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I was banged up in hellhole prison like Brit drug mules & preyed on by pervy guards… sick ways they break female inmates

I was banged up in hellhole prison like Brit drug mules & preyed on by pervy guards… sick ways they break female inmates

The Suna day ago

HANDCUFFED to a chair and sweating profusely in a puffer jacket, Alana Moor was terrified she'd never be allowed to go home.
The 24-year-old was due to fly back home to Canada from Panama when she was arrested for drug smuggling in March 2015.
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People she'd considered friends had persuaded her to take a suitcase, which contained 11 kilos of cocaine stashed in the lining.
Alana - who was sentenced to six years and nine months for her crime - says she was detained in a stinking prison cell where she was deprived of all basic necessities and preyed on by pervy male prison guards.
So she understands only too well the horror that alleged Brit drug mules Bella Culley, 18, Charlotte May Lee, 21, will be facing in Georgia and Sri Lanka respectively, after they too were caught smuggling the illegal substance.
In an exclusive chat Alana, now 38, tells The Sun: 'I was scared for my life as two armed officers put me into the back of a rickety truck.
'I didn't know where I was going, and I was terrified I was going to be raped or something.
'After a while, they pulled up to this police station with a prison attached.
'Once there I was strapped to a chair in the clothes I had planned to travel home in - winter items.
'They left me there for days, nowhere to go to the loo, wash, or not even allowed to take off a layer. It was humiliating.
"I had to wipe myself with my hand when I went to the loo where I was sat.
'When the guard came to unchain me, he retched at the smell of me.
Brits accused of trying to smuggle drugs into the UK from abroad are being locked away for a long time
'Just two weeks before I had been partying with NBA stars.'
Alana claims she was convinced to carry the case by a client she was styling, with ambitions of becoming a fashion designer.
She had been taken under the wing of the woman - who claimed to work for a famous US music star in Toronto.
Alana says the woman, who' d become a friend, promised to introduce her to celebrities that could become potential clients - on the condition she took a holiday to Panama to pick up a suitcase and bring it back to Canada for the musician.
Alana claims they promised to get her out of Panama safely if anything went wrong because they had top lawyers.
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She admits she suspected the suitcase contained something illegal, telling The Sun she thought it was likely drugs, passports or cash.
The friend promised Alana that on her return she'd be introduced to the music mogul and become their stylist.
But her dream was shattered when border officers found the cocaine stash hidden in the suitcase lining.
Alana says she was strip-searched at the airport and made to watch as cops pulled out the packages, which she'd naively thought was insulation.
She was then handed a form in Spanish and told by a translator to cooperate and sign it - but later discovered it confirmed everything in the case was hers.
In the first Panama prison she was detained in, Alana says they sent one meal, a bottle of water and a can of Coke, and claims it was the only food she was given while shackled to the chair.
She was later moved to an all-female prison to await her court date.
Violent offenders
After being handed a six year, nine-month sentence, Alana was moved to an overcrowded female prison in the centre of Panama.
When she arrived at the jail, she says there were 26 women to one cramped room. By the time she left that number was closer to 60.
Many were in prison for murder and other violent offences.
But the majority had been caught with drugs and arrested to show officials were taking an active stance in the war on drugs.
'Prison in Panama is nothing like prison in the US, Canada or the UK,' she says.
'As I was being taken in, the guard said to me, 'There are laws in this country, but as soon as you cross these bars, the laws don't apply'.
'I had nothing given to me, just the clothes I was wearing. I had to shower with laundry detergent for the first two weeks.
'I wasn't given any underwear, no toilet paper or sanitary products. When I got my period I had to free bleed, with blood soaking my clothes as I went about my day.
'Guards and other inmates would tell me I smelt like blood, but there was nothing I could do. No woman should ever be put in that position.'
Thankfully Alana's parents were allowed to visit and could bring supplies and money for her to buy things she needed - but she says that didn't always make things better.
'Depending on who was guarding when we were sent outside for work, sometimes we wouldn't be allowed back in to use the bathroom," she recalls.
'And when I was on my period, that would mean I used to have to just bleed through whatever sanitary product I was wearing. It was vile.'
Horrifying searches
Alana claims it was common for prison guards to randomly search cells in the middle of the night or early hours of the morning to try to seize phones or drugs that had been brought into the prison.
Often these raids came with humiliating strip searches for the women.
'One morning, 80 balaclava-wearing officers burst in and sprayed us with pepper spray,' she recalls.
'I was in my underwear. They took people out to be strip searched."
I'd find notes in my stuff from the male guards telling me I was pretty or that they wanted me to be their girlfriend.
Alana Moor
