Run!

Have you ever been to prison? Unfortunately for me, I have! 688 days, but who’s counting? Today is my 8th anniversary of freedom, 04/01/13. I wish this was a joke, APRIL FOOLS, but it's not. April won't commemorate my marriage, the day I got clean, or spring break. The only shower that April brings is rein over my release date. Yeah, so today definitely marked a milestone and before I go further I have to say: a limited 5,000 words really steals the justice from my story, but I will give it my damnedest!

Since it's April Fools Month, let’s break ice: "Why'd the belt go to prison?... Because, he held up a pair of pants!!!"

Haha..

That’s funny I don't care who you are! But, who reading this wants to know how I escaped prison? The RUN? Well, stick around and lift your glasses because here’s a toast to my 36 minute RUN.

The INNOCENT Type

You know everyone is innocent right? Not, innocent, innocent, but they're levels to shit, believe me, EVERYONE IS INNOCENT! There's your “ I found that bag of cash officer, I swear”, type innocent. Then, you have ACTUAL innocent individuals, behind bars, for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s heartbreaking, but that’s where our next innocent comes in. It’s your “fuck yeah I did it, what’s my punishment?” type. I bet you're thinking how can a person who admits their guilt be innocent?

Because they are!

"A person who erects themselves in accountability will never be guilty of anything other than being real", my words.

I have my own level to the stupid shit I did. I believed I was the only one capable of “out-doing” my insanity; I was right! Let's be honest, getting arrested blows. It blows massively! Do you know what's worse than getting arrested? Yeah, getting arrested while being arrested! How is this possible? Easy. Simply escape an extradition van that's taking you to another state. Remember “out-doing” myself? I set a whole new record on this RUN, even for me.

The VAN

"I've been here 28 days and they only have 30 get me" I said, staring out of my jail cell.

Just then C.O. Byrd entered the day room. Her voice aiming at my cell. "Inmate #257942, ATW (all-the-way), Roll it up and follow me"

"IM GOING HOME", I screamed.

I trailed behind her. She was many steps ahead of me, as usual. I guess being side-by-side with a convict made her uncomfortable.

“C.O. Byrd, I’m going home right?” I pressed again.

She was escorting me down a long hallway that led to inmate booking/release. She stopped at a giant medieval door, swiped her key card, and pushed it open.

“Come on inmate this door wont hold itself”...she said sarcastically.

“Cram it in your pie hole”, I thought as I walked past her into the room.

Within seconds I realized I wasn't going home. At the counter signing papers stood a beast of a man. Black hat, black shirt, black skin, and a black duffel bag ,full of shackles, ready to herd me away like cattle. He was 6 and 1/2 feet tall, at least. On his back stretching from one shoulder blade to the other were bright yellow letters N.A.E.S. ( North Atlantic Extradition Services)!

I immediately crammed it in my own pie hole!!!

“Inmate #257942?” he said without turning around. He must've heard the heart to heart C.O. Byrd and I had upon entering the room.

“Yes, that’s me, sir #257942.” cutely replying.

He turned to meet my gaze and I felt the blood drain from my face. He was different from what I expected, but nonetheless, he was still a cop. My "Go Big or Go Home" motto never meant as much as it did in this moment.

I was not going home!!

“Let’s get you chained”... he instructed.

My feet were concrete and moving them was a mission, but I managed to drag myself towards him. I looked pathetic! I was wearing my “filthy”, “smelly” court clothes I got arrested in, 28 days prior! They were borrowed clothes, yeah, from a stranger, but that’s another story. The shoes too, and none of them fit by-the-way, again another story.

“Because you're a flight risk I have to box you up too”, he proceeded to say as he pulled chains from his duffel bag.

If you do not know what a box is let me explain: "The Box”, or rather “The Black Box '' is a pick proof lock that encompasses your waist, wrist, and ankles together by chains, all the while, still handcuffed and shackled. It is perfectly set between the wrist to force them in a parallel position. It sucks, but it’s necessary. You can see it below. I absconded for 33 months by that time and definitely a fugitive, so the box was not a to surprise me.

“Yes, sir, C.O. I knew that was coming.” I said, still with my cuteness.

“I’m not a Corrections Officer. We are a private passenger service”, he said.

“We securely transport inmates from jail to jail”, he continued as he interlocked the chains around my waist.

