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Go Home Smokefree Oregon is an initiative of the Public Health Division, Oregon Health Authority.

As part of the Public Health Division, the Oregon Tobacco Prevention and Education Program (TPEP) works in communities and with organizations across the state to create a healthy, smokefree environment for everyone.

05/26/2026

On a relentless rainy night, a muscular, calm man was withdrawing a large stack of cash from a 24-hour ATM while a young woman in a black dress waited patiently just behind him. As the machine dispensed the money, the man held it up, casually catching its scent, when suddenly a heavily built man wearing a police uniform and a bulletproof vest rushed into the scene. Instead of protecting citizens, this "officer" revealed his true colors as a brazen robber, pulling out a handgun, pointing it straight at the man's neck, and screaming furiously, "Give me the money! This is my money! Do you hear me? Mine!" While the young woman gasped and covered her mouth in sheer panic, the muscular man remained completely unfazed by the sudden threat, maintaining absolute composure as he casually slipped one hand into his pocket with his sharp eyes locking onto the assailant. Then came the ultimate plot twist: the man slowly pulled a leather wallet from his jacket and flipped it open with one hand to reveal a gleaming gold badge, looking the robber dead in the eye as he said coldly, "I'm FBI. You just threatened a federal agent." Right at that moment, the red and blue flashing lights of real police cruisers illuminated the dark street behind them, and realizing he had messed with the wrong guy, the fake cop’s face turned pale. Trembling with fear, the criminal lowered his weapon, stammered, "Sorry, sir! Sorry!" and bolted into the rainy night as fast as his legs could carry him, completely unaware that he was running straight into a trap.As he turned the corner, a wall of blinding headlights pierced through the heavy rain as three real police cruisers swerved into the alley, tires screeching to block his escape, while a voice boomed over a megaphone, "Drop the weapon! Hands in the air, now!" Cornered and defeated, the robber dropped his gun onto the wet asphalt and fell to his knees as officers rushed forward to handcuff him. Back at the ATM, the undercover agent calmly tucked his badge away and turned to the young woman, whose terror instantly vanished and was replaced by a confident smile as she pulled a small earpiece from her clutch and spoke into the mic, "Target secured. The sting was a success." She was not an innocent bystander but his FBI partner, and the entire encounter had been a meticulously planned setup to catch a rogue criminal who had been robbing citizens in a stolen uniform. Watching the suspect get shoved into the back of a cruiser, the agent finally let out a small smirk, pocketed his cash, and looked at his partner, saying, "Come on. Let's get out of the rain. I'm buying."Part 2 in the comments

05/26/2026

While pushing his cart down a grocery store aisle, a muscular, bald man wearing a leather jacket notices someone secretly dropping a suspicious white package into his cart. He turns around angrily to confront the person, demanding to know what they just put in his cart, only to find a police officer standing right behind him. The officer attempts to intimidate him, snapping, "Shut up, what is this?" as if catching him red-handed. However, the plot twists instantly when the man fiercely yells, "I'm FBI, you tried to set me up!" while flashing his official badge right in the officer's shocked face. With the corrupt cop completely stunned, the FBI agent commands, "Officers, take him!" prompting two other police officers to rush down the aisle and arrest their own colleague for trying to frame the wrong guy.Part 2 in the comments

05/25/2026

Don't Mess with the Wrong Family.The story unfolds at an outdoor security checkpoint, where a corrupt police officer named Martinez is aggressively interrogating a man and his young son. The boy, who is only seven years old, stands nervously in his blue polo shirt, closely guarded by his father. Despite the father’s calm insistence that his son is just a child, the officer aggressively searches the boy's camouflage backpack. With a sinister smirk, the officer subtly plants a small plastic bag filled with a suspicious red powder from his own gloved hand, holding it up and shouting, *"What is this doing here?!"The officer expects the father to break down in fear, but his dirty tactic backfires instantly. The father’s expression hardens into pure fury. He steps in close, cornering the crooked cop, and snarls with absolute authority:"Say that again. You just set up the wrong kid. I'm FBI!With a swift motion, the father flashes his official FBI badge right in front of the officer's eyes. Before the stunned cop can even process what is happening, the special agent barks an order to his team nearby: *"Officers, take him!"* The corrupt cop’s face completely drops from arrogant malice to sheer terror. He stammers, *"Sir, I... I thought..."* but it is already too late for regrets.The scene then shifts to a cafe, where the bald FBI agent sits confidently with a cup of coffee. Holding his badge up to the camera, he delivers a fierce, intense glare as a final warning to anyone who thinks they can abuse their power: *"You want more like this?"Part 2 in the comments

