Erica "Yoga" Jones and Janae Watson in “Unfinished Business”

I used to grow marijuana out in California, Humboldt County. One acre, nothing crazy. Just enough to keep me going.

Goin', like, baked?

Like, pay the rent. I mean, I smoked it once in a while. But mostly I was just a good old-fashioned drunk, like my parents raised me to be.

So the Feds shut you down.

Actually, it was the deer.

The who, now?

Oh, yeah, deer love weed. [chuckles] Fucks them right up, too. They start jumping around all over the place. Then they come back for more. And the kicker is, you can't keep them out. I tried everything. Soap shavings, fox pee, which they sell at the Home Depot for $120 a gallon.

Seems like you could have just built a fence.

No, a deer can jump an eight-foot barb wire fence with a smile on its face, like Donald O'Connor.

Get to the meat already.

I got a hunting rifle and stayed up all night, four, five times a week. And finally, one night I see them rustling around the edge of my property, where I was growing the quality shit, this hybrid plant called AK-47, which the fake prescription people eat up like peanuts. I was pissed.

And drunk?

Oh, honey, that goes without saying.

So what happened?

I shot him.

And?

And it wasn't a deer. It was an eight-year-old kid from the farm next door who was running away from home because his dad took away his Nintendo. A kid.

Shit.

And they buried him on their property, in a box.