Unauthorized Vacation: Damn Salesmen!

Hardly anybody at the Holiday Inn (airport-Charlotte, NC) paid any attention to him when he pulled in.  There were the usual Hispanic groundskeepers that stare at every car as if they might be undercover immigration officers but those guys are so ubiquitous that nobody pays attention to them.  He glanced around the front lot and definitely didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary; just the usual mix of mid-level business travelers and rental cars.  Some employees were coming and going on their menial errands but that is expected at a hotel that serves as a center for business meetings, luncheons, and the bustle of travelers to and from the airport.  There were no empty parking spots available in the front lot but he wouldn’t have chosen one there anyway.  He circled the hotel looking for anything out of the ordinary and, not finding anything, he chose a spot close to the lounge entrance of the hotel.

            He knew the layout of the hotel even though he had not been a registered guest in over fifteen years.  Some remodeling had occurred but the basic format had remained the same.  Due to his budget, he had spent the night at a motel further down the strip but the Holiday Inn, being neither a luxury nor a roach trap, provided the anonymity that he needed on that particular day.  His outward appearance was as usual which made him stand out at the motel that he could afford.  Casually dressed in a long-sleeved button down shirt, new pair of Levi’s jeans, and a comfortable pair of Hush Puppies, he was either suspected of being a police officer by the nefarious guests where he had been staying or, due to his clean-cut appearance, as an innocent traveler that would make a great target for a robbery.  Neither of these perceived roles suited his needs for the matter at hand. 

            Driving the white, four door Honda Accord completed the image of the casual traveler. He wasn’t going to register as a guest at the Holiday Inn however, he only stopped there on his way to Charleston, SC to make a last phone call to the mother of his children; another one to the journalist; and, possibly, a call to the Puerto Rican Department of Justice.  He certainly didn’t have time to be bothered by anybody else; he expected to go through the usual formalities with the front desk over using the house phone for the calls but felt that they would either imagine that he was a guest or a visitor of one of the guests and relinquish the phone to him without question.  He could have used one of the two cell phones that he had in his possession but was suspicious that the one actually belonging to him was being traced and he knew that the one stolen from the police officer when he escaped WAS being traced.  With his recently acquired ATT pre-paid phone card, he was just going in to make his anonymous calls with an anonymous card in an anonymous hotel located in an anonymous city.

           

Entering the hotel, he looked to his left to notice that the lounge wasn’t open yet but was being set up.  Good, I’ll have a drink when I finish these calls.  To his right were two college aged men dressed in clothing directly from the Prep School catalog and holding what appeared to be brochures in each one’s hand.  Except for the different colors of their Izod shirts, they were identical in appearance; more anonymity in the background of hotel life that lends itself to all sorts of characters that really don’t get paid much attention by anybody else.  He noticed them though and immediately ascertained that they were a distraction to be avoided, Goddamned magazine salesmen…probably gonna try to stop me and sell me a subscription to fucking ‘Boys Life’ or something to ‘help’ pay for their fucking cause whatever it is.

            He assumed the posture of a busy person that didn’t want to be bothered with peripheries.  Walking past them into the lobby area, one of the Prep School twins greeted him with “Good Afternoon”.  He grudgingly responded with a nod of his head.  Passing them, he couldn’t be sure if it was Tweedledee or Tweedledum that asked him for a moment of his time.  He responded that he was busy and one of the twins asked him what his name was.  What the fuck do these magazine salesman need to know my name for?  Something about their tone made him turn around.  One of the twins opened the brochure packet and showed him a flyer while the other pulled out a wallet with an encircled star pinned to it.  He rapidly comprehended that these were not ordinary magazine salesmen, especially as the flyer had his picture on it and was entitled “Wanted by the U.S. Marshal Service…James ‘Buddy’ Spratt…Fugitive From Justice”. 

            “Do you know this man?” one of the twins asked while the other was still holding the badge up halfheartedly as if to avoid attention from the other guests.  “Well, that would probably be me.” Spratt said.  The twin with the badge stated, “We are U.S. Marshals, could you please turn around and put your hands behind your back?”  The other twin pulled out something that looked like a badge in an almost forgotten attempt to prove that he too was a law enforcement officer.  Spratt turned around and allowed one of the twins to frisk him.  That twin removed everything from Spratt’s pockets and politely asked a hotel employee for a plastic bag to put his belongings in while the other finally found a pair of handcuffs and gently placed them on Spratt’s wrist.  One twin asked him to sit down on a nearby bench while the other made a discreet phone call.  The shorter twin sat down beside Spratt while the other just stood after the phone call.  There was no conversation between any of them.  Spratt sat there with his mind racing, trying to calculate the events that might immediately be forthcoming.  The twins seemed a bit nervous as if they were a little unsure of themselves.  Then, the fucking world exploded.

