Now he wants out.
"What I want is peace of mind," he says. "I'd like to have a regular job,
an office job, maybe in insurance or in a bank. My mother encouraged me to
take business courses because, she said, `Obviously, you're quite good with
numbers. You could run a small business.'
He says he's taking online business courses.
He has been applying for jobs but hasn't found one. He says his old
criminal record keeps popping up in background checks, and his resume has a
big, suspicious hole in it -- from 1997 to 2005.
Troy doesn't seem to have any remorse or guilt about the drug he sells. "I
didn't sell to kids," he says.
I told Troy that I was happy to know he hadn't contributed to Baltimore's
fierce heroin and cocaine problem during the past decade, but that a lot of
people might think that he had. (Marijuana is still regarded by many as the
gateway drug to the hard stuff.)
Clearly, the community is better off with one fewer marijuana salesman, so
if Troy wants out, let's encourage him to get a real life and a real job.
You never know: Someone out there might think a guy who has successfully
marketed a product for several years might have skills necessary to fill a
role in a mainstream business.
Troy says he'd take just about any job, understanding that he probably
won't be able to immediately replace his present income.
I have his phone number. I'll be glad to share it -- but only if you're
interested in talking to Troy about a job, not if you're looking to cop some
grass. Forget that, Troy says.
"I'm not taking any new customers."
Weary dope dealer aims to go straight into a new line of work
We've upgraded our reader commenting system. Learn more about the new features.
The Baltimore Sun encourages civil dialogue related to our stories; you must register and log-in to our site in order to participate. We reserve the right to remove any user and to delete comments that violate our Terms of Service. By commenting, you agree to these terms. Please flag inappropriate comments.