Alana claims she was made to bend over and officers pointed to her tampon string, demanding she remove it.
'I tried to refuse, but they didn't care," she says.
"I was then made to sit in the corner of the cell while they searched it for 45 minutes holding this bloody tampon in my hand while bleeding everywhere.
'Six male officers watched me as I left the room and then sat where I was told. It was horrendous and inhumane.'
Indecent propositions
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Male officers also brazenly attempted to woo girls they were supposed to be guarding, Alana claims.
'Often after raids I'd find notes in my stuff from the male guards telling me I was pretty or that they wanted me to be their girlfriend,' Alana says.
'They'd leave their phone number because they knew we had mobiles. I was often targeted for being the 'white gringo' in the prison.'
Alana says having a mobile phone was commonplace, and hiding them became a lucrative business for inmates.
Everyone was hustling to try to make money. Drugs were dropped of at night by gangs.
Alana Moor
Women would be paid $100 to put them in intimate places to stop them being taken, with Alana claiming some girls fit "up to five" in their private parts.
'Everyone was hustling to try to make money," she says.
'Drugs were also common. They'd be dropped in at night by gangs who would post them through the tiny letter box windows in the concrete jail.'
Vile conditions
Alana claims it was common for power and water at the prison to fail for days on end, leaving them without showers or facilities to wash.
'We'd be having to put our excrement in bin bags because we couldn't flush the toilets,' she recalls.
'Then we'd be given a bucket of water to shower with for the days the power was out. This was all while it was extremely hot.
'It just wasn't sanitary. I'd get sick a lot because the water wasn't particularly clean. I had to beg and pay to get purified water.
There are just layers and layers of trauma being piled onto you when you're inside. They treat you like you're nothing.
Alana Moor
'Often the food we were given was rotten, but you had to eat it in order to survive.
'There are just layers and layers of trauma being piled onto you when you're inside. They treat you like you're nothing.'
Alana used her prison time to do every course she could, even teaching herself Spanish.
She also worked out for two hours every day and helped teach other women how to exercise to keep themselves fit.
Warning to Brit drug mules
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Now she is a motivational speaker and offers dignity packages to women who find themselves in prison, and helps families advocate for drug mules in similar situations.
Alana is horrified by the growing number of young British women who have recently been caught attempting to smuggle drugs.
Former air hostess Charlotte May Lee is in a Sri Lankan jail accused of smuggling £1.2million of cannabis while pregnant Bella Culley from County Durham was arrested in Georgia for smuggling cannabis from Thailand.
This week it emerged another young mum, Cameron Bradford, is being detained in Germany for allegedly smuggling cannabis in her bags on a flight from Thailand.
Alana says: 'I feel so sad for them, but the best thing they can do now is take accountability for their actions, as hard as that is.
'It's easy to blame other people, but you've made this decision. The best and worst thing about prison is time, so use that time wisely.
"The end goal is to come out better than you went in.
'For their parents, support and love your child. They need you now more than ever.
"They know they've made a mistake, and getting mad at them won't make that any better.
"I will be reaching out to their families to offer help and support in any way I can.'
Alana Moor is founder of The Hour Glass Movement, which provides dignity packages to women in prison. She also works as a motivational speaker, life coach and an advocate for women in prison, working with Lenola PR.
Why Brit backpackers are prime targets, Thai cop reveals
By Patrick Harrington
Police Lieutenant Colonel Arun Musikim, Deputy Inspector of the Surat Thani province police force, said: 'Cases involving British nationals smuggling cannabis have been around for a while.
'There is a lot of cannabis grown on Thailand's islands in the south because the climate is suitable and it is legal. A lot of gangs are attracted to this.
'There are now various smuggling methods that we have seen. Some carry it themselves, some hire backpackers, and some send it via mail.
'This year, there have been many cases we have intercepted. Most involve British and Malaysian nationals.
'It's easy for British citizens to travel as they can enter Thailand and return to the UK without needing a visa.
'Most of the smugglers are people hired to carry the cannabis, similar to how tourists might smuggle tax-free goods.
'They're usually unemployed individuals from the UK. The gangs offer them flights, pocket money and hotel stays, just to come and travel and take a bag back home with them.
'These people often have poor social standing at home and are looking for ways to earn quick money. They find them through friends or on social media.
'Many will go to festivals or parties while they are here, just like they are having a normal trip abroad.
'They are told that it is easy and they will not be caught. Then the amount the organisers can sell the cannabis for in the UK is much higher than it costs in Thailand.
'Police suspect that there are multiple employers and groups receiving the drugs on the other end. The cannabis then enters the UK market.
'We are being vigilant to ensure there are no routes out of the country.'