           

The quiet background noise of the hotel lobby was shattered with the ear piercing screams and wails of five police cars; federal and local; marked and unmarked, immediately followed by the door crashing entrance of eight adrenaline filled, husky men mixed with a couple of guns pointed at a casually dressed anonymous man that was already handcuffed, and in the custody of, one of the Prep School twins.  All of that testosterone and adrenaline with no venting point resulted in confusion of what to do next.  These hardened cops weren’t going to just stand there so it was decided that each one of them would go up to Spratt and introduce himself in the most vulgar way possible while letting him know that each had personally lost sleep looking for his ass and that he was now on his way to a lifetime in prison, if they had anything to do with it.  “Get this piece of shit out to my car,” screamed one of the Marshals who appeared to be in charge of the ‘operation’.

            Once in the police car and mostly away from the prying eyes of the hotel patrons and employees, the verbiage worsened.  There were eternal moments of quietness interrupted by shattering screams of several officers at once with all of them demanding answers to their separate questions at the same time until the Chief Dickhead in Charge calmed everybody down and informed them that he would be the official screamer of questions.  “You know how long we’ve been looking for you motherfucker!?!  I don’t give a shit!! Where is the gun at? What fucking gun!?!  Where is the girl at!?!  What fucking girl!?!  Where is the cop’s cell phone!?!  In your hand you stupid fuck!!  Where is his badge at!?!  Why did you beat up those two cops!?!  What the fuck are you talking about!?!  Dickhead slams the door and many moments of relative quiet passed while every one of the officers were on a cell phone walking around the parking lot like an army of robots with no pre-programmed destination.  Some were talking to their superiors…others to their wives…yet others to journalist giving ‘exclusive but confidential’ information regarding the arrest. 

            Suddenly the door opens and Spratt is assaulted by Dickhead’s screams once more, “How many felonies do you want me to charge you with motherfucker!?!  If it was up to me…none!  “Stolen car, stolen credit cards, escape, and assault on police officers…I could put you away forever!!”  Whatever, motherfucker!  The door slammed and dickhead leaves once more.  Dickhead and his partner, a Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Detective assigned to the Joint Fugitive Task Force, come back to the car and sit in the front seat.  Dickhead asks, “How the hell did a skinny fuck like you beat up two cops, steal their money and ID, and escape?”  “Didn’t happen that way!” Spratt proclaimed but Dickhead is accustomed to every prisoner crying innocence and changed the subject to the moment of arrest.

            “Those dumbfuck rookies got lucky as hell today…you did too Spratt.  If I had been the one to find you, I would have put a bullet in your ass.  Lucky motherfuckers…just standing in a goddamned hotel lobby when Spratt walks up to them and practically says, ‘Excuse me officer, could you please arrest me?”  “Don’t worry though, we got you and now your ass is mine!  I’m not going to charge you with the stolen car or the credit cards but I’m sending your ASS to Puerto Rico and you’re gonna have to deal with them about why you beat up two of their cops!”  Spratt was driven to the local jail and booked in as a fugitive from another jurisdiction to await extradition proceedings back to the State of Idaho.

Unauthorized Vacation: Fatalistic Decisions?

Spratt checked into the Charleston, SC hotel around 9:00am and took a nap for a few hours.  Upon awakening, he went to Toys-R-Us to buy the things that he had promised his children and stopped at a fast food restaurant for lunch.  He then picked up a case of beer and returned to the hotel room.  Sometime that afternoon, Spratt went to the hotel bar and had a few drinks with other hotel guests and a couple of locals.  He met another out of town contractor who offered Spratt a decent paying, albeit temporary, position on a construction project.  Spratt wanted the job but had a couple of things to take care of before he would be able to accept any employment (it’s one thing to know that there is a warrant for your arrest…quite another to know that the cops that may serve that warrant believe you to be a ‘dangerous’ fugitive.  Spratt had to get the ‘dangerous’ designation removed somehow before he would be able to even halfway concentrate on a job).  The contractor gave Spratt his phone number and told him he could start working the next week if he wanted to.  Spratt thanked him and went to his room to sleep for the night.

The next morning, Spratt went to the lobby and made himself a plate from the complimentary breakfast buffet and returned to his room to eat and wait for a good time to call the reporter back.  Finally, he placed the call and the reporter answered immediately.  The reporter told Spratt that he had been able to reach his contacts at the Puerto Rico Police Department and they had, officially, provided him with a version that was slightly different than what had been previously released but that it still was not exactly like Spratt’s version.  He stated that he was glad that Spratt had called because he was about to submit the story and wanted Spratt’s response to the newer version.

