Where Did My Story Go?: Google AdSense Scam

After taking the time to write chapter by chapter and promote this blog extensively, I built up a readership quite quickly...apparently too quickly for Google AdSense who feels that the level of readership was somehow artificially inflated.  As SOON as I reached the threshold amount of receiving a payout from them, they disabled my account and confiscated all monies earned thus far from Ads shown on the blog.  Now, they received legitimate readership and their advertisers were able to get their message out and be seen by almost 20,000 people who may not have otherwise seen their ad and there is no way to verify any number of sales these companies may have made from these people.

I can't take the readership back away from the advertisers and can't have people send their purchases back for refunds...the advertisers received the fair value of their advertisments but I receive no compensation whatsoever.  What I can do, however, is ask any of the loyal readers out there to leave a comment verifying that you are actual people.  Thanks for your support.

Here is the automated e-mail from AdSense (as no details are provided, I have to wonder if this is just a scam on their part to avoid paying bloggers that reach the threshold):

Subject: Google AdSense Account Disabled

This message was sent from a notification-only email address that does not accept incoming email. Please do not reply to this message.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Hello,

After reviewing our records, we've determined that your AdSense account poses a risk of generating invalid activity. Because we have a responsibility to protect our AdWords advertisers from inflated costs due to invalid activity, we've found it necessary to disable your AdSense account.

Your outstanding balance and Google's share of the revenue will both be fully refunded back to the affected advertisers.

Please understand that we need to take such steps to maintain the effectiveness of Google's advertising system, particularly the advertiser-publisher relationship. We understand the inconvenience that this may cause you, and we thank you in advance for your understanding and cooperation.

If you have any questions or concerns about the actions we've taken, how you can appeal this decision, or invalid activity in general, you can find more information by visiting http://www.google.com/adsense/support/bin/answer.py?answer=57153.

Sincerely,

The Google AdSense Team

Unauthorized Vacation: Water Fountain?

NOTE:  This is a short chapter as it is a transition to the next installment.

The tracks soon came to a point in the city where Spratt would look suspicious walking on them so he had no other option than to continue on paved streets and sidewalks which left him feeling exposed and vulnerable.  Spratt was familiar with this part of town though and continued walking with the intention of getting to the trestle downtown to cross the river on.  Spratt finally arrived at a recently built park on the riverbank and entered it to get off of the city streets.  At this hour, the park was populated with homeless men and several of them tried to beg some change from Spratt who shrugged them off.  Spratt knew that this park was adjacent to the railroad trestle and continued on the main path which meandered through and traversed the length of the park.  As he came around a looping curve, Spratt’s heart sank; three city police officers were walking side by side, taking up the whole path, towards Spratt. 

            Spratt had no opportunity to duck and hide and knew that any furtive movements would draw attention to him and raise suspicions.  The only thing he could do was to keep walking.  Upon nearing the officers, Spratt asked in a friendly voice, “Excuse me, could you tell me where the nearest water fountain is?”  Spratt felt that some personal interaction while looking them directly in the eyes would lower their guard and not draw near as much suspicion as averting his gaze and ignoring their presence.  The officers pointed out the water fountain as being in the same direction that Spratt had just come from so he had no other choice but to thank the officers and turn around walking a few feet ahead of them until he got to the fountain.  He could not see the officers behind him but they sounded as if they were involved in general conversation and he hoped they didn’t decide to question him about anything.  Spratt stopped at the fountain and bent over to take a drink without looking back at the officers.  He took long, slow gulps of this tepid water to give the cops a chance to pass him but they came up right behind him and stopped.  Spratt turned around to discover the three officers were just patiently waiting their turn at the fountain and, relieved, he continued walking towards the end of the park as one of the trio bent over the fountain without paying any attention to Spratt.

            “Shit!” thought Spratt as he finally reached the end of the park and could see the railroad trestle in the distance, “how many fucking cops does this city have?!?”  He was able to exit the park through a row of bushes set out to delineate the property and got back on the railroad tracks heading towards the trestle.  Spratt had never crossed a railroad trestle before and wondered if there were going to be enough space to walk on the side of it or if he would have to take the long steps between ties and hope not to fall through to the water.  “I’ll find out soon enough!”  Spratt reached a point on the tracks where the wooden structure of the trestle began and started to step up onto it when, out of the corner of his eye, some movement caught his attention.  Directly underneath the trestle, right on the lower part of the embankment, next to the river, was a service road that was closed to the public.  Just to the right, parked facing him, was a marked police car!  “Goddamn!”  Spratt knew that he would be visible to the cop and that it was illegal to trespass on railroad property; crossing the bridge in plain sight would certainly make the cop question him and he needed to avoid any more contact with the cops.  Spratt immediately walked to the side of the tracks without stepping foot on the bridge and followed a sidewalk back to one of the downtown streets.

            Spratt’s only option now was to continue walking to one of the regular vehicle bridges and hope that he didn’t get ‘pulled over’ for crossing as a pedestrian.  He prayed that he would at least make it to the middle of one of those bridges before getting stopped since the middle of the river was the State Line.  Spratt walked a couple of more blocks then took a left for two more blocks when he came to the bottom of a vehicle bridge.  There was a sidewalk on this two-lane bridge and Spratt hoped it wasn’t an unusual event for a pedestrian to cross it.  Spratt started across this bridge without hesitation and a few cars passed him as he approached the middle of the bridge.  He was able to breathe a little easier when he passed a green and white sign proclaiming ‘South Carolina State Line’ with a smaller version of that underneath it announcing the name of the County.  Spratt didn’t relax at all though until he reached the other side of the bridge and set foot on solid ground.  “Thank fucking goodness!” Spratt exclaimed to himself, “At least I’ve made it to another State!”  Spratt continued walking into the darkness without stopping to rest his now sore feet so that he could get as much distance as possible behind him before the sun came up.

Unauthorized Vacation: Pissing In The Wind.

Spratt had walked about a half-mile down the road when he saw a growing illumination coming from behind him.  He knew these were headlights even before he heard the noise of the car that they belonged to.  Spratt immediately jumped into the overgrown ditch on the side of the road and listened as a car approached; not too slowly but not fast enough to be somebody with a real destination either.  As the car passed by his location, he determined that this was a police car by the sound of the engine…Spratt didn’t know why but police cars just SOUND different than other vehicles.  After the car passed his location, a quick look at the taillights revealed the unmistakable outline of a Crown Victoria.  Spratt’s heart started beating exponentially quicker as another police car headed in his direction; he lowered his head back into the ditch and tried to be as still as possible.  Spratt could hear the cars braking every so often as they continued in the direction of the river.

Both cars eventually came back and were headed just as slowly in the opposite direction towards the hotel.  One of them passed Spratt but, as the second one passed Spratt’s location, it stopped momentarily before continuing on.  Spratt waited for few minutes to determine if he could hear the cars returning and, after many moments of silence, he got out of the ditch and started walking again.  Beneficially for him, he was on the downside of a hill and this was a very dark road; the cops would HAVE to use their headlights and he would be able to see them before they were able to see him.  If they came back, he was going to jump in the ditch again.

