Jail Stories
Murderers' RowI just mentioned Bob Heartsong being my upper bunk mate in the Palm Beach jail. And I told how he was accused of murdering his wife and how the murder was written about on a deck of jail bird playing cards our neighbor had.
But Bob wasn't the only famous (accused) murderer in the joint. There were at least four guys preparing to be tried for murder. One of them was being tried while I was there. Every day he'd come back from the trail and watch himself, Ron Samuels, on the evening TV news as we ate dinner.
Bob said he didn't do it, and I believe him: completely. Ron Samuels was an egregious prick: and I bet he did do it. He was accused of hiring hit men to murder his wife. They botched it, she was in a wheel chair. She was at his trial, daily. Ron owned car dealerships from the Keys to Tallahassee: he sold 5,000 cars a day! a multi-billionaire. But that wasn't enough for him. He also imported cocaine. Etc. He caught his wife moving some of his millions off shore into numbered accounts with her boyfriend. Maybe she needed a little butchering. But Ron was a son of a bitch regardless of what she was.
Ron grabbed me once, telling me forcibly how much he hated me. I could have really gotten him for that. The jailers want an exclusive on the violence. State monopoly.
Fred Keller was another son of a bitch accused-wife-murderer. I don't know much about him, but he was an obnoxious wanker too. The keen thing was though: Fred owned the land the Gun Club Road Palm Beach jail sat on. He was also a multi-billionaire, but in Palm Beach real estate. Fed prisoners like me were guests of the fed. State prisoners like Bob, Ron, Fred (and about-to-be-mentioned Charlie), had to rent their jail cell from the state. Fred had to pay to be locked up, a couple of bucks a week; but the county, and the state, had to pay rent to him! Enormous rent, I don't doubt.
Charlie Mac was a great guy, I thought. His late wife's son demanded that he, Charlie, finance some heroin deal for him. He wanted seven figures in capital, or was it big six figures: $700,000 or a couple of million, something like that. Charlie told his no good step son, No. He also told him he didn't have it. The step son told him to take a mortgage on the beach house, he really need some big capital. He pulled a gun, he threatened Charlie. Charlie went and got his own gun, came back, calmly executed his step son. He then called the cops, told them what happened.
The cops should have checked it out, and given him a medal. But no. They threw this old man down on the floor, roughed him up, and cuffed him. Charlie too was waiting for his trial. I liked Charlie a lot.
I sure hope Bob and Charlie had successful defenses. I have Bob's address, I don't know Charlie Mac's whole last name: McSomething.
Above I reveal my opinions concerning the characters of the above accuseds. I don't know who did what. I don't know for a fact that Bob did not kill his wife. I report my impressions. When Ron grabbed me, he was expressing his opinion about my character, my worth. He didn't know me. I doubt that he's capable of knowing me. I don't claim infallibility that I know him: I emphasize that I do not know him. Neither do I want to know him. The damn government forced us into each other's company, all of us presided over fourth grade drop outs. You have to fail intelligence tests before you'll be admitted to law school, you have to prove yourself far-stupider-yet before the fascists will put you in change of those jailed by the state. If you just stumble upon this blog you will not likely know why I was arrested. A Martian could stumble into a church and not know who Jesus was or Paul or why they were arrested. Think what you will. I'm telling these stories, sharing impressions.
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