“What did they tell you this time?” asked Spratt.  “They admitted that they were not in the airport when the escape took place but that they had taken you to a hotel room for the night because of a delay in flights” the reporter responded.  He continued by reading from his notes, “They stated that you were duly chained and restrained with handcuffs and shackles and that they took turns sleeping with one officer constantly awake and watching you while the other slept.  Taking advantage of the fact that one of them was asleep, you were able to physically overcome the other officer and beat him up prior to stealing the handcuff key, removing your handcuffs and shackles, and then escaping through the door of the hotel.  They denied that any alcohol, whatsoever, was involved.”  The reporter stated that this revised version sounded a little more credible than Spratt’s version and the Police explained the discrepancies away by saying that they did not release the details of the hotel in the original version because they needed to keep extradition details and procedures a secret to prevent future escapes.

Spratt laughed out loud!  “Are you fucking kidding me?  Who the fuck would believe that story?” asked Spratt incredulously.  “Don’t you realize how SMALL a hotel room is?  If a chained inmate started struggling with a trained police officer who would win?  I must be one badass motherfucker to be able to beat up a cop with my hands and legs chained up!  Don’t you think that, once the struggle started, the cop would holler out to his partner who would then wake up and lend a hand in the fight?”  Spratt continued with, “I’m telling you the truth!  They got drunk and passed out!  There was no fight!”  Then Spratt remembered a detail that the reporter could use to verify his story with, “Look, the Sergeant paid for all of those drinks with the Police Dept. American Express card….surely you could get a copy of that bill.  It wouldn’t prove that he had a bottle of Smirnoff in his luggage but it would prove that drinks were consumed at the restaurant and, since they stated that absolutely no alcohol was involved, that should undermine their credibility.”  Spratt told the reporter the exact date and time that they were in the restaurant and the amount of the total bill.  The reporter said that he would look into it and then get the official response to this prior to publishing the story.  They hung up with Spratt promising to call back no later than the next day.

Spratt then called the Head of the Puerto Rico Department of Justice’s Extradition Division who would not speak with him about the details of the escape but told him that he was actively being hunted by the U.S. Marshal’s Service and that his wife’s phone was being tapped in order to find him.  Spratt believed the part about the phone being tapped (he didn’t care though because he felt secure with the process of using the AT&T card and also knew that he would immediately leave anywhere that he had called from) but called bullshit on the part about the U.S. Marshal.  To prove the point, she put him on a conference call with a guy that claimed to be a Marshal.  He told Spratt that he would hunt him down and Spratt asked why they were even involved since he hadn’t been a Federal inmate.  The ‘Marshal’ replied that they had jurisdiction due to Spratt’s designation as a violent fugitive.  “But I didn’t fight anybody goddamnit!!  Those cops got DRUNK…I just walked away!”  The ‘Marshal’ said that, regardless, he had that designation and that he was going to hunt Spratt until he was captured.  Spratt told him to fuck off and hung up.

Spratt then called the Idaho Department of Correction and spoke with their attorney who basically confirmed what the ‘Marshal’ had said.  Additionally, he told Spratt that there was a fugitive warrant from the State of Idaho and that he had been charged with escape by Idaho authorities in Ada County.  Spratt asked which other jurisdictions had charged him with escape and he was told that only Idaho had charged him.  “But, you can’t charge me with escape” stated Spratt.  “You don’t have jurisdiction.  A criminal charge has to be tried in the jurisdiction where the alleged crime occurred and I didn’t escape in Idaho!”  “Additionally,” Spratt informed him, “an inmate can only be charged with escape if he is in ‘lawful’ custody and there is no way that a person can be in the ‘lawful’ custody of two drunk, and passed out, cops!”  “Well, you can bring that up at trial” stated the attorney who advised him to turn himself in to the nearest law enforcement agency and hung up.

Spratt then called the front desk and requested a wake-up call for the next day before taking all of his belongings out to the stolen car and leaving.  Before leaving Charleston, he stopped at a Western Union and sent his wife some money.  In, North Charleston, he stopped at the U.P.S. facility and paid to have the children’s toys shipped overnight to Puerto Rico.  He used a local address as the return address in the hopes of throwing off the cops for a while.  He then drove up I-26 to I-95 North and kept driving until he reached Fayetteville, NC where he spent the night.

Upon waking the next morning, Spratt decided that he may continue heading north but needed to make more phone calls prior to doing so.  He was worried about having the U.S. Marshal’s looking for him and wanted to speak to the reporter and his wife again before leaving North Carolina.  His reason for wanting to call while in North Carolina were because he planned on making these the final phone calls and, if they were being traced, they would be traced back to this State instead of the actual State that he was going to; hopefully a dead end for the cops.  He didn’t want to call from his current location though since it was right on the main North/South Interstate on the east coast.  He wanted to keep them guessing about his direction of travel and decided to drive back to Charlotte, NC place the calls from there before heading north.  There was no Interstate Highway between Fayetteville and Charlotte so he had to take State highways which made him nervous since these were heavily patrolled by local Sheriff’s Departments.  He finally arrived without incident in Charlotte and checked into a cheap motel near the airport.  After checking in, he got some more food and some beer before unpacking his things and settling in for the night. 

