ROLL CALL ~ A Prison List (True Prison Story)

by Glenn Langohr

  I thought about it. Miles wasn’t where I was at in my journey. His mentality wasn’t where mine was. How do I bridge the gap? How do I get him to see things through my eyes?

  “Slow down your roll Miles. Check it out. Maniac opened the garage door. We didn’t kick it down. Then we ushered Misty out of the garage. She’s a pregnant 16 year old runaway. Maniac tried to stop us and got beat up. If you try to get involved in this mess by trying to keep Maniac from showing up to court, then the focus will be on us being the criminals. We have to let Dennis’s attorney call Misty as a witness to explain her part in it so it’s on record that Maniac was harboring a pregnant runaway minor, and furnishing her with speed. If all of that gets explored, it will change the complexion of things. Do me a favor. Keep all of our names out of this. Keep your mouth shut and be patient.”

  I got off the phone and felt powerless. I walked around Mr. Dudley’s garage and wondered, what if Miles gets too involved and gets busted, what if he says anything to the police?

  I sat on Mr. Dudley’s wide glide custom Harley and prayed. God, what am I supposed to do? What’s the right thing to do? I don’t know if I’m doing it right, help…

  Natasha called. Unlike Miles, she understood what I was talking about and found a way to help.

  “I’ll go to Misty’s house and talk to her mother. She’ll help. She hugged me and thanked me in tears when she heard how we got Misty out of the garage. We’ll get Misty to make a notarized statement that she was living in Maniac’s garage and that he was smoking speed with her. That should at least discredit Maniac, whose real name is Josh.”

  I got off the phone with Natasha flooded with emotions. What a girl! She’s on the same page as me.

  I looked up to God and got on my knees and prayed again. This time in tears. God… I know I need your help. I’m stuck in this muck and am trying to find my way back. I just don’t think I’m strong enough. I can’t stop fighting. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

  Why do I fight so hard for power and control?

  I looked up as Mr. Dudley walked into the garage and saw me on my knees. I wiped the tears away from my face and turned the other way to compose myself.

  “What’s wrong B.J.?”

  I turned and faced Mr. Dudley. “I can’t go with you to the River Run.”

  They left without me and I felt all of that restless energy pulling on my spirit again. It was time to call Bob.

  I found out that Bob had his own one bedroom house in Colton. He sounded a lot less spun out, like he wasn’t talking straight out of the side of his neck. I told him that and explained how during my 20 plus day runs, I actually witnessed my own brain go from thinking and functioning, to just being an impulse message sender. He laughed and explained in his words how he’d examined the same process and I knew I had a brother in arms, at a similar spot in his journey. I found myself so moved that I started talking to Bob about God the father, His Son Jesus Christ, and His Holy Spirit. I told Bob I knew I had God’s Holy Spirit looking out for me with Guardian Angels. I found myself so moved that the Truth started flowing from my mouth. “Bob. We’re serving the wrong master in this speed game. We’re working for Satan right now.”

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth I felt ashamed of myself.

  Bob responded, “I’m just now figuring that out, too. I thought about how I had the Devil’s Disciples watching my back at Tim’s house in the canyon and saw my part clearly for what it is. I’m making and spreading chaos and death. I’m sick of it but don’t know how to get off this ride. The guy whose house you came to in the canyon, Tim, he used to be a Devil’s Disciple. He believes in God and separated himself from his Devil’s Disciple brothers, but still can’t break all the way off from them. I think it’s the excitement and ingrained behaviors that make it so hard to let go and find another life to live. I’ve also looked at it and found that most of the gangs I’ve ever known are tied to some form of 666 as their calling card. Most of the gang members don’t fully understand that until it’s too late for them to get off the ride. Some of them try and bring God into it and change the ride, but they usually get looked at like they are weak or getting soft. Then they have to prove that they’re not. They can’t get out until it’s too late.”

  I thought about it and didn’t know where else to go with the God matter…

  Then the issue with Dennis popped into my head and brought that stress to the fore. I explained what happened with Dennis and the details. Bob had another angle to consider. He told me he grew up with a couple of Hell’s Angels from San Bernardino. It sounded like they were a couple of integral components. He explained that they might be able to help. They might be able to get in touch with Josh, A.K.A. Maniac and work out an understanding that would benefit all the parties involved.

  CHAPTER 87

  Bob hung up the phone and thought about what B.J. had said. It’s weird how we both realized at the same time we’re both serving Satan in this speed world. I’ve never thought about it like that. It’s always been about money, power and excitement. How could I have missed all of the signs? Why did it take so long for me to see the writing on the walls? I guess it took actually seeing the Devil’s Disciples patches to spur those thoughts. Now that I know this, what do I do? I live in the desert where there isn’t that much happening and this speed thing is all I know.

  Bob felt his epiphany eroding and his attention returning to business. He thought about how Ricky had used him to manufacture the product like a sweat shop slave. Then how he had come up with a new plan to take some of the pressure off himself by incorporating another person to help make the product.

  Bob thought about how he’d decided that since Ricky wasn’t paying him, it was time to get paid on his own. He thought about the deal he was giving Skip. It seemed more than fair. He remembered how he’d told Skip, “If you take care of business for me righteously, I’ll build you up into a bigger component. I’m giving you the ingredients for free and you get half of the finished product and I get the other half. Don’t screw me or you’ll only be screwing yourself.”

  Bob thought, if Ricky was giving me half, I’d have a ton of money!

  Bob remembered how Skip had said, “I’m straight up holmes. I’ll tell you exactly like it is. That’s how I do things.”

  Bob thought, it’s time to find out. He should be done with the first batch by now. It’s time to call him to check.

