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.
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