When I lifted the packaging, a strange bundle appeared beneath the plastic layer, wrapped in transparent foil.

At first, I thought it was a factory mistake — maybe they forgot a piece of wrapping. But then I noticed something heavy and metallic inside.

The dog growled again, and shaking, I cut open the bundle. Inside were small plastic bags, carefully hidden under the turkey’s skin. One of them tore open — and white powder spilled out.

I stepped back. Only one word rang in my head: drugs.
My heart was racing as I dialed 911.

The police arrived in less than ten minutes. The house quickly filled with people in gloves, dogs, and cameras. My husband arrived shortly after — pale, with a confused look on his face.

When the officer asked where he got the turkey, Kyle only whispered:
— I… bought it from a man near the parking lot. He said it was on sale…

Since that day, I never buy meat again unless I know exactly where it came from.