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: 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: Phone Call To Hector

A bus station is a magnet for all types of seedy characters so Spratt didn’t want to spend much time there.  He walked through the terminal gate and out the front door where he hailed the first taxi that he saw.  Spratt had lived in Charlotte years ago and knew where most of the mid-range motels were so he directed the taxi driver to take him to Independence Blvd.  He saw a motel next to an ‘International House of Pancakes’ restaurant that advertised low weekly rates and checked in paying a week in advance.  When he got to his room, he realized that the hotel had certainly deteriorated since the last time he stayed there.  The room was dingy with very low wattage light bulbs; the heater was stuck in the ‘on’ position and felt like a furnace; the sink was dripping and the toilet was running.  A cockroach peeked out from behind a threadbare towel hanging on the rack.  The TV remote felt greasy in his hand!  “Yuck” thought Spratt, “but it’s better than being in prison!”

Spratt wasn’t sure what the North Carolina inmate uniforms were like so he didn’t want to spend too much time outside while the sun was still up.  He ordered some takeout food from the IHOP and returned to his room to watch TV until dusk when he would feel more comfortable walking to the nearby Wal-Mart to buy some clothes.  While he waited, the old fashioned phone rang three different times.  Spratt was startled at first but answered it thinking it might be the front desk.  It wasn’t the front desk…crackwhores wanting to come ‘visit’.  “Fuck Off!” Spratt told each one of them.  Spratt is not the stereotypical criminal and didn’t thrive off of the underworld of petty scams, drugs, and prostitutes; he despised them but usually just let them be figuring ‘to each, his own’.  In this situation though, he needed to make sure that everybody around knew to leave him alone because those types of people are ‘cop magnets’ and draw a lot of attention which was the last thing that Spratt needed.

At dusk, Spratt walked to the Wal-Mart and bought three pairs of jeans, three cheap Polo style shirts, socks, underwear, a pair of sneakers, a cheap ‘duffle’ type bag, a couple of packs of cigarettes, and a case of beer.  Spratt returned to his room, took a quick shower, changed into his new clothes, and drank a couple of beers before venturing out.  Spratt could see a bowling alley from his room window and knew they would have a bar in there.  He put his prison uniform in a trash bag and threw them in the hotel dumpster on his way to the bowling alley where he spent the next few hours talking, laughing, and drinking with the other patrons.  He almost felt normal.

The next couple of weeks were pretty much uneventful for Spratt.  He made a concerted effort to not contact anybody in his family until he could figure out what he was going to do in the long run.  He looked for employment but it was difficult since he didn’t have any valid identification.  He had once been married in South Carolina so he took a bus to Columbia in order to get a copy of his marriage license.  That in hand, he took a bus to Georgia (very nervously) to get a copy of his birth certificate hoping that these two documents would be sufficient to get a replacement social security card.  He took another Greyhound to Orlando, Florida and checked into another weekly motel to establish an address for the social security card to be sent to. 

While in Orlando, he met an out of town contractor who offered him a menial labor job which he took in order to sustain himself as his money (Hector’s money) was running out.  He had already sold the DVD player and was down to his last hundred dollars when he took the job.  He worked with the contractor for a couple of weeks and earned his trust.  The contractor decided to fly back home for a long weekend and asked Spratt to drive him to the airport.  He left Spratt the keys to his car and told him he could use it if he needed to go anywhere over the weekend.  He told Spratt to pick him up at the airport on Monday afternoon.  Spratt went back to the hotel, ate supper, had a few beers, and went to sleep.

The next morning, a Saturday, Spratt began drinking early.  He was bored since there was no work to do with the contractor out of town.  He started thinking about his situation and felt a strong desire to talk to his wife and children. Spratt went to Wal-Mart and bought an AT&T calling card.  He knew that there were anonymous pre-paid phones but he thought it would be more difficult to trace the calling card since you had to call through to an ‘800’ number, enter the card number, and have the computer place the call for you from a remote location.  He knew that the ‘Caller ID’ would display the number of the line from which the system placed the call and not the actual number that he was calling from.  He returned to the hotel with a one hundred dollar card and a cache of beer.  He locked the door and started drinking while contemplating whether or not he should make the call.

