Stranger than Fiction?

Where Did My Story Go?: Google AdSense Scam

2011-04-30T07:50:00.000-04:00

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

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

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

Subject: Google AdSense Account Disabled

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

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

Hello,

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

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

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

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

Sincerely,

The Google AdSense Team

Unauthorized Vacation: Water Fountain?

2011-04-19T09:53:00.001-04:00

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

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

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

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

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

Unauthorized Vacation: Pissing In The Wind.

2011-04-16T09:39:00.002-04:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unauthorized Vacation: Ribeye Steak!

2011-04-16T06:13:00.004-04:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unauthorized Vacation: Johnson Gets Distracted!

2011-04-15T09:40:00.006-04:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unauthorized Vacation: Lawyers are Expensive!!

2011-04-14T10:05:00.008-04:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unauthorized Vacation: Back to Georgia?

2011-04-13T09:20:00.004-04:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unauthorized Vacation: Damn Salesmen!

2011-04-11T11:14:00.001-04:00

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?

2011-04-11T11:10:00.001-04:00

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?

2011-04-09T08:37:00.002-04:00

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

2011-04-09T06:50:00.001-04:00

Unauthorized Vacation: Phone Call To Hector

2011-04-08T09:29:00.007-04:00

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!"

2011-04-07T09:37:00.006-04:00

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!!

2011-04-06T14:22:00.009-04:00

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.

Unauthorized Vacation: Change in Plans!

2011-04-04T13:11:00.005-04:00

Spratt was directed to the space on the floor between the second bed and the exterior wall and told to get ready for bed. A couple of pillows were thrown down for him and Hector pulled the table and chairs away from the wall and filled the space between the second bed and the hotel dresser to create a make-shift ‘blockade’ between Spratt’s sleeping area and the rest of the room; doing so formed a miniature ‘cell’ for Spratt and delineated an area that he was not allowed to leave during the night. Spratt quickly digested his surroundings and knew that attempting to go through the hotel door during the night would be impossible as he would have to crawl over the table and chairs and make it past two armed police officers before reaching the door. He wasn’t very concerned about the door though because his ‘walled off’ area included the only window in the room and they were on the first floor. He concentrated on the window while preparing to go to ‘sleep’.

Obviously drunk at this point, the Sergeant and Hector took turns using the bathroom and telling jokes to each other and the Sergeant leaned back on his bed to make a last minute phone call to his wife while Hector went back to the bathroom. Spratt started untying his boots while considering his options. “The window is going to be the only way out”, thought Spratt who remembered in detail the opening mechanism from earlier in the day (the curtains were now closed and so he had to go on memory alone). It was the type of window that slides from side to side instead of up and down but a lot of hotels have a ‘stop’ on those windows so that they don’t fully open (to prevent accidental falls or suicides). Sometimes they don’t put those ‘stops’ on first floor windows…Spratt couldn’t remember whether this had one or not. It was a crucial point because it would mean the difference between quietly opening the window enough to sneak out of it or having to break the glass and jump through it which would certainly awaken the cops. One way might mean a good head start and the other may mean barely getting away and/or getting shot at in the process (at this point, Spratt KNEW that he would get away…they were too drunk to catch him but he still wanted to do it while attracting the least amount of attention). Regardless of the type of lock, though; Spratt knew one thing: he WAS going out that window one way or another. Spratt berated himself mentally for not remembering about the ‘stop’ but his train of thought was interrupted when Hector came out of the bathroom and started screaming at him.

Stumbling his way across the room, Hector was yelling, “Don’t take your clothes off!! You are going to sleep fully clothed!” Spratt was startled at the outburst and wondered if something were about to happen. He quickly glanced at the Sergeant who appeared to have nodded off. Hector was apparently in charge now. Spratt began buttoning his shirt back up when Hector yelled, “Put your jacket on too! I’m not going to wake up in the middle of the night to give you a blanket if you get cold!” Spratt was still a bit confused but quickly thought, “Good. Then I won’t even have to get dressed when I decide to go!” He couldn’t believe his luck because he had already considered the risk of waking them while putting his clothes on (a few rustles in a quiet hotel room are surprisingly loud when you are doing something covert!). “And put your boots back on too!” Hector ordered, “I don’t want you complaining about cold feet tonight; I need my sleep!” The only thing Spratt could think about while he was getting fully dressed was, “Holy Fuck! They are making this easy as shit for me!” Spratt got fully dressed.

