Laughing on the Outside

Dear Sir Jim,

I’m writing this to you, Jimmy, so you know the ending to my story. You’ll never see me again, although you might hear of me on the news or something. Well, considering that, I guess it’s not really the end for me, but for you, although every part is equally important in the story of my life.

If you’re reading this, it means that my plan worked, and I’m outside now. Not just outside, Jimbo, but on the Outside. I’ve been pre-released into society before the court-appointed time. Don’t worry, as we don’t know what happens in my future, there are no spoilers here. It’s what you don’t know about my past that I’m relating to you here.

You never really gave a shit about me, and I never thought you did. I can’t even be sure if you’re still reading this. Maybe you’ll burn it or flush it down my scum-covered toilet. Have you ever taken a crap on one of those things? I didn’t think so. It only gets worse when you clean it; you just end up spreading all this shit around from prisoners who were here over eighty years ago.

Why am I writing this when I know you don’t care? I guess the simple answer would be to say, “I just want to say goodbye, Jim.” The right answer, however, is that I want to leave my mark; just like every other person whose had the slightest ambition in life. I want you to remember me.

We had some times, you and me. I remember the first time we met: It was the first time I made fun of your name, Jimmy Popper Corn, and you walked right up to me and screamed, “Don’t you fucking talk to me!” It didn’t scare me because you couldn’t touch me; the bars separated us. I always liked that protection; it was like my own little piece of hell. You would patrol our cells every morning; it still makes me laugh. If you had any real balls, you would have beaten me when I killed BJ.

But you were too scared.

The alarms are going to go off today, and when they do, it’ll pretty much mean that I’m a free man. I’m laughing hard just thinking of your face when it happens. You don’t even know what the best part is, Jim…I’m not the only one getting out today.
Ever hear of a mass prison breakout, Jimmy? I didn’t think so. The largest prison breakouts have been in times of war with the POWs escaping their camps and returning to allied territories. Of those who escape, very few of them survive.

Now let me make this clear: I know for a fact you will end up either killing or recapturing most of the inmates who escape this prison today. Actually, if you’re reading this, you probably already have. But how much time will you spend looking for me? The guy who was convicted of robbing a jewelry store just one time? I can’t imagine you’d spend much time at all.

I know you only send the worst guys to this prison, and I barely made the cut. Apparently knocking out a pregnant woman puts you in a place like this. So while you’re spending the next few days chasing down all the murderers and rapists, I’ll be laughing on the Outside.

Remember that time I spat on you as you were patrolling our cells? You unlocked my bars, walked in my cage, got real close up in my face, and said, “When I get promoted out of this fucking guard job and even make warden one day, I’ll still come to your cell every night and fucking rape you!” You said it real quiet so that no one else could hear, and you tried to sound threatening. I remember your eyes were bulging out of your head, your face was red with popping veins, and it kind of looked like you were constipated. It makes me smile, thinking of it now, and I’m laughing.
You were too scared to rape me, just like everyone else was too scared to even look me in the eye. All you ever did was threaten me, but it didn’t matter to me. Nothing I’ve ever done in here really has because I’ve known all along that I’d be leaving today.

Let me bring you to a flashback:

My two brothers and I were in a room (by this time, you know I had accomplices, Jimmy). We were sitting in the small dining room of our two bedroom apartment discussing what to do if one of us was ever caught. “We’ll dig a hole…” I said, and my brothers both looked at me like I was crazy, “…from outside the prison.” I got the idea from a Bugs Bunny cartoon where he jumped into his hole and then dug another one to come up right behind Elmer Fudd.

“How?” my older brother said. I’m the middle kid.

I turned to the youngest one and said, “You’ve got Top Secret Clearance, right?”

“Yeah, from the guard job,” he replied. He worked with a private security company that had several government contracts for two years. He never told us where he worked, only that it was somewhere in DC. You need the highest-level clearance a civilian can have in order to guard those types of places. He quit his job after my older brother and I got fired from ours.

“That’s what I thought,” I said, and we laid out the plan. My younger brother would obtain blueprints to whatever prison we landed ourselves in. He was always the getaway car driver because that made him the least likely to get caught. I was the scout who checked out security ahead of time and figured how long it would take the police to reach our target if we were doing a job during the daytime. My older brother made the dynamite.

