Hi Brian

I hope this finds you having enjoyed your trip. In regard to your silver dollar postcard, you gave me quite the laugh in your needling me about being a thief. ‘Baiting’ me with future heist material was somewhat inspired, especially since, in truth, there was actually no robbery at all.

I’ll explain, it’s about time I laid it all out for you anyway. The whole ‘convenience store robbery’ story is what you might call a ‘slight’ substitution. As dumb as such a thing is, it’s something that sounds cool. For that reason, I used to employ it, almost exclusively, for the purpose of plumping up the perception of my crime stats, as it were, for the sake of garnering interest.

I know it probably sounds dumb, but someone here basically told me to think of it like a baiting of my own, if you will, in order to get people to write me back. Considering it has worked, I suppose you could consider me an angler. Although I suppose you could say I’m also guilty of fraud on those accounts also (albeit this isn’t an admission of said consideration).

It’s funny I’m glad about this to such the overwhelming extent that I am. While I used to harbor ill feelings about a fake origin story, in this case I feel somewhat elated as it actually turns your trying to give me a hard time into a misplaced effort at trying to land yet another jab at my expense.

So, ‘What’s the real story,’ I bet you are wondering.

Well, it isn’t much different than what I originally told you. I was still the unwitting victim of a circumstance that transformed into a reluctant getaway driver, it’s just the circumstances aren’t as palpable or as quickly relayed as the trusty ‘convenience store robbery’ is.

Simply put, I had gone with a friend who was on parole to the probation office, but after he suddenly came out in cuffs and was being thrown into the back of a police cruiser for some kind of violation, he decided to break away from the two sheriff’s deputies and ‘beat feet,’ as he later put it, back to the car. Caught in the moment as he yelled at me to open the driver side door, his hands cuffed behind him, I reached across and let him into the car.

I would have loved to have seen a scan of my brain that day. You think time slows down when adrenaline dumps into your bloodstream? See how you respond to outside stimulus when a friend you were moments away from going to lunch with is now inches away from being pushed into a squad car, when suddenly, he tears away from the two officers and comes charging at you like a bull being chased by two matadors. The bottom on all intelligent consideration for what is happening literally falls right out. (Bulls are supposed to chase the matadors after all.)

And that was just immediate ascension of the hormonal bell curve for me that day.

Once in the car, he started in yelling at me to put the car in reverse and drive as he slammed down on the gas. Before I knew it I was helping steer the car over the parking lot curb and down a steep embankment, but not before hitting the two Sheriff’s deputies as they tried to apprehend him; one of which smashed out the driver side window with his baton in the attempt. Switching places with him at the bottom of the embankment and heading for the highway, we lead other responding units on a high-speed chase across two counties at speeds that reached as high as 130 mph, at least that’s how its reported in papers and court reports. For me, basically everything after he told me to put the car in gear is a blur up until I rolled over the spike strips that shredded three of the car’s four tires. Though it is said I was still averaging speeds of up to 80 mph even on the bent rims.

Now, I don’t know if you know much about driving a car without tires, but it’s a ‘little’ hard to control, especially when it comes to weaving between cars and across various lanes of traffic. Anyway, there in the end, as we were running out of straight and uncongested road, I ended up slowing down considerably and running the car through a fence. The two of us then bailed from the car as it was sent into a light pole. The funny part is I was the one that got scratched

and bruised to hell and I wasn’t even the one with my hands restrained behind my back.

I don’t know much about hormones, but I was in tatters as soon as I raised up from the ground. Based on what I guess could have been the endorphins purging through my body alone, I would have figured I could have ran a couple 3 minute miles from the police as soon as I touched ground, but that wasn’t the case at all. I felt more like I was in a daze and dragging a giant bag of laundry. Perhaps that’s why you generally don’t see people escaping from high speed chases on ‘Cops’ after they crash.

Needless to say, we were both immediately caught after that and I was sent to the hospital for the injuries I sustained after jumping from the car.

You read the papers and the two of us sounded like a regular Bonnie and Clyde. The high-speed chase, the spike stripes… Police assault and battery. But in reality, it all just… happened. My instincts just took over. I couldn’t help that police got in the way while they were doing their job, I also can’t take much credit for how a super charged Impala performs when the gas is floored or for the fact the parole office was placed so close to another county line. All I can really say is, what with my friend’s yelling and the dire circumstances we seemed to be in, I was just in the zone trying to get away.

I was laser of focus.

And while all of that might paint me to portray some career criminal with no regard for the law, all I guess I can really say and think is: I perform in the clutch.

Anyway, I’ve never been to Montana, but always hear good things. It also seems like the people that haven’t been always have a desire to go. So it sounds like something I would like to do given the opportunity.

Perhaps I can do so in some sort of racing capacity after I get out and acquire my first license.

Barring my own probation.

Bianca

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CHANNILLO

Bianca's 9th Letter (the Real Story)
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Hi Brian

I hope this finds you having enjoyed your trip. In regard to your silver dollar postcard, you gave me quite the laugh in your needling me about being a thief. ‘Baiting’ me with future heist material was somewhat inspired, especially since, in truth, there was actually no robbery at all.

I’ll explain, it’s about time I laid it all out for you anyway. The whole ‘convenience store robbery’ story is what you might call a ‘slight’ substitution. As dumb as such a thing is, it’s something that sounds cool. For that reason, I used to employ it, almost exclusively, for the purpose of plumping up the perception of my crime stats, as it were, for the sake...

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