The Sergeant was snoring by now so he was obviously asleep when Hector told Spratt that he was going to have to handcuff him and put the shackles on before he went to sleep. This put a huge damper on Spratt’s plan and he immediately started considering how he might overcome the added obstacle of being restrained for the night. “I hope they don’t chain me to a piece of furniture or anything” thought Spratt. Hector started emptying the contents of his pockets onto the dresser top and told Spratt to lay face down and stick one of his legs in the air so that he could put the shackles on Spratt’s ankle. Before getting on the floor, Spratt paid close attention to the exact position on the dresser that Hector put his handcuff keys. He thought that he may be able to get to them during the night but then considered that it might be a futile attempt since chains make noise and climbing over the make-shift barricade of table and chairs to get to the dresser would certainly make enough noise to wake them up. He resigned himself to the fact that he would have to go out the window all ‘chained up’ and worry about taking them off later. The main goal, he kept reminding himself, is to get away; anything else would have to be dealt with later.

Spratt had been through the drill of being shackled many times before. In a standing position, the cops will have you face a wall and lean against it while bending one of your legs back to knee level so they don’t have to lean down too far to put the shackle on. Once it is on that leg, they will tell you to put it down and lift the other one up. Click, click on the second leg and you are then reasonably hobbled. In a lying position, it is basically the same except you are horizontal instead of vertical. Spratt got down in the prone position and lifted his right leg up so that Hector could put the shackle on. He hated being in this position because he could only see the wall to his left and the bed to his right. Hector turned off the light in the room leaving only a sliver from the half-closed bathroom door; enough light to see by but not enough to read a book with…kind of like a very strong night light. Spratt couldn’t see where Hector was in the room; he could only hear him gathering up the chains and then the rustle of the bedclothes. He knew that Hector would either have to come across the bed or move the table to get to where Spratt was laying so the noise from the bed confirmed the route that Hector was going to take.

Hector mumbled something to Spratt about maintaining the position that he was in and that he would be restraining him in a second or two. Spratt started to reply that Hector should hurry up but Hector told him to be quiet…”I’ll do this when I’m ready! Not when you tell me to!” This position was very uncomfortable for Spratt; his leg had already been in the air for several minutes and felt like the blood was draining out of his foot making it a little numb. Added to that uneasy feeling was an uncomfortable feeling due to not being able to see anything except a wall, the floor, and the bottom of the bed; he was sort of disoriented and didn’t know exactly where Hector was (he assumed Hector was on the bed because he had heard the movements but wasn’t sure if he was still there or had gone back to the bathroom. He could still hear the Sergeant snoring so he knew where that one was at least. Spratt was growing concerned because he was in the perfect position for a surprise attack and he remembered how mad the cops were at the airport and all of the threats they had made. He wondered if Hector might be drunk enough to carry out some of them. Where was Hector?

Spratt wanted to say something but kept quiet for fear of angering Hector but he certainly wasn’t pleased with his current predicament and couldn’t continue with his plans to go out the window until he knew exactly how Hector was going to restrain him. Spratt wondered if he could convince Hector to just put the shackles on and leave his hands free or if Hector would insist on restraining him completely; he even considered that Hector might ‘hog-tie’ him which would leave him completely immobile. His right foot became too numb due to the lack of circulation and he lowered it to get the blood flowing again but immediately raised his left foot so Hector would have something to attach a shackle to. Hector either didn’t notice the movement or just didn’t care which foot was raised because he said nothing to Spratt.

“Damn! Why is this guy taking so long!” thought Spratt as his left foot started to get numb. He started to lower that foot when the Sergeant’s snoring started taking on a different rhythm and caught his attention. He listened for a few moments with his foot still in the air…something about the snoring seemed very strange. Spratt listened for a while when he realized…HOLY SHIT!!! Spratt couldn’t believe it! The Sergeant’s rhythm hadn’t changed at all; it was exactly the same…the difference in what he heard was the additional rhythm of Hector’s snoring!