Eventually, Spratt came to a crossroads of sorts.  A set of railroad tracks intersected the roadway and it gave him an idea.  He knew that the tracks eventually crossed the river in the form of a trestle downtown but wasn’t sure if there may be another, closer, crossing; he had never seen a different one but there may be one that isn’t visible from the vehicle bridges that he had always crossed.  To the left, the tracks would probably follow the river for a while but he didn’t know if they would cross back over.  Definitely walking down the tracks would keep him out of the sight of the cops…they surely couldn’t drive their patrol cars down the tracks!  The cops would have to be on foot if they were going to follow him.  The issue was which direction to choose.  He certainly didn’t want to get anywhere near downtown after the close calls that night but worried that the tracks in the other direction wouldn’t cross the river at all and may veer deeper into Georgia.  If he went in the unknown direction, he might wind up in the middle of the State.  Certainly that direction would take him away from this city but he was so close to South Carolina and he wanted to leave the State as soon as possible.  Even if he were caught immediately upon stepping foot in South Carolina, he would have to have an extradition hearing before being returned to Georgia and that could take months; which would mean more time away from the horrible conditions of the chain gang even if he were locked up in a county jail during that period.  He decided to take the known route and started walking on the tracks leading towards town.

It’s not as easy to walk down a set of railroad tracks as one might think.  The ties aren’t really that close together and you have to take large steps to stay on the wood and avoid the gravel bedding underneath.  Spratt did his best to only step on the wooden ties because the gravel made a LOT of noise in the middle of the night.  Eventually, the tracks passed behind a residential community.  Spratt tripped at one point (“Damn work boots aren’t so fucking comfortable now!”) and stepped on the gravel alerting every single dog in the neighborhood who, after being wakened, decided to bark and howl in competition with each other to see who could be the loudest.  Spratt imagined every single resident being woken up by the noise but could only see the rooftops due to the fence separating the tracks from the back yards.  “Fuck!” thought Spratt, “Somebody is going to think that I’m a burglar and call the cops!”  Spratt continued down the tracks just wanting to get as far away as possible.

After having walked what seemed like a couple of hours, Spratt could finally make out the outskirts of town.  He came along the tracks to where the city had a water filtration facility on a canal that diverted the river water.  At this point, the tracks were on a high embankment and he looked down into the water facility to see a worker staring straight up at him, or so it seemed.  Spratt thought about going down there to ask for some water but decided not to have any contact and continued down the tracks praying that the worker hadn’t noticed him.  Spratt was nearing a part of the canal area that turned into a flat grassy area separated from the rest of the town by dirt embankments and was mostly used by teenagers wanting to make out after a date or gather for a bit of underage drinking.  It was way too late for even these events to be taking place but Spratt heard some tires grinding on the dirt road and knew a vehicle was approaching even though he hadn’t seen any headlights.  “Maybe it’s not too late for some of them.” Spratt thought while trying to see the outline of the vehicle in the dark.

Spratt couldn’t see where the car was but knew that it had stopped somewhere because he no longer heard the tires grinding against the dirt.  The dead quiet was then interrupted by the crackle of a two-way radio and Spratt knew immediately that this was a police car.  “Goddamnit!” Spratt dropped immediately into a patch of grass next to the roadway wondering if he had been seen in the background of the moonlight.  This was not the best hiding spot but Spratt couldn’t risk any further movement to find a better one.  He was frozen in place as he felt some ants starting to crawl on his arm and heard the car start moving again.

            The car rolled closer and closer but Spratt could do nothing but stay where he was and pray that he wouldn’t be noticed.  His head was faced away from the direction of the car but he could tell that the headlights were not on because there was no illumination anywhere.  The car drew nearer and nearer and finally stopped right beside Spratt’s location.  “FUCK!” Spratt screamed to himself but didn’t move.  The car was literally inches (INCHES!!) away from Spratt and he could see the front fender out of his right eye.  It was a red, unmarked car; the type that detectives drive.  Spratt literally could have reached out and touched the damn thing!  He didn’t hear a door opening but heard the unintelligible crackle of the radio when he noticed a spot of light illuminating the area to his right.  He knew the cop must have been using his spotlight to search for something and the spotlight came really close to shining on Spratt although it never directly landed on him but the car didn’t move from its spot.

            Spratt’s thoughts were racing!  “Is this motherfucker looking for delinquent teenagers?” wondered Spratt, “Did that fucking worker at the water plant see me and call the cops for a suspicious person?”  Spratt didn’t hear the driver’s door open (which was on the opposite side of the car from where Spratt was located) but saw the interior lamp come on when it did.  He DID hear it close though and the light extinguished itself simultaneously.  Spratt distinguished three or four footsteps and then, pure silence again.  Spratt couldn’t see the cop and wondered if he might be about to pounce on him.  Spratt tightened every muscle in his body in preparation for either fight or flight when he heard the unmistakable sound of a man relieving himself.  The cop was urinating!  Literally six feet away from Spratt on the other side of the car, a cop was pissing into the weeds.  “Holy FUCK!” thought Spratt but stayed completely motionless.

            The cop pissed for what seemed like thirty minutes and, apparently drained, got back in the car but didn’t leave.  Spratt heard the unmistakable sound of a Zippo lighter being opened and lit and then smelled the smoke from a cigarette coming from the rolled down window of the car.  “Just go the fuck away!” Spratt tried to mentally order the cop.  The headlights came on and almost illuminated Spratt in their beam but Spratt was not quite in their path.  The cop finally put the car in gear and drove away leaving Spratt able to breathe again but nervous and shaken.  “Holy FUCK!” screamed Spratt’s mind again, “That motherfucker was close!  Lucky he didn’t piss on me!”  Spratt waited a few more minutes before getting up.  After scraping the ants off of his arm and taking a piss himself, he started nervously walking in the direction of downtown again.

Unauthorized Vacation: Ribeye Steak!

When Spratt awoke the next morning, he immediately looked out the window and only noticed a peaceful morning rising; no cops.  There were no weekend morning news shows so he got dressed and went to the Waffle House to get some breakfast and a newspaper and returned to his room with both.  There was no mention of the escape in the newspaper which again struck him as strange.  Spratt drank more coffee and chain smoked until 10:00am when he called a taxi to take him to the Flea Market. 

The route to the Flea Market took Spratt right past the prison and he prayed that he wouldn’t be recognized.  It didn’t look like anything unusual was happening there; just the normal amount of people lining up for weekend visitation.  Spratt did wonder if there might be some off-duty guards visiting the Flea Market this morning and reminded himself to be extremely vigilant.  Spratt arrived at the Flea Market, paid his fare, and started looking for the correct booth.

