One such witness was a young man who had proved himself reliable by stating that he had just finished airline pilot school. The prosecutor went on and on about how significant that was. How his eyesight had to be perfect. He positively identified me and gave me what would become my nickname in jail. He testified that the bank robber in question was well over six and half feet tall and had “aquiline features.” My attorney stood and asked if he could explain “aquiline features.” The gentleman responded by saying, “His nose was large, and appeared birdlike.” I was instructed to stand in front of the jury and allow them to examine my beak from all angles. I was convicted of that robbery, and was called “Bird” for the remainder of my time spent in jail. Even now I occasionally run into someone who will say “Hey is that you, Bird?”
I was eventually convicted of four counts of robbery, no weapons, no enhancements. I can never be tried for those robberies again. I’m safe to write about them. My brother James, who I still love, was convicted of only one. Come to find out, I was a little scarier than James; people seemed more inclined to remember me once they got into the courtroom. I was sentenced to 15 years in prison. I served just fewer than 11.
Winston Churchill once said, “A society must always be judged by the way it treats its prisoners.” Interesting thought. I went into the big house scared — the prospect of being put into a cage with other misfits is terrifying. And at 21 years old, 15 years seemed like forever.
I was given a green uniform, a toothbrush, and some bedding at the reception center. I was escorted down a huge hallway toward a cell block where I was put into a small cell that had two bunks attached to one wall and a toilet/ sink thing at the far end.
I had a cell mate. We ate together. We showered together. We shit in the same room. We had to smell each other. It wasn’t always pleasant.
