooed on his right arm, an identifying mark that would later appear in an arrest affidavit. Kerley and his girlfriend were returning to his car. They found it roped off behind a police scene. An argument with police erupted into a scuffle, body-cam footage shows, and quickly four police officers were on top of him, delivering blows to his head and ribs. 'Damn, I tried to get away from this life,' Kerley later said on the podcast 'The Pivot.' 'And this life got in front of me.' The altercation led to the first of a string of charges this year against Kerley, who has maintained his innocence while finding himself at a crossroads. Kerley transcended a tumultuous early life and became one of the most significant sprinters of his era, at one point carrying the unofficial title of world's fastest man. He now faces potential time behind bars in Florida. The charges include two misdemeanors and a felony stemming from an altercation with police that included him being Tasered; an allegation of domestic violence made in 2024 by his now-estranged wife, the mother of his three children, who said in an interview she feared for her life during the alleged incident; and a battery charge in connection with allegedly punching an Olympian ex-girlfriend at a hotel in Miami before a track meet from which he subsequently was expelled. 'I do feel bad for him,' said his wife, Angelica Kerley. 'We worked so hard for you to build this career, and him building his own image, for you to wait until you're 30 years old and destroy it.' Kerley has pleaded not guilty in all three cases, and his lawyer said in an interview that he believes all of the charges will be dismissed. Kerley, who declined to be interviewed for this story, has showed little outward concern, competing in professional races on three continents this season and posting frequently on social media. In one recent post, he accepted compliments for wearing Nike sneakers and a Louis Vuitton belt on a ranch. 'Legendary,' he wrote. 'I just don't think that someone gets to this level of athletic performance by being a quitter or by being someone that wallows in their suffering,' said Richard Cooper, Kerley's Miami-based attorney. 'He's focus-driven. He's going to continue doing what he does best.' In a statement, USA Track & Field indicated that Kerley remains eligible to compete in its national championships, which will begin July 31 in Eugene, Oregon. The U.S. championships are considered a 'protected competition,' which means the eligibility of athletes is covered by the Ted Stevens Olympic and Amateur Sports Act and USOPC bylaws. 'USATF is monitoring Fred Kerley's ongoing legal situation carefully and although he faces serious allegations, he also has the right to compete in certain track and field meetings (protected competitions),' the statement read. 'USATF is determined to provide a safe environment for all our community with a zero tolerance policy on any form of violent behavior.' World Athletics, track and field's global governing body, did not provide any specific rationale for its decision to allow Kerley to compete in Diamond League events. When Kerley won a bronze medal at the Paris Olympics in the 100 meters last summer, a probable cause for his arrest on domestic violence charges sat in a law enforcement database. Back home, Angelica Kerley tried to avoid the race. People congratulated her, unaware of their separation, her allegations and her subsequent petition for divorce. She finds it odd that Kerley is still allowed to run. 'It's triggering to me even now,' Angelica said. 'Knowing that the type of person he is, people are still publicly praising him.' Kerley's rise to the Olympics began in hardship. His father was imprisoned, and his mother, Kerley previously said in interviews, fell victim to drug addiction by the time he turned 2. Kerley moved from San Antonio to Taylor, Texas, where his aunt, Virginia, took in him and his siblings. He lived at times under a roof with 26 people. Two of his brothers, records show, have been either charged with or convicted of felony drug crimes. If not for track, Kerley said on 'The Pivot' in April: 'I don't know what I'd be doing. I definitely wouldn't be doing nothing legal.' His high school track coach recommended Kerley to South Plains College, a junior college in Levelland, Texas. Christopher Beene, the South Plains coach, watched Kerley at the Texas state meet his senior year. When he saw Kerley walk to his mark for the 4x400 relay, all long limbs and bulging muscles, Beene turned to his assistant and said, 'We're signing that kid.' In his telling, Kerley joined South Plains as a walk-on. Technically, that's true. But Beene was eager to offer Kerley a scholarship. He just didn't have to. Kerley was deemed a ward of the state, which meant Texas would pay for Kerley's room and board, tuition, books, everything. Kerley met a teammate then named Angelica Taylor. Over a year of Kerley's pursuit, she fell for him. He was persistent, she said. He was respectful when they were alone together. He had a generous heart. Another teammate, with whom he was not friendly, once asked Kerley to buy her a bag of chips. He obliged. 