05/25/2026

The black car was parked right beside a large “NO PARKING ANY TIME” sign on a busy city street when a police officer noticed it and immediately walked over. He tapped hard on the driver’s window and coldly said, “Hey, you can’t park here.” The car door swung open, and a heavily muscled man wearing a tight white t-shirt and jeans stepped out. The officer instantly grabbed his arm, but the man glared at him and growled, “Take your hand off me.” Instead of backing away, the officer became even more aggressive. He grabbed the man’s shirt, pulled him closer, and smirked. “Relax, we can fix this,” he whispered. “Give me some money and I’ll let you go. Otherwise, you’re in trouble.” The driver stared at him in disbelief, his jaw tightening with anger. “You serious right now?” he asked coldly. The corrupt officer kept his grip on him, completely unaware of who he was dealing with. Suddenly, the muscular man pulled out an official badge from his waistband and shouted, “I AM FBI! YOU’RE FIRED!” The officer’s face instantly turned pale as he realized he had just tried to extort an undercover federal agent. But before he could react, the FBI agent threw a devastating punch that sent the corrupt cop flying backward onto the pavement. Pedestrians nearby stopped in shock as the officer crashed to the ground, stunned and helpless, while distant police sirens echoed through the city streets.Part 2 in the comments

05/25/2026

A muscular, bald man in a white tank top is walking down a city street, seemingly unaware that a police officer is following closely behind him. The officer notices a wallet on the ground and, seeing an opportunity, points it out and suggests a payoff. The two stand face-to-face, the muscular man glaring with increasing tension as the officer gestures to the cash inside the wallet. A moment later, the man’s expression hardens as he presents an FBI badge, much to the officer’s alarm.In a dramatic shift, the FBI agent throws a powerful punch, knocking the corrupt officer backward. The officer stumbles back in a state of terror, his initial overconfidence long gone. The scene ends with the muscular man holding the wallet and badge, looking intently into the camera as the officer falls to the ground in the background.Part 2 in the comments

05/25/2026

The night air was tense and heavy as a police officer approached a parked car on what seemed like an ordinary street stop. Inside sat a man wearing a black leather jacket, calm and silent as the officer leaned toward the window. But this was no normal inspection. In a corrupt attempt to frame an innocent driver, the officer secretly slipped two small plastic baggies filled with white powder into the vehicle, believing he could intimidate his way through the situation. Unfortunately for him, the driver saw everything. Grabbing the bags, the man’s expression instantly darkened with anger as he shouted, “Hey! What did you just drop in here?” Instead of backing down, the officer snapped aggressively, trying to maintain control. “Shut up! Why are you talking so much?” he barked, convinced he still held all the power. But in the very next second, everything changed. Furious, the driver pulled out a leather wallet and slammed an FBI badge directly in front of the officer’s face. “I’m FBI! Say that again!” he roared. The crooked cop froze instantly. The confidence disappeared from his face, replaced by pure panic and disbelief. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and he slowly raised his hands as the realization hit him all at once—he hadn’t just targeted the wrong driver, he had walked straight into his own downfall.Part 2 in the comments

05/23/2026

It was a quiet afternoon at an outdoor cafe under the shade of a massive banyan tree when the peace was suddenly shattered. A stern-faced police officer with tattooed arms marched up behind a muscular, bald man sitting calmly at a table. Without warning, the officer reached directly into the man's front polo pocket, pulled out a small plastic bag filled with white powder, and aggressively shouted, "What's in your pocket?!" He shoved the bag right in front of the man's face, demanding an explanation. Instead of panicking, the man remained completely unbothered, slowly looking at the bag before turning his head to look the officer dead in the eye. He casually stood up, towering over the officer, and simply said, "Drugs." But rather than putting his hands up, the man calmly reached into his inner pocket, pulled out a gold shield, and held it right in front of the stunned officer's face, stating firmly, "I am FBI." The officer's aggressive demeanor instantly vanished, his expression freezing in absolute shock and regret as he realized he had just tried to frame the wrong guy.Part 2 in the comments