The next morning, Spratt finally purchased a pre-paid cell phone so that he could make calls without being stuck in the motel room and started using his ‘minutes’ immediately.  He called his wife and made sure that she had received the money and the package.  She told him that she had received both but also informed him that she had told the prosecutor about it before picking up the money and accepting the package.  The prosecutor sent a couple of investigators to her house to take possession of the shipping label but ‘allowed’ her to keep the toys for the children.  Spratt hoped they followed up on the fake address just to waste their time but did feel as if the noose may be tightening a little.

The next round of calls were to the Puerto Rico Department of Justice, I.D.O.C., and the U.S. Marshal’s Office in Hato Rey, Puerto Rico but he didn’t glean any new information from those calls; just the same scripted bullshit of “We’re hunting you!”  “We will find you!”  “You’d better turn yourself in!”  Blah, blah, blah!

Finally he called the Puerto Rican journalist.  Again, he answered his phone pretty quickly and Spratt, out of paranoia now, asked if he was working with the cops to try to trace his calls.  The journalist reassured him that, although he was a crime reporter, he was not big fan of the cops and had written as many articles about police corruption as he had about criminals.  Spratt noticed that he hadn’t directly denied assisting them though.

The journalist told him that he was able to get a copy of the receipt from the hotel restaurant and confronted the Police Superintendent with it.  He said that the official response was “No Comment” but a press release given out later in the day stated that both officers had been suspended without pay pending official investigation of the incident.  This gave Spratt some measure of satisfaction and he was elated when the journalist told him that he would print Spratt’s version of events in the next edition of the newspaper.  Spratt thanked him and the reporter asked him to call back the next day after he was able to do some follow-up investigations into some other details of the story.  He promised that he would.

The cheap hotel that Spratt was currently staying in did not have a computer in the lobby for its guests so Spratt drove to a nearby Kinko’s and bought some computer time to access the online version of the Puerto Rican newspaper.  He was able to print out a copy of the latest story filed by the journalist and returned to the hotel room where he made another round of calls seeking vindication.

He called the Extradition Division of the Puerto Rican Dept. of Justice but they didn’t want to speak with him about the story.  Same thing at I.D.O.C.  He then called the Puerto Rico Police Department and spoke to the two cops’ supervisor who told him that Spratt was the most hated guy in Puerto Rico and he was going to ensure that Spratt and his family suffered greatly for putting the Sergeant’s and Hector’s careers in jeopardy.  “I didn’t put their careers in jeopardy!” screamed Spratt, “Those motherfuckers ruined it for themselves!  They’re the ones that got drunk!”  “Yeah,” said the Supervisor, “but you’re the one who escaped!”  “It was my fucking job to try and escape…I’m a criminal, not a choirboy!  Their job is to keep me from escaping; not get drunk like they were on vacation or something!”  “I’m just letting you know that, when you get to Puerto Rico, I’m going to personally fuck you up!  Those guys are my friends and you have fucked with their ‘rice and beans’!” said the Supervisor using a common Puerto Rican phrase to mean that somebody has interfered with another person’s ability to provide for their family (rice and beans being the traditional food in Puerto Rico).  Spratt told him to fuck off and hung up.

Spratt then called his wife who wasn’t impressed by the story in the newspaper even though it did give some credence to Spratt’s version.  She said that she didn’t want to be bothered with it anymore and the publicity was complicating her life.  She then went on to berate Spratt saying, “You didn’t have very much longer until you finished your sentence and you would have been released.  I have suffered the past couple of years waiting for you and then you went and fucked everything up by escaping!”  “What kind of future can I have now?” she asked.  “How can I expect to have a normal life with my husband?  How can the children expect to have a normal life with their father if you are either going to be continually ‘on the run’ or in prison for the next twenty years for escape?!”  “I don’t think that I can handle this anymore,” she continued, “maybe we should just go our separate ways and end it right now.”  Spratt was heartbroken.  He was mad that the cops had involved her so intimately in all of this but also realized that he wasn’t without blame either.  He was frustrated, though, that she didn’t act as he thought that she would and come to the defense of her husband.  He thought that she should see the justification in his escape but it appeared that she was swallowing the rhetoric that he was just a common criminal with no chance of redemption.  He told her that he would work everything out and they hung up with no expressions of endearment.

Spratt’s cell phone was almost out of minutes now so he left to go buy another card to ‘top up’.  On the way back, he bought a twelve pack of beer and drank six while contemplating his legal and personal situation.  He knew that he couldn’t be with his family while on the run but he certainly didn’t want to turn himself in after all of the threats from the Puerto Rican cops.  He couldn’t figure out a way to reconcile the two situations and became more angry with each beer.  He finally resigned himself to the fact that he would have to remain a fugitive and only send financial support to his family without ever being able to see them.  This pissed him off but his options were limited; he hoped that his children would understand when they became adults and wouldn’t hate him for not being there.  He knew that this hope was irrational (a child desires a father…a real father; not a figment) and the realization just angered him more.  He decided to call Hector again and hoped that Hector’s life was now as miserable as Spratt’s was.

