I pleaded my case, something I wouldn't have done a few months before; I even had some of my teachers plead for me, something that they wouldn't have been willing to do a few months before. I had really turned it around and was making progress. The told me that they believed me, that I didn't steal the radio, and that if I gave them the name of the guy that did they would let me stay. I think that they knew there was no way I could tell them that. So even though I knew that I was close to getting my GED and less than three months from graduating my trade I chose to keep my thug-integrity and not come a snitch. I got kicked out of Job Corps one year to the day that Bamm and I first drove up…
Okay, no big deal. I'll figure something out somehow. And something landed in my lap when I got to Austin. I had a layover, so I went to the mall there and walked around considering what in the world I'd do when I got home. I didn't want to call my mom and tell her that I had been kicked out. I didn't want to go back home to live. I thought about what I needed, and what I needed right then was a ride once I got to the bus station in Houston. So I called my cousin Melinda and explained to her that I was on my way home because I had gotten kicked out. She told me that I could stay with her if I wanted, but that I'd have to work to help her pay the bills…
I learned that her husband had gotten in some trouble and would be away for a while. So it was right on time that I was coming back home. Melinda's husband turned out to be innocent, yet in the mean time he made some contacts and got me a job working at McDonald's downtown near Sears, the very type of job I was hoping to avoid by going to Gary.
And work is what I did; it wasn't that the job was so hard, but it was so far from home, plus I got put on the breakfast crew, meaning that I had to be at work around 4:30 in the morning to help open the store. I didn't have a car, and the bus system wouldn't start running 'till around 4:30, the time I needed to be at work. So I was left with only one way to get to work, and that was to ride a bike. I don't even know how far it was, but if anyone knows where Cullen and Reed road is in Houston, then you know how far I was traveling to get to Downtown Houston. It wasn't all that much of a big deal to me, I'd been riding bikes far longer than that distance. Armed with my headphones and a Janet Jackson or BBD tape, I'd take off at around three in the morning and be there on time. Then it started getting old. At times I found myself at three in the morning riding in heavy rain, dodging cars that took pleasure in trying to splash me. I rode that bike like it was going out of style. I didn't have to worry about the dogs on my route anymore. As a younger kid, I used to do bike tricks, and used my skills on those dogs that attempted to chase me in the beginning. A good side kick with the back tire can't hurt.
Having to work in the morning was sort of good in a way. I got off around one o'clock, giving me the time to get home and get rested before hitting the streets later on. As Bamm was still in Job Corps, I was spending a lot of time with Quannin, Ken, and Kilo. A lot of time in the beginning we wasn't up to much more than shooting basketball, listening to all the newest music, and talking on the phone. Q's grandfather (RIP) had had put up a goal in his backyard, and Ken's dad had done the same. The idea was that they would rather us be at the house hanging out than in the streets getting into trouble. And the same old neighborhood rifts that was going on before I left was still going on. In fact, there seemed to be a boom of activity going on. But even still, we just had to roam the neighborhood. Then we got into cranking (stealing cars).
I can just about recall the first night like it was last night. It started with Q and I walking around looking for another friend. We found him, and then ran into a few other friends, and then a few more. Before you knew it there was about ten to twelve of us. And a few in the crowd was already about to set out for a night of cranking, so we tagged along…We found someone with a truck who took us out where we was able to get two or three so that we could go out even further from Houston to get some more. There was unspoken rules to the game, and one of them was, "whatever number of guys went out with us cranking, that same number of cars came back." And that's how it happened.