Spratt’s mind began racing! “It can’t be!” his mind screamed. “Surely both of these fuckers aren’t asleep!” “Could it be?” “It can’t be! Can it?” “Maybe they are ‘passed out’! They were pretty drunk!” “No! It must be a trick!” “Hector must be testing me to see if I will try to leave! Don’t fall for it!” Spratt lowered his left leg but didn’t move another muscle as he tried to determine if both cops were really asleep or if he was being set up. The breathing patterns fell into a predictable cycle and the snoring seemed genuine but, still, Spratt wasn’t sure. He lifted his head up slowly…ever so slowly so as to not make any noise at all. It seemed like an eternity until he was finally able to get his eyes over the bed enough to focus on Hector’s position. Finally, he saw Hector. There he was, lying in the bed, facing away from Spratt with the shackles next to his body. Fucking incredible!

Spratt was positive that both cops were now asleep but laid back down to think about what he should do. He knew that he was going to leave but wondered if the window was still the best option. “Can I get all the way to the door without waking them?” He tried to weigh the options. The window was a guaranteed exit; if he tried to make it to the door, they might wake up and catch him. On the other hand, he had heard the amount of noise the door makes but they hadn’t opened the window and it might be very loud; besides, it may not even open wide enough for him to crawl out of. He didn’t know what to do but decided to lay there long enough for both cops to reach a deep sleep before doing anything.

Spratt began thinking about what might happen if he were able to pull this off. Would he be able to get away with it or get caught shortly thereafter? “If I get caught, it will be by the Georgia police and, surely, they will hold me on the warrant I have here and prevent me from being transferred to Puerto Rico” he thought…”or will they?” “What if they decide that I was already in the custody of Puerto Rico and give me back to them?” “Whose custody am I actually in?” “Would they keep me in Georgia? Send me back to Idaho? Or, would they put me on a plane to Puerto Rico where I am guaranteed an ass-whooping just for trying to escape?” “What if I can get away without making any noise? What would I do? I don’t have any money. Where would I go?”

Spratt had to pee! He couldn’t risk going to the bathroom and waking them up! If they woke up while he was using the bathroom they probably wouldn’t do anything to him but it would remind them that they needed to shackle him and he couldn’t risk that…he was almost a free man now. He couldn’t hold it for much longer though…”Damned Coronas!” thought Spratt. Spratt scooted up next to the bed as quietly as he could and unzipped his pants very carefully. He lifted the bedspread and began peeing underneath the bed onto the carpet in back and forth motions so as to not ‘puddle’ the urine and make the least amount of noise as possible. Soon, any area that he could reach was saturated and, no matter where he pointed his penis, it started to sound like rushing water. Hector moved on the bed and Spratt cut the stream immediately. “Fuck!” screamed Spratt inside his head, “Please don’t wake up!”

Spratt slowly moved back away from the bed and returned to planning his next move. He decided to go out the door. It was the most brazen move but he remembered exactly where the Sergeant and Hector had placed their wallets and, if he was quiet enough, he might make it out of there with some money in his pockets…at least he was dressed and, if he could get past the table barrier then it wouldn’t even matter if they woke up…he could bolt for the door and run out of the hotel. He tried to think of every eventuality but the door seemed the best way to go; he just needed to make sure they were in a very deep sleep before trying it.

Spratt woke up with a jerking motion. His mind screamed, “Holy Shit! How long have I been asleep?!? What fucking time is it?” He could still hear the two cops snoring and was pretty sure they were asleep but what fucking time was it? He slowly, carefully lifted his head above the bed to see the clock radio…3:30am! He had been asleep for over an hour! While chastising himself for falling asleep “How the fuck could I make a mistake like that?!?” he was also glad that it wasn’t later in the morning when they may be more prone to wakening. He knew that, if he was going to leave, he had to do it at this very moment; no more procrastinating.

