My grandmother, my mother, and her boyfriend, Steve Knittle, drove me back to Los Angeles. I certainly wasn’t going to be driving my own car. We arrived late on December 4, the day my travel permit expired. I walked into my apartment with no way of knowing that U.S. Marshal Brian Salt had come by to arrest me early that morning. I stayed for the next three days, scared and anxious, expecting the FBI to show up at any minute, leaving very early every morning, and going to a movie every night to distract myself. Maybe another guy would have been out drinking and partying all night, but my nerves were shot. I figured these might be my last days of freedom for a while.