Hector answered the phone with a tirade of Spanish cuss words that went on long enough for Spratt to wonder if he was reading from a dictionary of curses.  Spratt tried to interrupt several times but had to wait until Hector ran out of breath.  Finally Spratt was able to ask, “Hey, Hector…how does it feel to be unemployed?”  Hector repeated his list of cuss words in response and then said, “Let me tell you something ‘cabron’!  I have been a cop for 15 years!  Fifteen motherfucking years!  I have NEVER had an incident on my record and YOU have fucked it all up for me!  If I ever see you again, I will be the last thing you see before you die!  I’m going to KILL you motherfucker!”  Spratt screamed back, “YOU are the one who FUCKED up Hector!!  YOU!!  If you hadn’t gotten drunk then you wouldn’t be in this situation!!  Take some responsibility for your own actions!!”  “As a matter of fact,” Spratt continued, “you wouldn’t be in this situation right now if you hadn’t lied and said that I beat you up to escape!  I never would have told anybody about the drinking if you hadn’t lied!  Why didn’t you just say that I escaped while you were asleep?  Fuck you, Hector!  It’s your fault for getting drunk…your fault for passing out…your fault for lying about it!”  Spratt and Hector continued cussing each other out until Spratt’s cell phone cut off from exhausting the minutes that he had purchased.  “Fuck him!” Spratt said aloud as he remembered that he hadn’t used *67 to disguise his number prior to calling Hector.  He hurriedly packed his duffle bag and left Charlotte heading north in I-85.

Spratt didn’t drive very long before deciding to spend the night in Greensboro, NC.  He spent the night drinking and wondering what to do next.  He didn’t think he had enough money to continue north and support himself while looking for a job and he was concerned about the stolen car attracting attention.  He remembered the contractor in Charleston, SC and decided to return there to go to work.  He would be able to ditch the car somewhere, maybe Charlotte, and take a bus the rest of the way.  Spratt decided on this plan: he would drive back to Charlotte; make some final phone calls to use up the minutes on his AT&T calling card; leave the car there and take a bus back to Charleston, SC and begin a new life with the waiting job.  From that point on, he would just take a bus to some far away city to wire money to his family.  Hopefully, the cops WOULD trace his calls to Charlotte and, along with the discovery of the car, make them think that he was in North Carolina…surely they would abandon their search in Charleston with the newest evidence of his whereabouts!  He felt confident in his ability to divert their attention. 

Spratt started the next day with a return trip to Charlotte and tried to figure out a good location for his ‘intentional’ scent trail.  Downtown was not the best place due to the amount of traffic and the sheer amount of police in that area (it being the headquarters for the huge Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Dept.).  Spratt decided to stay in one of the cheaper motels on the ‘strip’ near the airport.  He felt this would be a good location and, if he actually WAS traced then it would give further distraction as to his true destination due to the proximity of the airport.  Spratt wasn’t sure if his calls were actually being traced but his plan was being implemented ‘just in case’.  He actually hoped that he was being able to make all of his calls anonymously and attached himself to that hope; the famous tactic of ‘hope for the best but prepare for the worst’.  With his money running low, he decided to check into one of the crappier motels but would dress in good clothes the next morning and go to a nicer place for his phone calls.

Unauthorized Vacation: Violent and Dangerous Criminal?

Spratt paced the room while drinking a few more beers before deciding to call his wife.  He dialed her number and she answered on the third ring.  It was very refreshing to hear her voice but it also filled him with a dreadful sense of loneliness.  Spratt started the conversation with, “How are you?”  His wife immediately replied, “Are you crazy!?  Calling this house!  You can’t call this house…they are looking for you!”  “Who is looking for me?” asked Spratt.  “The Cops are looking for you!  All of them!  Homicide Division, the Prosecutor’s Office, Department of Corrections, and the U.S. Marshal!”  She continued with, “They came to the house and took me to the prosecutor’s office in a police car the day that you escaped and told me how you beat up those two cops at the airport and ran away…they told me that if I had any contact with you they would arrest me!  You can’t call here anymore!”

“Wait a minute…wait a minute; just slow down,” Spratt said.  “What are you talking about?  I didn’t beat up any cops.”  “They said that you beat them up at the airport and stole the handcuff keys to escape with!  They have you listed as a violent and dangerous criminal and told me that you would spend the rest of your life in prison when they catch you!”  Spratt was incredulous; he hadn’t beaten anybody up and was not a ‘violent and dangerous’ criminal.  “Are you sure that is exactly what they said?” Spratt asked.  “They told me that you beat up those two cops and escaped.  They also told me that if I helped you at all then they would send me to prison and they said that I might as well divorce you now since you would be spending the rest of your life in prison!” “You even came out on TV and the Newspaper,” she said, “do you know how embarrassing it is for me to take the children to school now!” “Hey,” Spratt responded, “they are just trying to shake any loyalties that you might have in order to get any information out of you.  I’m NOT going to prison for the rest of my life; I promise you that!”  Spratt told her the real story of how he escaped so that she wouldn’t think she was married to some violent psychopath but wasn’t sure whether she believed his version or that of the cops.  It was clear that being driven to the Courthouse in a police car had caused a dramatic impact on her.

