After Roman's Honorable Discharge from the Army he becomes involved with a young woman in a eco-terrorist group operating in the hollars and coal mines of Kentucky and finds himself on the wrong end of the law.
After Roman's Honorable Discharge from the Army he becomes involved with a young woman in a eco-terrorist group operating in the hollars and coal mines of Kentucky and finds himself on the wrong end of the law.
The Great Escape – Part 1
“Put your feet right there and don’t fuckin’ move, you hear?” The jailer said, pointing at two feet cutouts painted on the floor. Then he got behind the camera. The flash was blinding. Roman Caral Bayley…#98155…July 14, 1982 the little white letters spelled out on a black placard would define him from now on. Prisoner. Criminal. Things seemed to be lining up for Roman… Dreams were coming into fruition.
Jail. Roman was booked, photographed and processed, stripped searched and led back to his holding cell until the deputies moved him up to the fourth floor… max security… for the worst offenders… escape risks.
“You might as well just cool your jets there son… and get use to the idea of being behind bars for a long time. Ain’t no escaping from this here jail, no sir… never has happened and likely never will. See… you’ll be up on the top floor… there ain’t, no windows to climb out of that’s for sure!” The big belly deputy laughs.
“We got all electronic doors and video cameras all over the place… plus there’s an electrified ten foot razor-wire fence surrounding the entire building!” The deputy was grinning from ear to ear.
Later that night when the jailer finished watching “The Tonight Show w/ Johnny Carson”, two deputies came to his cell. Handcuffed and shackled, shuffled from the holding cell to the hallway, escorted down to the elevator in silence rode up to the fourth floor. The overweight, black deputy that was leading him down the hall to his new accommodations hadn’t said a word until they reached D Block.
“Here ya’ go… don’t make no trouble they won’t be no trouble… better make friends cuz this ain’t Sunday school… and we don’t intervene, read me boy?” The deputy behind Roman removed his chains and cuffs, opens the solid steel door and motions Roman to enter. Roman nods, his stomach grows cold and his muscles start to tighten and coil, memories of Indiana Boys School begin to flood his mind… just like old times. Behind the steel door was a cage where another door was, this one the bar type variety most commonly known throughout the world, well… the incarceration world anyway.
It was dark. That’s what struck Roman first… the hall of the cell block was dark indeed. After he was shoved inside and heard the steel door slam shut behind him, his senses went straight to 100% overdrive. The overhead fluorescent lights had been busted out. The only light came from the day room, or TV room… at the end of the hall. There were five cells on each side, two bunks per cell Roman counted, as he stood there assessing his new environment. Blankets were draped over the bars of many of the cells, dimly lit lights glowed from behind, muted sounds of music, hushed talking and the sound of someone pissing in the steel toilet bowl somewhere down on the left. A flush followed.
Roman smelled the familiar scent of cannabis wafting down the hall and thought to himself, ahhh… now that I could do with right about now, and proceeded to walk cautiously down the hallway.
Three Months later…
As Roman sat in his cell staring at the ceiling, his mind automatically switched on replay… drifted back to Mora’s visit.
“I’m fine… really.” Roman was saying, “Oh yes, I can see that… looks like you’re doing a wonderful job of it so far.” Mora replied. Looking at her son’s black and blue face, biting her lip trying not to cry… again.
Roman held the phone up as if he was going to hang up… He couldn’t do that, not now, not to her… he realized how worried she probably was. After the initial breakdown into tears and then the yelling… the focus mainly on his appearance, as if he’d taken up boxing or being someone’s punching bag. “It’s fine, Mora… really, just a miscommunication between me and some of the guards that’s all… I’m fine. Then the conversation slipped back into how he seemed to be systematically ruining his life at their expense… all in all it was a good visit.
Roman had always gotten along better with Mora whenever there was a few thousand miles between them, some geographical phenomenon. Somewhere toward the end of the lecture on how Roman was going to turn his life around, the conversation turned to Erin Rose… Mora said that she was off on one of her ‘Vision Quest’ camping trips ER takes to clear her mind and connect with the Oneness of the Universe… yeah ok, at the tune of three thousand dollars this Indian guy she knows will drop her off in the middle of the woods with a few supplies and come back for her in a week. What kind of world was ER livin’ in where you’d go and do something like that Roman couldn’t help but wonder?
Mora then went on and said, “I had called her but never got an answer, then her friend, you know the one from her theatre group?”
“No mom… yes, you know… with the blonde hair… No mom… with the little dog… No mom, ok, whatever yes I know her… no you don’t… why would you say that? Why would you tell me that if you don’t? I swear I, I don’t understand you sometimes”… and that’s how it would go in seemingly every conversation we ever had, until I rolled my eyes, threw up my hands and walked away.