Spratt got on his hands and knees and began crawling towards the table and chair ‘barrier’. He quickly decided that climbing over it was the riskiest move since there was the chance of it not holding his weight and breaking which would wake everybody up. He noticed that there might be enough room for him to crawl under the table and through the legs of the chairs so that was the route that he decided on. “How much noise can this fucking carpet make?” thought Spratt as every time he placed his hand on it and moved his knees up it seemed to make an earth-shattering rustle. Finally he got to the table and went underneath with no problem; the chairs were a different story though. He slowly crawled under one chair when the button of his jacket clanked on one of the legs! He waited an interminable amount of time before deciding that the cops hadn’t heard the noise and started crawling under the next chair. He finally snaked his way under the other chair and started to stand up very carefully. His back wasn’t completely clear of the chair and he bumped into the bottom side of it causing the chair to tip into the first one causing the loudest fucking noise that Spratt had ever heard and, worse, causing Hector to move on the bed! Spratt froze in place.

Unauthorized Vacation: Arrogant and Drunken Cops...

2011-04-03T19:58:00.003-04:00

Entering the restaurant, it was obvious that the two cops had already bragged about their business in Georgia and it appeared as if Spratt was being presented as their trophy. All of the staff treated Spratt with deference when taking his order and bringing the appetizers. The cops ordered beer and tequila but only allowed Spratt to have beer. The cops had the waiter bring fajitas for them and a chicken quesadilla for their prisoner but all three enjoyed the Coronas as fast as they could be brought with intermittent shots of Jose Cuervo for the cops’ celebration. As infatuated as they were with ‘Maria’, it was Miguel who was assigned to that table so the talk turned to the infamous crimes of their prisoner.

Hector asked Spratt if he thought he was an expert in credit card fraud. Spratt replied, “No, I do not. I KNOW that I am an expert in credit card fraud.” Hector loudly proclaimed that he had been an investigator of fraud for many years and knew ALL of the scams. “I have protected myself to the point that nobody could ever rip me off!” Spratt told him, “I wouldn’t rip you off because I consider you a friend now but if I ever had access to your credit cards and had the desire to do so, no protections that you have in place could save you from me.” All three laughed at how ridiculous it sounded for Spratt to even contemplate that he could rip off an admitted expert in fraud prevention. Another round of drinks ensued to consummate the friendship.

As the evening was drawing to a close, the Sergeant asked Spratt why he had not attempted to escape yet. Spratt said that he had developed a level of trust with the officers and had given his word that he wouldn’t ‘fuck around’ in the restaurant. He advised them however that they were now on his territory and that, being born and raised in Georgia, he could run out the door at any moment and they wouldn’t be able to find him. The Sergeant asked if Spratt could run faster than bullets and Spratt said that sometimes you don’t have to be faster; just smarter. They all laughed and had another round. The Sergeant paid the check with a Puerto Rico Police Amex Card and, predictably, did not leave a tip. They returned to their room.

It was clear to Spratt that these cops were more than drunk and he tried to stay on their good side out of concern that they may act violently if he resisted any of their directives. There were two beds in the room and they told Spratt that he would have to sleep on the floor. They put some blankets on the floor by the window and an escape plan started developing in Spratt’s mind.

Unauthorized Vacation: "You've Got To Feed Me!"

2011-04-03T12:59:00.002-04:00

Spratt was forced to sit between the Puerto Rican cops who were both, by that time, on the phone with their superiors. The people in charge who were not available earlier when Spratt wanted to speak with someone about his prison placement were, now, all of a sudden, on the line. Spratt spoke directly with the head of the Puerto Rico Dept. of Justice’s Extradition Division who assured him that he would be placed in Protective Custody instead of the original prison and that he would be able to visit with his family if he would board the flight to Puerto Rico. Spratt already knew that there was not another flight to Puerto Rico until the next day and wanted to appear cooperative so that he could move on to the next chapter. His thought was that he would be placed in a holding cell with the local police dept. (that is standard procedure in extraditions) until the next flight and he would be able to contest his extradition from that facility. The Director told him point blank that he would be going to Puerto Rico on her terms and not on Spratt’s. Spratt decided that he would be best suited if he appeared cooperative because he was unsure what legal standing he had at the moment and agreed to board the next flight.