Spratt asked to speak to the children and she reluctantly allowed him to.  After chatting with them for a while, he asked to have their mother put back on the phone.  Spratt told her that he was going to send some toys to the children and some money to her via Western Union.  She immediately objected, “You can’t send anything!  The cops told me that I would be arrested!”  “Fuck them!” Spratt said, “I’m sure they told you that you can’t offer assistance to ME; they didn’t say anything about me assisting you!  You need the money for the children and this is money that I have earned…it isn’t stolen money!  Take it and pay some bills with it!”  She finally relented but told Spratt that she was going to have to inform them about the phone call to keep herself out of trouble.  Spratt didn’t like that idea but he also didn’t want her to have any problems.  “Whatever you have to do,” Spratt said, “tell them…I don’t give a shit.  They don’t know where I am anyway and can’t trace me.”  Spratt told her that he loved her and noticed that she didn’t reciprocate that sentiment before he hung up.

Spratt didn’t know what to do next so he opened another beer to contemplate the phone calls he had made that day.   He tried to interpret what little information he had gleaned.  He hadn’t beaten up any cops…they must be telling her that to make him look bad.  Then again, Hector did deny drinking in Atlanta; maybe that is the story they came up with to explain how he got away from them to avoid having to admit to getting drunk; they had to come up with some face-saving story but saying that Spratt is tough enough to beat up two trained police officers would still be kind of embarrassing to them…he guessed that getting beat up would be less embarrassing than admitting incompetence and drunkenness though.  If that is the story they gave though, it wasn’t good for Spratt; fugitives that are considered violent, especially violence against law enforcement, go to the top of the list as far as resources expended to hunt them down.  It also increased the chances of a violent arrest; he might even get shot if they found him.

Spratt went down to the lobby to use the computer and logged onto the Puerto Rican newspaper’s website.  He performed a quick search for his name and read the story filed about him.  Sure enough, it stated that he had beat up the two cops while waiting for a connecting flight at the Atlanta airport.  It stated that he was ‘duly’ restrained with handcuffs, waist chain, and shackles and that he stole the handcuff key from one of the disabled cops after the fight and removed the restraints prior to escaping.  He couldn’t believe it.  Who the FUCK would believe that story?  “Did anybody ask to see airport video?” Spratt wondered.  “Did anybody question how Spratt would be able to fight two cops in a terminal full of passengers and cops and the airport NOT get ‘locked down’?”  Since 9/11, airports got locked down for less serious reasons than this…surely they would lock one down if a prisoner had just beaten up two cops and escaped.  Surely the fellow passengers would help the cops to subdue the prisoner BEFORE he was able to take the chains off.  It was an unbelievable story and Spratt wondered how they got away with telling it.  He wrote down the phone number of the newspaper and decided to call that reporter.

Spratt returned to his room and called the newspaper.  The reporter was not on duty at the moment so he asked if they had a cell phone number for him.  The editor asked who he was and what it was about.  Spratt explained who he was and that he wanted to clarify a story published about him.  The editor told Spratt that she could take his number and then call the reporter and ask him to call Spratt.  Spratt told her that he was not in a position to give out his number and asked if she would call the reporter to see if it was okay for her to divulge the cell number to Spratt.  She said she would and hung up.  Spratt called back in twenty minutes and was given the reporter’s phone number; she said that the reporter was looking forward to speaking with him.

Spratt drank another beer before calling the reporter.  He finally dialed the number (again through the AT&T card system) and it was answered immediately.  Spratt introduced himself and immediately explained that the purpose of his call was to correct some errors in the reporter’s story.  The reporter stated that he didn’t believe the cops’ version entirely but that he rarely had the opportunity to get the criminal’s side of the story and he had to print what information was divulged to him regardless of how ‘one-sided’ it may be.  He told Spratt that he would listen to his version and investigate it if it was substantially different from the official version.  Spratt told his side of the story more so out of a desire to get his standing reduced from ‘violent and dangerous’ than to actually get the cops in trouble.  He DID promise the Sergeant that he would not tell anybody that they had been drinking but he felt that the Sergeant had released him from that commitment by lying about how the escape took place.  They could have just said that they went to sleep and woke up to find Spratt gone and Spratt wouldn’t have contested that story because it was mostly true.  To say that Spratt beat them up though…well he had to defend himself against that accusation!