Spratt wasn’t even sure if his family knew that he had escaped.  He didn’t have a clue about what might have transpired after he left the hotel in Atlanta and wanted to get some idea of what the current atmosphere was prior to calling his wife.  Who could he call though?  It was Saturday and no government office would be open.  Anybody at Idaho Department of Corrections that would have details about the situation wouldn’t be back until Monday and any police officers currently on duty in any jurisdiction would only be able to confirm if there was a warrant or not…no specific information.  He didn’t have the personal numbers of anybody involved that he might be able to call on the weekend…or did he?  Spratt remembered Hector’s cell phone and dug it out of the duffle bag.

Spratt installed the battery in the phone and waited for it to power up.  When it finally booted up, he attempted to call a random number to check the service but it was still de-activated…if he called anybody, he would have to use the card that he purchased that morning.  He knew he couldn’t call Hector because he had Hector’s phone but maybe the Sergeant’s phone number might be in there.  Spratt opened the phone’s directory and searched for the Sergeant’s number while wondering if he would actually have the ‘balls’ to call him.  “Why not,” thought Spratt, “what the hell could he do to me?  He doesn’t know where I am!  Fuck it!  I’m gonna call him!”

Spratt knew the Sergeant’s first and last name but all of the numbers in Hector’s phone were listed under nicknames and he couldn’t figure out which one might actually belong to the Sergeant.  He did see one listed as ‘Querida’ which means ‘dear’ or ‘darling’ in English but surely that couldn’t be the Sergeant's number unless Hector had a strange sense of humor.  Spratt drank another beer while inspecting the numbers in the phone and looked at the call history.  The last call made prior to Spratt’s call to the grandmother in Puerto Rico was to ‘Querida’.  Spratt remembered Hector making a call to his girlfriend in the Atlanta hotel room and surmised that she must be ‘Querida’.  Spratt drank another beer wondering why this fraud ‘expert’ hadn’t locked his phone with a passcode to keep someone from accessing his information.  “Dumbass,” thought Spratt as he decided to call ‘Querida’.

Spratt dialed the number through the AT&T card system and a female answered on the third ring with a “Hello?”  “Could I speak with Hector?” Spratt asked in Spanish.  “Who is calling?” the female asked.  “This is Spratt” he told her.  “Who?”  “Just tell him that this is his favorite fugitive,” Spratt said as he popped open another beer.  A moment later, Hector was on the line!  “You Motherfucker!” screamed Hector.  “Who the fuck do you think you are calling my girlfriend’s cell phone!?!” he demanded.  “Well,” replied Spratt half laughing and trying to keep the beer from going through his nostrils, “I tried to call your number but nobody answered!  Oh, that’s right!  YOU don’t have your phone…I do!”  “I’m looking for you MOTHERFUCKER!” Hector gravely stated.  “For what?” asked Spratt amused at the statement.  “To kill you!” replied Hector. 

The last statement from Hector sobered Spratt up a little bit because he had first-hand knowledge of the corruption in the Puerto Rico Police Department and he knew that this threat was not meant in the figurative sense…Hector would try to kill him if he could; he had no doubt about that but was surprised at the viciousness and vehemence in Hector’s voice.  “What the fuck,” thought Spratt, “prisoners escape all the time and the people that they escape from don’t usually develop a murderous vendetta to achieve!”  This statement also angered Spratt and he decided to taunt Hector.

“Hector!  How did it feel to get home and find out that you didn’t have any money in the bank?”  Spratt continued with, “Did the big bad fraud expert have to borrow some cash from his girlfriend?”  “Look you son-of-a-BITCH…” replied Hector, “…I am a PROFESSIONAL police officer and I WILL catch your ass!”  Spratt laughed and told Hector, “If you were so goddamned professional, Hector, you would be talking to me through the bars of a Puerto Rican prison instead of on your girlfriend’s cell phone!  Ha Ha!  How professional can you be to get drunk and lose a prisoner!?”  “We didn’t have ANYTHING to drink you bastard!”  “What motherfucker?!  Are you trying to say that you didn’t drink anything in Atlanta?!” Spratt was incredulous!  “How the FUCK did I get away from you then?!” 

Hector changed the subject and tried to bluff Spratt by saying, “I KNOW that you have been in contact with your wife and that she is helping you out by sending you money!  I am going to arrest her and charge her with obstruction of justice if you don’t turn yourself in!”  This statement concerned Spratt.  He hadn’t had any contact at all with his family so he knew that Hector was just guessing but he wondered how vulnerable his wife was due to living in the jurisdiction of Puerto Rico and how much authority Hector might actually be able to wield over her.  Spratt told Hector in all seriousness, “Listen to me dickhead!  You don’t have a FUCKING clue where I am right now but I know EXACTLY where you live!  If you fuck with my wife or anybody else in my family…I will be the one doing the killing and YOU will be the first one on my list!”  Hector hung up.  Spratt tried to call back several times but nobody answered the phone.