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The crack-riddled seaside town where dealers flog £15k hauls in Asda bags and junkies hole up in filthy ‘death row'
The crack-riddled seaside town where dealers flog £15k hauls in Asda bags and junkies hole up in filthy ‘death row'

The Sun

time31 minutes ago

  • The Sun

The crack-riddled seaside town where dealers flog £15k hauls in Asda bags and junkies hole up in filthy ‘death row'

DESPAIRING residents of a world-famous seaside town are so fed up of its drugs problem they are taking antidepressants. Bridlington, in East Yorkshire - once an upmarket and bustling resort - is still renowned for its excellent shellfish and is referred to as the Lobster Capital of Europe. 17 17 17 17 Tourists continue to flock to the area, which was used as a filming location for the 2016 remake of Dad's Army, to take advantage of its sandy beaches and funfair. But a short distance from the promenade, on Tennyson Avenue, also known as "death row", drug deals are taking place in broad daylight. The scruffy terraced street was once the pride of the town and home to upmarket B&Bs, but in recent years has suffered a sharp decline. The Victorian buildings, which retain little of their former grandeur, have been converted into HMOs and flats or else lie empty and boarded up. Shortly before 8.30am on a grey, cloudy morning, a scrawny woman walks along the street, which is littered with empty cider cans, clutching a bottle of vodka. Residents speak of being forced to defend themselves against "crack heads" and nightmare neighbours, who set fire to their flats. One pensioner says she used to be proud to call Tennyson Avenue home, but now barely recognises it. The woman, who was too scared to give us her name, said: "The best thing about Bridlington now is the road out of it. "Ex prisoners used to live next door, and they were drug taking and setting fire to the place. "It was 24/7. It was the first time in my life I had to get anti-depressants. "There is drug dealing going on all the time. There's a particular car I recognise and it's dropping things off all the time. "They deal everything, but it will definitely be crack cocaine. You see them outside houses waiting for drugs, doing their rain dance. "You can't go out now without your door locked. Houses around here are full of drugs. "When I moved here it was excellent. It was really quite wonderful. "I used to be proud to say, I live on Tennyson Avenue, but I'm not now. There's not much I can do, I have to live through it." 17 17 17 Simon Elvidge worked as a commercial diver before he was diagnosed with cancer and moved to the street. The 59-year-old has been forced to fend off drug takers determined to start fights while high on cocaine. He said: "This road used to be posh. But now it is full of druggies and drugs. "It has gradually become worse but I think this is happening to every seaside town. "They deal all sorts of drugs around here. At one point we had a place on the corner which used to house people coming out of jail. "That was a mini crime wave. They would shoplift to pay for their drugs. "The police are up and down all of the time. I worry about it but I can handle myself. I've had to do it a few times. "I've had to knock a few crack heads out. One time I had a guy who came up to me and wanted to start a fight. "But they don't even know what they're doing most of the time, they're so high. "I've been here six years but I came from a village to move here. "That was a huge eye opener for me." Left to rot Sat between Tennyson Avenue and the beach is a former HMO which is now boarded up and in a state of neglect. A sign stuck to the outside simply reads: "CLOSED. To protect your community from anti-social behaviour." Around the corner, CCTV cameras operate in the back alleyways and there are signs warning people not to fly-tip. One camera has been painted over, rendering it useless. 17 17 17 Tennyson Avenue was recently home to Michael Severn, until he was sent to prison for six-and-a-half years for drug dealing. Severn, 31, was found with an ASDA carrier bag between his legs containing £15,000 worth of cocaine. A local who didn't want to be named tells us he used to be part of the area's criminal activity before turning his life around. The young man said: "I grew up around here. It has gone really downhill. "It used to be a thriving town and it was a main seaside attraction but now lots of places have closed down. "Drug deals happen all down this road. They deal all kinds of drugs but definitely crack cocaine. 