A New Start

      I was on a streak once where I had fourteen court cases in three years. 
     This kind of thing can't go on, of course. There will be blood, eventually. The cops get to know and really, really, and I mean really hate you. You become a priority. This is not good. I was well hated  by them so I ran away. Down one county.
        The cops in the old county were pretty notorious for being nasty. The new cops were not. They were "by the book". They got me pretty quick,relatively speaking. They were real cops, we understood each other, we were operating on the tail end of the "old school" period. There was respect but no quarter expected ever.
 These new cops had never experienced me before so we had to do the "tell us what you know about, we'll let you go, blah blah blah", then me with my stock answer "Go fuck yourselves in the hall." Then, the whack whack tango.
      The court they took me to in this new county had some new ideas for me to consider. It went like this.          Five years in state prison or "The Youthful Offender Program."
           
                            I was shocked and outraged. Just because I was a junkie thief dope dealer with a fairly extensive criminal history didn't mean I deserved this kind of treatment. I did not want to go to prison. I asked about the program.
         I got serious, angry and concerned glares from all around. Nobody else was in there. An extremely ominous situation. I was on so many different probations and warnings that they actually could take me right to Walpole. Murphy the Lawyer and Old Judge Peckerhead had conspired against me. Peckerhead told me, "Murphy will take you over there right now. Remember this boy, everyone has had enough of your shit." My attorney, Murphy advised me. "Just shut up. Say yes sir."
                 My attorney had never told me he was going to do this, I was completely surprised. He told me later he handled it like that so I had some kind of a chance because they were going to send me up, one way or another. He said that the deal he cut was the best he could do.
             I was puzzled. I also had  a big hit of of morphine coming on that I'd jabbed into my shoulder in the bathroom just before I went in the courtroom, nothing unusual about it, it was how I was able to put up with all the bullshit, a little bumper. I was already seeing double, soon it would be  triple and up. Under normal circumstances, this would have posed no problem whatsoever but they wanted me to talk to people and sign shit. I should have been out of there in twenty minutes, in the park, drooling at the sun, waiting for a cab.
   Old  Judge Peckerhead squinched up and yelled at me "Whats wrong with you? Whats the matter with your eyes, open them up, both of them. Look at me. Do you understand your sentence?" I said I was feeling weak, could I sit down? "Murphy, get this junkie out of here right now. Is he in my courtroom high on drugs? He's only twenty years old? He is high, he's on drugs right now."
           "No sir, I don't think so. He's coming off them. He's a little unstable right now. He understands his sentence. Thank you your honor."  He grabbed my arm and took me out to his car. "No one can help you anymore, you've gone as far as you can get. They want to put you away. I can get all your other bullshit "dismissed in the interest of justice" if you don't fuck over this program I'm delivering you to right now,don't puke in my car. If you fuck this up ,move to Africa or Venezuela or do your time, but don't call me anymore. We're square, you don't need to pay me this time."
         "Alright. I'll do it. Jesus Christ Murph, what about my rights? Can't we get the ACLU or a revolutionary lawyer on this/" "No. You're fucked. Make good with these guys I'm taking you to, it's all you get. You are the first guy they're trying this new approach on, the guy who runs it is a real prick. You probably won't make it."
      I think it was a color experiment office to try and keep people calm he took me to. Big green walls with wavy blue lines everywhere inside. Maybe it was all the junk, though.
            The receptionist secretary refused my offer to show her a good time after work and buzzed me into The Man's office. He was not a happy looker. An obviously bitter cop who would shoot you if you let him. He  was called MR. O'BRIAN.
                " Red pants and junkie jackets are not to be worn in here ever. How did you afford Italian shoes like that? You stole them didn't you? You're taking them back. What the fuck are you on, you little asshole? Sit down. You went to court looking like that? Jesus Christ."
                   Fuckin' Murphy. My friend and attorney. I found out later. He was part of this program, on the board. Motherfucker. I'd been ambushed.  
        " Jesus, can you even see me? You have to fill this out. It's a test. What are you on, you little asshole?" Our first of many little spats began. "That'll be enough assholes for today. No more today. I had enough." I was trying to get up. He looked at me hard enough to worry even me for a second. "You better not.... don't get up....I'll shoot your ass.... we'll figure this out. Alright, just cool it, here do this, fill these out and calm down,"
        He gave me a big brown envelope.