The trio then walked to the reservations desk and it was confirmed that there were no other flights to Puerto Rico until the next day. A flurry of phone calls by the agents ensued and it was decided to make reservations on the first flight. Spratt was asked to interpret as the cops were so flustered that they couldn’t even speak the little bit of English that they did know. Spratt was now the spokesperson for the trio and approached the reservations desk which was a high counter and obscured any view below waist level. The agent took the tickets and checked on changing the flight. She looked at her computer with a twist on her face and asked, “The reservation states that there are two police officers and one prisoner, is that correct?” “That’s right,” replied Spratt. “Well which one is the prisoner?” “I am”, Spratt replied and lifted his waist so that she could see the chains and handcuffs. Bewildered she asked if the cops knew that Spratt was making a change in the reservations and Spratt replied, “They are right here, the idiots just don’t speak enough English to make their own reservations.” Reservations were changed for a flight out the next morning and the reservationist gave them a discount coupon for a partner hotel close to the airport.

The cops asked Spratt to make a reservation at the hotel and handed him their phone. Spratt thought how wonderful it was to stay at a hotel instead of prison but realized that this meant that he would not be able to attract attention to delay his extradition. He decided to go with the flow…enjoy the night and protest again tomorrow before boarding the next flight. Spratt made the reservation and was told that a shuttle bus would be there shortly to pick them up. Before leaving the airport, the cops needed to buy chargers for their cell phones and asked Spratt to translate this to the man at the kiosk. Once the chargers were paid for, the cops took Spratt’s heavy box off of their suitcase and ordered him to carry it.

While waiting for the shuttle bus, talk turned to the disruption that Spratt had caused. Both cops were steaming mad as each had made plans for the night in Puerto Rico that were now disrupted. The Sergeant had family plans and Hector had a date with his girlfriend. “Too bad”, thought Spratt, “I’m a prisoner and my BEST day is worse than your worst day!” The Sergeant went on to say how he should beat Spratt’s ass tonight for causing the disruption and embarrassment but that he would wait until they were in Puerto Rico to do so.

The shuttle bus came and all of them boarded it. Spratt carried his heavy box of belongings while the cops allowed the driver to load their suitcases. Arriving at the hotel, Spratt exited the bus still handcuffed to a chain around his waist and shackles on his ankles and carrying his box. The cops waited for the driver to unload their suitcases and ushered Spratt towards the lobby. “Aren’t you going to tip the driver?” Spratt asked. “Fuck you!” replied the Sergeant.

Upon entering the Ramada Plaza Hotel, Spratt was prodded to the front desk to assist in the check in process. The clerk was bewildered by the sight that he saw but began performing his duties perfunctorily. He asked if they wanted smoking or non-smoking and Spratt told him to assign them to a smoking room. The Sergeant interjected immediately and said to assign them to a non-smoking room. “Aren’t we going to smoke tonight?” asked Spratt. The Sergeant replied, “You will never smoke again while you are in my custody motherfucker!”

The clerk assigned the trio to a ground floor room (#112) and they prodded Spratt down the hallway. Spratt was unsure as to what might happen inside the room and out of view of other people, especially handcuffed, but kept his mouth shut. Inside the room, the cops made phone calls and used the bathroom while making Spratt sit in a chair facing the wall. Spratt did his best to convince them that the trouble was over; that he had decided to do whatever they wanted; that he was going to Puerto Rico in the morning with no problems; that they had nothing to worry about with him whatsoever. The Sergeant told Spratt to shut the fuck up before he slapped him.

Spratt asked about being able to take a shower. “Shut the fuck up…you deserve a slap in the face, not a shower!” said the Sergeant. After speaking with their families, it appeared that the cops had calmed down some and jet lag may have had something to do with their being a bit weary. The Sergeant stated that he was going to go smoke a cigarette and left Spratt in Hector’s custody. Spratt was able to make small talk with Hector and get him to allow Spratt to turn around and watch TV. The Sergeant returned about a half hour later and smelled of alcohol. He leaned down to Hector and whispered something to him. Hector stood up and stated that he was going to have a cigarette as well and left the room. “Hector doesn’t even smoke”, thought Spratt. Strange.

Hector returned in about 15 minutes and the Sergeant left to “smoke” again. They took turns doing this for the next hour and a half and it became obvious that they were ‘smoking’ at the lobby bar. Hector said that the Sergeant had met a good looking girl at the Mexican restaurant off of the lobby and that both were trying to hit on her. After a while, it was painfully obvious to Spratt that these two were almost drunk. Spratt asked for a shower again.