Unauthorized Vacation: "A One Way Ticket To Freedom, Please!"

The cold chill of a February morning greeted Spratt as he walked outside.  He turned to his right and started walking down the sidewalk with his sights set on the parking lot exit.  Noticing that it was quite desolate at this time of the morning, he wondered if he would draw suspicion and also wondered where he would go; the immediate destination didn’t matter at the moment…he just had to get far away from this hotel.  As Spratt reached the end of the sidewalk, he heard the distinctive sound of a diesel engine and noticed a person inside the shuttle bus filling out some paperwork.  Spratt walked over and asked what time was the first run to the airport.  The bus driver stated, “We can go right now if you want”.  Spratt couldn’t believe his luck!  “Please, let’s go” he replied and got on the bus.

The driver finished filling out his log book and put the bus in gear.  Spratt kept expecting to see the two cops run out of the hotel but never did.  The bus left the parking lot and got on the main road putting much needed distance between Spratt and the hotel with each second.  Spratt pulled Hector’s wallet out and opened it up to inspect the contents: driver’s license, credit cards, and, what Spratt was most interested in, cash!  Spratt grabbed the bills and held them up to the window so that he could see their denominations with the help of the streetlights.  Three one dollar bills and a five!  “What!  That’s it?!?  Eight fucking dollars!” Spratt was pissed and searched the wallet again.  “Surely this motherfucker carries more than eight fucking dollars!”  Spratt couldn’t find any more money in the wallet and kicked himself mentally for not taking the Sergeant’s wallet too…”What the FUCK can I do with eight FUCKING dollars!”  “Nothing!”  Of course, there were credit cards in the wallet…maybe Spratt could do something with those.

Upon arrival at Hartsfield International Airport, Spratt got off the bus and tipped the driver with a one dollar bill while thanking him for the ride and apologizing that he couldn’t leave a better tip, “I don’t have much cash on me” Spratt said.  In his mind, he already felt superior to the Sergeant since that cheapskate didn’t tip anybody during the entire trip.

Spratt may as well have told the driver to take him to the police station as the airport at that time of the day is empty except for janitors and cops…lots of cops.  Spratt had never seen an airport so completely devoid of passengers.  Spratt was the only one in sight not wearing an official uniform.  Well, technically, he did have a uniform on but not like everybody else’s.  He saw armed security guards, Atlanta city police, TSA officers, a K-9 officer and his dog walking around sniffing things, and a couple of Customs agents.  He could only imagine how many were in back rooms that he couldn’t see but, with all of the cameras, could certainly see him.  “So much for trying to blend in” thought Spratt, “Holy Fuck!  So many goddamned cops!”

Spratt nervously walked up to a janitor and asked where the closest bathroom was.  He headed there immediately as he wanted to take the name tags off of his clothing and inspect the rest of Hector’s belongings in good light.  He entered the bathroom and quickly noticed there was somebody at the urinals…a cop!  “Son of a bitch!”  Spratt made his way to the stalls and chose the spacious handicap stall.  He heard the cop flush and walk away so he knew he was alone for the moment.  Spratt used Hector’s keys to cut into the thread holding the name tag to his jeans and then worked on the shirt’s tag.  Keys aren’t very sharp but he finally got them off and flushed them down the toilet.

Opening the shoulder bag, Spratt found exactly what he expected; a portable DVD player and two DVD’s (‘The Incredible Hulk’ and some kind of porn).  No money hidden in there anywhere.  He put the bag down and went through the Badge/ID holder…nothing in there but the badge, Hector’s official ID, and the handcuff key.  (Spratt thought it was kind of funny to be in the midst of all these cops; an escaped inmate sitting on the shitter with a badge and a set of handcuffs!)  Spratt went through the wallet once more and found several credit cards but no money.  Ironically, being an ‘expert’ on credit card fraud, they were of absolutely no use to him at the moment.  All of the stores and restaurants in this part of the airport were closed…certainly he could use them at a 24 hour store like Wal-Mart to get some civilian clothes but how would he get to one?  He didn’t even have enough money to take a cab to a store.  If he had all of his equipment with him, he could have sent himself some money through Western Union but, even if he could get that through, he only had an inmate ID and doubted that he would be able to pick the money up anyway.  Spratt gathered up his things and walked out of the bathroom towards the subway wondering if the trains were running at this hour.

