Glad you have followed this far. Here is the final part of the auto mechanic chronicles.
Several rough and eager hands pulled me into the poorly lit cell, keeping me suspended mid-air for a dozen minutes. The hands went through the pockets, hems, and folds up to the most unholy regions of my blessed anatomy. The release wasn’t courteous by any standard. With a sickening thud, I swiftly paid my salutations to the hard and cold floor.
Of course, the anger was understandable because the hands came off with nothing. Save for a coin or two and a piece of cheap cigarette. It’s funny how some friends are made because we were puffing off the piece they had pinched off me the next time.
A Panel of Street Lawyers
An impromptu street lawyers’ panel was in session as I explained why I visited the state’s boarding facility. The paralegals took unwritten notes while the lead attorney carefully corralled data and facts.
The legal fees were set. A few sticks of any brand of cigarettes, a roll or two of any-grade grass, and anything edible for lunch. That was way cheap and easily doable. I had a whole army out there waiting to bail me out.
Plans were quickly made to access a phone from one of the officers. Obviously, at a fee, so that I could communicate the progress to my comrades-in-overalls. Don’t joke with the coverall-donning army.
Lunch Courtesy of Visiting Auto Mechanic
In a record thirty minutes, lunch for twenty hungry inmates was delivered hot from the food stall next to the police station. The legal fees were tripled for good measure, and the benevolent police officer was unsuccessfully suppressing an ear-to-ear smile.
The oily and greasy gang escorted twenty of the dirtiest and meanest-looking members for the delivery. My friend, I was an instant celebrity behind those filthy walls.
It was a Friday, but the prison break was slated for Sunday for credible reasons. But what were two nights amongst such resourceful mates and a faithful army? The plan was to wait for Saturday night, when many drunks are brought in from bar scuffles and aimless night roams.
The drunks were usually bailed out on Sunday mornings by friends or relatives. Since the charges pressed upon me had neither substantial evidence nor tangible exhibit, it was decided by the presiding panel that I could squeeze my way out as one of the drunks.
Law-breaking Citizens
The complainant had clearly indicated to the officers that he wasn’t interested in going to the courts. He just wanted me to cater for the losses incurred, and I was free to go and sin no more. This made the getaway even easier because the officer handling my case would be off-duty that Sunday.
The daily supplies by the garage army were faithfully made up to Sunday morning when the bail-out cash was delivered early in the morning. When the duty officers came in to check on the inmates and hand them over to the incoming squad, I innocently raised my hand among other law-breaking citizens.
The Auto Mechanic is Finally Free
We were ushered into the outer holding room to await the processing of our freedom. My turn came, and I gave out my name. The officer didn’t care to counter-check the charges. He assumed I was just another drunk who was sincerely sorry for his end-of-week sins. I felt a shiver down my spine when he crossed my name on the occurrence book and held out his hand for the dues.
I dashed to the box in one of the corners, fished my belt and shoe, and bolted out of the place like a bat out of hell. What transpired later between the officer handling my case and the client is one question I can’t correctly answer up to now.
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