The Sergeant jovially told Spratt that he would be allowed to take a shower but that he would be handcuffed to the handicap railing in the bathroom. Spratt didn’t care and they took off his restraints so that he could undress. Spratt went to the bathroom expecting to be handcuffed to the shower but the Sergeant came in and said, “Look, Spratt. We got off to a bad start today but now we need to move on. I’m going to let you take a shower without restraints if you promise me that you won’t try to escape.” “I promise, man, I just want a shower.” The Sergeant left while Spratt began his shower but returned in a minute with a bottle of Smirnoff that he had hidden in his suitcase and said, “Spratt, if you behave all night, I will let you smoke as many cigarettes as you want AND I will serve you a cocktail!” Spratt was amazed…coffee, pizza, cigarettes, and alcohol all in one day!!! This was almost a perfect dream for an inmate! “Of course, you can’t tell anybody if we give you a drink.” “I won’t tell anybody!” Spratt finished his shower in record time but found that half of the bottle was gone already by the time he returned to the room. The three of them spent the next hour or so drinking, smoking (except for Hector), and talking about their respective lines of work. It was a very jovial atmosphere until Spratt stated that he was hungry.

“What do you mean you’re hungry?” demanded the Sergeant, “Didn’t you eat Pizza!?” “Fuck man, that was eight hours ago!” Hector, half drunk, stated that he was hungry too. Spratt had been extradited before and knew that they had to feed him but was expecting that they would order a pizza or Chinese food, or anything that could be delivered to the room. Hector, still infatuated with the Mexican girl asked if they could eat in the restaurant. The Sergeant said, “Are you crazy!? We can’t take a handcuffed prisoner to a public restaurant!” Hector turned to Spratt and asked, “If we take you to the restaurant without any handcuffs, are you going to cause any problems?” “Nope,” replied Spratt. “See”, Hector said to the Sergeant, “Problem solved.” The Sergeant thought about this for a moment but Hector was already standing Spratt up and admonishing him on how to act in public. The Sergeant only said, “If you fuck around, Spratt, I will shoot you!” Spratt nodded in recognition of this threat and they walked out the door of the room towards the lobby.

Unauthorized Vacation: I'm NOT getting on the plane!

2011-04-03T05:25:00.001-04:00

Spratt decided to capitalize on the fact that there was a warrant for his arrest in Georgia and that he was in their jurisdiction. Along with the fact that the Puerto Rican extradition document did not have any signatures from any U.S. official, he felt that he could garner enough attention from the airline to get the local authorities involved enough to have custody taken away from the Puerto Ricans and land himself in a situation to where he could contest his extradition from Georgia to Puerto Rico. As the three of them walked to the kiosk at the gate, he decided that he would inform the airline that he was being extradited illegally and, in the least, they would contact the Atlanta Police Department to verify the legality of it. If nothing else, he might could delay his boarding enough to attract the attention of some liberal Samaritans in the passenger area.

Upon arriving at the kiosk to obtain boarding passes, Spratt noticed an obviously homosexual employee and thought that this person might be sympathetic to his plight. As the boarding passes were being issued, Spratt leaned over and told the queer that he was being extradited illegally and that the police officers did not possess the correct documentation for his extradition. He asked the queer to call the Atlanta Police Dept. as he was, effectively, being kidnapped. With the stereotypical flamboyant mannerisms of an ‘out of the closet’ queen, the queer stated, “If they didn’t have proper documentation then Delta wouldn’t have sold them a ticket. Move on sir!” The Puerto Ricans ushered Spratt down the ramp to the plane with confused looks on their faces as they didn’t understand exactly what Spratt had said to the ticket agent but knew that it was nothing good.

Upon arriving at the open door of the plane, they were greeted by a stewardess who perfunctorily looked at the boarding passes and told them where their seats were. Spratt leaned over to the lady and informed her that he was being extradited illegally and that he was not going to board the plane although, technically, he was already on the plane as they had crossed the threshold. The stewardess responded by pointing out that there was a line of passengers behind him and that he was holding everybody up and needed to take his seat immediately. The two Puerto Rican cops looked baffled at the exchange probably wishing that they had paid more attention in English class.