Spratt told the reporter what REALLY happened and the reporter seemed to doubt some parts of the tale.  The reporter seemed to think that Spratt was exaggerating parts of it and may be outright lying about the alcohol.  However, the reporter stated that he would contact the Police Superintendent for a response to Spratt’s version since the information provided by them to the reporter never mentioned a hotel stay.  The reporter stated that they led him to believe that there was never an interruption in travel until Spratt beat them up and escaped.  Spratt reassured the reporter that HIS information was absolutely truthful and provided the name of the hotel that they had stayed in so that he could confirm, at least, that part of it.  The reporter said that he would perform due diligence and asked Spratt to call him later.  Spratt said he would and hung up.

Spratt knew that he had to leave now.  He was pretty confident that he couldn’t be traced by the phone calls but was still nervous.  Spratt felt that it would be wise to become mobile again and leave Orlando.  Where would he go?  How would he get there?  He decided to steal the contractor’s car and just head north.  Anywhere outside of Florida was the preferred location of the moment.  He packed his clothes and called the front desk to ask for a wake-up call for the next morning just in case the cops were able to trace his location (they wouldn’t find him there but may think that he would be returning since he asked to be woken up; that might buy some additional time).  He put his duffle bag in the trunk of the car and drove off in the direction of Jacksonville.  At some point, he decided to head towards Charleston, SC.  He knew Charleston intimately and he felt that he would be able to throw off the scent of his trail there.  That decided, he turned the radio up, cracked another beer, and drove all through the night.

Unauthorized Vacation: Puerto Rico Newspaper

Unauthorized Vacation: Are you kidding me?

Transfer time came and the CERT team arrived ready to take Spratt physically.  They had their adrenaline pumped up in the conference room as they were told that they might have a combative inmate who did not want to go face a murder charge.  They were surprised and disappointed when Spratt greeted them with a ‘Good Morning’ and voluntarily turned around to be handcuffed.  Spratt was taken to a room to be dressed in regular prison attire consisting of a blue button down shirt, blue jeans, and work boots.  He was given his inventoried property in a box (how ironic that the bitch officer had to pack his things up instead of him!) and escorted to the main gate for transfer to the airport.

Four regular correctional officers escorted him to the Boise airport but, upon arrival, could not locate the Puerto Rican extradition agents.  Airport security was called but they knew nothing about the transfer and could not locate the agents either.  Finally, Spratt noticed two obviously latin men coming down the escalator with suits and tropical shirts on.  Gold necklaces and mustaches completed their stereotypical appearance and the confused look on their faces told him that these must be the guys.  He drew the Sergeants attention to them and the group of officers, with their prisoner, went to the latin pair to introduce themselves.

The pair looked baffled at the introductions and it became painfully obvious that they didn’t speak English very well.  Both produced a badge and apologized for their tardiness in broken English.  Spratt could smell alcohol and mouthwash on their breath as if they had had too many drinks the night before (probably the real reason for their being late!).  The Idaho Sergeant hardly understood what they were saying but relinquished custody after one of them produced a paper with Spratt’s name on it.  The Idaho cuffs were taken off and the Puerto Rican cuffs and waist chain was put on in their place.  The Idaho Sergeant decided that it was best to escort everybody to the gate and make sure there were no problems with boarding the plane.  He admonished the Puerto Rican cops to keep an eye on Spratt as he was considered to be an escape risk.  Sergeant Rivera mumbled under his breath in Spanish “Does this asshole think we have never done this before!?”  Spratt, being very fluent in Spanish, smiled at this never ending battle of superiority/inferiority between ‘Gringos’ and Puerto Ricans; ongoing since the invasion of Puerto Rico during the Spanish American war in 1898.  Spratt considered whether he could use this animosity to his advantage.

He asked the Puerto Rican agents if he could see the extradition documents.  They said that they would show them to him once they got in the air.  He asked if they knew why he was being extradited and they responded that he was needed as a witness in an ongoing investigation.  “But, Idaho said that you have a murder charge against me.”  “Not that I know of said the Sergeant.”  Relieved, but confused, Spratt began to ponder what was really going on as they boarded the plane.

At cruising altitude, Spratt asked again if he could see the document but was told that it was in a briefcase in the overhead compartment and he would be shown the document once they landed in Salt Lake City to change planes.  Conversation turned to general issues in the political environment of Puerto Rico and the cops were entertained by Spratt’s knowledge of the language and culture.  The stewardess came by and asked if anybody wanted refreshments.  Spratt ordered a coffee but was immediately told no by the Sergeant.  This did not endear Spratt to him.

Upon arrival at the Salt Lake City airport, Spratt again asked to see the document but was told there was not enough time as they were late for their connecting flight to Atlanta.  Spratt sensed some type of deceit and was becoming very frustrated with their refusal to present the document but maintained a calm head as they boarded the next plane.  Spratt asked why he couldn’t have coffee and was told that they did not want to take him to the bathroom until they reached Puerto Rico.  Spratt promised that the coffee would not engage his bladder and they finally relented.  Spratt was served three cups of very strong coffee by the stewardess.