05/15/2026

The rain hammered against the restaurant windows in cold silver waves while inside everything glowed with gold, crystal glasses sparkling beneath soft candlelight, polished marble floors reflecting warm chandeliers, and quiet laughter drifting through the room from people who had never worried about their next meal. Then the doors opened, and a little girl stepped inside, soaked from head to toe in a torn gray coat, clutching a muddy paper bag tightly against her chest. Water dripped from her sleeves onto the marble floor, her shoes were split at the toes, and her face was pale from the cold. Conversations stopped almost instantly as people turned to stare. A waiter hurried toward her, disgust already twisting across his face. “You can’t be in here.” The girl flinched at his voice but didn’t run. Her trembling eyes searched past him through the crowded restaurant as though she had crossed the entire city looking for someone. “Please,” she whispered softly. “I just need him.” The waiter shoved her backward, and the muddy paper bag slammed against the edge of a table. A crystal glass tipped over, crashed onto the marble floor, and shattered into glittering pieces. The sharp sound cut through the restaurant like a gunshot, and silence followed instantly. Every head turned. Near the center of the dining room, the restaurant owner stood from his table in a black suit, irritation hardening his face. His eyes moved from the shattered glass to the child’s dripping coat and finally to her shaking, dirty hands trying to hold the torn paper bag together. “Get out,” he said coldly. The little girl swallowed hard. Shame burned in her watery eyes, yet something inside her refused to break. “I just need him,” she repeated quietly. The owner stepped closer, jaw tight, ready to throw her out himself, but before he could reach her, the paper bag split open completely. Something small and silver slid across the marble floor. The owner’s eyes dropped instantly. An old baby bracelet. He bent down slowly and picked it up between trembling fingers. Mud clung to the silver, and age had worn its surface smooth, but the tiny engraved family symbol was still visible. Suddenly all the color drained from his face. An older woman seated nearby, elegant in pearls, rose so quickly her chair scraped sharply across the floor. “Where did you get that?” the owner demanded. The little girl pressed her hands against her chest as though she wanted to sn**ch the bracelet back, hide it, run away, disappear completely, but she stayed where she was. The entire restaurant had fallen silent now, and even the storm outside seemed distant. The woman in pearls stepped closer, her breath trembling. “Who gave you this?” The little girl slowly lifted her eyes toward them, rainwater still clinging to her lashes. “My mother.” The owner’s fingers tightened around the bracelet. “What was her name?” The child stared at him for one long moment, as though she saw something in his face that made her both frightened and strangely certain. Then she spoke. 👉 Part 2 in the comments