      There was a psychological profile test  in it.I said, "I'm not doing this. You can't make me. Wheres the bathroom?"
             We had now reached our first of many impasses. The dilemma solved itself quickly. He came around the desk, really fast for an old fat fuck, and said; "Put your hands behind your back. I'm taking you up to Walpole."
         He had his right hand on his piece while he said it. A pair of handcuffs were in the other hand. He was already almost standing on me.
      Well. Shit. "You can't do that. I haven't been tried or convicted of anything."
             "You should read shit before you sign it, Einstein. You pled guilty to three charges and were remanded into my custody. If you fuck up, you catch three felonies automatically, it's up to me, I'm driving you up there. Hows a cute little bastard like you gonna do in there?"
         I would have done alright, but who would want to? Not me, not then and not ever.
     All of a sudden I realized that I could do the test, after all. I went right to work on it. Then, he drove me home. I thought that was nice.
               He invited himself right in to the pad and searched it. Not nice anymore. Most of the shit I had was out, sitting on the kitchen table. My partner had been running her fingers through it, like you would through gold coins and diamonds and rubys. She was hiding in the closet, crying.
        He told her to shut the fuck up and screw and me to sit down, we had some "rules" to go over. I was thinking I might just whack him a couple of times and get my shit back. He knew it.
       Again I get the "I'll shoot your ass," statement.
       I sat down, not quite defeated but close. The sense of grief and loss coupled with the indignation of most of "my" shit being stolen was hard on me. I was having a hard time with these major new developments in my life.
           There was enough shit in my place to put me away for a long time. I'd been busy and very very successful in my new location. We had a couple of nice stereos and TVs, a few checkbooks had also arrived and stayed with us, a lot of really nice clothes also... I was sure he wouldn't find it all because I couldn't even find it all.
       He came up with a box of checks that weren't mine, all kinds of bottles and vials of this and that. He held up a little bottle I really hated to lose, five fucking grains of Dilaudid. It really upset him. Me too.
    "It's not mine," I said. "I want a lawyer You got no warrant."
               "Where did you get these? Are you the one ripping all the hospitals and doctors offices off? These checks say they belong to a doctor. Are you a fucking doctor?"
                      "Look at all this shit! Methaqualone?  Dilaudid?  Morphine!  Tuinal! You little prick. Are you the ones breaking into all the pharmacies around here? Murphy said you'd be holding big time, you're a lucky little prick. You better listen and listen good boy, I got you. You're in deep shit. I should run your ass in."
        "Who's the broad?" he asked me. I was going to say his sister or St. Jude or I didn't know. I chose silence.
       "You got any guns? Pulled any armed robberies or shoot anyone?"
          " Not my style. No."
      "You just steal shit and shoot dope like a maniac."
       "No"
  "You been dealing?"
   "No."
    "Do you ever stop lying?"
      "I'm not lying."
     We got back to his office and he gave me the game.   
            " I should lock you up. Murphy told me you'd be dirty as hell. If you're too strung out to kick alone, I can take you somewhere to get some help with it."
      "I'm talking here. Wake the fuck up, I can't believe you went to court all fucked up, you must be out of your mind. Maybe I should take you to Bridgewater for a look at you." That got my attention. A month locked up with the nuts was no good, you  never want to do that, believe me.
            "I don't believe you finished high school, I'm going to check, you better not be lying, tell me the truth . Are you hooked right now?"
           "No." I have never been comfortable with being berated, I was just about ready to try him. Again, he put his hand on his gun.
       "You lying little prick, you're higher than ten dogs. I'm taking you over to the hospital, we'll see how you make out by tomorrow."
      We sat there looking at each other for a second or two. I was extremely unhappy. " Yeah, I'm hooked. I'd rather just kick than go be fucked around with by a hospital though, they take forever. I can do it in five days. How many other guys are you fucking saving with your methods besides me?" I asked him.
          "You're my first one. I got some ideas I want to try out on you. If they work you might be alright. We'll try you kicking at home, I'm coming by every day at different times and I'm looking around in there when I come. Don't fuck around. I'm taking all that hot shit out too, you need to get a job and a drivers license asap."  Oh boy. A new start.
               I made it. It took a year.While I was there, no one else did.
 They couldn't drug test you back then. It was unconstitutional. Thats why I made it. Plus I got a job and stayed off stuff. All the shit I had hanging was dismissed and I got a plaque.
 Who says there's no justice?