The thing about explosives is that you have to trust your dealer. You have to trust that you’re getting a good price, good bang, and that your dealer isn’t a cop. The best way to go is to make your own dynamite while getting the ingredients from different dealers. This is good because it’s always cheaper, you know it’s good bang due to the fact that you’re making it yourself, and you can get the stuff you need to make it pretty much anywhere.

And there you have it. We had our backup plan in case one or more of us got caught and our main plan: Robbing jewelry stores only to pawn their stuff off in various cities. Did I ever think we would get caught? Let me tell you, Jim-bob, I’ve always been that guy.

So here we are today: My last day in prison. My brothers and I have been using a code language we created to discuss how the escape is going. They started the tunnel about four miles away, and they’ve been digging over the past three years. They’ve been doing most of it by hand, supporting the tunnel with lumber. By this time, they must have already loaded the prison side of it with dynamite. You see, we’re going out with a bang, as they say. My oldest brother is going to set off the dynamite using a remote detonator once we’re at the furthest possible range. You don’t think it will work? Trust me; we did our research way before I landed myself in here.

You always said I was crazy, Jimmy. So did Big Johnny.

He hated me from the first day he saw me because I was a small guy who publicly refused to be his bitch. BJ didn’t put up with shit like that, so he said, “I’ll meet you in the shower!” which is probably the most cliché tough inmate line there is.
I said, “I’ll be sure to drop the soap.” He just laughed; so did everyone watching.

So one day, I don’t know how, but I find myself alone in the shower with BJ. The guard is standing there with his back turned. He knows what to expect. Then I drop the soap, and BJ has got this huge big grin on his face as he sees me bending over to pick it up. I hear his feet patter up right behind me. I grab the soap up right off the floor, turn around, and grab his chin with my left hand and pull to get his mouth wide open. Then I take the soap in my right hand and stuff it down BJ’s throat.

I choked that bitch right there and left his cooling body under the water. The guard didn’t hear a thing, and I tapped his back on my way out, saying, “Might want to clean that up.”

What was another few years added to my sentence?

And here we are today, Jimmy: My day of escape. My brothers are going to blast a hole right through the gates, and before you all can do a damn thing, I’ll be out of here. Free at last. Of course, I wouldn’t be here at all if I hadn’t been caught...

I scouted the jewelry store. They had about a dozen cameras spread throughout the store and I decided it would be best to just say “screw it” and ignore them. By the time they found out who we were, we were going to be at least a state away. There was one security guard that I could see guarding the entrance, and chances always were that they had another one watching the cameras.

I told one of maybe four employees—not including the security guards—that I was looking for an engagement ring. “We’ve only been dating for a couple weeks, but I’m in love!” I said. They love people like that; it means they’re pretty much guaranteed a repeat customer. I told them that I would come back in a week to pick it up after they re-sized it. I made a one hundred dollar cash deposit so that they would reserve it for me, but it was really a small price considering the return.

The next week I showed up with nothing on me but my fake ID a small hammer in my pocket—my goal was never to kill anyone; only to black them out. Inside the store, everyone wanted to make small talk, and I told them that I was sad to say that it didn’t work out. I wanted my cash deposit back. “Of course,” said the lady who helped me pick out the ring, “But are you sure you don’t want to keep it just in case?” I told her that I was sure. My girlfriend had died.

That’s when they feel really sorry for you and let their guard down.

The lady who talked to me took my ID and went to retrieve my deposit. The security guard turned around, and right as the lady came back out, I hit the security guard with my hammer in the back of the neck, collapsing him and taking his gun. Right then my older brother, who had been waiting for me outside, blew away the front section of the store.

I got a set of keys from one of the employees—the lady that I was starting to become rather friendly with—and we stole as much as we could in one minute. I had figured it would take the police at least four minutes to get there, but the pigs were actually stupid enough to set up a speed trap during rush hour a couple blocks away from the store. I guess I should’ve double checked the area before entering the store. So, I gave the goods to my oldest brother who hopped into the car with my younger brother. I told them to run, and I stayed back with the stolen gun to hold off the cops.

Three years later, here I am. Today is my day. I know my brothers will come back for me because I’m irreplaceable to them, just as they are to me.

It’s been fun Jim. It’s been real fun.

Have you ever seen a mass breakout?

You will today.
Sincerely,
Joseph Gilardo