Spratt found his ‘friend’ and explained that he had escaped the day before.  Spratt reminded him of the deal that they had reached but the ‘friend’ wasn’t ready to relinquish the truck.  He told Spratt that he needed the truck until at least 2:00pm and that he would give it to him then.  Spratt agreed to come back at that time and wandered around the Flea Market for a while.  Spratt soon realized how small this place really was and had visited every single booth within half an hour.  He started making another round in order to waste time when he noticed four Sheriff’s Deputies walking around and scanning the crowd.  Spratt could tell that they were looking at people and not looking at items for sale.  “They must be looking for me,” Spratt thought and went out a side exit.  Spratt noticed an old barn type of structure next to a large patch of pine trees.  Spratt snuck behind the barn and went deep into the woods where he spent the next couple of hours smoking cigarettes and killing time hoping that the cops had been there for another reason and were now gone.

At the appointed time, Spratt walked back out of the woods and cautiously peeked around the old barn.  Not seeing any police cars, he straightened up and walked back inside the main building of the Flea Market.  When he arrived at the correct booth, he saw that his ‘friend’ was loading his things into the truck and looked surprised to see Spratt.  “Maybe he thought I just got tired of waiting and left.” Spratt thought.  Spratt reminded his ‘friend’ of their ‘deal’ again and the ‘friend’ stammered something about having to go unload his truck and then visit his grandmother in the hospital.  “Will I be able to get the truck from you after you visit your grandmother?” asked Spratt.  His friend assured him that Spratt would have the truck later that evening.  “You can meet me at the hospital near the end of visiting hours and I will give you the truck and ride home with my wife.”  Spratt had no choice but to accept the delay and asked for a ride back to his motel room to save the cost of a taxi.  Spratt’s friend agreed but they had to stop off at a self-storage center to unload the truck first.  Spratt offered to help with that in exchange for the ride. 

Once the truck was unloaded, they stopped at a convenience store and Spratt loaded up with cigarettes, snacks, and beer to wait out the next few hours.  On the way back to the hotel, the ‘friend’ told Spratt that, after speaking with his wife, they had decided that they needed to use the truck to set up their Flea Market booth the next day but, since the Flea Market was only open on the weekend, he would be able to take it after they closed up the next afternoon and they would give him the three day head start before reporting it stolen at that time.  “Damn,” Spratt said, “that really puts a damper in my plans; I wanted to be out of this State by tonight!”  The ‘friend’ responded by saying, “Dude, I want to help you right now but I can’t piss my wife off at the same time and we can’t miss tomorrow’s sales…we depend on that money!”  Spratt made his ‘friend’ promise that tomorrow would be the day and there would be no further delays.  His ‘friend’ agreed and they shook hands on it as Spratt was dropped off at the hotel.  Spratt didn’t like the change in plans and he was kind of pissed that his ‘friend’ was putting so many conditions on the deal; this wasn’t going anything like he had imagined but, once again, he had no control over the situation and would just wait things out until the next day.  “If he doesn’t give it to me tomorrow,” thought Spratt, “I’m gonna take the motherfucker from him!”

Spratt took a shower, dressed in a nice pair of Levis, pulled on his favorite pair of brown leather work boots (so much more comfortable than the prison work boots!), pulled on a jacket, and went to the Holiday Inn where they had a ‘Steak Night’ every Saturday and would grill steaks to order on the outside patio bar.  “If I somehow get arrested between tonight and tomorrow,” Spratt told himself, “at least I will be able to describe a delicious steak to the other convicts when they take me back!  Hell, I’ve already beaten the last escapee’s record; he was caught within an hour…I’ve made it a full day!”  Spratt entered the bar and ordered a Michelob and waited for the ‘grillin’ to begin.  Several beers later, they announced that the coals were ready and Spratt ordered a medium-rare Ribeye and a baked potato stuffed with bacon and cheese.  It was DELICIOUS!!

Spratt stayed at the bar for a couple of hours talking with some of the out-of-town guests and trying to get ‘buzzed’ enough to forget that he wasn’t a ‘regular’ person like everybody else here.  His very existence was precarious at the moment and he hated the fact that he had to scrutinize each person entering the bar lest they be a cop and his freedom be immediately taken away.  Conscious of the high prices at this particular place, Spratt reminded himself that he needed to save as much money as he could for his trip tomorrow and left the bar around 11:00pm.

Spratt used the public restroom just outside the bar area and walked through the lobby relishing the anonymity of his favorite hotel chain.  He had stayed at Holiday Inn’s since he was a child and continued to patronize them during his travels as an adult.  He had seen the chain transform from a ‘family vacation’ oriented hotel to the mid-level business traveler hotel.  Each hotel had standard amenities that could always be counted on; you didn’t have to call and ask if they had ‘this’ or ‘that’ because each one was almost identical.  Holiday Inn was a nice hotel chain…not too exclusive and not too cheap; just right.  Businessmen and construction workers were equally accepted guests and all were treated fairly while, at the same time, being a safe haven from ‘riff-raff’.  Any Holiday Inn in any city was the perfect place to be anonymous.  Yep, Spratt loved the Holiday Inn.

Reluctantly, Spratt left the relative luxury of this hotel to return to his ‘riff-raff’ motel next door.  He went out the side door of the lobby and slowly meandered through the parking lot in the direction of his motel while enjoying the cool fresh air that tasted sweetly of freedom.  It was amazing to look up and see the stars shining since, in prison, if any inmates are outside at night for some reason, they can’t see the stars for the glare of the huge lights illuminating the perimeter.  For some reason, the air smelled better outside the walls of the prison and the stars were a sight to see!  Spratt walked slowly so that he could prolong his enjoyment of both.

There was a man-made knoll separating the two properties and Spratt imagined that it had been built by the Holiday Inn so that the people at the ‘nice’ hotel wouldn’t have to look at the people at the ‘bad’ motel.  Spratt could only see the roof of his motel as he started to walk up and over the knoll.  As soon as Spratt had reached a point on the knoll providing a larger view of his motel, Spratt almost shit his pants as his face was bathed in flashing blue lights!  He dropped to the ground immediately!

“Holy Shit!” thought Spratt, “What the FUCK is that?!?”  Spratt knew that blue lights meant ‘POLICE’ but “Are they here for me or somebody else?” wondered Spratt.  He slowly crawled to the top of the knoll to peek over into the parking lot of his motel.  Six fucking police cars were parked in a loose semi-circle with all of their lights flashing so brightly that an Alien spaceship would have appeared dim in comparison.  Spratt didn’t actually see any cops and didn’t know if they were in their cars or in the motel somewhere.  “Probably in my fucking room!” he told himself.  “Shit!” Spratt tried to quickly calculate the odds that the cops may be there for somebody else.  “It is a crappy motel,” he thought, “surely there are some criminal elements staying there; maybe it’s not me they are looking for.”  Spratt thought of all the various reasons that police might be called to a motel but, apart from rape or murder, none of the scenarios that he could think of would justify sending six patrol cars except for one; an escaped inmate.