17 17 17 "I've had my own demons in the past but came out the other side. "I was homeless for months but I used my will power and stopped being around the wrong people. "All of the people who told me to hang around and stay are the ones still living in tents now. "There is one back alley just off this road where all of the druggies go to. "They are all over this area. You see them waiting around in plain sight." Desperate deprivation The most up-to-date figures released by the Index of Multiple Deprivation (IMD) ranked Bridlington South as the 45th most deprived area in England out of almost 33,000. In 2021 there were 30 drugs death in East Riding, up from 22 in 2020. And last year, Bridlington suffered the humiliation of being named the worst coastal resort in Yorkshire. In March, three criminals were sent down for a combined 17 years after flooding the town with £3million worth of crack cocaine. Lee Jenkinson, 32, Luke Gibson, 35, and Liam Langton, 27, were snared after a lengthy police probe into rising violence and drug activity between gangs in the town. 17 Georgina Marie is originally from Hull but moved to Bridlington to live with her partner. The tutor fears for the future of her one-year-old daughter. The 28-year-old said: "We live five minutes from the centre and people will openly drug deal in the middle of the afternoon in the street. "But they will admit to doing it. They don't hide it. "It's a lot of weed in the town centre but there's other drugs elsewhere. I worry for my little one. If I had my own way I'd live in the middle of nowhere and send her to a private school. Georgina "They are trying to make it a better area for the tourists rather than the people who live here. "We don't need a new car park, we need community centres for the kids. "A new car park will be great for the tourists but the locals won't use it. But instead kids are on the streets here because they have nowhere else to go. "I would go to the park as a kid but now they're not safe enough." "Now we see drug dealing in Bridlington and I worry it will escalate to people carrying knives etc. by the time my daughter is older." 17 17 A spokesperson for East Riding of Yorkshire Council pointed to their Clear Hold Build scheme, which is a "concerted effort to improve quality of life in Bridlington, including by tackling organised crime and antisocial behaviour". They added: "The aim is to disrupt and dismantle Organised Crime Groups (OCGs) by clearing the area of OCGs, then building community resilience to prevent their return. "The council has also supported the police by using closure orders against council properties which have been the site of antisocial behaviour, to bring immediate relief to residents." Ian Foster, the Neighbourhood Policing Inspector for Humberside Police, said: "Over the past year our Neighbourhood Policing Team have been working relentlessly in Bridlington to tackle anyone who has been causing harm in the area. "We continue to take part in the multi-agency Home Office Clear Hold Build Initiative, which has involved large scale disruption of those involved in organised crime through warrants, arrests and charges. "As a result of our ongoing work through this initiative, since April 2024, the courts have issued a total of 99 years and five months in prison sentences in relation to organised crime in Bridlington. "With continued operations to tackle organised crime gangs and drugs dealing, such as Operation Shield, we continually gather intelligence, conduct Misuse of Drugs Act warrants and arrest and bring to justice those who commit drugs offences in our communities. "Throughout the summer months we have also been running Operation Coastline, our proactive approach to tackling crime in our coastal region as the number of visitors increases. "Bridlington is a fantastic place to live, work and visit and we are proud to be part of the community here. "I urge anyone with any concerns or information about crime to please get in touch via our non-emergency 101 line or speak to an officer on patrol."

