My father became a drug addict when I was 12 years old. After growing up watching him stumble all over the place and cause my problems, I decided he was not going to ruin my life.
When I turned 16 I told him that if he wanted help with his problem he could call and leave a voice mail and I would do everything I could to help him but other then that I didn’t want to speak with him until he started making the right choices.
When I turned 18 he was still doing his drugs. His drug of choice is heroin. One night I was watching the news and saw that there was a hit-and-run accident in which a lady was killed. After they gave a description of the car I knew it sounded like my fathers so I drove to his house to find his car had a shattered window, missing side mirror, dents to the hood, and a cracked headlight. I knew at the moment I had to turn my father in.
So I called a buddy of mine who was a cop and he reported to the unit who was going to investigate it. Come to find out it was him and that lady he killed pushed her daughter out of the way resulting in her death. I know I did the right thing by turning him in because he killed and innocent person to feed a habit that destroyed my family. Now that habit has destroyed another one. Once my family found out I was the one who turned him in they disowned me. It was only his side which I wasn’t close to but it still stings knowing I did something that was right and my family still holds that grudge.