The schedule showed the first train leaving towards downtown Atlanta at 5:00am so he bought a ticket for two dollars.  He boarded the waiting train and hoped he didn’t draw attention from the cops due to being the sole passenger.  Each moment that passed, he kept expecting a S.W.A.T. team or something to come rushing on board and take him into custody.  At the very least, his description may have already been broadcast and even a lone policeman could recognize him and his brief moment of freedom would be over.  Finally, the train doors closed and he was whisked out of the station without incident.

On the way downtown, Spratt got nervous at each stop expecting, still, police to come aboard at each station but nothing happened and he felt more comfortable as the train filled up with unsuspecting commuters.  Spratt opened up the wallet again and studied everything in it.  He memorized all of Hector’s personal information: date of birth, social security number, address, etc.  He knew that he couldn’t present the ID to anybody and have them believe that he looked even remotely like the man in the picture but maybe he could bluff his way out of a potential confrontation if he could rattle off personal stats without showing ID.  Nothing else in the wallet was of use to him at the moment except, possibly, a ‘Banco Popular’ ATM card but he doubted he could use that because he didn’t know the P.I.N. and it wasn’t a ‘branded’ debit card…just one that could be used to withdraw money from a machine.

Spratt got off at the Peachtree Center Station in downtown and rode the escalator to street level passing a sign proclaiming this particular escalator to be the steepest escalator in the country.  Or was it the steepest in the world?  Spratt thought that was interesting…they were pretty steep.  Leaving the station, Spratt noticed that it was still dark outside.  There was a newsstand open next to a convenience store and, though he was hungry, he didn’t want to spend all of the money at one time so he purchased a cup of coffee and a cheap brand of ‘generic’ cigarettes.  That left him with about two dollars and a little change.  He kept walking down the street and, with nothing better to do, he decided to try Hector’s ATM card but couldn’t find any machines.

Spratt walked inside the lobby of a luxury hotel and asked the front desk clerk if they had an ATM machine.  The clerk pointed him to an area off to the side of the front desk and Spratt walked over to give it a try.  Spratt stuck the card in, pressed the button indicating withdrawal and hesitated when the screen asked for the P.I.N.  Spratt punched in the last four digits of Hector’s social security card and the transaction was declined.  Spratt walked back out into the darkness.

Spratt’s mind began wandering.  Were the cops awake yet or were they still sleeping soundly?  Was there a manhunt for him right now or did he still have a little more time to try to get further away?  Spratt walked into another hotel lobby and found the ATM on his own.  Spratt inserted the card and entered the last four digits of Hector’s phone number as the P.I.N.  The transaction was declined.  Spratt didn’t really expect to get any money anyway since Hector had been a fraud investigator.  His P.I.N. wouldn’t be an easily accessible number.  He walked back into the street and saw that the sky was just a tad brighter meaning that the sun was trying to come up and the street was a bit more lively with pedestrians.

Spratt started walking towards the Greyhound station and noticed an ATM machine jutting out from the wall of one of the buildings.  Spratt knew that three failed attempts at a P.I.N. usually meant that the machine would confiscate the card but thought, “Fuck it.  I might as well give it another shot.”  He stuck the card in the machine and entered Hector’s birth year as the P.I.N.  Not surprisingly, the transaction was, again, declined but the machine didn’t keep the card (Spratt guessed that it might have to be three attempts at the same machine…good, now he would be able to try again later).  Spratt took the card once more and continued to the bus station knowing that he was running out of time since the cops had asked for a 7:30am wake up call.  If they weren’t awake yet, they would be soon.  Once they woke up, Spratt was sure that all of the cards in the wallet would be cancelled and they would be of no use to him; he wouldn’t even be able to buy any civilian clothes because the wake-up call was set to go off before ANY downtown stores opened.

