Friday, March 13, 2009

"Fried Fridays" Wrong way, buddy..."

At the ripe age of 25, Harry Jackson already had a rap sheet, and, no, we're not talking about the discography kind, either. He was in for violating his probation on charges of possessing controlled substances, the worst of his 'sheet'. Too, his prison's security level was not all that high on the alert scale.

Outside of working a summer internship undercover with New Orleans Vice & Narcotics squad, many moons ago, that was the only time I've seen a bit of life behind bars...and I certainly aim to keep it that way. It's another world there, some much more severe than others, but the idea is the same: Freedom is a precious privilege oft taken for granted. Do something stupid to lose it and pay the price.


I don't have any idea what percentage of the prison population ever tries to escape. Sure, you can try to be a model inmate and hope to get out for good behavior, but I have no doubt there are plenty who don't want to do anything 'by the book' and constantly look for ways to empty their cell a little early.

Movies have glorified such feats like the painstaking tunnels dug over years with toothbrushes, handiwork hidden by day with a poster or the bed...the type of story that somehow makes you quietly respect the miscreant for persevering in his/her nigh impossible quest to once again fly freely.

Well, good ol' Harry had it much easier. Sometime last Saturday he slipped out an open door in the exercise yard, scaled the outer wall, and was suddenly a free man. (Hmmmm, don't all prison walls have razor wire at the top? Rather impenetrable stuff, so it looks...but he actually made it all the way.)

I can imagine what he must have felt, what he thought, what he said to himself....he'd done it. He was out. He was gone and no hounds were on his heels.

One thought that went through his mind was evident, something along the lines of, "I think I'll go to this particular convenience store a block away and steal 14 cartons of cigarettes." And who says those white "coffin nails" aren't addictive....

You may be thinking that as he stupidly went and stole the cigarettes, that he would be arrested right away, especially being so close to lock-up. Nope, he dodged that handcuffed bullet, as well. Wow, 2 for 2, a jailbreak and brazen theft in one day (should've gotten some lottery tickets while he was at it).

If you were in his position, what would you do? Where would you go? What would be your game plan for the short term while the dust settles? Ol' Harry had his thinking cap on. He chose to go where he was pretty sure they wouldn't think about looking...back to jail.

For reasons known only Harry, that was his plan, to return to his cell with the 14 cartons of cigarettes and do whatever with them. Unfortunately, and certainly not surprisingly, he was arrested as he was reentering the compound. Nothing like fresh charges of escape and burglary to go on your nicely growing sheet, eh, Harry?

"Here's your sign!"


Bill Cassidy said...

Hey, how did the monocular windshield wiper work in this rain? That was a great story. Interesting problem with an even more interesting solution. I had a Subie back in college. A 1975 4 wheel drive, as opposed to all-wheel drive! We had a little mishap with a tree after a party late one night. I loved that car.

Bob Child said...

Hi, Bill - yep, the cyclopian wiper did well...i just forgot to tie up and secure the loose one down in the cowl! So, you and a tree met by accident, eh?! Were you diverting your attention to your Biochemistry homework?! HA!