Jack and Jill were a couple aged mid-late 20s. They had dual income and no kids but often spent too much on drugs. One day Jonny visited, arriving in a new black Audi. Jonny was a member of the Kalashnikov Mansions Posse, a drug gang. He proposed to Jack they set up a skunk growing op in the couple's flat. The KMP would capitalise it, maintenance was minimal, and later they would share the crop. The main risk would be if anyone outside the loop got to know. So Jonny put heavy emphasis on silence.
"Don't tell anyone. Fucking ANYONE."
Jack agreed. Jill went along.
Two weeks before the skunk was due harvest, police entered the couple's little home, seized everything and placed Jack under arrest. Bailed him prior to appearing in court to answer serious charges. A bad day turned worse when Jonny and the KMP came to know. They went ballistic, almost literally.
"WHO FUCKING GRASSED?"
These dudes crashed into Jack and Jill's life and rendered it down to fragments, looking for the intel leak. The couple were dragged over coals and questioned in minute, repetitive detail. They both broke down, claimed to know nothing, but the gang were merciless.
"Fuck it, we still want paid. And we want the squealer...you fucking slags."
The KMP were a street search-engine. Mined every corner of the scene, noted details of everything, cross-referenced statements of anyone remotely associated. They said no-one need fear, if innocent - but talk. Or suffer Spanish Inquisition by Russian Roulette. Wicked heavy pistol held at the face. Hammer drops dry but after a few spins, even big boys bubble.
The Posse never 'officially' solved the mystery, but didn't stop persecuting Jack and Jill. Stress melted Jill's mind and her drug use rocketed. Paranoid delusions and a persecution complex led to hospital. Released to re-addiction and a family helpless. Admitted to long-term rehab, then rehoused in a council tower block. She began working as a street prostitute with other girls from there. Not for the paltry pay or insipid drugs. For the company, mostly. No-one else to be with, nowhere else to go.
Jack got twelve moon, served six in prison. Released, he took up IV heroin, sharing needles in the homeless hostel. He ran up debts though still owed from inside. One day, paramedics used Narcan to revive Jack from overdose on the pavement outside the hostel. He cursed the paramedics, cursed Narcan, cursed the world. Later that night he was found dead behind some wheeled bins near the hostel.
So who informed? Well, it could be speculated that a KMP member traded the skunk op in exchange for unofficial leniency on a class-A possession charge. Not a bad deal, but don't tell anyone. ANYONE.
What about Jonny? He's around. Got another Audi, metallic blue.