Spratt saw the line of passengers trying to board and stepped aside so that they could get through. In doing this, he created a division between himself and the two cops and, as passengers scurried to their seats, he was able to speak more clearly to the stewardess. “You don’t understand; these cops are extraditing me illegally and I refuse to go with them. Can I speak to the Captain!?” “Take your seat sir or I will be forced to call the Captain!” “Okay; go ahead.”

The Captain comes out of the cockpit after being called by the stewardess and asks Spratt what the problem is. Spratt, still chained and handcuffed, explains that the Puerto Rican cops do not have the legal authority to take him to Puerto Rico and that he is refusing to board the plane. The Captain asks the cops to produce an extradition document and they produce the one lacking in signatures. The Captain states that if Spratt does not go voluntarily then he cannot allow them to forcefully put Spratt on the plane until the document is signed by a U.S. Judge. They tell the Captain in broken English to give them a few moments and they will resolve the situation. They pull Spratt out into the corridor where Spratt stands with a smirk on his face knowing that he has almost won the next battle.

Spanish cuss words begin to fly in the corridor. The Sergeant is the most colorful while Hector is just confused about the turn of events. The Sergeant tells Spratt that he is going to get on the plane whether he likes it or not and, regardless, he will beat Spratt’s ass when they land in Puerto Rico just for kicks. Spratt still refuses. Sergeant calls his superiors on his cell phone while Hector takes the ‘good cop’ route…”Don’t you want to be able to see your family in Puerto Rico? As soon as we land there, I will make sure that you get a visit with your wife and children before we take you to the prison.” “I’m not going.” Hector promises a lot but Spratt has taken on the stoic face of a determined person as he sees the flight attendants preparing for takeoff and knows that it will soon come down to getting on the flight or a possible physical confrontation. He maintains his demeanor and refuses to board the plane.

Finally, the flight attendant comes out and states that a decision has to be made immediately as she has to close the door for takeoff. The Sergeant tells her that we are coming but when she looks at Spratt, he adamantly states that he will not board the plane. This results in threats of immediate physical harm to Spratt by the Puerto Ricans. Spratt is steadfast however and refuses to board. Finally, the flight attendant offers to contact the local police (giving some hope to Spratt) but states that the flight must take off without them. The Puerto Ricans refuse her offer of calling the local authorities saying that they can handle the situation. The flight attendant closes the door and maintenance personnel begin closing off the area so that the plane can taxi away. The Puerto Rican cops take Spratt back to the Gate area and Spratt watches in satisfaction as the plane takes off without him.

Unauthorized Vacation: Are you kidding me?

2011-04-02T16:11:00.000-04:00

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.

Unauthorized Vacation: Wild, Weird, and True Story of Escape and Manhunt

2011-04-02T10:46:00.001-04:00

The intercom crackled with the announcement: “Spratt. Bag and Baggage”. Spratt went to the glass partition separating the inmates from the officers and asked where he was going. “Puerto Rico”. ‘For what?!” “I think they want you for a murder charge.” “Murder!?! I don’t know anything about a murder!” “Well, you tell them that when you get down there.” “How are you going to send me from Idaho to Puerto Rico without an extradition hearing?” “That doesn’t involve me”, replied the arrogant female officer, “it’s just my job to make sure you get delivered to the airport.” “I’m not going!” “Get away from my window and start packing or you will be going to the ‘hole’”. “Well, the hole is better than going to Puerto Rico on a murder charge…I will not pack up!” The bitch called somebody on the radio and said something unintelligible but the anger was clear on her face; she wasn’t accustomed to an inmate refusing a direct order.

“Lock Down! Lock Down! Lock Down” was the order screamed over the intercom. Even the most hardened inmates groaned at that as it meant that they had to go to their cell and miss the drama being played out or risk the chance of going to the hole themselves. Reluctantly, all of the inmates except for Spratt went to their cells and slammed their doors. Tussling could be heard behind the doors of the cells that had two occupants as they both wanted to have the best view of the action from their cell door window. Spratt was the solitary inmate left in the dayroom.

