You are here: Home » Another Day. Another Dollar, a police story
June 9, 2017
Us in the Barnstomer in the Magic Kingdom. May 30, 2017. A ride Christopher shut down years ago.
June 9, 2017
The abandoned house sits on a decaying street that has seen better days before it became riddled with crime. Kids no longer ride their bikes up and down the street because it is too dangerous to play. People don't greet their neighbors because they are too scarce, and few are in between. The block isn't slowly dying. It's been dead and ignored for years.
Inside the partially boarded-up house, there is a woman. She lies on the floor of a roach-infested domicile while she recovers from her last hit of heroin. She used to be someone's loved one but now is part of the forgotten few who roam the streets like zombies. You don't need a brain disease to be amongst the walking dead. You just need a quality syringe and liquid food to feed your drug-addicted appetite.
Two men wade through the tall grass and overgrown weeds. They walk up the 3 concrete steps and squeeze through the partially broken front door to get to the female.
"Get up bitch," A man says.
She doesn't move. Her drug-riddled body is down for the count. Her brain isn't functioning correctly. She'd rather sleep and dream of candy lands and fantasy than face where she now spends her time.
"He said get up bitch," the other man said.
He leaned over and lightly slapped her face. She groans, moves a little, and turns her head. He slaps the other side.
"This bitch?" He says, astonished.
His partner walks out the back door. He grabs an old water bottle with holes in it that were once used to smoke drugs. He plunges the bottle into the murky, green water filled with algae, tadpoles, and mosquito larvae. The pool has long been forgotten. It was once a homeowner's oasis. He hurriedly walks back inside the house before the water drains out and douses it on her face.
"We said get up, bitch."
She sat up from her slumber.
She is too weak to wipe the water off her face. Her purple tank top is filthy. Her body is dirty. Her hair is unmanageable. Tattoos of her past are forever scarred on her body. The splash of water is the only bath she has had in weeks.
"We goin' to make you some money. Come with us. We got food for you."
She follows them to a waiting car parked in an old fire zone. These guys don't fear the police because they know the cops no longer work in this area. The neighbors peek out their tightly covered windows. A cover that shields them from what lurks in the streets. They don't dare get involved. They cover the windows more tightly and return to their television sets. The TV is this generation of relief from their own reality. It's like that old pool at the abandoned house. The television is an oasis for those living in this part of the ghetto. The TV allows them to forget about life for a while.
All 3 get in the car. He demands that she sit in the driver's seat of this rented vehicle with a stolen license plate.
"Eat this," he said. Handing her an Egg McMuffin.
"We got this check. It's for $2,997.00. All you gotta do is go to the bank and try and cash it. If they do, then you will keep $300.00."
The girl eats her sandwich. Her face is partially covered by the sandwich packaging. Her one unobstructed eye is staring at the check, scanning every inch of it. She won't ask questions. The deal is too good for her to pass up. She puts her sandwich down and flips the sun visor to access the mirror. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out an old handkerchief. She dabs the handkerchief on the condensation from a 40-ounce beer bottle in the cup holder. She begins to dab her eyes to wipe away the 10-day-old mascara.
She starts the car and drives.
"Go up here to this bank," said one of the men, pointing out a bank. "Park at that store but not upfront. Away from the cameras."
She parked about a block away. The men get out of the car. Before they go, they remove a stolen identification from his pocket.
"Told you it looks just like her," he grins.
"Bitch, if this works out, we got more where this comes from."
She takes the identification from his hand and stares at it. She looks at the girl in the picture. The girl in the photo is 15 years older than her, but due to her drug use, sadly, no one could tell the difference. The person in the driver's license photo has pretty hair and facial features. For a moment, the woman imagines this lady's life in the identification. The great things she is doing right now. The fun her life must be. The 2 men are talking to her, but she zones out. She is fixated on a life she has never known but will pretend to have for at least 2 minutes to score $300.00.
"We will be here watching you. Our Boy is in a car someplace else with eyes on the bank. If you run with that cash, I'll kill you. If you even think of leaving with my money, I'd blow your brains out. Point blank, dead." He pressed two fingers against her head, mimicking a gun, and slightly pushed her head to the left.
The push to her head wakes her out of her trance. She peers over the driver's license and nods her head in agreement.
"Now drive your ass to the bank and get that money. I don't care if you go inside or drive up. Just get that shit."
"Welcome to Banking American Style. How can I help you"? The bank teller happily states.
The woman smiles at her without saying a word to the bank teller. The girl's teeth are yellowed. Her lips chapped and peeling from sun damage due to her long walks in the sun. Her skin is rough.
She decided to use the drive-up window closest to the teller. She hoped the teller would assume that she had nothing to hide since she parked so close. She presents the fraudulent check and stolen identification and places them in the metal drawer. The drawer closes.
She sat staring forward. Her black sunglasses masked the fear in her eyes. The woman scans the parking lot and store to see if the men are still watching her. The thought of the police hasn't crossed her mind. She sits, and she waits.
The teller looks at the identification and enters the name into the computer database. The computer sends back a message: FRAUD. Now, the teller knows the woman in the car is trying to use stolen identification to cash a check. The girl in the identification name has been used in 3 other banks. The bank is on to the scheme.
"Ma'am," the teller says.
Her head never leaves the headrest. She simply turns her head to the left.
"This is a lot of money. I just need to get approval from my supervisor. Just wait a moment."
The woman turns her head and looks forward. The bank teller calls the police and tells the dispatcher what she has. The police dispatcher understands how dangerous check frauds are. Check frauds almost certainly lead to a fight or a foot chase. Still, calmly, she dispatches the information to the police in the area.
An officer gets there and walks up on foot. Another officer arrives, and she waits on the south side of the building. The 3rd officer gets there, and he sits in his parked car beyond the drive-through.
The woman begins to get nervous. Too much time is passing. How long does it take to cash a check? She wonders.
The woman looks over at the bank teller. She lifts her arm and points to her wrist, implying she can no longer wait. She has to go. The bank teller reassures her the check will be cashed. The woman begins to look around her surroundings. She is looking for cops. She looks to see if the men who made her do this are coming to get her. Her heart pounds and the adrenaline begins to take over. The cars around her get larger, and the running motors get louder. The paranoia begins. She thinks everyone is staring at her.
"CHECK FRAUD, CHECK FRAUD," she imagines the people mouthing to her from behind their rolled-up car windows.
She can no longer wait. She knows the cops will be there. She is going to run. She wants to escape.
"Put the fucking car in park and don't move!" A surly cop says to her. A gun directly in her face extended out by the cop. She follows the barrel of the gun up to the wrist of the cop, up the officer's arms, crosses his shoulders, and looks directly into his eyes. She knows he means business.
Should she run away? Fight him? What should she do?! Her whole life is down to this moment. One poor decision after another, will she willingly give up? Will the 2 men kill her who put her up to this?
We will never know. Those 2 men fled at the first sight of a police car pulling into the bank. Those guys are long gone.
On the training grounds. A place where I excel as a trainer. May 8, 2017.
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