Spratt walked inside the bus station knowing that it was not the best idea since this is the first place that cops go when they are hunting a fugitive but he needed to warm up a little bit.  He bought another cup of coffee (leaving him with exactly two dollars) and sat down in an area specifically reserved for ticketed passengers only; he hoped that his clean-cut appearance would prevent the security guard from asking to see a ticket.  Spratt decided to call his wife in Puerto Rico and pulled out Hector’s cell phone; he hoped it wasn’t too early and that he didn’t wake up her grandmother because she could be pretty feisty at times and he didn’t want any arguments.  He dialed the number and the phone was answered by the grandmother on the fourth ring.  She spoke something unintelligible in groggy Spanish and hung up.  He called back several times but there was no answer.  On the fourth, and every subsequent, attempt he got a busy signal and guessed that the grandmother had taken the phone off the hook.

Spratt didn’t know what to do now.  He hardly had any money and couldn’t get in touch with anybody that he knew.  His options were extremely limited at the moment but he knew that he would get caught if he stayed in Atlanta.  He couldn’t leave though because he didn’t have enough money for a ticket.  Wandering around the city would surely lead to somebody asking for some ID at some point and he didn’t have any that would be acceptable.  Plus, he felt that his picture would probably be in every police car soon so it was just a matter of time before he would be arrested again.  Spratt gave serious consideration to using his last two dollars to take the train back to the airport and returning to the hotel on the shuttle bus.  He thought it might be funny to be sitting in the lobby enjoying a continental breakfast when the two cops came running around the corner after discovering that he wasn’t in the room.  He had proven his point already!  He DID escape!  He just didn’t have anywhere to go now that he had accomplished this.  If they found him in the hotel lobby, they might not be able to charge him with escape.  Spratt wondered if he could make it back before they woke up or if it was already too late.

Now warmed and feeling nervous about being in the bus station, Spratt left to decide his next move and was immediately accosted by homeless people and drug addicts that hang around the station asking for money.  They didn’t believe he didn’t have any and he felt that he may be close to being robbed.  He needed to avoid any confrontation at all costs so as not to draw the attention of the police so he showed one guy his Idaho Inmate ID and told him that he had just gotten out of prison and didn’t have any money.  The guy finally relented and left.  Spratt continued down the street relieved that he hadn’t been assaulted.

Spratt entered yet another hotel and went directly to their ATM machine.  Going through the preliminaries again, the machine asked the amount of the withdrawal prior to asking for the P.I.N. and Spratt arbitrarily punched the button indicating twenty dollars.  When asked for the P.I.N., Spratt entered the month and day of Hector’s birthdate and the machine spat out a twenty dollar bill.  “Holy Shit!” thought Spratt.  He wasn’t expecting this and hurriedly grabbed the money and the receipt leaving the hotel immediately. 

Spratt was more paranoid than a crackhead now!  His mind began racing with all of the possibilities of why the machine had given him some money.  He knew that some of those machines go off-line for accounting reasons at certain times of the day and they will sometimes complete a transaction in that state if the amount of money is small even if they can’t communicate with the bank while reconciling the transactions.  However, the P.I.N. is encoded in the magnetic strip on the back of the card and even a machine that is off-line would know that the correct P.I.N. wasn’t entered!  Why did it give out the money?  Could it be that the cops were now awake and looking for him?  Could they have informed the bank to allow transactions so that they could trace where he was?  He had to get out of the area now! 

Still perplexed, Spratt went to another ATM machine at the Bank of America to see if the twenty dollars was just a fluke or if he could actually get some more money.  He entered the same P.I.N. and selected the button for ‘Balance Inquiry’.  The machine printed a receipt indicating the balance to be $609.32!  “Wow, Hector” thought Spratt, “is that all the money you have?”  Spratt tried again and found out the balance in the savings account was zero.  “Man!  This fucker’s poor!”  Spratt decided that if they were using the card to track him then they already knew his location so he decided to just get any amount of money that he could and asked the machine to give him six hundred dollars.  The machine didn’t respond immediately which made Spratt nervous and he was about to turn around and leave when the damn thing spit out a stack of twenty dollar bills and a receipt!  Spratt now had $622.00!!  He was richer than Hector at the moment! 

Spratt couldn’t help but grin as he was walking down the street!  Hector, the fraud security ‘expert’ had used his birthdate as P.I.N.!  That was the most basic admonition that all banks tell their customers!  The first thing you are told when you open an account is NOT to use your birthdate!  What a dumbass!!  Spratt didn’t really know what to do next but he knew one thing: “I’m not going back to the fucking hotel now!”