“Well… her friend even called me to see if your sister was with me… I told her no, I’d hadn’t heard from her in a few days… I tried to call you… but never got an answer, I had no idea where you were, what you were up to… no one had… until now.”
Roman lifted his head to meet her eyes… “Ok, mother… what’s the big deal… so ER split for a few days. If I remember correctly… she’s twenty-one now… she can do whatever she wants… she can…”
Mora interrupts him mid-sentence. “She tried to kill herself, Roman… and no one knew where in the world YOU were! Erin Rose had gotten a hold of some pills the doctor said… overdosed… and there was other things too. She had cut herself. There were many, many cuts… they said. She was found naked, curled up in a pool of her own blood, trembling and shaking all over. They’ve put her in the psych unit. We’re having her moved to Waverly Hospital in the Smoky Mountains… it’s a great place for her to mend. I know… I spent some time there during my… troubles.” Mora looked at her hands then back at Roman, her eyes wet with tears.
“Fucking hell! I didn’t know any of this…” Roman started. Then realizing how in the world would he? He’d been so self-involved with his own ‘troubles’, he hardly had time to think of anyone else.
Mora regained some of her composure and spoke into the phone, “Good Lord, what in heavens name have you got yourself into this time? Why… why do you do this to yourself? To me?”
Roman just sat there on the other end of the line silent… barely getting the words out to apologize to her.
“They say you and some other kids broke into a coal mining company? What in God’s Green Earth did you do that for?” Mora demanded.
“That you stole money… a gun… then vandalized their offices?! As if that wasn’t bad enough, they’re saying you broke into a church too! A church Roman? A goddamn CHURCH?! What is wrong with you?” Mora broke down sobbing.
“We… I was only planning on screwing up their equipment that they use to destroy the mountains… you know what they’re doing? How the coal companies are raping the land here… it’s bullshit and no one cares. So we wanted to do something… let everyone that we care… things just got out of control and one thing led to another. After de-facing the trailers… “Stop raping the earth” someone broke into one of the trailers and discovered the cash box and the pistol. We shot up the equipment, a few out-buildings, and a couple barrels of diesel… what the coal companies have done is far worse than anything we did…” Roman said defiantly.
“That isn’t the point Roman, and you know it.” Mora replied.
“What about the church then… why did you… forget it, I can only imagine all the reasons you thought you had to do that.” Mora sighed heavily. “Well John and I are working on getting you out of here… it might take a little time but he has some friends that might be able to help… just stay out of trouble ok, can you do that Roman? Please? Have you heard from your father lately?”
Six months go by and not a word from anyone. His court-appointed lawyer told him the trail was rescheduled due a clerical error, or some horseshit.
It was later that afternoon by the time the idea had begun to form in Roman’s mind that he had to get out of there… he had to see Erin Rose.
Frank Wilding was serving six months for stealing a hearse of a local funeral home… and then taking a joy ride with his girlfriend. The only problem was that poor old Mr. Tompkins was still in the back waiting to go to his final resting place. Roman and Frank became friends almost immediately upon Roman’s incarceration. Frank had a wild streak a mile wide in him and never backed down from anybody… he liked grass and made his own ‘shine. Roman learned how to make jailhouse wine, or hooch, as Frank called it. He showed Roman how to take fruit, sugar and yeast… the process of fermentation and how long to let it simmer to make a jug of house wine that would… put your dick in the dirt.
Roman looked at Frank one night as they shared a joint smuggled in by one of the jail’s trustees… “I can’t go to the Castle, I just won’t… I know deep down… in the very marrow of my bones… I know I won’t survive in there.” Roman confided in him. Then Roman told Frank what had happened with Erin Rose… that he had to get out and see her… if only for one last time. “I have to see if there’s anything I can do for her, she’s different than most people, always has been… but she’s lost and doesn’t want to go on anymore. I’ve got to try and do something.” Roman sighed.
The intensity in Roman’s eyes gave Frank some pause… “Well then, shit… alright then… If you gotta go, then let’s GO!” Frank said and slapped his leg and took a big draw on the joint.
“Hold on, Cowboy…” Roman said. “You’ve only got like two more months left on your sentence… and you want to break out of this place with me? That’s crazy, why?” Roman told him.
“Yeah… that’s crazy all right… but I’m bored to tears in here and I sure could use a night out if you know what I mean?” Frank said with a smile, knowing what Roman was thinking.
Roman and Frank spent the next three days working out their plan, the one facet of it that Roman didn’t like was the part where he’d have to rely on a jail trustee in order to pull it off. Roman was naturally suspicious of strangers and depending on one made him very nervous.
“It’ll be fine” Frank told Roman repeatedly. “I’ve known Ray my whole life… he can be trusted, I give you my word.” Frank looked into Roman’s eyes and said, “I wouldn’t chance it otherwise.”