“So you’re not the po-po then?, that’s good.” I said jokingly. I do that when I’m nervous, replace wit with twit.

“I'm Derek and, No, I’m not the po-po.” he said with a smirk. He finished securing the shackle on my right foot and said "Ok, let's go."

No conversation conspired while we walked towards the sally port exit, but the sound of your own freedom dragging chains behind you will make you insane.

“Wait right here, my partner is bringing the van.” Derek had gold teeth so with every word he spoke it looked like a fresh sunrise.

“It’s not gonna be as bad as you think.” he assured.

Man, I must've looked scared as shit!

We stood there side-by-side watching as what resembled an "old-school" church bus whip down the port. The van skidded to halt in front of us and a loud “skirtttt” exited from the tires. The radio was so loud that it sounded like the damn thing had a system. I chuckled at the sight of this van, ya'll.

“ Told you it wasn't gonna be that bad”, he said, but I didn't believe him.

The driver was just as tall as Derek, thinner, but distinctively wearing the “all black” uniform and mouth lined in gold as he smiled. He ran to the door and opened it like I was a celebrity or something. It was comical. I was surprised to only see one person in the van. A woman, sitting in the very last row. She was extremely overweight and absolutely miserable. Could you blame her? We weren't headed to Vegas ,you know? I shuffled towards the ramp and wiggled upward.

“Here, let me help you this step will trip you.” Derek said with an extended hand.

I ducked the door frame and plopped down in the first row. The woman was breathing very heavily and fresh cigarette smoke lingered. Derek’s partner slammed the door, and my view was sliced with chicken wire. Trying to stare out the window eventually drove me mad, visual distinction was gone. Their outlines appeared to be nothing more than an awful pixelation of their former selves. A fucking twilight zone.

“Damn it, wish they’d come on already” I released with a sigh.

“Girl, you ain't neva lied.” Her words, deeper than I imagined, hit my ear with attitude. “I've been on this bus with these fools since Cali, boo boo.” she said.

“Californiaaa?” I questioned with insanity.

Trust me, that reaction was well called for seeing how we were parked outside of a Georgia jail.

“Yessss, child, I don't even know what day it is”...she formed her hands in the “no-you-didn’t” pose and shook it with every word.

“And if they don’t let me off this bus”... she said ..“I’m gonna pee on everyone!!” She finished with “....play wit it if you want to!!!”

Great!!! Day 1 and I'm not about to be urinated on. No way! I erupted in a semi psychotic stance and began rattling on the caged windows like a juiced up spider-monkey. -( And going through immense withdrawals probably didn't help the situation, yet, another story. 5,000 words remember?)

“HEYYY..... SHE HAS TO PEE....!!!” I yelled.

I don't know how long we sat there, but all I could think about was this big, sassy woman behind me, peeing everywhere. Both men stood at the booking doorway with other officers, and my outburst must've created a ripple effect of jumping men syndrome because they all jumped at once. Derek sprinted over to the side of the van that I just shook like a hurricane and opened it.

“What is it?” his face not amused.

“She’s gotta….” before another word left my mouth the woman started towards the door.

“I'M GETTING OUT!!!....."You not about to treat me like no dog!” she said.

Derek, his hands in the “take-it-easy” fashion, said “Ok, Riches, wait,..I’ll get Bishop to take you inside”.

"I know Bishop will” she said as he helped her down the ramp.

Riches, whose name I just learned, was boxed up too. They led her inside the booking door just to be swallowed by that ever clanking sound of cell doors consuming you. Derek was the only agent in the sally port.

“So, it's Derek, Bishop, and Riches, right?” I asked.

I couldn't stop thinking about what Riches said. "California? What? Why?" My thoughts were spinning out of control.

“Yes ma’am , dream team,” Derek replied.

I only wish this was a dream, but this was very much reality.

“She's been on the van since Cali..is that true?”

Derek, professionally, replied: “Yes, we logged Riches in California, that is correct ''.

I stared at him waiting for more, but that was it.

“Is she going to Virginia too?” I continued.

The wake of fear was slowly rising in my gut and I was tired.

“I can’t provide information pertaining to drop off points. It is strictly against policy. It's a safety measure for everyone in the van.” His words faded in my mind as my head lay against the wired window.

