I love these kind of threads. I remember one where a guy was freaking out monitoring all the helicopters and planes flying over his house and cars driving down his isolated road, and keeping us updated on it. So here's my contribution:
A looong time ago when I was young I rented a little house with a cousin for a bit, and after we moved into a new place I kept the rental house to blow up with a grow. Bad idea right? Well, the landlord was 90+ years old and didn't give a shit anymore and was medically bound to his home anyway. Plus the lease was month-to-month so I could leave any time and the landlord was super laid back when I met him the one time to sign it. So I felt the situation was an exception to the rule, plus the rent was cheap only a qp each harvest would cover it.
So I had the cover of family and friends thinking I lived with my cuzz at a different nearby spot, yet was well acquainted with my neighbors at what was now my grow house. Except maybe they noticed my cats weren't hanging out in my backyard anymore, and that I now parked my car inside the garage (so no family/friends randomly driving by would recognize it), but my story was that my cousin moved out and I obviously stayed.
Having a grow house is a juggling trick even within a few miles of your actual house. I don't know how the dudes with multiple families pull their scam off. I had helped both the neighbors with projects in the past, they were just old retired grumps who did not like each other, and I was literally and figuratively in the middle, but I managed to stay pretty cool with both of them by fixing their TVs/computers/internet whenever they fucked them up.
Everything is going smoothly for a few months until one day I'm at the grow house doing my thing and all of the sudden I hear voices in my backyard through the window, and people banging on my doors and grow-room windows, and trying to open the backdoor to my garage and patio door, yelling "Police, open up! Come out!" What the fuck!? I peep through the bottom-corner edge of the blinds because I didn't dare move or crack them. Two city cops, guns drawn. I go peep out the front and there's no police car parked but there are some driving back and forth on my street with their lights on. I just pretend nobody is home, and sit tight. I sit tight all night. I sleep on the floor, in case they are waiting for me. I peep around in the pre-dawn morning, and in case they have the street staked out I go out my backyard, jump over the back fence which has a utility easement running by it, and cautiously walk out, cut through a field and cross a creek by walking on a pipeline, into another neighborhood, and make my way to my actual home on foot. Later that day I scope out the situation by borrowing someone else's car and driving around a bit, and figure there is no stake-out. I chat with the neighbor about all the ruckus the previous day and he says there were some kids being chased by the cops but the cops lost them after they dodged down the utility easement trail, and they thought the kids were hiding in my grow house. Motherfucker.
That was a bad scare and close call, but the worst was a little past three harvests into my grow op my mom randomly decides to visit my "old" neighbor to get some garden plant cuttings from him. They have a confused conversation because he thinks I still live there and she says I moved. He tells her that I should be home now, that he saw me park in the garage earlier. Well I had forgotten to lock the garage backdoor and she gets in that way, sees my car parked in there, then lets herself in through the kitchen-garage door and walks in on me standing naked in the living room muscle-posing.
See I always took all my clothes off before working in my gardens because I didn't want them getting skunky, then took a shower when I was done working. Since I was already stinky and sweaty from garden work I would usually work out before taking a shower, just lots of pushups and crunches mainly since I didn't keep weights there other than big jugs of water for my gardens that I used for curls and squats. There was a big mirror down the hallway facing the living room and I was just briefly admiring my muscles and cock and Buffalo-Bill-ing it up ("Would you fuck me? I'd fuck me."), when my mom walks in on me right then, naked and sweaty and smelling like skunky musky spicey weirdness from my hard work in my bedroom-gardens. I was shocked and panicked like that feeling the first time you get caught masturbating and I just screamed GET OUT WHAT THE FUCK GET OUT MOM. She got the fuck out of there and has never mentioned it since.
I had to shut down the op, but I couldn't tell her the truth that I was running a grow house, because she could never keep her mouth shut about that. She'd be super worried but also kinda proud and think its funny and interesting, I'm sure she'd blab about it. So I let her put the puzzle pieces she had together: my son secretly keeps paying for a rental house several months after he supposedly moved out, and he goes there all the time and is naked and sweaty and has the weirdest sex smell on him. Apparently she thinks I'm into some freaky shit or a rapist, when she looks at me its a thousand-yard stare of deep shame and confusion and disappointment. Whenever a local girl goes missing she gets kind of edgy and intense and awkwardly asks me roundabout questions about what I was up to on specific days, I guess to assure herself I'm not a serial killer. But I can't tell her I was just growing some weed and liked to garden naked, because then everybody would know. Me being a deviant pervert, she'll keep her mouth shut about that though. If my state ever legalizes I'll go ahead and tell her, but until then such is the life for growers behind enemy lines.