Spratt backed down the knoll into the Holiday Inn parking lot and quickly returned to the lobby.  He realized that, even if the cops were there looking for somebody else, he had to go on the premise that it was him that they were hunting.  The lobby of the Holiday Inn was only a temporary haven since he knew that, if they were looking for him, the cops would start canvassing the area after not finding him in his room.  He had to get out of here before they came searching.  He left through the back door of the lobby and walked past the pool and through the stairway entrance of one of the buildings housing guest rooms.  Spratt walked to a wooded area at the back of the property and followed the tree line along the frontage road until he reached another commercial area and was forced to make a decision of whether to stay hidden in the woods or expose himself by walking down the road. 

Spratt’s adrenaline was pumping too much to just hunker down in the woods and he knew that if they called a K-9 unit out here then he would be discovered fairly quickly.  The frontage road was not like a city street where it may be expected to have pedestrians at any time of the day or night; this was a road that there were never any pedestrians and somebody walking down the road at nighttime would certainly stand out like a sore thumb to any passersby whether they were cops or not.  There was hardly any traffic at this time of the night so it was relatively dark but he couldn’t remember where, exactly, this road ended up at.  He knew there was only a chain link fence separating this road from the Interstate and that the Interstate went directly over the river into South Carolina.  “That may be the best route” thought Spratt but he quickly discarded that idea knowing that people would certainly call the police if they saw somebody walking down the Interstate.  Spratt tried to remember where the next bridge crossing the river was but there were none close by.  The frontage road HAD to end somewhere and Spratt assumed it would end near the river which may just be a dead end for him.  His only other option was to just sit and wait for the dogs to find him though so Spratt made sure there were no headlights coming in his direction and slowly stepped out of the woods and onto the pavement heading in the direction of the river.

Unauthorized Vacation: Johnson Gets Distracted!

Spratt was determined to leave that very week and selected some clothes from his locker that wouldn’t make him look too out of place, from a distance anyway, once he was able to shed his prison uniform.  He couldn’t control, and didn’t know, exactly where the detail would be working that week but he hoped it would be in a populated area…the closer to the city, the better.  He decided to take the other inmate up on his offer to ‘steal’ his truck and planned for the flea market to be one of his first stops.  Spratt settled into the humdrum routine of weekend prison life and, for once, looked forward to the beginning of the ‘work week’.

            On Monday, after being locked into the van, Johnson drove the crew to the farthest part of the county to work on the river banks.  Shit!  This part of the county is so desolate that there aren’t even any houses around!  I could run but where would I hide?  I know that I could get away from Johnson but I wouldn’t be able to leave the area before they got the dogs out here to track me down!  Spratt’s intention wasn’t just to ‘get away’ but, also, to stay away.  He decided to wait for another day and see if they would be assigned to a more suitable location.  Waiting would be a true test of his nerves as the inmates are strip searched upon returning from their work detail and, if his money was found, it would be confiscated and he would be thrown in the ‘hole’ immediately.

            Upon arriving at the prison, Spratt nervously presented his clothes and boots to the intake officer for inspection.  The officer barely looked at the boots and Spratt was allowed to go to his dorm.  Spratt felt dejected; disappointed that he hadn’t been able to get away that day.  Unfortunately for Spratt, most of the week would present the same, or worse, opportunity as Monday had.  Spratt had to return to the prison each day praying that his money would not be discovered.

            Friday morning, work was assigned in another desolate area of the county.  Spratt had never realized how desolate and rural this part of the State actually was.  Spratt decided that he would go for broke since he did NOT want to spend another weekend in that prison.  He was going to make a break for it as soon as Johnson turned his head but Johnson was being especially vigilant…”Does he know something?,” Spratt wondered.

            During the lunch break, the prison called Johnson on his two-way radio and instructed him to take his crew to the Parks and Recreation Department warehouse to load some folding tables needed for an annual Arts Festival in the Downtown area.  After loading the tables, they would need to follow the truck downtown, unload it, and assist in strategically placing the tables for vendors to display their wares.  The crew was loaded into the van and, once the tables were on the truck, they headed downtown to unload them.  “Good!” thought Spratt, “this is exactly where I need to be!”

            Spratt helped to unload the tables and put them in their designated locations but somebody, either Johnson or the Parks Department employee, was always close by.  Spratt knew that he was going to run but at least wanted to get some kind of head start; he didn’t want to run with Johnson standing right next to him.  Once the tables were placed, the crew was ordered back to the van.  Spratt tried to lag behind the group a little waiting for the perfect moment but Johnson was right behind them.  The Parks Department employee got into the driver’s seat of his truck and closed the door at about the same time as the first inmate of the crew started entering the van.  Spratt thought this might be the opportune moment since he would only have to outrun Johnson now and not both Johnson AND the Park employee and he was just about to make a run for it when two of the inmates in front of him started fighting with each other.  Johnson screamed at the inmates to stop, struck the pavement twice with his ax handle, and ran past Spratt to break the inmates up.  At least twenty yards now separated Spratt from Johnson and Johnson was focused on the fight; Spratt spun around and ran as fast as he could (faster than he had ever run before!) in the opposite direction.

            The vendors that had been milling around setting up their tables were just a blur to Spratt as he rounded the corner of the public building on the grounds; he didn’t know, and didn’t care, if any of the civilians were watching him…he just had to get as far away as he could.  He ran across the front lawn of the building then sprinted to the other side of a four lane boulevard without even looking for traffic.  Spratt ran down a side street and up an alley where he was able to climb a fire escape to the roof of a two story building.  Spratt quickly removed his prison shirt leaving just his unmarked t-shirt on and sat down to take his boots off.  Boots removed, he was able to unbutton his prison pants and take them off too.  Spratt quickly put his boots on and was now solely dressed in a white t-shirt, a pair of Fruit of the Loom briefs with a pair of unmarked white boxer shorts covering them, white socks, and black prison boots.  He knew he looked strange but this outfit would suffice barring any close scrutiny; from a distance, he would appear more normal than if he had kept his uniform on which would have screamed ‘ESCAPED INMATE’ to anybody that saw him.  Spratt climbed back down the fire escape, ran to the other end of the alley and started walking, in an attempt to not draw attention to himself, once he reached the street.  He turned the corner and walked two blocks to a main downtown artery and went inside a hotel where he knew there was a rooftop bar.

            Spratt walked through the lobby imagining that everybody was staring at him but most barely even gave him a second glance.  He took the elevator to the 15^th floor which was only occupied by the restaurant and lounge.  Spratt walked into the bar area and noticed there were no customers in there; just a bartender and a waitress setting up their stations.  Spratt asked if they were open and the bartender nodded yes but looked strangely at Spratt.  This was a ‘high class’ place and Spratt certainly wasn’t dressed in a suit and tie.  Spratt hadn’t come here for a casual drink but he needed to buy some time; he was only a few blocks away from where he had escaped from!  Spratt knew that this lounge had a ‘lookout’ area that gave a great view of the street below it and he expected to look down and see a hundred police cars scouring the street.  He couldn’t just walk over there and sit down without an explanation though as that would make him seem even more strange and the bartender might call security.  Spratt told the bartender that he had just returned from hiking on the river and needed a beer to quench his thirst before going to his room in the hotel.  The bartender still looked skeptical until Spratt placed a hundred dollar bill on the bar to pay for his beer.  The bartender quickly opened a Michelob and handed it to Spratt. 