I must've drifted, because the door startled me awake. It was Riches coming back up the ramp, but she wasn't alone. An older Hispanic man, about my height, was chained to her. He waited as Riches shuffled to the back row then he quickly slid in the row that separated us girls. The van was dead silent. With Derek in the driver seat and Bishop riding shotgun, we were locked and loaded.

"Everybody gonna stay cool on this transport, right?”, Derek asked as he reversed the van out of the port.

“It’s long for everyone, but it doesn't have to be hard”, he continued.

Bishop's hand was already on the radio turning the volume back up. It was dark outside and hard to see them through the wire, but you could always see those golds.

“Who wants a cigarette?” Bishop asked, sparking his lighter.

Everyone answered:

“Right here boss," I said.

”Yes, Lord Honey”, from Riches.

And a simple ,"Si", from the man chained to her.

That cigarette was pure ecstasy, and to be honest, I needed it. I was about to embark on the road trip from HELL.

Hell on Wheels

DAY 2 WAS THE WORST!

The van sped all through the night not making any stops, aside from a couple pot-holes, I slept pretty sound.

“6am-Breakfast...wake-up, I know y'all hungry”. It was Bishop talking now in the driver seat. They had switched drivers during the night.

I deciphered McDonalds through the wire.

"What a relief," I said to myself, but that relief was shortly lived.

I'd soon learn this was day 1 of "many" that I would eat McDonalds, 3 times a day.

Our "chow" schedule: 6am- Sausage Biscuit/no egg,/sm water, 12-noon-Double Hamburger/ no cheese/ sm water, 6pm-( you freaking guessed it), a repeat of lunch and water.

“At least we get McDonalds for breakfast”, I said stretching.

My feet had blisters, my hair was oily, and my teeth felt like sandpaper, but I was starving.

“You do get MickeyD’s everyday” Derek said.

Bishop returned to the van with 3 biscuits and 3 waters. The great N.A.E.S provided agents with a company credit card for meal disbursement, so their $3.00 dollar a day food budget was the cheapest business plan they could impose without starvation. However, after deliberating in my dreams ,I had no intention on staying on this van!!!

"Are we still in Georgia?", I thought.

My eyes locked on any mile visibility, which is impossible to do while speeding at 120 mph. A faint smear of US 1 broke through the high-speed velocity and cage wire.

“Where the hell is US 1?” I said, much louder than an anticipated.

I wanted to know, scratch that, I had to know. The RUN wouldn’t work until I knew where the hell I was.

“US HWY 1 runs up the East Coast ”, Derek said, “We in Florida, though.” he continued.

“I thought you couldn't “disclose” our location or whatever?”, I teased him.

“ If yall try to run, I'll just shoot you”, he said with silliness. “Besides you don't know where in Florida we headed," he concluded.

Just then, out of the blue, Riches bust into singing.

"Welcome to Miami" she sang while twisting her body.

Riches was wholesome and vulnerable, but a savage of a woman. I respected her and she cracked me the hell up.

“Ahhhh, Key West, si?....”meeee casa”, the hispanic man said with excitement.

This was the first whole sentence I heard him say in 15 hours.

“Key West, alright!” I said, full of pep, but my mind was scheming.

We pulled up to the most beautiful jail I'd ever witnessed. The beach behind the razor wire made it seem less torturous and palm trees shaded the compound.

“We unload Eldoro here. Then we’ll get ya'll fed…..we running behind .” Derek said, then grabbed his walkie-talkie.

“Yes, Agent Delta-#-3313 at south sally-port entrance with one Hispanic, male subject,65 yrs of age, for entry, last name Eldoro…..over?”

A lady responded: “Yes, 10-4 Delta-#-3313, south sally-port entrance is clear, over and out”

Bishop hit the gas and the beauty of the beach vanished as we went under the jail in the damn basement or something.

“Well, Senoritas, see ya in 15..... YEARS!!” he said laughing like a lunatic as they escorted him inside.

They returned to the van with empty chains and swapped drivers. Derek started the van and we were off, AGAIN. Riches was unusually quiet after Eldoro left. She even stopped mumbling under her breath.

For hours the van fell silent and the only sound heard was wheels rolling on the road.

“Bathroom break , 15 miles, get it while you can.” Derek said breaking the silence.

