And while we were stuffing our bags full of money, the manager pulled the trigger. (2)

 “I followed those train tracks all the way to Washington DC. And for a minute, it seemed like everything would be alright. My brother lived in the city, so I started sleeping at his place. I enrolled in a new high school. I was going to class. Playing a little basketball. Things were going smooth. But I hadn’t learned my lesson yet. My old ways caught up with me, and I fell in with the wrong group of kids. These guys were robbing banks—and getting away with it. 

So I decided to tag along. We’d drive down to North Carolina because those banks had less security. And we got away with it a few times. After every score, we’d hang out on the strip at 14th and T, and act like big timers. We felt like gangsters. I have nobody to blame but myself. I just enjoyed the feeling of having money. But the fun didn’t last for long. Because one of those banks had a silent alarm. And while we were stuffing our bags full of money, the manager pulled the trigger. 

The police were waiting for us in the parking lot. All hell broke loose. I tried to get away, ducking and weaving, running through cars. But I got shot in the buttocks. The bullet went right through me. I woke up in the hospital-- with a hole in the front and back of my coat.”

 “It was all over for Bruce. The judge sentenced me to twenty-five to thirty years. I held out hope for awhile. I was doing appeals. I kept hoping to win on a technicality, or at least get a new trial with a better lawyer. 

But I kept hitting dead ends. And reality soon set in-- I was going away for a very long time. They sent me to a maximum security facility called Central Prison. Gun towers and everything. There was no way out, so I sorta got used to it. My mama died during this time, and that really shook me up. Because my entire life she’d been praying for me to turn my life around. And she never got to see it happen. So I committed myself to doing better. I became the perfect inmate. I never had a mark on my record.

 My behaviour was so good that they transferred me down the hill to a minimum security facility. This place was more like a camp. They still had gun towers and everything, but there was a lot of freedom. They let us walk around the yard. We could make phone calls. I even had my own radio show. It was a lot of fun. I recorded it every Wednesday, and they played it on the local college station. I was relaxed. I was feeling good. I had no plans to escape.”