            Spratt ordered a pack of cigarettes as well and sat down on the barstool.  He was dying to go look out the window but didn’t want to seem overly anxious and rouse the suspicions of the bartender.  Spratt made small talk for a while and ordered another beer.  The second beer now in hand, Spratt walked to the window and looked down expecting to see all Hell breaking loose.  He saw nothing; just the usual traffic…not a single police car in sight.  Spratt wondered why there wasn’t an all-out manhunt going on but knew that he couldn’t just sit back and relax; he had to leave that area as soon as possible.  The U-Haul storage center was only about a mile away from here so he went to a pay phone to call a taxi and waited five minutes before tipping the bartender and taking the elevator back to the lobby.

            Spratt waited for the taxi in the lobby while trying to blend in as much as possible but grew more anxious with each passing minute.  He expected to see cops coming in the front door either as part of the search party for an escaped inmate or simply because a hotel employee may have deemed him suspicious enough to have called the police to have him ejected from the property.  Spratt was relieved to see the taxi pull up before any police cars did and got in the back seat quickly while giving the address that he wanted to go to.  The driver, an elderly black man, barely glanced at Spratt as he started to drive off.  Spratt scooted down as much as he could in the back seat but was still able to see his surroundings.  There wasn’t a policeman anywhere and Spratt imagined that they may all be at the scene of his escape.

            Spratt asked the driver to wait for him as he went inside and opened the combination lock to his storage locker.  Spratt had quite a few things in the locker but he went straight for the suitcases in the corner.  He opened one and quickly changed his clothes.  He had a pair of brown leather work boots and a pair of sneakers in this suitcase and Spratt quickly decided on the sneakers.  He threw his prison boots into the corner of the locker, grabbed two suitcases, and locked the door upon leaving.

            Spratt wanted to leave town immediately and thought about having the driver drop him off at the bus station but that was downtown also and only a few blocks in the other direction from where he had escaped.  Besides, Spratt knew that the bus station would be one of the first places that the cops would look for him at.  Spratt could have had the taxi drive him across the river into South Carolina but then what?  Spratt decided to take his chances and spend the night in Georgia so that he could visit his ‘friend’ at the flea market the next day and ‘steal’ his truck for transportation.  Spratt told the driver to take him to a hotel on the South side of town where he unloaded his two suitcases and paid his fare.  When the taxi left, Spratt walked two blocks down the street to another hotel and called a different taxi company who drove him to the Northwest side of town.  Spratt paid for two nights at a cheap Scottish Inn motel that was right next to a Holiday Inn and close to the Interstate. 

          Spratt ordered supper from the Waffle House in the adjacent parking lot, went to the next door convenience store for beer and cigarettes, returned to pick up his ‘to go’ food order and went back to his room for the night.  Spratt ate his dinner and then drank most of the beers while waiting for the eleven o’clock news.  He switched back and forth between the three local stations but didn’t see any report of escape at all.  There wasn’t much ‘big’ news in this town…surely an escape would garner at least a ‘mention’ on the news.  This concerned Spratt for some reason.  He finished off the beers and took one last look into the parking lot to make sure there were no cops out there before going to sleep for the night.

Unauthorized Vacation: Lawyers are Expensive!!

Spratt was transported from the County Jail to the County Work Camp after his conviction on the bad check charges and was still incredulous that he was being sent there.  It had been explained to him that it wasn’t due to his crimes but, rather, his sentence; anybody sentenced to less than a year served their time in the Jail while those with more than a year were sent to the ‘chain gang’.  The ‘chain gang’ was operated by the County but also contracted to the State to provide housing for convicted felons.  All inmates were expected to work but the misdemeanor inmates and felony inmates were not allowed to mingle and were kept in separate dormitories but that was the only difference in the two classes of inmates.  All inmates wore the same type of uniform and were equally exposed to the harsh, sometimes brutal, working conditions meted out by the sadistic guards.

            Upon arrival, Spratt and the other inmates were ordered off of the bus and greeted by a ‘wannabe’ drill instructor who screamed every instruction to them in an attempt to assert his authority; as if they didn’t already know who was in charge.  All of the newly arrived inmates were strip-searched and given a white jump suit to wear until their actual uniforms, with their newly printed inmate serial numbers, arrived.  They were corralled down the hallway to the barber shop and had their heads shaved.  Next was photographs and fingerprints and then they were served a bologna sandwich and a glass of water before being assigned to a bunk in the dorm.  Most of the other inmates were out on work detail so it was relatively quiet in the prison but that bit of peace was shattered when the workers returned, were strip searched, and ordered to take a shower.  Because of the echoes of the prison, it was hard to understand anything that was said in the shower area and each inmate tried to outdo the others in how loud each one could scream their part of the conversation.

            While the workers were showering, some of the work detail officers came to the bars to ‘inspect’ the new inmates.  One was a guard who had the stereotypical appearance of the Hollywood version of a Southern ‘lawman’ complete with cowboy hat, large sunglasses, and one of the biggest beer bellies that Spratt had ever seen.  He moved the toothpick between his lips from side to side with his tongue several times prior to motioning Spratt to come to the bars.  Unsure about what the guard’s motive was, Spratt cautiously approached the bars.

            “Are you a good digger, boy?” asked the guard in a barely understandable Southern drawl.  “What?” asked Spratt.  “You look like a good goddamned ditch digger to me, boy.”  Spratt, thinking that the guard was joking around, replied, “Well, I don’t rightly know; I’ve never found a shovel that fit my hands correctly,”  The ‘lawman’ stared at Spratt for several moments while continuing to maneuver his toothpick back and forth.  Finally, he said, “I got something for you boy.  Yep, I sure do got something for you.”  The guard started to turn away but then slowly twisted his head back towards Spratt and said, “I’m gonna turn you into the best goddamned ditch digger in this here camp!”  The guard then slowly meandered down the hallway and disappeared around the corner.  “What the FUCK was that?” Spratt asked himself.  The whole situation was surreal.  He returned to his bunk area to prepare for ‘chow’.

            The inmates are awakened every morning at 5:00am with an ear shattering siren; not a bell or an electronically generated tone from the intercom system…a fucking siren!  The inmates were expected to quickly dress, wash their faces, and brush their teeth before being herded into the ‘chow hall’ for breakfast where they were expected to eat even more quickly and head out to the ‘yard’ to be assigned to a work detail.  Once in the yard, each inmate lined up in according to their assigned work detail and roll call was taken to account for everybody.  The new inmates lined up against a wall to wait for an assignment.