"Thank God!", I thought.

As per policy, transport vans CAN NOT pull into public restrooms. Agents have to locate the closest jail or we can use the van floor! NO JOKE! Countless water bottles filled with urine rolled around on the floor. It was sick. Derek was a little more lenient with that policy, so he would hunt for "outside" bathrooms. We pulled up to a tiny, recluse of a gas station that scared us more than we scared it, ahhhh the irony.

“She can go first…..I don't have to go as badly” I said, but I did have to pee, fiercely.

I knew it took Riches a moment and I needed to think! Derek helped Riches down the ramp, then to the bathroom. Bishop came closer to the van and looked me dead in the face.

“You know that’s a man, right?” he said. “Why do think he was chained to another man?” he continued.

I had no idea and I didn't care. But Riches, WAS NO MAN, I assure you of that. She was a hermaphrodite, if you will, but Riches was ALL WOMAN!. I didn't care about any of that, that’s her story. My only concern was finding out where we're headed. In the bathroom trash I found a receipt with Folkstone, Ga stamped on it.

"At this rate, I wouldn't have to escape. We weren't making it to Virginia"... I thought, then balled it up.

Farewell Riches

DAY 3, 4, & 5 WERE THE WORST!!

I'm at 3,000 words already, trust me, you want me to cover these next 3 days so let's jump in.

The van drove steady for hours and it was very apparent they had no route! N.A.E.S. headquarters would continuously “reroute” us for other “subjects” to pick up. The days ran together and I was starting to lose sight of things.

“Ok, the last McDonalds was in Bluffton? No, Beaufort? It’s been 6 hrs so...where?” the thoughts raced around my mind.

“Did we go North or South?”

I was lost and I was being hand delivered to my fate, so, I said “fuck it!”, let’s ride.

We picked up “Charles from Charlestown” (he loved saying that), and Teddy from Macon, then Bruce from Pigeon Forge, and then we got Sammy. Sammy didn't speak and nobody knew where Sammy was from or where he was going. All we knew was he joined us in the mountains somewhere and he used himself as a public restroom. Sitting next to me! YEAH!!! (#1 and #2). We were all clueless when we were getting off until we recognized something, so jail after jail, state after state, we rode.

Derek and Bishop had interchanged seats so many times by now I lost count, and their happiness was nonexistent.

Day 5 and Riches was up. The van stopped in front of an old, brick building. It mimicked a nursing home, and to be honest, it was eerie. No gates, no razor wire, just a dimly lit brick building with one angled bush.

“What kinda place is this?” one guy asked.

“Honey, it's a looney house, a crazy place they keep us crazies.” Riches answered.

Nobody said a peep and every eyeball zoomed in on this place.

Bishop with his walkie: “Agent Bravo-#-3370 to base, we are parked at what seems to be the main entrance with one, Caucasian (fe)male subject, 37 yrs of age, for entry, last name Richards….over?”

Nobody responded, so yet again, “Attention to base, Agent Bravo-#-3370 with detainee Richards for entry...over?”

The same man spoke again, “Somebody is coming….they walking down the sidewalk”.

A crippling, fragile, elderly lady appeared out of the midst by the van like a ghost. Her silhouette looked weak and she was alone. Derek opened the van door and got Riches down the ramp. Her sassy self returned the moment her foot hit the ground, because her final words drifted as we left.

“Honeyyyy child, I'd rather be crazy then be on that bus!" she said.

Never saw her again, but she was absolutely right! Being crazy was better than being on this van and my friend Sammy, well, let's just say he becomes VERY pivotal!

THE RUN

DAY 6 & 7 WERE THE WORST!!!!

I was sad when Riches left, but we kept trucking. I knew my “drop-off” had to be soon, because it was just me and Sammy. Sammy, still mute and sitting in his bio hazardous clothes, continued doing #2 and #1 on himself. The smell would gag me, but I felt bad.

“Bishop, can I have a cigarette please?” I asked nicely.

He was in the passenger seat.

“Yeah, I got you” he said.

He pulled his freshly open pack of menthol's from his pocket and slid a cigarette through the wire, but the lighter wouldn't fit. He stopped sharing his cigarettes with us with shortly after he realized we were all greedy as hell, but I asked anyway.

“It’s this damn box dude, I cant move at all” I said with exaggeration.