'Why would you do that if you don't like her?' Angelica asked Kerley. 'Because I know what it's like to go without eating,' Angelica recalled Kerley saying. 'And I don't want anyone else to have to feel like that.' Kerley treated track and field as a way out of his circumstances. He rarely spoke with coaches unless he had a question. 'If you told him, 'Let's go run through this wall,' Fred would say, 'Okay, how many times?'' Beene said. 'He would run until he'd fall down on the track. Then he'd get back up, and if he had another rep, he'd get it done.' An incident early in his sophomore year at South Plains threatened Kerley's career before it blossomed. According to Beene, Kerley went with a group of South Plains sprinters and basketball players to a dance club in a rough part of Lubbock. The South Plains athletes squabbled with another group of men. The basketball team's point guard escalated matters, Beene said, charging one of the other guys. Kerley grabbed the point guard and held him back. Once Kerley released him, the point guard channeled his anger at Kerley: He grabbed a piece of glass off the ground and slashed Kerley over the eye, according to Beene. 'Fred literally could have killed that guy right there,' Beene said. 'And Fred stopped, took a deep breath, trying to keep the blood from running into his eye. The other guys from the track team said, 'Come on, Fred, let's go.' So he backed off and walked away. That's the kind of person we were so proud of.' When the incident reached the South Plains administration, Beene said, he fought to maintain Kerley's place at the school. If he had been suspended, Kerley probably wouldn't have accumulated enough credit hours to transfer to a four-year school. 'He saved himself by acting right, and he allowed me a chance to save him later,' Beene said. With Beene's support, Kerley transferred to Texas A&M, a powerhouse where he set the collegiate record in the 400. The first time Angelica Kerley saw a violent streak in her future husband, she said, came shortly after they moved into their first apartment together in College Station, when their daughter was 1. Angelica recalled trying to help Kerley with an iPad. He snatched it away, and Angelica smacked it out of his grasp. Kerley stood up, Angelica said, and wrapped his hands around her neck. 'I got up, and I shoved him into the wall, and I told him he better never do that again,' Angelica said. It was not the only red flag. Angelica Kerley said that after the couple moved to Miami, while she was pregnant with their second child, they argued one morning about Kerley not walking their dog. She said Kerley grew upset and 'smacked' her in the back of her head. When provided a list of specific allegations made by his now estranged wife, Fred Kerley's lawyer said his client never abused Angelica Kerley. 'It's unsurprising that Mrs. Kerley is continuing with her slanderous fabrications but nevertheless disappointing,' Cooper wrote in a text message. 'Fred is an imperfect man, husband, and father, as we all are. However, my client categorically denies in the strongest way that he was ever physically, emotionally, or financially abusive to his family.' By 2019, Kerley had won the U.S. title in the 400. He entered the Tokyo Olympics cycle among the gold medal favorites, then sprained his ankle before the U.S. Olympic trials. Swelling prevented him from turning, but Kerley could still sprint straight. To the shock of track observers, Kerley announced he was switching from the 400 to the 100, the sport's marquee event. Kerley further stunned the track world when he captured the silver medal in the 100 in Tokyo. He left Nike, then his top sponsor, and signed a lucrative contract with Asics. Kerley's career continued its upward trajectory. His apex came at the world championships in 2022, where he won the 100 and earned the unofficial title of world's fastest man. 'I know today opened up many doors for me,' Kerley said that night. 'I'm thankful for that.' In Paris last summer, Kerley crossed the line in the final of the 100 near the front of a frenzied pack. He claimed bronze after a photo finish, making him the only man to medal in both post-Usain Bolt Olympic 100 races. It seemed he had fully separated himself from the difficulties of his childhood. Back in the United States, Angelica tried not to watch. 'People kept congratulating me,' she said, 'because nothing had hit the fan.' After 11 p.m. Jan. 2, Kerley walked with his girlfriend, Cleo Rahman, a musical artist known as DJ Sky High Baby, near Miami Beach's famed Ocean Drive. He discovered his car had been roped off inside a police scene and approached four Miami Beach police officers with 'an aggressive demeanor,' according to an arrest affidavit. Kerley argued with them, body-camera footage shows. One placed his hand on Kerley's chest, body-camera footage shows, which the arrest affidavit described as an attempt to create space from Kerley. Kerley slapped the hand away, then shoved the officer. A fracas ensued. Four officers wrestled Kerley to the ground and pummeled Kerley, according to the affidavit, with 'hammer fists toward the defendant's upper head area' and 'multiple diversionary strikes toward his rib cage, which were unsuccessful.' After roughly a minute, the officers backed off Kerley. When he stood, one officer Tasered Kerley for five seconds in his lower back. 