            Spratt took in the surroundings while standing against the wall.  Each group of inmates were assigned at least one armed officer (the State prisoners had two) who would watch over them throughout the day and ensure that they worked to the standards set by the State of Georgia.  While roll call was being taken, inmates assigned to the kitchen detail loaded the vans and buses with coolers that contained inmate lunches (it would turn out that the lunch never varied…each inmate received one bologna sandwich and one peanut butter and jelly sandwich) and other coolers filled with cold water.  Each van and bus was already loaded with tools such as shovels, hoes, rakes, and the ubiquitous ‘sling blade’.  Once roll call was taken and each inmate accounted for, they were loaded onto their assigned van or bus and locked inside for the trip to their particular destination to begin the day’s labor.  Sometime during all of this, the new inmates were told which detail to report to.

            Spratt was assigned to Officer Johnson who was a very large black man who obviously worked out but seemed kind of out of place.  Johnson wore his hair in the style of an old-fashioned ‘afro’ and had tailored his uniform to fit tightly against his body in order to further display his muscular frame.  Johnson carried an ax handle and tapped the ground with it as he walked back and forth in front of the inmates newly assigned to him.  He made it clear to the new inmates that ‘backtalk’ would not be tolerated; they would follow his every order immediately and without question or they would suffer the consequences (this was punctuated with several taps on the asphalt with the ax handle).  Johnson informed the new inmates that any attempt at escape would be met with a bullet in their backs but Spratt didn’t see a gun on this officer’s utility belt.  “Maybe he has it concealed somewhere,” Spratt thought but Johnson’s uniform was so tight that it was obvious he wasn’t hiding a pistol anywhere…all of the other guards had a huge .357 revolver in their holsters.  Spratt thought this officer must use a shotgun instead and got in the van when Johnson finally instructed them to.

            Spratt learned from his fellow inmates that this was one of the better details to be assigned to since they worked mostly for the County Dept. of Parks and Recreation and would be assigned certain duties like cutting grass, picking up litter, clearing gutters, or cleaning cemeteries.  Spratt thought this might not be too bad but then realized that any grass cutting was done with the ‘sling blade’…no machines.  Gutter cleaning meant shoveling sand and sediment that had accumulated.  Litter patrol was usually along the river banks in grass that was waist high and infested with snakes.  Cemetery clean-up meant kneeling down in the stone that covered the graves and pulling out any weeds that might have grown through them…by the time this detail was assigned, most graves had ‘lawns’ on them; not just a couple of weeds.  None of this was ‘easy’ but Spratt learned that it was less laborious than some of the other details.  Either way, it was a very miserable existence:  breakfast; work; lunch; more work; shower; supper; sleep; breakfast; work; lunch; more work; shower; supper; sleep; day after day after day!  All under the watchful eyes of a narcissistic guard that constantly warned the inmates of the consequences for attempting to escape (it was never about the consequences for escaping; always for attempting to escape…Johnson didn’t contemplate that anybody would be successful).

            Spratt learned a lot about Officer Johnson from the other inmates as well.  It turned out that Johnson didn’t carry a shotgun either and there was a reason for that which Spratt learned at lunch one day.  The inmates were loaded onto the van instead of eating lunch at the work site; sandwiches were passed out while Johnson drove the van downtown and parked in front of the offices of the State Probation and Parole Board.  He left the inmates locked in the van while he went inside.  Spratt wondered what the fuck they were doing here and the other inmates told him that Johnson had to go meet with his probation officer.  They said that Johnson used to be a city police officer until he was convicted of ‘Assault with a Deadly Weapon’ after a fight with his wife and was fired.  He was sentenced to probation but, since he was now a convicted felon, was not allowed to carry a gun.  Spratt couldn’t be sure if they were pulling his leg or not and asked how Johnson was able to get a job at the prison if he had a criminal record.  “Welcome to the ‘good ole boy’ network,” replied one of the other inmates.  “He was friends with the Warden and the Warden hired him on the condition that he only supervises County inmates and that he was able to prevent escapes without carrying a firearm.”  That explained why Johnson was always harping on the consequences of escape…it was an intimidation technique but Spratt thought it was truly fucked up to allow a convicted felon to guard inmates convicted of misdemeanors…the convicts were guilty of LESSER crimes than the guard was!

            As the weeks turned into months, the weather just got hotter and hotter and the prison life became more and more miserable.  Fights constantly broke out in the dorms and on the work details and the only relief from the unbearable heat and humidity was a lone fan at the back of the dorm and cold water from a fountain.  During this time, Spratt was able to contact an attorney who informed him that he could get Spratt’s sentence reduced but his fee for that would be $1,800.00 “Eighteen Hundred Dollars!” Spratt thought, “Where the FUCK would I get eighteen hundred fucking dollars?”  “THAT is the ‘good ole boy’ network for you Spratt!” one inmate told him, “Everybody has to have their palms greased.  That lawyer is probably ‘friendly’ with the Judge and will ask him to reduce your sentence as a ‘favor’ but a big portion of his ‘fee’ will wind up in the Judge’s pockets.  If you don’t pay, you will do the entire sentence.”  Spratt didn’t have the money so he had to discard the idea for the moment.

            Spratt couldn’t see a way out of his situation.  He couldn’t afford to pay the lawyer but he couldn’t stand the thought of spending a year and a half of his life on this ‘chain gang’.  He had to find a way out of the situation but couldn’t figure anything out.  He began fantasizing about escape and dreaming of faraway lands where he might live out the rest of his life in relative freedom.  He read a ‘Bachman’ book (penned by Stephen King) entitled ‘The Long Walk’ where the prisoners start in Maine and are marched towards Florida.  Any inmate that couldn’t keep pace or that could walk no more was shot by the guards and any inmate that made it was set free.  Spratt fantasized about this and felt confident that he had enough endurance and discipline to be one of the inmates that crossed the ‘finish’ line…his desire for freedom was that great.  On the other hand, being shot in the head was preferable to continuing in this miserable life…it was a win/win situation.  But, that was fiction though and Spratt knew that this was not going to actually happen.

            Spratt became fairly ‘friendly’ with one of the guards that worked on the weekends.  His name was Jose and he monitored the dorm area since the inmates didn’t work on the weekends.  Spratt learned that Jose was from Puerto Rico and had come to the States while in the military.  After being discharged, Jose stayed in Georgia and took a job at the prison and had been working there for over a year.  Spratt was intrigued and would go to the library to learn as much as he could about Puerto Rico.  He began to dream of lying on the beaches down there with a Pina Colada in his hand and would daydream about that while on his work detail.

            Jose seemed to be one of the rare guards that had a little compassion for the inmates as opposed to most of them who tried to bully the inmates all the time.  Jose said that he wasn’t there to punish anybody, just to earn a paycheck…”Don’t get me wrong,” Jose said, “I have to do my job and make sure everybody follows the rules but I don’t want to be in charge of a work detail because I don’t want to have to shoot anybody if they escape.”