‘I'm paranoid all the time': surveillance and fear in a city of immigrants as White House ramps up deportations
‘I'm paranoid all the time': surveillance and fear in a city of immigrants as White House ramps up deportations

The Guardian

timean hour ago

  • The Guardian

‘I'm paranoid all the time': surveillance and fear in a city of immigrants as White House ramps up deportations

Two months after fleeing death threats in Colombia, Juan landed a construction job in New York. But on his first day, the bulky GPS monitor strapped to his ankle caught the manager's attention. It wouldn't fit inside standard work boots. The boss shook his head. 'Come back when you've resolved your status,' he said. Since arriving in the US with his teenage daughter to seek asylum, Juan has lived in a state of constant anxiety. 'It feels like I committed a crime, like they're going to arrest me at any moment,' he said, speaking near the migrant shelter where they now live in Queens. Juan started wearing oversized pants to hide the monitor, a style he finds uncomfortable. 'I'm paranoid all the time,' he said. Genesis, a 25-year-old from Panama, lives in the same shelter as Juan with her two-year-old. She has worn an ankle monitor for more than 18 months. 'When I go to the park with my son, other parents don't want their kids to play with him,' she said. The stigma of the monitor, she added, makes her feel like a bad mother. Genesis fled after members of Tren de Aragua, a transnational criminal group from Venezuela, threatened her life there, she said. Juan and Genesis are among the more than 12,000 immigrants in New York enrolled in Immigration and Customs Enforcement (Ice) schemes called Alternatives to Detention (ATD) and the Intensive Supervision Appearance Program (ISAP). Most of them are asylum seekers from Central or South America who came to the city seeking safety and the chance to work, according to a recent report from the American Bar Association, a national group of lawyers. They don't have any criminal convictions, yet without legal status, they live under constant surveillance as their cases wend their way through the badly backed-up US immigration court system. Under ATD-ISAP, people can be monitored through GPS ankle bracelets, wrist-worn trackers, telephone check-ins or a mobile app called SmartLINK. The number of undocumented people under electronic monitoring related to their lack of immigration status alone is believed to have more than doubled since 2021, when the number in the US was about 85,000, according to the Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse (Trac) at Syracuse University, although the organization 'advises the public to be extremely cautious' about data on this from Ice. Ice's internal budget for ATD-ISAP has increased from $28m in 2006 to nearly $470m by the end of 2024. While attention in the second Trump administration has been on detention and deportation, electronic monitoring is still a significant factor in many immigrants' lives and has been increasingly so in recent years. Ice promotes ATD-ISAP as a 'humane and cost-effective' alternative to detention, but while it is certainly better than being locked up, lawyers and advocates argue it embeds unnecessary state control into homes, workplaces and public spaces, trapping people in cycles of fear, stigma and instability. Those assigned body-worn monitors often report skin irritation, discomfort and the need for frequent charging. When the battery runs low, the device emits a loud alert that draws unwanted attention. 'People made comments while I was working at McDonald's. I'm not a criminal,' Genesis said. Even routine activities like showering can trigger connectivity issues, leading to phone calls from ISAP officers or sudden demands for in-person check-ins. SmartLINK, by contrast, requires participants to submit geotagged selfies, typically once a week, rather than being tracked continuously throughout the day. ATD-ISAP is managed by BI Incorporated, a subsidiary of the private prison giant Geo Group. In 2020, Donald Trump's first administration awarded the company a five-year, $2.2bn contract. Regardless of the type of surveillance assigned, participants remain under acute risk of arrest and deportation. Some have started the asylum application process; others came relatively recently from Texas when that state was bussing asylum seekers to Democratic-led cities, and so far are merely trying to find their footing, perhaps a lawyer and some advice about starting the process to get papers and a work permit. They are expected to report in person to the ISAP office with little notice. The office is located in a basement near Ice's 26 Federal Plaza headquarters in lower Manhattan. Appointments are usually scheduled during working hours, forcing many to miss work, arrange childcare or lose out on daily wages, all while being in terror of arrest and summary detention. On weekday mornings, people can be seen lining up outside the building while anxious loved ones wait nearby. 'It's very difficult to have a normal life,' said a man from Guatemala whose wife has been monitored for three years. He asked to remain anonymous. 'We can't even leave the city,' he added. Some people enrolled in the ADP program were arrested amid record enforcement earlier this week, NBC reported, in a national ramping-up of efforts on the orders of senior Trump administration officials, including in New York. The effects of surveillance aren't limited to those being tracked. Entire neighborhoods are feeling its presence. Liliana Torres, a psychologist who offers weekly mental health support in Spanish to newly arrived immigrants, said that cameras, patrol cars and even the sound of sirens regularly spark panic among her clients. 