Approaching Atlanta, Spratt informed the Sergeant that he needed to go to the bathroom and the Sergeant exploded.  ‘This is why I told you no coffee pendejo.  You cannot go to the bathroom…I won’t allow it. You wait until we get to Puerto Rico!”  “What!?!  There is a two hour layover in Atlanta, you can’t make me wait that long!” “You hold it motherfucker!”

After the plane landed (it is customary that a prisoner is the first one boarded and the last one to leave the plane), Spratt refused to get out of his seat until he was allowed to use the bathroom.  After some heated conversation, the stewardess appeared and asked why Spratt couldn’t be allowed to use the facilities.  Under her assumed authority, the Puerto Rican cops escorted Spratt to the back of the plane and allowed him to relieve himself with the door open so they could see what he was doing.  In Spratt’s mind, he had just won the first battle in the struggle for control over the situation.

Inside the airport, the Puerto Rican cops carried Spratt’s box of personal belongings on the top of one of their wheeled suitcases.  They began making cell phone calls to their family and associates as the three of them waited for the connecting flight.  Spratt asked about lunch and the Sergeant went to the Pizza Hut concession and bought Personal Pan Pizzas and Cokes for everybody.  Knowing that, out of the two, only the Sergeant had a nicotine addiction and that it was a rarity for an inmate to be allowed to smoke, Spratt made the Sergeant aware that the Atlanta airport had designated rooms where smoking was allowed and asked if they could go have a cigarette.  Predictably, the Sergeant asked where those rooms were located but also, to Spratt’s surprise, allowed Spratt to have a cigarette as well to give Hector time to go to the bathroom.  This was Spratt’s first cigarette in over two years!  He was on the proverbial Cloud 9!  Coffee, Pizza, Coca-Cola, and cigarettes all in the same day!!  He didn’t even care that everybody else in the smoking room was staring at him due to the handcuffs.

The Sergeant had a problem.  He couldn’t find his keys and thought that he might have left them in the rental car in Idaho.  He didn’t speak enough English to contact the rental company to ask and was in a quandary about what to do.  Spratt told him that the rental company would probably contact him if they found them but the Sergeant couldn’t be consoled.  The main issue for him was that the keys to the police car that he drove to the airport in San Juan were on that keychain and he wouldn’t be able to start the car when they arrived in San Juan.  He would have to call headquarters for a ride and would look like a fool.  He asked Spratt to call the rental company for him and gave him a cell phone to make the call.  Spratt agreed to make the call if the Sergeant would also allow him to call his wife and children as well.  Knowing that prisoners are never allowed to make phone calls while in transit, the Sergeant agreed and Spratt called his wife and children and then contacted the rental company.  Battle number two: Victory!

Spratt talked as long as he could so that he could keep smoking the Sergeant’s cigarettes but became more nervous as the time for departure grew near.  Once back at the gate area, Spratt once again asked to see the extradition documents.  Another flimsy excuse was given about why it wasn’t possible before Spratt gave the ultimatum of having them produce the document or Spratt causing a confrontational scene in the airport.  Spratt told the Puerto Rican cops about a warrant for his arrest that existed in the State of Georgia and that, if a scene evolved and security was called, it was very possible that Georgia would take custody of their prisoner and they would go home empty-handed.  Hector produced the requested document from his briefcase while the Sergeant began cussing under his breath about what he was going to do to Spratt upon landing in Puerto Rico.

Spratt looked the document over and immediately noticed two things: one was that he was only wanted as a witness and was not being charged with murder at the moment, and that the document was only signed by Puerto Rican officials and the spaces for the signatures of any U.S. officials were blank.  Spratt asked if this was the only document in their possession and was told that it was.  Spratt also noticed another document that stated he was to be transported to a prison called ‘Bayamon 1072’ which was a notoriously violent prison controlled by a gang of inmates that would kill anybody suspected of being a ‘snitch’.  This struck fear in Spratt’s soul and he told the Puerto Rican cops that they could not place him in that prison as a witness…he would be killed.  The Sergeant said, ”Orders are Orders; that is where you are going!”  Spratt asked to speak to the Director of the extradition division but was told that she was unavailable.  Spratt demanded to speak to someone and tried to get them to realize that he wouldn’t live through the night if they placed him in that prison but they told him that nobody was available for him to speak to and he could speak with the warden of the prison upon his arrival.  Spratt knew that they would not arrive at that prison until after dark and he wouldn’t be able to speak to the warden until the next day…if he was still alive.  Spratt’s escape plans just vanished.  He would not be able to escape from a Puerto Rican prison if he was not alive to do so; he had to come up with another plan.