            At one point, Jose asked Spratt why he was there.  “You are a clean-cut guy and seem fairly intelligent; you don’t seem like the ‘criminal’ type” Jose said.  Spratt explained his heinous crimes to Jose and told him that he knew a lawyer that could get him out but that he couldn’t afford it.  In one of their many conversations, Jose mentioned that he and his wife were looking for a second car.  Spratt told Jose that he owned a car that he obviously wasn’t using at the moment and that he would be willing to sell it to Jose and use that money to pay the lawyer with.  The car was actually worth about $2,400 but Spratt said he would sell it for the same price the lawyer was asking so it would be a mutually beneficial deal.  Spratt had the car parked at a friend’s house and Jose agreed to go look at it during the week.

            Spratt spent the entire week praying that Jose would like the car and buy it; he could almost taste freedom!  When Jose returned the next weekend, he told Spratt that he did want the car but that he didn’t have the full amount of money at the moment.  He asked Spratt if there was any way that they could come to an agreement where Jose could make payments.  Spratt thought about it for a while and they finally agreed that Jose would take possession of the car and deposit two hundred dollars per week into Spratt’s inmate account which would mean that Spratt would have to wait nine more weeks before being able to pay the attorney his fee.  “Well,” Spratt thought, “nine weeks is better than eighteen months; at least I can see some light at the end of the tunnel!”  Spratt drew up a contract and had it approved and notarized by the Deputy Warden of the prison after the deal was approved by the Warden (guards are usually prohibited from conducting business transactions with inmates but all of this was out in the open so it was approved).  Jose was supposed to deposit the money every Friday.

            Spratt actually had a spring in his step and work was a lot less miserable for the next week.  On Friday, as agreed, Jose deposited his first payment of two hundred dollars into Spratt’s inmate account.  The following Friday, Jose told him that some unexpected bills had come up and that he didn’t have the money but that he would double the payment on the following Friday.  Spratt was disappointed but had no other option except to wait.  On the designated day, Jose was assigned to work in another part of the prison but Spratt received a receipt showing that one hundred dollars had been deposited into his account.  A hundred fucking dollars!  What the hell!  Spratt was growing concerned.  On the following Friday, Jose was assigned to Spratt’s dorm and brought a receipt for fifty dollars.  Spratt’s heart sank but he congenially accepted Jose’s promises that he would have everything caught up soon.  Spratt didn’t want to turn this into an acrimonious relationship because he didn’t have much legal standing…the car was already in Jose’s name and he was limited as to any action that might be otherwise available to the general public.  He didn’t know how he could ‘force’ Jose to comply with the contract so he just reminded Jose that this was not really about the car but, rather, about Spratt’s freedom.  Jose apologized again and promised to catch the payments up.

            Spratt was worried all week long.  That particular week could have been officially designated as ‘escape’ week.  One inmate tried to escape but was caught within an hour.  Spratt read a book from the library about a guy that escaped from prison and joined the French Foreign Legion (Spratt thought that might be a pretty cool thing to do…Does the French Foreign Legion still exist?).  All the talk amongst the inmates was about the pros and cons of trying to escape.  The obvious ‘pro’ was freedom…the ‘con’ was a potential ten years added to your sentence if you were caught.  “If I were to escape, I wouldn’t get caught!” Spratt bragged to the other inmates although they considered him to be the least likely to even attempt it.  One inmate scheduled to be released that very week told Spratt that if he ever decided to escape then he would help him.  “I have a truck that I can’t make the payments on,” the inmate told Spratt, “if you ever get away, I have a booth at the flea market; come there and I will give you the keys to the truck and give you three days to get away and then report it stolen so I can collect the insurance.”  Spratt thought this might be of some use to him if he ever did have to escape (I hope Jose pays me so that I can get out legally though!) and they shook hands in agreement. 

            On Thursday night, the local TV Station played the movie ‘Cool Hand Luke’ which was about ESCAPE from a Southern prison.  Escape was on everybody’s mind that week!  Friday came and all conversation on the work detail was about escape.  Johnson told the group that if anybody were to escape and another prisoner stopped him then that prisoner would have his sentenced reduced to half!  During lunch, one of the group said, “I sure hope one of you motherfuckers tries to run!  I’m gonna tackle your ass and get my sentence chopped!”  Spratt couldn’t believe that another inmate would actually try to STOP an escaping inmate and said, “Don’t listen to that bullshit!  He is only saying that so that nobody escapes from his crew and lose his job!”  Spratt continued, “If they see an inmate running and then another one running behind him, BOTH inmates will be charged with escape!  They aren’t going to believe that you were trying to stop the first guy…they are going to think that you were both running away!”  “Well you just try it smartass,” continued the ignorant inmate, “I’ll tackle your ass in a heartbeat!”  What a fucking idiot! Spratt thought and asked Johnson if he could go to the van to get some more water.  Johnson, sitting on the lunch cooler, raised the ax handle and gave Spratt permission to get water but warned him to stay where he could keep his eyes on him, “I hear you got rabbit in your blood, Spratt!  I need to see you at all times!”  “Shit,” replied Spratt, “I’m a ‘short-timer’, I’m not about to run and risk a longer sentence!  I’ve only got eighteen months…that’s easy time!”  Spratt went to the van, got his water, and returned to the group without incident but wondering the entire time how far he could get if he decided to take off running.

            After returning to the prison and showering, Spratt noticed that Jose was assigned to his dorm and walked to the bars to speak with him.  Jose gave Spratt a receipt for fifty dollars and another excuse.  Holy fuck!!  At the rate this guy is going, I will serve my entire fucking sentence before he gets the car paid for!  Spratt walked dejectedly back to his bunk area.  Spratt didn’t know what to do but he knew that he wasn’t going to serve his entire sentence on that goddamned chain gang!  That seals it.  I’m going to have to try to escape now…there’s no other option!  Spratt put his name on the phone list for that night and waited for Jose to call him to use the phone.

            The ‘collect call only’ phone was located in the hallway outside of the dorm and in full view of the guard’s desk.  Jose let Spratt out of the dorm at the designated time and Spratt pretended to make a call.  When Spratt’s imaginary conversation was completed, Jose let Spratt back into the dorm.  Later that night, Spratt had a chance to speak to Jose alone through the bars of the dorm.  Spratt explained to Jose that he had called his brother and that his brother was coming from out of state to visit him that Sunday.  Spratt told Jose that his brother had most of the money to pay the lawyer but was short by about four hundred dollars; if Spratt could somehow get four hundred dollars then he would be released within the week!  “If you could bring me four hundred dollars cash tomorrow then I will be able to pass it to my brother on Sunday and we can get the lawyer paid off on Monday morning.”  Spratt could see a look of doubt in Jose’s eyes and sweetened the deal with, “If you can bring me that amount of money by tomorrow then I will write you a bill of sale stating that the car is completely paid for and you will actually be getting it for a third of the value…you will have a paid off car and I will have my freedom!”  Jose promised to think about it but Spratt knew that there was only a very small chance that Jose would actually follow through with it since it is a crime to bring cash to inmates.  They agreed to talk about it again the next day.