'Full neuromuscular incapacitation (NMI) was achieved,' the affidavit reads. Body-camera footage shows Kerley falling onto his stomach. Kerley was arrested and charged with battery against a police officer, resisting an officer and disorderly conduct. At a bond hearing the next day, Miami-Dade Circuit Judge Mindy Glazer found no probable cause for the disorderly conduct charge and lightly admonished a Miami Beach police sergeant who appeared via videoconference. 'Sergeant,' she said, 'this could have been handled a different way.' Kerley's jail booking triggered an automatic alert to a detective with the Miami-Dade Sheriff's Office who had been looking to arrest Kerley in connection with an unrelated incident six months earlier: Kerley's wife had called police and alleged he had strangled her. On May 7, 2024, according to an arrest affidavit, the couple got into an argument that, Angelica said, was far different from the violent flashes she had experienced in the past. 'I thought that the man was going to kill me,' Angelica said. Kerley began approaching Angelica in an 'aggressive demeanor,' according to the affidavit, and she told him to step back. Kerley did not, the affidavit reads, and out of fear Angelica punched him in the face. 'He took his arm, and he put it around my neck,' Angelica said. 'He's strangling me with his arm from behind. I couldn't even get out of it. He lifted up the top half of my body, squeezed in between his arms, where the frontside of your elbow is, and he choked me. He strangled me.' Their three children, now 9, 3 and 1, were in the room at the time, Angelica said. She still didn't know whether she should contact police. 'You don't want to call the cops on somebody that you love,' Angelica said. Ultimately she did, swayed by her daughter's account of what she had experienced. When officers arrived, according to the arrest affidavit, Kerley had fled. Because Kerley was no longer at the scene, the detective entered a notice into a law-enforcement database that Kerley was to be arrested on a charge of domestic battery, a sheriff's department spokesman told the Miami Herald in January. Kerley was aware of the complaint as he trained for and competed in the Olympics last summer. Cooper, his lawyer, said Kerley had been led to believe was in the clear. A detective 'even told me to tell Fred to break a leg in Paris,' Cooper said. Cooper called the allegation 'very serious' and expressed confidence Angelica's account will be proven false. 'I have no reason to lie,' Angelica said. 'I don't have any personal gain or publicity I'm trying to gain from this situation. It's domestic violence. Who wants to talk about that? Who wants that to be their image?' In January, Angelica filed for divorce in Florida. In her petition, she alleged Kerley had been unfaithful. She also asked for a restraining order, alleging Kerley 'has been harassing and/or abusing wife and her family, friends and acquaintances and wife fears that husband will irreparably harm wife unless restrained by this court.' Angelica Kerley claimed he has refused to financially support her and their children. She filed for child support in November, and she said Kerley refused to attend mediation. The divorce case is still pending in Miami-Dade court. Kerley's legal trouble expanded this spring. On May 1, he traveled to the Le Meridien hotel in Dania Beach, about 25 miles north of Miami Beach. He was preparing for the second event of Grand Slam Track, a new league started by Olympic legend Michael Johnson. It had made Kerley one of its stars, featuring him on its website. Olympic hurdler Alaysha Johnson, who dated Kerley for six months in 2024, according to a Broward County Sherriff arrest affidavit, also planned to compete in the Miami Grand Slam Track meet. She ran into Kerley at the hotel, according to a Broward Sheriff's Office arrest affidavit, and they began to argue. According to the affidavit, Kerley shouted something along the lines of 'I'm going to f--- everyone up in here.' Kerley struck Johnson in the face, according to the affidavit, causing her nose to bleed. The affidavit noted that photographs showed injuries consistent with Johnson's telling. In a statement Kerley released days later, he acknowledged there had been a physical altercation but said he was arrested only because he chose not to talk with police without his attorney present. 'Frankly, Kerley is a little nervous around law enforcement given the absolute beating that he received at the hands of the Miami Beach police early this year,' Cooper said. 