So that’s that, Roman thought, the final piece of their plan… If Ray held up his end it just might work. Roman knew much of it depended on a good amount of luck. There was only so much planning one could do, in the end it all came down to timing… and most of that had to do with luck.
Roman and Frank sat in their cell with a blanket hung over the bars and Frank’s boom box blaring as Roman outlined the plan. He points up to the air vent above the stainless steel toilet about a foot from the ceiling. “That’s our way out.” Roman said. Frank looks up at the 12 x 6 inch air conditioning vent then turns back to Roman, “So you’re planning on squirming your way through the air duct system?” Franks asks wryly.
Roman shakes his head no… “Not at all, we’ll knock the vent out, chisel around the opening it leaves just big enough for us to squirm through and drop down to the “Cat-walk” on the other side… that’s where the maintenance guys get to the plumbing… it leads straight to the trustee cell, right?”
Frank begin to smile. “Yep, it sure does… and that’s where Ray comes in… he makes sure that the door from the cat-walk to the trustee cell is unlocked… right?” Franks nods his head approvingly.
“Yes.” Roman replies, “We know the trustee cell is never locked, right? They come and go whenever they want, they’ll all be sound asleep by two in the morning anyways… then we just tip toe through their cell.”
“Then what?!” Frank exclaims, suddenly doubting his friend has forgotten one very big glaring problem… “Are you planning on walking out the front door? What about the CCTV cameras?”
Roman leans back and light a cigarette. He’s looking at Frank expectantly then says, “Yes, well… this is the part where a little faith comes into play… and no, I’m not planning on going out the front door.” Roman begins humming the tune, “Up on the roof” by the Drifters… When this ol’ world starts getting me down, and people are just too much for me to take… I climb right up to the top of the stairs, and let my cares just drift in to space… on the roof it’s peaceful as can be…” Roman stops singing when Franks burst out laughing. “Brother, you are some kind of crazy, that’s a fact.” Frank responds.
“I’m still not sure how you’re planning on dealing with the cameras…?” Frank said.
“I’m not.” Roman replied. Frank stared at him unsure if he was joking or serious. “I don’t believe that anybody even looks at the monitors, unless something is happening… think about it. Who’s on from midnight til six a.m. anyways? Fat Bubba Joe… and do you think he’ll be glued to the monitors at two in the morning? Or downstairs in his apartment taking a nap? Or hanging outside the female block trying to bribe one of the women to blow his fat ass?” Roman laid it all out for Frank… he had gathered information from multiple sources, times the deputies checked in and out, when they ate, and who worked on the 4th floor, the top floor, where they were housed.
Roman’s plan was to make a batch of hooch for the entire cell block, to celebrate the holidays… with Christmas just a few days away, get everyone good and drunk, turn up the volume on everyone’s boom boxes and play all those Xmas carols… then tear the AC vent out of the wall. Then by using a steel leg he had worked loose from the bunk bed as a sledge hammer, they would chip away around the hole the vent left and on Christmas Eve… when the jail would only have its skeleton staff on supervised by none other, than fat ass Bubba Joe who, Roman was willing to bet his life on, would be downstairs in his little apartment that the deputies used that worked the night shift, or trying to get some holiday sugar from one of the prostitutes in the women’s block…. When the hour was right, they’d crawl through, drop down into the cat-walk on the other side and walk through the open door into the trustee’s cell. That was the moment of truth. They would roll the dice and walk out into the bright fluorescent lit hallway fully monitored by CCTV as if they owned the place… and pretend that they were just a couple of trustees headed to the rooftop for a smoke, no big deal, they do it all the time. Once up on the roof, it gets a little trickier… they have to find a way down four floors to the ground. Roman thought he had it solved though… there should be a four inch sewage line running from the basement all the way up to the roof to vent, and that line would be right in the corner where two exterior walls came together.
Roman told Frank he had remembered seeing just such a pipe when he was brought in… he told Frank how the deputies bragged all about how the jail was “escape-proof”, that it didn’t have any windows so no inmates could lower themselves from to escape and that’s another reason why the jail didn’t have a razor-wire fence around the perimeter… for what? Ain’t no windows to jump out of, you damn fool.”
Frank looked at Roman, nodded his head and slapped his leg… “Sounds like a plan then… just a minor tweak if you don’t mind” Frank said. “How about we skip the hooch for the sake of precious time and let me substitute something quicker and more effective?”
“What do you have in mind?” Roman queried.
“’ludes… I can get ‘em smuggled in easy enough… plus a few extra dollars we make off ‘em might come in handy don’t you think?” Frank eyed Roman to see if he was onboard. “Perfect.” Roman said, “Absolutely perfect.”