It was an unusual first date. But it soon became apparent to both of us that we were meant for each other. We shared the same values, liked many of the same things, and, more important, fell deeply in love. Dawn told me that ten years ago, back when she first met me, she would have wanted nothing to do with me because I was too wild. Now I was more mature and a bit more settled down.
Dawn moved into my empty bachelor’s pad in Virginia Beach and turned it into a beautiful home. Christian, her older son, lived with us, while Dylan stayed with his dad. While Dawn and I were happy, it soon became apparent that twenty-year-old Christian was having a hard time.
From the outside, Christian had everything going for him. He was strong, good-looking, athletic, had graduated from high school with honors, and was great with kids. He went to church regularly and worked out.
But while he was attending college at Old Dominion University in Norfolk, Virginia, he started drifting and hanging out with people who were dealing drugs.
He’d come home late at night with his pants hanging down below his underwear, a hat worn sideways, and a glazed look in his eyes. He was a smart young man, but somewhat naive about the world. I tried many times to warn him about the drug scene he was starting to enter.
I said, “Christian, you might not know it, but you’ve got everything in the world going for you right now. You’ve got a beautiful girlfriend, you’re doing well in college, you’re young and athletic. Don’t screw it up. If you’re having problems or are confused about something, let us know.”
He maintained that he was fine. But soon we started seeing less and less of him. He’d sleep until noon, go to school, hang out with his friends, and come home sometime in the early morning.
Both Dawn and I were concerned about him, but we didn’t know what to do. And Christian wasn’t sharing anything.
One night after he and his girlfriend came back from a trip to Florida, the four of us were sitting around the dining room table eating dinner. Both Dawn and I were curious about the purpose of the trip.
So I said, “Hey, Christian, how was your trip to Florida?”
“Fine. I went there to chill for a few days.”
“That’s funny,” I said. “Because you know my friend John, the FBI agent who lives down the street? He said something about your cell phone and having your cell phone number. Is there any reason he’d be following your cell phone?”
Upon hearing this, Christian’s girlfriend dropped her fork and said, “Oh God. I’m feeling sick.”
This confirmed our suspicion that Christian had gone to Florida to sell or transport drugs.
I called my brother, Rick, who was involved with AA and NA, and explained what Christian was going through. And I spoke to friends who worked in law enforcement and drug rehabilitation. They all said the same thing: You can’t help someone with a drug or alcohol problem unless he wants help.
Both Dawn and I tried talking to him. Some nights I’d be up in his room until five in the morning trying to get through to him. But nothing we said seemed to work.
One night Dawn went up to his room and found sixteen thousand dollars in cash. She came down the stairs holding it in her hands and said, “Look, Don. Whatever Christian’s doing, he appears to be good at it.”
She said it in a sarcastic way. Both of us were very alarmed.
I said, “Hide it. It’s dirty money. We’re going to find something positive to do with it. But in the meantime, put it away.”
A couple days later, Christian confronted her and said, “Mom, I need that money.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I want to buy a Lexus.”
“No, you don’t,” I said.
“I need a good car to drive back and forth to school.”
“A Lexus? Come on, Christian,” I shot back. “A Lexus would only advertise that you are in the drug culture.”
He found the cash Dawn had hidden and added it to other money he had to buy the Lexus. I told him that he couldn’t park it in the driveway. I was pissed.
He parked it on the curb in front of our house, and was coming home later at night and more infrequently.
One night, as Christian was driving back from a Snoop Dog concert, he was stopped by the police. They searched his car and found a couple of ounces of marijuana in the backseat. Christian was arrested, and the Lexus was confiscated.
Two uniformed policemen showed up at our front door to explain what had happened.
I said to the two young officers, “I don’t blame you for arresting our son. If I saw someone driving a new Lexus away from a Snoop Dog concert, I’d follow them too.”
One of the police officers said, “No, Mr. Mann. He was going eighty miles an hour through a red light and was sloped so far down in the front seat we couldn’t even see his head.”