'He did the right thing. He invoked his rights immediately. Without a rebuttal story, the police arrested him.' Kerley's account differs from the affidavit, Cooper said. Cooper said that another man was present and that the fight occurred between him and Kerley. Johnson, Cooper said, was there 'instigating' the fight and was struck inadvertently. 'The idea that Fred would punch someone if he didn't have this nonsense domestic violence allegation, no one would even buy that for a second, that he would punch a random woman, an ex-girlfriend he saw in the hallway of a hotel,' Cooper said. 'That's so out of character, frankly. But because he has this other nonsense allegation, it does lend some credence in the eyes of the public, which is unfortunate. 'Eventually, that case will be dismissed. His case in Miami Beach will be dismissed. And this Broward case will be the outlier and will be considered outlier alleged conduct and will once again seem ridiculous. We've got to crush all these one at a time.' Through her track and field agent, Johnson declined to comment. Kerley's legal issues haven't stopped his career, but they have affected it. Since the most recent allegations, he has run in Diamond League meets in Morocco and, in early June, in Rome, where he finished fifth in the 100. The May altercation left Kerley suspended from Grand Slam Track until the conclusion of the legal case, a league spokesman said. It cost him a potential financial windfall: Kenny Bednarek, promoted to be his main rival in a video still on Grand Slam Track's website, won $100,000 in each of the two meets Kerley missed, plus another $100,000 season-long bonus. In March, Beene ran into Kerley at the Texas Relays. He had not seen his old junior college sprinter in years. When he saw Kerley, he hugged him and told him, 'If you ever need anything, I'm still here.' Beene had read media reports about Kerley's altercation with police in Miami Beach but not the domestic violence allegation. He wondered whether fame had brought malign influences into Kerley's life. But he also remembered the kid who came from nothing and backed away from a fight with blood trickling into his eye. 'Unless he's changed a lot toward the negative, the Fred Kerley I know would not have done it the way they said he did it,' Beene said. Angelica said she is not in love with Kerley anymore but has love for him because he is the father of their children. She is leaning against testifying against him at a potential trial. 'I really don't want Fred to be in prison because of our kids,' Angelica said. 'I had a dad that was in prison, and he missed some of our lives.' Angelica wonders now whether Kerley was ever really the kind, generous person she met at South Plains. 'Honestly, I'm just tired,' she said. '… I understand he moves these certain ways because of things he has had to go through in his past, as a child. I understand why he's this way. But it's not fair to me to have to deal with that.' David Ovalle contributed to this report.
Yahoo
3 hours ago
- Yahoo
Investigation launched after taxi rank altercation
Police have launched an investigation after several people were assaulted at a taxi rank in Guernsey. Bailiwick Law Enforcement said the altercation happened between 02:00 and 02:30 BST on Saturday at the Weighbridge Taxi Rank in St Peter Port. "Arrests have been made, and investigations are ongoing," police said. "If you have witnessed this incident or have any information that could assist the investigation, you are asked to contact the Criminal Investigation Department at Police Headquarters." More news stories for Guernsey Listen to the latest news for Guernsey Follow BBC Guernsey on X and Facebook and Instagram. Send your story ideas to Guernsey Police
Yahoo
3 hours ago
- Yahoo
Confessions of a gun smuggler: Former trafficker reveals how she brought weapons into Canada
Everyone knows guns used by Canadian criminals are often smuggled from the U.S. Not everyone knows how — not like Naomi Haynes does. That's because she did the smuggling. A native Montrealer who's been living in the U.S. for decades, she helped traffic dozens of weapons into Canada, some linked directly to drug gangs. "I wasn't thinking about the havoc I was causing in my birth land," she told CBC News last week. "I've got my kids, I've got bills. The only thing I [was] thinking about is monetary gains. I wasn't thinking about the people who are going to be affected." CBC News established contact with Haynes while she was in prison — at first communicating by email, then with a glitchy prison video app and then in a lengthy interview following her release last year. Her story helps shed light on the thousands of guns a year in Canada that police trace to the U.S. She described, in detail, tricks of the smuggling trade. And how she managed to move drugs, cash and, eventually, guns, for many years, depending on the product — either into the U.S., between U.S. states or into Canada. Rule No. 1: Only one person per car. If the vehicle gets stopped at the border, you don't want two partners tripping over each other's story during secondary questioning. "There's only one story this way," said Haynes, 45. "If you have two drivers, there's conflicting stories, and that's when you have problems.