A pack of Parliament cigarettes, a half empty bottle of Johnnie Walker Black, and a newspaper article entitled, “Do It Like Dillinger,” this is all police found at the lowly and condemned residence of Al Walker. Now Al was the career criminal type, he had been working his way through the system since he was 10. He committed his first crime when he captured, skinned and hung Ms. Anderson’s dog, Mr. Biggles from her telephone pole. Growing up everyone was afraid of Al because he always had this evil look about him, but he was never at school long enough to carry out his bulling duties. I wasn’t afraid of AL, for some reason he never came off as threatening to me. Al had just gotten out of the juvenile detention center in time for the start of our senior year. Al only got through the first week before he had gotten into it with some boys in gym class, and bashed Seth Robinsons face in with a tennis racket. The Robinsons just happen to be the wealthiest family in the city, which didn’t look to good for Al. He was tried as an adult and charged with attempted murder, and because of his violent pass it was easy to lock him up and throw away the key. Al was sentenced to 15 years in prison, eligible for parole in 10. But I would see him sooner than that.
After Graduation I attended a small private school up state, but not for long. I never was one for school, and now there was no one nagging from parents to make me to go, so I didn’t. The thing was I knew I was done with school, but my parents didn’t. I used the money they sent me for food and amenities to buy my friends and I alcohol, because I was the only one with a fake I.D. That night some Zeta’s had invited us to a formal event. Now we were known as the party guys who could get alcohol so naturally we were invited to all sorts of functions. But this one was special, a girl, not just any girl, the most beautiful girl on campus; Cassie Anne Whitehurst had personally invited us. I used to see Cassie a lot earlier in the year when fraternities were doing their Rush recruitment. Not much anymore though since I stopped going to class and she choose the Greek life. She was a freshman like me, but that was all we had in common. She was one of those girls who would go for a guy like Seth Robinson. Anyway we had been drinking since 2pm that day so even though we couldn’t physically formulate real sentences we went anyway.
The night was a success, and all of us were shitfaced. Ryan was the first one of us to leave the party; he had hooked up with a drunk Indian TA from one of his classes. That left Mike and I, now mike was what you would call a lightweight, so he was in and out of consciousness the whole time. I decided I wasn’t ending my night until I hooked up with Cassie. As the night winded down the typical “party cliques” started to break up, this was my chance. I ran to the kitchen and drank as many cups of water I could without throwing up to try and sober up. When I came back out she was nowhere to be found. I decided to go wake Mike up so we could leave, but as im tapping him he says something to me, which would change my life forever. “I think that Cassie girl is looking for you or something, she went upstairs, she so wants you dude.” Now being in the drunken state of mind I’m in this sound like the break I been looking for.
I walk upstairs; there are not many people around, but Alison Chambers brushing her teeth in the bathroom. She was pretty “saucy” as well, I could tell by the vomit smell leaking out of the bathroom. I notice Cassie’s room right away because it is decorated with all sorts of glitter and garland. Her door is half open, which I assume she left open for me. I walk in and see her lying there in nothing but her underwear and a “wife beater.” I can’t believe this is happening, so I lock the door so Mike doesn’t ruin this for me. I take off my shirt and gently lay next to her. I don’t remember much after that, I just know I woke up to screaming and police radios. There was blood on my shirt and the sheet, and I could see Cassie out in the hallway looking traumatized. Come to find out I was being charged with Rape, and my story of not remembering anything didn’t go well with the prosecution. I was labeled a “drunken Maniac.” The fact that I had dropped out of school was drunk at the time of the alleged crime, and well Cassie’s dad is a sheriff pretty much signed, sealed and delivered my ass to prison. I was kicked out of school for underage drinking and sexual assaulting someone under the influence. I was sentenced to 6 years in prison.
Prison life was not easy for me, I didn’t talk, I didn’t write letters, I didn’t eat, I stayed to myself. I followed this routine for 3 years until one day it all changed. I heard the clanking of the chains and key as the CO escorted a new prisoner into our block. Due to good behavior the warden had always made sure I had a single cell, so I didn’t care enough to look to see this person pass by my cell. The guard stopped at my cell, “Smith, stand up, turnaround and put your hands out in front of you, say hi to your new roommate.” As I turned around and obliged the officer I saw this face, the face that you associate with evil. It was the face of Al Walker. He looked aged, his arms and neck were covered in tattoos. He was wearing his own shoes and shirt, which is a privilege you only get for being around this place for a longtime. “Your Roland Smith isn’t you?” I was shocked he knew my name, but I was distracted at the fact he called me Roland, which I hated. Yeah everyone calls me “RO” now so that’s what you’re going to call me. I don’t know why I said that to him, I have been in her a little while and learned a few things but certainly not enough to beat this guy.
Ro eh? All right then, Ro it is. For the next 10 or so hours Al told me chilling stories of prison life and the things he had seen. It was weird how Al would tell these stories with absolutely no emotion at all, even the gruesome deranged parts. Over the next few years Al and I became one in the same, we lived breathed and trained our minds to be alike. One day after yard time Al requested we be locked in our cell for the rest of the evening. He proposed a plan to me a very intricate and structured plan, a bank robbery. You could tell he had been planning this for along time, I sat and listened to him for countless hours trying to sell this plan. He didn’t ask for a response from me right away. He said we would talk about it after my parole meeting. The next day after my parole meeting I came back to the cell with news to discuss with Al but the cell was empty.
I was released from jail a few months later; I hadn’t gotten to see Al before I left. Apparently Al had gotten into some sort of fight at his job in the laundry room in which he stabbed a fellow inmate 9 times, in self-defense, allegedly. I tried my hand in a few entry-level jobs, but there’s not much out there for a convicted sex offender. After a while I found myself right back in the place I had been trying to escape. I got hit with a 3-year sentence for some petty burglary. While I was in county awaiting trial, I overheard some guys telling a story about a man who was killed trying to rob a bank. I looked through all the newspapers from the last two weeks and there it was, “Man Calls cab to make robbery getaway.” It read, career criminal Al Walker, 29 was gun downed after he pointed an armed weapon at police. Walker called cab after robbing the Westbury bank in Boston, MA. Upon search of his home, all that was found was a pack of Parliament cigarettes, a half empty bottle of Johnnie Walker Black and a newspaper article entitled, “Do it Like Dillinger”
No comments:
Post a Comment