Spratt purchased another subway ticket and took the train to the furthest station from downtown.  He looked in the phone book and found another small Greyhound station in that suburb and took a taxi to it.  He purchased a ticket to Greenville, SC and sat down to wait for the bus which was supposed to leave at 9:00am.  A few minutes after eight o’clock, Spratt tried to call his wife again but the phone wouldn’t process the call.  He tried to dial random numbers but none of them went through…the phone had been cut off.  “Well, I guess those fuckers are awake now!” Spratt said to himself.  He turned the phone off and took the battery out of it so they couldn’t use it to track him.  He figured that if the phone was off then the credit cards had also been deactivated and he wouldn’t even bother trying to use them…doing so would only leave a trail to trace him with.

The bus left on time and without incident but Spratt didn’t relax until it crossed the State line into South Carolina.  As soon as he got to Greenville, he bought some food from Burger King and thought that he should get even further away so he immediately bought a ticket for the next bus to Charlotte, NC.  Charlotte is a good sized city and he figured, with it being two States away from where he escaped, he had a good chance at not being recognized.

On the bus to Charlotte, Spratt couldn’t help but to amuse himself with what might have happened in the hotel that morning when the cops woke up.  He could imagine the phone ringing with the wake-up call and one of the cops sleepily answering it then hanging it up and looking in the direction where Spratt was supposed to be but not finding anything.  He imagined the Sergeant would be the one answering the phone since it was closest to his bed.  Then he imagined him JUMPING out of the bed and shaking Hector awake, “Where the hell is Spratt!”  He imagined Hector jumping up looking confused and then suddenly realizing that their prisoner was missing and rushing to the bathroom praying to himself, “Please be in the bathroom!  Please be in the bathroom!  Please be in the bathroom!” and bursting through the door only to find a toilet, sink, and shower…no prisoner!  Oh, how he wished he could have been a fly on that wall at that moment!

Spratt wondered what would have happened next.  Would they rush down the hallway, guns drawn, to the lobby?  Would they scour the parking lot?  Would they call the local police?  Surely they would have to ask the front desk clerk if they had seen him and, thus, admit their incompetence to them.  Whatever they did was sure to be pure embarrassment for them!  Eventually, they would have to call their superiors in Puerto Rico and inform them that they no longer had custody of their prisoner.  Spratt knew that would be a difficult phone call for them.  Puerto Rican men, in general, are proud of being ‘macho’ and these two cops were part of an elite branch of the Puerto Rico Police called ‘Division de Extradiciones y Arrestos Especiales’ (Division of Extradition and Special Arrests).  These were the cops that considered themselves to be superior to the S.W.A.T. team since they hunted down notorious fugitives and brought them back to justice.  Spratt’s situation called for the ‘best of the best’ to be assigned to bring him back and, now, they didn’t have a prisoner to bring back.  “Those two fuckers are going to have a bad day”, Spratt chuckled to himself.  To add insult to injury, Hector didn’t even have any identification anymore AND he would soon find out that Spratt had drained his bank account!  “Stupid Fuckers!”  Spratt mentally laughed at them again as the bus pulled into the Charlotte terminal.

Unauthorized Vacation: Too Much Noise!!

The two chairs really only caused a slight ‘knock’ when they bumped into each other but it sounded like an explosion to Spratt who was, at the moment, the world’s largest producer of adrenaline.  The adrenaline factory had a major logistical problem though; it had nowhere to go...it couldn’t be utilized as Spratt was frozen in place.  Spratt’s heart was pounding so hard he could feel his nostrils pulsating but he forced himself to remain still until long after Hector hugged his pillow again and began snoring. 

While Spratt was frozen in place, a million thoughts rushed through his mind but he forced himself to focus on priorities.  He quickly decided that, if the cops woke up, he would simply state that he was only going to the bathroom.  That contingency decided, his thoughts directed themselves to whether or not he should actually follow through with the escape attempt.  He didn’t have any plan whatsoever except to get to the other side of the door and, if caught in the process, he had no idea who would have jurisdiction; who would be able to prosecute him on the escape charge?  Each one of the three jurisdictions involved had widely varying potential sentences for escape and he knew that he could be facing up to an additional twenty years.  Would it be worth it if he were caught with only one foot out the door?  Of course, it would be worth it!  He was already a prisoner and he would never live it down if he didn’t at least take the chance.  He would be the laughingstock of the prison, any prison, if the other inmates found out that he had been in a hotel with no restraints and two cops passed out drunk and didn’t even try to escape.  He had to at least try!