After a while it wasn't even the rush of doing something that kept us at it. I think it was more of not having anything better to do that kept us at it. Of course there was also the fact that none of us had our own cars. My friends and I would go cranking at least four nights a week, so the number of stolen cars added up real fast. But we didn't care, we was out having fun joy riding in other folks' cars. I don't know how long it lasted, but I know that I started using the cars to go to work after a while. It beat riding that bike…
Then one day I got caught. I shouldn't have been with the guys I was with in the first place. Actually I had no plans to go out cranking that night. I had walked up to the park looking for a game to play because there wasn't anything to do at home. I was approached shortly after I got there by Melvin, an older guy from the 'hood who I had grown up around. He had heard that I was into cranking a certain type of cars, and word was out that they type had this new type of music system in it. And he wanted it. I had started doing small order jobs, so I kept up with things like that and knew what he was talking about wasn't there. In fact, I had the very same type of car at home and told him I could prove it.
When we got to my place and he saw that I was right, he thought maybe it was a different model. In any case, he offered to pay me for the system, but since I didn't know what he was looking for he would have to come to show it to me. Fine…Then two other guys showed up, one at a time. The Dark Quannin (DQ) and Pete. Pete lived two houses from me and had been bugging me to take him with me when I went cranking as he wanted to learn to crank. So it was his night. DQ had come by my place looking for some action to get into and he found it. I knew that I had no business going out with these cats. I had my own crew I was involved with and should never have gone out with anyone else, but I figured that if they did what I said, we'd make it back home with four new cars…
Some girl who lived near me saw us about to leave and told me that if I kept on with what I was doing I'd go to jail. Feeling confident or cocky, whichever, I told them that I was too good to get caught. Yet I had a nagging feeling, something wasn't right. Usually I kept at .22 pistol in my pocket, and tonight was no different as we got ready to leave but something told me to leave it at home. I got out and put it in my cousin's car, and then we left.
One car, we left the first one behind as it was already a few days hot. Two cars, three cars…Everything was fine. One more to go, and now it's time for Pete to learn. I gave him instructions as to what to do to open the car; he does nothing right. He comes back and I give him some more instructions; he opens the car and doesn't do anything I had told him to do before coming back to let me know that it's a stick shift. I can't drive it, but he claims to know how. I'm not willing to trust that he's not lying to me, but I knew that Melvin could drive a stick. I told Melvin what was going on and that I needed him to drive once I got this car started. The plan was set and I was ready to move, but some cars were coming down the street so I popped the hood to make like something was wrong with the car; all the time I was watching to see where the cars were going. Imagine my surprise when I realized that it was the police.
I told Melvin to run, but he wouldn't go. I wasn't about to take off until he did; I didn't want to risk having made it home and have either one of them bring the cops to my house (one of the unspoken rules that was understood with my other crew). We have to run, run, and don't follow me. You get caught and you ride it yourself. With these cats that wasn't understood; I kept telling him to run but he was in shock or something because he wouldn't move. And when I finally looked up there was a cop with a big .45 pistol pointed right to my face telling me that if I moved he would blow my fucking head off, or something like that. My attention was focused on that gun and not moving.
Needless to say, we went to jail that night, and once I got to the tank that they'd keep me in I went to sleep and slept through eight fights. When I woke up, Melvin told me about it and we decided that we'd watch each other's backs while in there. I don't know about him, but it was my first time being in jail, so I was learning as we went. First rule: Never sleep hard in jail…
After a few weeks in, I started thinking about changing my life around. Of course I wanted to get out of jail so I thought about going to God (don't we always when we get in trouble?). But then it didn't seem right to wait until I found myself in trouble and then want to run to God asking for help. No. So I did my time, and once I got used to it, it wasn't much different from being in one of the dorms, we just couldn't leave the dorm. Being that there was a mixture of men in there, there was always something to do or talk about…
If you have ever heard that jail or prison is like a collage for criminals, then you heard right. I've learned so many different things about how to do this or that, where to look and what to look for while doing this or that. War stories were being told all over the place, most of them probably bullshit. There's a saying that in prison you can become whoever you want to be. You don't have to back it up, so you can tell tales of what you wish you were while in the world of freedom. There was one dude in there who had been released from jail, but didn't have a way home and decided to steal a car to get home. It was his unlucky night as the car he stole turned out to belong to the very judge who had just let him out. He was going to be in there for a while longer…