            Spratt didn’t have a visit planned for that weekend but hoped Jose would bring the money so that he could use it to escape with.  He knew that it would only be a matter or running faster than Johnson on the work detail and wondered if he would be able to get to the U-Haul storage center where he stored his belongings before turning himself in on the bad check warrants.  If not, what could he use as clothes?  He would have to get rid of his prison uniform quickly.  He did have a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts that did not have any prison number or other markings on them and wondered if he could pull off some type of ‘look’ with those items to make it appear that he was a jogger or something like that until he could get some real clothes.  Regardless, he couldn’t make any real plans until he found out if he would have money with him or not.  He could hardly sleep that night wondering what Jose would decide to do.

            After Jose started his shift the next day, he called Spratt up to the bars and extended his hand through them to shake Spratt’s as he normally did before starting a conversation (he was the only guard that actually had this type of physical contact with the inmates…Spratt thought it must be due to his Puerto Rican sense of manners).  Spratt shook Jose’s hand and felt something being pressed into his palm.  A furtive glance told him immediately that it was money and he hurriedly put it into his pocket.  “Don’t tell ANYBODY! “ Jose admonished him and then wished him good luck before leaving without further conversation.  Spratt returned to his bunk area and opened his locker.  When nobody was looking, he pulled the money out of his pocket and noticed that there were three brand new, and neatly folded, one hundred dollar bills!  Holy Shit!  Spratt hid the money in the inner sole of one of his work boots and locked the door of the locker while thinking, “Three hundred dollars!  The motherfucker even shorted me on this part of the deal!  Son of a bitch!”  Spratt immediately began pondering his next steps towards freedom.

Unauthorized Vacation: Back to Georgia?

                Spratt was held at the Mecklenburg County Jail (downtown; Charlotte has two jails) for about a month so that he could be served with charges from Idaho and Georgia.  Idaho filed a fugitive warrant and sought to have Spratt returned to finish out his prison sentence and Georgia filed a ‘detainer’ against him for untried charges of ‘Motor Vehicle Theft’ and ‘Fraudulent Use of a Financial Transaction Card’.  Puerto Rico did not file any type of charges or detainers against him during his stay in Charlotte and it was finally decided that Spratt would be sent to Georgia to face the outstanding charges against him there prior to being returned to Idaho.

            On the date of his transfer, Spratt was escorted down to the ‘holding’ area of the jail and told to sit on a bench while he was served a bag lunch consisting of a mystery meat sandwich and an apple.  While eating, the Shift Sergeant came into the area followed by two of the largest cops that Spratt had ever seen.  Spratt could tell by the insignias on their uniform that these were Sheriff’s Deputies from the State of Georgia.  “I guess my ride is here”, thought Spratt.

            One of the deputies filled out some paperwork given to him by the Sergeant while the other walked up and down the corridor looking into the holding cells barely noticing Spratt sitting on the bench.  Done with the paperwork, one of the deputies, in a distinctively Southern Georgia accent that can only be described as similar to speaking with a mouthful of grits, asked the Sergeant where their prisoner was.  The Sergeant pointed at Spratt and informed the deputies that they could now take custody of him.  The deputies grinned at each other and ordered Spratt to stand up and face the wall.  One of them aggressively frisked Spratt before placing leg shackles, waist chain, and handcuffs on him.  They walked out of the holding area to a waiting police car where Spratt was deposited in the back seat and admonished not to try anything ‘stupid’. 

            Once the deputies found their way back to I-77 and started heading South, the one that had been strolling up and down the corridor back at the jail turned around to Spratt and said, “I couldn’t believe you were the guy we were supposed to pick up!  I was looking for some big, burly, mean looking dude!”  He continued with, “They said you were a very dangerous escape risk; that’s why they sent two of us to pick you up but you don’t look mean enough to have beaten up two cops and escaped.”  Spratt had grown tired of having to explain to every single cop since his arrest that he had NOT beaten up those two cops so he responded sarcastically, “Well, actually, I’m a specially trained ‘Shaolin Monk ‘and I can physically overcome you using nothing more than mental willpower…I can disappear from the back of this car in the blink of an eye leaving behind nothing but these chains and the jumpsuit!”  “You won’t have a clue what happened,” Spratt continued, “ You’ll be scrambling to find a trace of me anywhere!  They should have sent a couple more cops with you ‘cause I’m a slippery character!”  The cops laughed at this congenially and Spratt wound up telling them what had actually happened.  They were incredulous about the Puerto Rican cops’ lack of professionalism but decided that Spratt was probably telling the truth. 

            They carried on an amiable conversation for a while and, about an hour and a half into the trip, stopped at a convenience store in Lexington, SC for gas and snacks.  They allowed Spratt to get out of the car and have a cigarette and one of the deputies said, “Look, it’s going to be a long drive; if you promise not to overcome us with your mental powers and escape then I’ll take the shackles and waist chain off of you so you can be a little bit more comfortable…handcuffs have to stay on though.”  Spratt was constantly amazed at the naïveté of supposedly trained police officers.  He didn’t have any plans of escaping from these cops but, if he had, did they think that he would actually promise not to do so?  Did they expect him to be honest and say, “No, I intend on kicking your ass and stealing  your gun and this here patrol car so you’d better just keep me hog-tied like you have me now or you’ll have a lot of explaining to do”?  Of course he would promise to behave!  Spratt chuckled and informed the deputy that his mental skills are only effective in Spanish and, even then, only when the subject was fairly inebriated.  He told them they would be safe from his powers and they removed the shackles and waist chain before putting him back in the car. 

            After a while, there was a lull in conversation and Spratt began thinking about his current situation.  He still wasn’t sure what would happen to him regarding any charges from Puerto Rico and he wasn’t happy about going to face a Georgia Judge.  Georgia is a strict State and are fairly generous when passing out years during sentencing proceedings.  What would get you five years in one State may get you twenty in Georgia AND you won’t serve that sentence in some cushy air conditioned prison…Georgia sends their inmates to ‘chain gangs’!  Although they don’t actually chain the prisoners together anymore, each inmate is expected to work a minimum of eight hours a day in all types of weather for absolutely no pay.

            Spratt remembered that Georgia was the first place that he had ever run afoul of the law (fourteen years earlier) when he was arrested for writing a couple of bad checks (one to Eckerd’s for thirteen dollars and one to Sear’s for thirty-seven dollars).  For that, he was sentenced to eighteen months of “forced labor at the County work camp”.  He remembered the horrendous conditions and how horrified he felt at being sent to the ‘chain gang’ for a misdemeanor charge; especially as it was his first offense.  He grinned to himself though as he also remembered that it was the first time he had ever escaped as well and that was the first chapter in Spratt’s history of making the cops look foolish.  “Damn!  They make it so easy sometimes!” Spratt thought as he fell into a reverie of memories regarding his first escape.