'Everyday elements of the city become triggers,' she said. Sign up to This Week in Trumpland A deep dive into the policies, controversies and oddities surrounding the Trump administration after newsletter promotion This fear is especially felt in areas of the city such as Corona, home to New York's largest Latin American immigrant community. Local business owners reported a noticeable drop in customers the first few months of the Trump administration. 'People think they're going to take all of us,' said a nail salon worker who asked to remain anonymous due to concerns around her legal status. 'But we can't afford to stay home. We have to work.' Vendors at Corona Plaza say police presence has increased in recent months, especially since the launch of Operation Roosevelt last fall, a citywide crackdown on unlicensed vending and sex work. The measures disproportionately affected undocumented residents. Neighbors and advocates worry the heightened enforcement signals deeper coordination between the New York police department and federal immigration authorities. 'There's a noticeable uptick in the use of digital surveillance tools, including social media monitoring and data-sharing with local agencies,' said Veronica Cardenas, an immigration attorney who left her role as an Ice prosecutor in 2023 after witnessing first-hand the treatment immigrants receive. 'More people who would have previously been considered low priority are now at risk.' Fear spreads online, too. 'We see people on TikTok saying Ice is coming when it isn't,' said Niurka Meléndez, founder of Venezuelans and Immigrants Aid (VIA), a volunteer-run group that connects asylum seekers to legal and social services. 'Or worse, spreading confusion about immigration law.' VIA has been leading a regular event called Miracle Mondays at the St Paul & St Andrew United Methodist church in Manhattan since 2022. Once considered sanctuary spaces, churches are no longer off limits to Ice, prompting VIA to take extra precautions. Event locations are now shared privately via WhatsApp, rather than being posted publicly on social media. In response to growing fears, the Venezuelan-led group has also started organizing legal clinics in neighborhoods such as Corona to reach those too afraid to attend the church. At one such event in March, dozens of Latin American migrants gathered to ask lawyers from the New York Legal Assistance Group how they could regularize their immigration status. 'If I give birth here and they deport me, will they keep my baby?' asked Stefani, a Venezuelan woman eight months pregnant. One lawyer responded cautiously, explaining that while she would have the right to bring her baby with her, the government can still act in ways that disregard the law. Lawyers also handed out one-page notices saying that individuals with pending asylum cases cannot be detained without due process. Local community groups such as Ice Watch have adapted to this new climate by educating communities about their rights. Ice Watch tracks immigration enforcement and sends real-time alerts via encrypted Signal chats across the five boroughs. Its members also conduct training to teach people how to recognize Ice agents, document encounters and support those being targeted. Social workers, English teachers activists and small business owners are often among those who attend. For Juan, who fled Colombia after gang members shot his father in the head, life in New York has come at the cost of constant paranoia and a sense that genuine safety remains out of reach. His 16-year-old daughter notices everything. 'She sees how I live and blames herself,' he said. At times, they've talked about returning to Colombia, but the risk of being kidnapped and tortured by mobsters is very real for him and his family. 'I fear something worse than death could happen if I go back,' Juan said. Despite the stress, he holds on to small signs of progress, such as watching his daughter attend school and slowly but steadily pick up English. 'I need to give her at least the option to have a better life than I had,' he said.

Bristol man Jardel Edwards jailed after gun found in drawers
Bristol man Jardel Edwards jailed after gun found in drawers

BBC News

time2 hours ago

  • BBC News

Bristol man Jardel Edwards jailed after gun found in drawers

A man has been jailed after a gun and taser were found in his chest of drawers. Jardel Edwards, 22, was sentenced at Bristol Crown Court after pleading guilty to two counts of being in possession of a firearm and ammunition. He also admitted being in possession of Class A drugs crack cocaine and heroin with intent to supply, which plain-clothed police officers found in his pockets when he was stopped on 6 February in Webb Street, then searched his home in Cotton Mill Lane, Barton Hill, where they found the weapons in his bedroom, as well as further evidence of drugs supply. Edwards was sentenced to eight years in prison on Thursday - five years for the firearms offences and three years for the drugs Insp Tom Tooth of Avon and Somerset Police said: "Edwards' evasive behaviour when officers first spoke to him led them to believe he had something to hide."It is clear from the amount of drugs that Edwards' had in his possession that he had intended to sell them, bringing further harm to our communities through drug use and drug-related crime."

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