The CERT team is a bunch of regular officers that get dressed in black uniforms and helmets whenever a ‘crisis’ arises. They march in a practiced manner that includes stomping their boots on the ground in a synchronized manner in an attempt to be loud and intimidating. They are kind of scary to new inmates or the casual observer as they appear to be some type of monstrous caterpillar with about ten heads covered in black helmets that obscure their faces and electrified shields that protect their torsos. Spratt had been through this before though and he knew that this cadre was just made up ‘on the fly’ with whatever officer was available. He also knew that the entire event would be filmed by the Sergeant and that, if he didn’t cross The Line, no harm would come to him.

The Line is a point in time after an inmate is confronted by the CERT team and continues to disobey their orders that physical violence can be used to restrain the inmate. There is no certain definition of when the line is crossed but can only be sensed by the experienced inmate and officers depending on the intensity of each given situation. The Line is dynamic but has recently swayed further away from the inmate due to multitudes of lawsuits against officers that crossed The Line too quickly. Some have been held personally liable so a lot of newer officers are hesitant to cross the line and risk losing everything they have worked for solely because an inmate wants to let off a little steam; better to let him vent a while and then take action if he doesn’t calm down.

Spratt was ordered to “Cuff Up!!” several times but stood his ground until he saw that he was getting very close to The Line and finally turned around to be handcuffed. The ‘caterpillar’ then became individual ‘gorillas’ as the testosterone level rose tremendously with another ‘victory’. Spratt was escorted to the ‘hole’ with a gorilla in front, two on each side holding his elbows so tight that his lower arm was getting numb, and followed by several gorillas that didn’t really have anything else to do but try to continue an intimidating presence.

Spratt was taken to a solitary cell, strip searched, dressed in an orange jump suit and transferred to a wing of single cells with other rebellious prisoners. He began thinking of escape but it would be practically impossible to escape from his current situation. Surely he would be put on a plane tomorrow, voluntarily or not, and would soon be in Puerto Rico facing a murder charge (MURDER! I haven’t murdered anybody!). The Sergeant in charge of the ‘hole’ came and informed Spratt that he would leave around 4:00am for the airport and it could be done the easy way or the hard way. Spratt knew that the hard way was to be completely immobilized for the trip. Spratt asked what the outstanding charges in Puerto Rico were and the Sergeant confirmed that they were for Murder. “But Sarge, I haven’t murdered anybody…I’m not that kind of criminal.” “All I can do Spratt is tell you to trust the legal system. If you are innocent then you will be acquitted. It is not my job to judge you; just to make sure that you get on that plane. Are you going to go the easy way or the hard way?” “I’ll go the easy way Sarge.” “See you in the morning, Spratt.”

Spratt paced the cell all night long trying to figure a way out of this. He knew that he had committed a lot of frauds in Puerto Rico but never got close to any crime even remotely resembling murder. He knew some nefarious persons in Puerto Rico that had committed those types of crimes but his knowledge of this was just academic…he had never participated or known about any of those until after the fact. Mostly, he thought that some of the thugs that bragged about this type of crime were just making it up. He also knew of the widespread corruption in the Puerto Rican Police Dept. and wondered if he had ripped off somebody that was now trying to frame him. He certainly didn’t waste any time at all on the consideration that he would get a fair trial.

Spratt considered all escape opportunities that may present themselves in the immediate future. Surely there was no hope for escape from the ‘hole’ or even in transit to the Boise airport while in custody of correctional officers. Would there be a chance to escape at the airport? Is there a direct flight from Idaho to Puerto Rico? More than likely a change of planes will be necessary; but where? Doubtful that any inmate handcuffed and shackled could make an escape from custody at any airport in the United States after 9/11…too much security nowadays. Spratt had been incarcerated in Puerto Rico before and knew that the security at the prisons there was very lax compared to the prisons in the U.S. He resigned himself to the fact that his only chance to escape would be once he was settled into a Puerto Rican prison. He knew the island like the back of his hand and even had people that would help him after he escaped. Spratt was so certain that he would be successful in gaining freedom once in Puerto Rico that he began working on a plan to get back to the States after his escape. In order for his plan to work though, he would have to ensure that he wasn’t placed in a maximum security facility. What would determine his placement would be his demeanor during the trip…be nice and friendly and the cops would take him to a general prison…be mean and combative and the cops would take him to maximum security. He decided to be as nice and friendly as possible.