With those two issues decided, his mind raced to what he needed to take with him.  He was already dressed in the regular Idaho D.O.C. uniform of boots, denim pants, blue button-down shirt, and a jacket (Spratt congratulated himself for not causing a problem when he was in the ‘hole’ or else he would have been transported wearing an orange jumpsuit and that is not conducive to ‘blending in’) but all of his clothes, except the jacket, had a fabric ‘tape’ with his name and inmate number sewed into them.  He thought of taking Hector’s clothes but discarded the idea as he would look suspicious anywhere that he went to change.  His box of personal belongings!  That box contained all of Spratt’s legal documents and, most importantly, photos and letters from his family.  He couldn’t leave that behind!  The box was about fifty pounds of dead weight though and he would also look suspicious carrying it down the street.  He decided to abandon it.

Spratt was making these decisions at light-year speed yet was still able to maintain a heightened state of awareness regarding his surroundings.  He could see, with the dim light of the bathroom, the two cops and what position they were in.  He could see that the Sergeant had left his personal items on the nightstand between the two beds and he desperately wanted to get his hands on that wallet as he had noticed the Sergeant was carrying cash in there.  He quickly discarded the thought of going to the nightstand as that would mean walking between the two beds (and, thus, the two cops) and he didn’t want to accidentally set off anybody’s ‘sense’ of the unusual and waken them.  Hector’s wallet was right there on the dresser next to him though!

As a matter of fact, all of Hector’s stuff was on the dresser; Spratt had watched Hector empty his pockets there earlier in the night.  The faint light again allowed him to see where everything was.  When Spratt started moving again he went directly towards the dresser and put Hector’s wallet in his jacket pocket; it was thick!  “There might be a lot of money in here thought Spratt!”  Next to the wallet was Hector’s ‘necklace’ ID, his badge, and a set of handcuffs.  Spratt knew that the key to the handcuffs was inside the badge/ID holder and he quickly thought it might be funny to take the handcuffs as a souvenir; he carefully put these items in his other pocket.  Next on the dresser was a shoulder bag that was similar to a laptop case but contained a portable DVD player and a couple of DVD’s instead (Hector had stated that he bought this for his children at Christmas but borrowed it from them for this trip).  He remembered that Hector had refused to share the screen with him on the flight from Salt Lake City and thought that it would be ironic revenge to take that from him also (plus, he might be able to sell it to somebody).  He grabbed the shoulder bag and Hector's cell phone that was charging on top of it then walked very carefully, as stealthily as possible, past both beds, past the bathroom and, finally, to the door of the room.  He was now only two inches from freedom!

Spratt quickly studied the position on the locks of this standard hotel room door.  The top ‘swivel bracket’ lock was in the open position so he didn’t have to touch that one but that would have been the easiest one anyway.  He looked at the other lock which was just below the ‘L’ shaped handle and could be maneuvered separately or in conjunction with the door handle.  Just pressing down on the lever handle would cause the lock to un-bolt but would also be noisy.  Spratt un-bolted the lock without using the handle thinking it would be much quieter but it obviously had a strong spring inside the mechanism and seated itself with a ‘thunk’.  Spratt prayed that the cops didn’t hear the thunk but didn’t have time to freeze anymore; it was now or never.  If the cops had heard it, he was already past the bathroom so they wouldn’t believe that excuse at this point and he couldn’t see them on the beds from this his current position in the room; they could still be asleep or their eyes could be wide open right now trying to figure out what that noise was.  Spratt continued and pressed the doorknob down releasing the latch without a sound and opened the door just wide enough to get through.  He stepped out into the hallway with his heart pounding a hole in his chest.  He knew the door had a spring loaded automatic closer so he held the door until it reached the door frame but did not let it close all the way for fear of making more loud noises.  Spratt turned and started walking down the corridor to the lobby when, after about four steps, he heard the door close itself with a loud ‘clunk!’. 

Surely the door had awakened the two cops…it was just too loud!  Spratt was committed now though and continued down the hallway with visions of the cops racing out of the room and mowing him down in a tirade of bullets (lucky for them that they both kept their pistols on the nightstand or Spratt would have had them in his pocket too!).  Spratt made a right at the end of the hallway and walked through the darkened breakfast area of the lobby until he reached the brightly lit area of the front desk where he waved at the clerk and said ‘Good Morning!”.  The clerk returned the greeting and Spratt glanced at the clock as he walked out the front door…it was 4:08am.