… 'Oh, you're coming from Virginia, but your friend says [she's] coming from Baltimore.' "So just one driver, so they can stick with their one lie." I wasn't thinking about the people who are going to be affected. - Naomi Haynes Rule No. 2: Find a good hiding spot. She would stash items in hidden compartments under seats; in door panels; in the trunk. She'd also move drugs in a gas tank — in triple-sealed, vacuumed bags. Rule No. 3: Get drivers who won't arouse suspicion. Haynes didn't transport guns herself; she got pulled over too often. She'd ride in a separate vehicle. "I started paying white girls and guys to move stuff for me," she said. Especially white women. They never got pulled over, she said. Until one did. Haynes was arrested in 2019, charged with smuggling, and with conspiracy to make false statements; she pleaded guilty, was sentenced, and served just under five years in prison. Hers is an unusual story. She's a vegan, millennial, Jamaican Canadian political science grad in South Florida who supports Donald Trump, became a grandma and wound up in an international conspiracy. Then again, her life story was atypical from the start. Escaping Montreal "At the end of the day, you become what you know," Haynes said. She grew up around drug dealers. Her late father dealt crack, then smoked it. In a book she's writing about her life story, Haynes describes a period when he became meaner, zoned out and indifferent, his eyes bloodshot. Her book describes one sister jailed for selling ecstasy. Another sibling, her brother, led a local street gang, according to the Montreal Gazette. She grew up in the area just south of the old Montreal Forum; her grandmother worked in the hallowed hockey shrine. From childhood, Haynes earned money in unconventional ways. Her half-complete memoir, entitled The Runner: Tripped by the Feds, begins with the words: "For as long as I can remember I have had a hustle." She ran store errands for adults and got to keep the change; collected beer bottles from their parties and returned them for cash; and, later, resold contraband cigarettes. "I made my first $1,000 in the seventh grade," she writes. She was desperate to escape the scene, to flee the bad influences. Haynes harboured a childhood dream of living in the States, and in 1997, she made it happen. She enrolled in college. She got a bachelor's degree from Florida Atlantic University, according to court documents, and also studied criminal science. She started smuggling to pay for school. And she made poor choices, she says, about whom she surrounded herself with. The man who became her husband made a $5,000 down payment on a Jeep Cherokee for her; she used that vehicle and received thousands of dollars more to move hashish, hash oil and marijuana into Canada. Over the years, she shipped contraband countless times: ecstasy, cocaine, marijuana, hash and cash, occasionally driving on her own, but usually hiring someone. She'd move products from buyer to seller, often across international lines, but also domestically, say, from Florida to Chicago. It was only many years later that she started selling guns. Around 2016, Haynes was desperately low on cash — she was divorced, with a baby, not working and with an older boy playing intercity baseball. "Everybody that I always did business with always said, 'No guns, no guns, no guns,' because there's a trail," she told CBC News. But it was great cash, about $4,000 Cdn per gun. On a nine-millimetre handgun that costs a couple of hundred bucks in South Florida, it's an astronomical profit. She'd ship about 20 at a time, and there were multiple shipments. She admits to two of them, which she figures generated about $160,000. Subtracting the cost of the purchase, the driver and her partner's share, she estimates she kept about $30,000, which helped her live comfortably for a few months. And then it cost her everything. WATCH | Major Toronto gang busts connected to Hayes's network: Police started closing in on Haynes from different angles — arresting associates, seizing phones, recording conversations and catching her in lies. It started after she purchased 20 weapons from different Florida gun stores in February 2018. On March 1, a day after her last purchase, she crossed into Canada through New York. She was stopped re-entering the U.S. two weeks later at Champlain, N.Y., carrying $4,300 in cash, and multiple cellphones. Border officers seized her phones and downloaded the contents. According to court filings, they found fraudulent or counterfeit IDs for several associates and shared that with the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. On the morning of April 27, two ATF agents arrived at her home in Boca Raton, Fla. She lied to them, insisting she'd been buying and selling guns to friends with legal permits. She insisted she had a storage unit. She took them to a CubeSmart facility and professed to be shocked when she found her unit empty. "You remember Martha Stewart?" ATF agent Tim Trenschel asked her, according to court