I’d been arrested, made a deal with the DA, and reneged on that deal. After two weeks, a friend wired me money and I took a long bus ride home to Oregon. At night, I wandered the streets of Dallas, napping on warm sidewalk vents if I felt safe enough to close my eyes. By the next night, I’d taken up residence in the city’s Greyhound station where I could eat free saltines and ketchup packets and sleep during the day in the bus terminal’s padded chairs. I hitchhiked all day and ended up sleeping under a bridge in Dallas. But since my charges were in the state of Oregon, and not Texas, I hoped that I’d have enough time to get away before everything was figured out. I ran, knowing that the Sheriff’s Department would be called as soon as I left. I’d heard enough stories about the penitentiary, so I took the deal.īut three weeks later, I escaped from the East Texas Life Challenge adult facility where I’d shared a cabin with multiple murderers, a rapist, and a school bomber, all of whom were on parole from the Texas State Pen. In exchange for my felony charges, I would serve nine months in an East Texas facility. They worked out a deal in which I would participate in a nine-month-long Life Challenge parole and rehabilitation program as a diversion. But none of those things never happened.īefore I faced a pre-trial hearing, my father spoke to the district attorney. We waited for our hearings and to be remanded to custody. My brother and I spent a week under an agreed-upon house arrest at a friend of my father’s. Compared to the average inmate at the state prison, I wasn’t tough at all. I considered myself tough in comparison to kids in my high school and people at large, but I had a friend who went to prison and I knew it was a different world.
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