I Didn't Do Anything Wrong. Unless Doing Drugs Is Wrong. Then Yea, I Did A Shit Load Of Wrong.
Conner is quite the easy to get along with guy. He's energetic and fun and just all around great to be around. He doesn't have any psychologic issues and he is one of the most normal acting people in the facility. Conner is though, wrapped up in his own drug induced world. Even high he seems to be just fine and sober and collected. No on really understands what brought him to the correctional institute.
Drugs. Pistol.(for protection)
Conner grew up in a very crappy household. He watched his father die and was forced to deal with a drunk mother and stepfather. By the age of seven his cousin had gotten him hooked to the simple not very harmful drug pot. Conner enjoyed it so much he began looking for other things to use to make him feel better. At sixteen he started using and selling crank; or crystal meth as it's better known. He was one of the best dealers in his town and would only use when he really had to; he knew the side effects and he knew that if he wanted to live that way for a long time he'd have to cut back on how much he used. So he would only get high maybe once every two weeks. When he was seventeen years old a deal went to shit and his partner ended up getting stabbed by the person they were dealing to. Being the only one left at the scene and in possesion of a lot of top grade crank he was sentenced to ten-twenty years at Austin Dale Correctional Holding. His only chance of being let out is very good behaviour and passing drug tests every month for ten years to prove he isn't on drugs anymore.