“Can you loosen it just a tad Bishop please so i can grab it?...it’s only me and Sammy” I continued.

This was Bishop’s first trip. He was partnered with Derek because Derek knew the ropes. He glanced over at Derek with a quizzical look that said "should I?”

“I'm not supposed to, but this time I’ll do it” he finally answered.

He dropped the keys under his seat and said “Grab em with your foot and loosen only one.”

And I did exactly that. I loosened one handcuff, one shackle, and one box!

We pulled up to McDonalds in Georgia somewhere and Derek went inside. Both agents were tired as hell. 168 hours is way to long to be in a van with anyone and Bishop was on the phone with N.A.E.S. dispatch for the third time that morning. Sammy,well, Sammy was doing Sammy. Please don't get the wrong impression about Samuel. Everyone tried to help him, but he knew what he was doing.

Bishop snapped one afternoon and poured water in Sammy’s lap saying, “I’ll wash you this way man.” and continued it with every meal; Sammy got 2 waters.

That was it!!!

The mixture of fecal matter and water rushed around the floor like breaking waves on a beach. Less breathtaking, I can assure you, but it did give me a solid ass reason to request the door open. The very first time the water brushed against my toes in those tight ass sandals, I cringed! I was literally sloshing around in a ses-pool of bial, cigarette butts, floating bottles harboring their own fifth, and wrappers. Lots and lots of wrappers!

Derek returned with the usual McDonalds bag and 3 waters. Neither one of them had the strength to keep going but they had to.

“ Good news and bad news, girl ,which you prefer?” Bishop said in between bites of his Big Mac.

"Worse than this?...Impossible." I responded. I'm always such a smart ass.

“Good news, you're off the van” he paused “ Bad News you're switching to another one.” He turned to Derek," new subject and a new route” he said while gulping his soda.

“Where is subject?”, Derek's voice was low.

“East Mississippi, but she's going with Bulldogs Team in Waynesboro County '', Bishop answered.

"Great", I thought, I need a faster plan. I wasn't racing home anymore. Now, I'm racing another van.

We take off East towards Mississippi and with every mile I dig for more information on Bulldog. Derek was familiar with the route, so he was still in the driver seat. Bishop told me I would be switching to another van headed North to Pennsylvania and that dinner would be my last with them.

He continued to say the van "was smaller" ,"with more people", and "the agents are former U.S Marines"." Absolutely NO smoking" and "talking highly disrupts their ability to concentrate on driving", so basically a concentration camp on wheels.

“PENNSYLVANIA!?!”, I screamed inside the walls of my mind.

There was no way I was going to Mississippi, little alone Pennsylvania.

“Ok, its 2:48pm, I thought, "I have 3hrs and 12mins until our next stop".

My heart rate was unusually calm, but my knees were knocking.

“It will be dark ,so start scanning the area at 5:50pm, 10 mins before we stop ” I replayed the plan in my mind over and over.

“Slip the cuff off, slide the shackle down, hold the chains tight in my left hand and RUNNNN!!!!”

With the approaching moment knocking on my rib cage, my heart beat fastened.

“Im about to do this…….Im about to do this……..I have to do this”, I mantra to myself. My chest withheld deep, hard breaths.

“Hey girl,you good?....you want another smoke?... get it while you can”. Bishop’s question snapped reality. My sudden silence probably seemed odd.

“Yeah, you know it bro." I said while grabbing the cigarette.

I lit my cigarette and behind the flame all I could see was the time 5:02pm. The dark crept on the day like an enraged stalker, and for a split second, everything moved in slow motion. Aside from a few engaging words like "Just try to sleep on that van" from Derek at 5:40pm the van remained quiet.

“10 mins, 10 mins, oh my God, 10 more mins” were the only words my mind tossed around.

I looked at Sammy, his silhouette had a heavy red glow tracing his figure.

“What?... must be delusional”, I thought as I shook my head to regain a clear imagine.

Sammy turned his head to me and whispered the words “Runnnn”.

Maybe he didn't say a word! But in that moment, Sam and I were on the same page.

“Trees, trees, 5:51pm, trees…. Oh, a car wash, 5:53pm...and a Home Depot!” Everything flew by with such speed.

“OMG, the McDonalds arches.” I actually said that out loud, DAMN IT!!