05/14/2026

The crowd came to the rodeo expecting danger. Bulls, broken bones, fearless riders that was the show they had paid for. But nobody expected the moment that would silence the entire arena. The announcer in the bright blue suit paced across the platform with a grin, his voice booming through the speakers as the massive black bull tore at the dirt below like a living storm. Dust rose around its hooves while the crowd cheered louder with every violent scrape. Then everything changed. A small figure suddenly climbed over the railing. Before anyone could react, a little boy in a faded denim jacket and gray hoodie jumped into the ring. He hit the ground hard, rolled in the dirt, then pushed himself back up as terrified screams exploded across the stadium. People shouted for security. Others screamed for the child to run. But the boy never moved. He stood completely alone in the center of the arena, trembling so badly it looked like his knees might collapse beneath him. His breathing came in sharp little bursts as he stared at the enormous bull facing him. Then, slowly, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a faded red bandana. The cloth was old and worn thin by years of sun and dust. The edges were frayed, and stitched carefully into one corner were two initials: M.R. The moment the bull saw it, everything changed. The animal stopped scraping the dirt and turned fully toward the child. Silence swept across the rodeo. Even the announcer lowered his microphone. “Kid…” he said nervously. “Get out of there.” But the boy only lifted the bandana higher with shaking hands. “My dad said you’d know this.” The bull snorted heavily, then started walking toward him slow, massive, terrifying. Every person in the bleachers seemed to stop breathing at once. A woman covered her mouth in horror while a man near the rail yelled, “Somebody grab him!” But nobody could reach the child in time. The boy’s lips quivered as tears filled his eyes. Still, he didn’t step back. “He said you waited for him,” the boy whispered. The words hit the arena strangely because some of the older ranchers there recognized those initials immediately. Mason Reed. One of the greatest bull riders the rodeo had ever seen. Dead for nearly a year. The bull suddenly charged faster, dust exploding beneath its hooves. The boy clutched the red bandana tighter, his entire arm shaking violently. “Please…” he cried softly, his voice breaking apart. “Don’t leave me too.” Then the bull lunged. People screamed. And at the very last second, it stopped. One giant horn hovered inches from the boy’s chest. The entire rodeo froze. The child stared into the animal’s dark eyes, breathing in tiny shattered breaths. “Ranger…?” he whispered. The bull let out a deep rumbling sound from its throat not anger, but recognition. Then, unbelievably, the giant animal lowered its head toward the red bandana and gently pressed its nose against the cloth. A collective gasp swept through the crowd. The little boy burst into tears. Slowly, carefully, he stepped closer, and Ranger didn’t pull away. Instead, the bull lowered its head even farther, almost as if it were offering the child something hidden beneath the leather strap around its neck. That was when the boy noticed it. Tied beneath the worn strap was a tiny silver ring and a small folded piece of paper wrapped carefully in plastic. His fingers trembled as he untied them. The ring dropped into his palm first. Inside the silver band were engraved two names: Mason & Ava his mother’s name. A broken cry escaped the boy’s throat. Then he unfolded the note. The second he read the words written inside, all the color drained from his face. His eyes shot upward toward the announcer’s platform in pure shock. An old ranch hand near the fence shouted, “What does it say?!” The boy swallowed hard, then with a trembling voice read the message aloud to the silent arena: “NOT AN ACCIDENT. BARN 3.” And suddenly, the announcer looked terrified.👉 Part 2 in the comments

05/14/2026

The bank was cold, bright, and quiet in that polished, expensive way that made people lower their voices without thinking. Soft keyboard clicks and the steady hum of the air conditioning filled the room until the silence suddenly shattered. A boy in a faded denim jacket stepped up to the marble counter and dropped a heavy worn canvas sack in front of the teller. The bag hit hard, and gold coins clinked loudly inside, making every head in the bank turn at once. The older teller in a navy suit looked up with instant irritation written across his face. “What do you need?” he asked sharply. The boy kept both hands on the sack so no one would see them shaking, but he still lifted his chin with quiet determination. “I came for my father,” he said. A few customers waiting in line frowned in confusion while the security guard near the entrance looked over more carefully, suddenly alert. The teller gave a dry, dismissive smile. “This isn’t the place for games.” But the boy didn’t move. Slowly and carefully, he opened the sack. Inside were old handwritten papers, large gold coins, and an antique pocket watch resting on top like it was the most important thing in the entire bag. The teller’s expression changed the second he saw it. Every trace of annoyance disappeared. His breathing caught in his throat. “Where did you get these?” he asked quietly. The boy looked straight into his eyes. “They were my dad’s.” The teller stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly across the floor. One customer froze mid-step while the security guard started moving closer. The boy swallowed hard before speaking again in a softer voice. “He told me if anything happened… I had to bring this here.” The teller stared at him as though he were seeing a ghost. “Who is your father?” he asked, but his voice was no longer steady. The boy reached into the sack, took out the antique pocket watch, and gently placed it on the marble counter. Suddenly the entire bank felt too silent. The teller picked up the watch with trembling fingers and slowly flipped it open. Inside was a tiny hidden photograph and an engraved name. His hand shook so badly he nearly dropped it. The boy watched him with strange, quiet calm and whispered, “He said you would know what to do.” The teller went completely pale. The security guard stopped directly behind him. And as the teller stared at the engraving like something long dead had returned from the past, he took one broken breath— 👉 Part 2 in the comments.

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