Two weeks later, we took my Dodge Dart about two and a half blocks to the California Bank and Trust. James went in while I sat with the car running. He was back out about 30 seconds later, looking nervous, walking fast. He jumped in the passenger seat and said “Go man, but don’t speed, go like you’re leaving your business.” I complied, my heart racing out of control. It was an effort not to put my foot to the floor and get out of there as fast as possible.
We pulled the car into the covered garage behind my apartment building, left it there and went into the house. I noticed as we walked in that the sirens were just starting to wail. James pulled $3,500 out of his shirt and split it with me. I told him it didn’t seem right.
“Hey, when we get caught, driving is the same as going in, and everyone gets caught,” he said. I thought he was wrong.
“Besides,” he said, “you’re going in next time.” My Dodge was never driven by anyone I knew, ever again. It was eventually towed away, but was never identified in a robbery.
$1,750 in less than half an hour, start to finish. I paid my rent and filled the house with groceries. I spent pretty much the rest on drugs, because that’s what we did — if it hadn’t been for drugs, there wouldn’t have been bank robberies, lost jobs, and hungry kids. Of course, I couldn’t see that then. I was still very young.
Three days later, James had a cool new ride. He didn’t have a wife or child to worry about. He showed up at the door, ready for the next one.