“Yeah, guess this is our LAST SUPPER”, Bishop said trying to be funny.

If he only knew!

A pain screamed from my chest as we rolled to a stop in front the door, but I ignored her screams.

6:00pm. We've ARRIVED!

Oblivious to what is unfolding, Derek headed towards the door.

“Hey, Derek” I yelled, “how about a coke this time boss man?” I cant believe the words came out so strong, because i couldn't breathe.

He nodded and went inside.

“NOWWWWWW” exploded in my head!!

I gathered the chains, looping them tightly around my left hand (as practiced).

“Bishop, bro, please give me some air back here..im gonna be sick….. For real!!” I pleaded with such flare that he didn't even question it.

“My feet are soaked in piss and shit and I can't ask “Bulldog” I pressed on.

The shackle lay loosened. “....And they’re taking me all the way to Pennsylvania too…?”.

He would do it, but timing was imperative. I saw a dark figure standing at the counter praying it was still Derek.

THE WORLD STOPPED SPINNING!! And Bishop floated towards the door, I shit you not. My eyes darted to Derek, to Bishop, back to Derek, then to Sammy within seconds. The door rolled like thunder on it’s track and I stole one final look at Bishop standing in front of me.

Then the words.....GOOOOOOOO!!!!

I sprung out of the seat and landed both feet on the ground simultaneously. I was numb and weightless. Like an injured animal, I darted for the woods. Bishop didn't even chase me. His remaining words left in the dust behind me saying:

“Wha, oh shiiiiiiit” slamming the door.

The woods were dark and I couldn't see ANYTHING, but I ran. I ran until I couldn't run anymore. One foot after the other, gripping my shackles, I ran. It felt like hours I spent running through those woods. The sirens filled the air rather quickly.

“NO, NO, NO…..not already” I said out loud, panic stricken.

Then, the hounds.

I ran faster. I ran until I collapsed to the ground, chains in hand, lungs on fire.

“ This weight, it’s too heavy!!" My voice vibrated with adrenaline.

I was weighing myself down, but I failed to loosen my left shackle enough so it was staying. I couldn't see anything, My legs were paralyzed, except my left ankle. It was burning! I knew it was bad, but it wasn't broken.

Then, the helicopters.

"Shitttt....Shitttt!!"

I left the waist chains on the ground and got up and ran again until I was face to face with another shopping plaza.

“Ok..back to the interstate and hitchhike the fuck outta here". My brain was trying to create anything logical.

The plaza was dark, but not as dark as the woods. A poorly lit street light illuminated the only two dumpsters in the parking lot, and that was it. I stop at one the dumpsters trying to gain my composure. And that’s when I saw "the headlights".

A car was vastly approaching me, but it didn't look a cop. No, this car had swag and bass. It vibrated the ground as it got closer. The tint matched the night sky. I watched HIM come. A Red Ford Mustang stopped beside me. The window lowered and in the mix of choppers, flashing lights, and howling dogs, I heard the words “GET INNNNNN!”

A young man, long dreads, light brown skin, mid 20’s, leaned over his arm rest and continued:

“I saw what you did back there, your’e insane… I was at the car wash and saw you running, " he continued, “You gonna get caught out here you better get in.......I can help you!”

He was convincing and I did need help, so without any real inductive thought, I got in the car.

“I gotta get this shackle off… i'm bleeding…have to get outta here”, I was barely understandable, “ you can help?” I finished.

“Yes, I will help” he says as he put the car in reverse.

“Stay down low so no one will see you... he continued, "they're after you girl!”

I stuffed myself into the floor board. It was difficult to tell which direction he went, being balled up, so i didn't say anything, but my gut told me we were going the wrong way!

Blood trickled down my foot and puddled on the floor mat and he turned me and said "THEY SPOTTED YOU... STAY LOW".

I lifted my head to see his entire car lit up like the 4th of July! Red and Blues lights everywhere. He was a fucking COP.

I escaped a prison bus only to hitchhike a ride with the PO-LICE! You can imagine his "COP-MODE" kicked in real quick.

"STAY ON FLOOR, STAY ON FLOOR... STAY TF ON THE FLOOR, GIRL" he screamed manically.

From the bottom of this floor board I looked up at him screaming at me, then turned to his clock and read the time 6:36pm.