documents. "The lady on TV that does fancy crafts. Do you remember that she spent some time in prison? Do you remember why?" Haynes replied: "Because she lied." The agent said: "Exactly." Haynes added: "About insider trading." The agent said: "You're way ahead of most people I talk to." WATCH | Majority of guns coming into Canada from U.S., data shows: Haynes insisted upon her truthfulness. "Listen, I get it, and I respect the law… I am being a thousand per cent honest." She was not, in fact, being 1,000 per cent honest. Far from it. The agent's observation about the risks of lying to a federal officer proved prescient. A couple of weeks later, guns she'd bought started turning up in police investigations in the Toronto area, identified despite attempts to deface the serial number. One loaded Taurus 9mm was found hidden in the panel of a car, alongside approximately $300,000 worth of cocaine. Days later, a Ruger .380 was found in another drug bust. The suspect tossed it aside while attempting to flee police. In September of that year, a friend she'd hired was stopped while crossing into Canada from New York state, carrying 20 hidden guns. Haynes was recorded following right behind her — crossing the border 62 minutes later. A number of the seized guns traced back to her circle. By this point, police had gained an informant. They were secretly recording conversations within her circle, even one involving Haynes's daughter. On Feb. 27, 2019, her daughter's boyfriend, Mackenzie Delmas, was caught. The informant delivered guns to him and Delmas was arrested immediately. Agents searched his home — and Haynes's. That's when Haynes knew she was done for. She was visiting her parents' home in the Montreal area. Her daughter called from Florida in the middle of the night with the news, and Haynes collapsed on the family couch. "I've never experienced a panic attack before in my life, but at that point, I started shaking. I couldn't talk, I couldn't breathe," Haynes said. "I was trying to gasp for air." Her mother tried calming her down, rubbing her back. She recalled her mother asking: "What's going on?" Haynes confessed what she'd been up to. The whole story. "My mother was so disappointed." At that point, Haynes made a decision: To give herself up. "I knew I was cooked," she said. "[I thought], I'm not gonna live on the run. I've got to face it. My time has come." Court documents confirm what happened next: She called the ATF in the wee hours of Feb. 28, and promised to return to the U.S. and speak with investigators. In subsequent recorded interviews on March 13 and April 3, she confessed everything: the fake identities, the illegal gun purchases, the shipments to Canada, the sales to known Canadian gangsters, her own trips north to collect cash and, crucially, her lies to police. She was arrested, and spent four years, nine months in prison, serving time in a low-security prison in Alabama. It was predictably miserable. She recalled guards treating inmates cruelly and arbitrarily — being decent to some of the meanest inmates, and mean to decent ones, people who got mixed up, in some cases accidentally, in bad situations. The worst was during COVID-19. After testing positive, she was sent to solitary confinement. "I was in the shoe for 13 days," she said. "I felt like a dog in a kennel. … The room was filthy. It was disgusting. The sinks — the water was brown. The toilet, it was disgusting." Her main diet in prison consisted of peanut butter. She gave up meat and dairy years ago, grossed out by it. Given the choice between baloney and peanut butter, she'd take the latter. She recalls paying $7 for a cauliflower once and air-frying it with a blow-dryer. But the absolute worst thing about prison? Her parents dying, and being unable to see them or attend their funeral. Her beloved mom slowly died of cancer while Haynes was in jail. By the time her father died, she was out, but she had to attend the funeral on Zoom. Haynes can't leave and re-enter the U.S. because she's fighting deportation. A Canadian citizen, she's a green-card holder in the U.S., and of her three kids, they're either living there or hoping to live there with her. She now works an office job at a landscaping company. "My mom was sick with cancer and I failed," Haynes said. "My choices and the things I was doing caused me to not be there for the person that was always there for me." What about potential gun victims: does her sense of guilt extend to them? As a vegan who avoids hurting animals, does she ever wonder whether any humans were harmed by those chunks of steel she trafficked? Initially, no, she said. As she got into the business, the only thing on her mind was money — paying the bills. Then she had four years, nine months in prison to think. And she started thinking about other people's pain, about other families and whether her guns killed any young kids in a drive-by. She now prays that those guns are confiscated. "I stay in constant prayer that they get seized," she said. "I don't want to know that I'm responsible for somebody losing their life."