  “Skip. It’s Big Bob. Are you done with your project yet?”

  “Big Bob. I had a problem. There was a small fire and it burned up some of the product. I only ended up getting a little bit of good product. It’s not much. But I’ll split it with you if you want to bother with how little there is to split up…”

  Bob felt his grip on the phone tightening. He remembered how John had been manufacturing product in a small way for the last ten years. He used to work with some of the Hell’s Angels. How could he fuck off my shit like that? We were supposed to get about $3,000 worth of product each. He’s fucking me and he has to be lying!

  “Skip… I’ll call you back.”

  Bob slammed the phone down and paced the living room. He felt his brain pulsing with impulses and reacted on the first thought; I should call B.J. and have him regulate Skip! He picked up the phone, and then set it back down and thought some more. Why don’t I call Johnny Chamberlain and Chrome Jeff over at the Hell’s Angels headquarters? They used to do a lot of business with Skip. If I get them to come over, I can kill two birds with one stone. B.J. needs me to see if they can help him with his problem in Orange County with Maniac, and I can ask them what’s up with Skip.

  Bob heard the Harleys pull up in front of his house and opened the front door. He saw Johnny Chamberlain and Chrome Jeff on their hogs at the gate to his driveway. Johnny looked like a monster at over 6’4” and at least 250 lbs. standing over his hog like it was a little toy. Jeff was a little smaller at 6 feet and about 200lbs. Bob walked to the gate and opened it.

  T
hey drove through the gate and followed the circular driveway and parked close to the front door. Bob watched them both take their skull cap helmets off. Johnny had long brown hair pulled back in a pony tail over a shaved good looking face. Chrome Jeff had long blond hair in a pony tail with a three inch goatee only on his chin. Bob walked up and shook hands.

  “It’s been a few years. How have you been?”

  Inside the house Bob ran down the details of both situations.

  Chrome Jeff was the first to respond. “Bob. It sounds like B.J. just thinks we’re going to come in and clean up his mess.”

  Bob shook his head and wondered, did I not just explain it right. “It’s not that he wants you to clean up his mess… I thought since this Maniac was flying your Hell’s Angel’s patch, and that since he was dealing speed to kids out of a high school parking lot, and since he had a pregnant 16 year old runaway living in his garage he was getting high, you might take an interest in it, and even take offense.”

  Bob watched Big Johnny reach his big arm across the couch to stop his partner Jeff from talking so he could. “Bob. Excuse my partner here. I heard what you said. It sounded to me like this B.J. didn’t even ask for our help, you mentioned it to him as a possibility. Now with that straight, let me tell you why my partner is so jumpy. We’ve been all over this town cleaning up other people’s messes lately and have come to find out that we’ve got a lot of dirt on our hands. There seems to be a lot of weird shit going on lately. You know the feds are squeezing access to the chemicals we’re so fond of, right? Well, we thought we had that angle covered with a Mexican connection on the other side of the border. Now he’s telling us that their operation is shutting things down for a while because there is a leak somewhere they have to seal. He said they have to do some fumigating to clean up their books. I guess that means they have to deal with whoever is spreading bad attention towards them. Now that nobody can get to the chemicals, we’re taking on the same strategy as that Mexican’s click. We’re staying out of things for a while. Anybody doing things right now is going to get all of the attention. The feds are not only regulating the chemicals with an iron fist, they’re all over the place watching things, talking to their informants, and there seem to be a lot more of them all of the sudden, and in general cleaning house and arresting everyone. There are all these new task forces working with the feds and the D.E.A. and it’s time to take a break. That’s why we don’t want to get too involved in anything right now.”

  Bob watched Chrome Jeff just have to say something. “He’s talking about Felipe from the Michoacán cartel… Tell him about that local gangster, the one that goes by little man, Johnny…”

  Bob watched Big Johnny look at his partner in irritation. “Why do you have to put everyone’s name out there like that? You know doing that is an indirect way of informing.”

  “That’s what everyone does to us! You don’t have to worry about Bob. He keeps an iron clad lid on things.”

  Bob watched Big Johnny shake his head in frustration at his partner. “That’s true about Bob, but you have to learn to keep people’s names out of your mouth… Now this little guy my partner decided to mention, he isn’t little at all. He just got out of prison a few months ago. He’s a straight gang banging gangster. From what I’ve learned about him, his brother was one of those made men from the heavy part of San Bernardino. His little brother that just got out goes by L’il man. He watched his older brother get murdered many years ago. He watched one of their enemies run him over in the street and then flip a U-turn and run over him again to make sure he was dead. Since then, the little brother went on a rampage and has already beat two murder beefs on his enemies. Now I think he’s a made man. The reason I say that is because he’s the only one who has access to the chemicals we love so much. Check out how he’s locking down the program. He’s offering the chemicals to all of the good cooks for free on the condition that he gets half of the finished product. Nobody is going to try and burn or bull shit him because everyone knows he has an army of killers behind him. I don’t know how he thinks he can do all of this while all of law enforcement is watching so close. I tried to tell him what was happening but he didn’t seem concerned.”

  Bob thought that’s the same deal I just tried to give Skip and he burnt me. Then he wondered, “Did you accept L’il man’s offer?”

  “Nope. We’re an independent club. Now that I’ve explained the big picture to you I can look at the little one with B.J.. The problem is we’d have to bring the issue up at a meeting first. I can tell you that what will come up is that nobody knows who this B.J. is. Some of our elders will probably wonder if we can trust B.J. They’ll say that we might be getting involved in something that will bring law enforcement right to our club.”

  Bob nodded his head that he understood. Then thought about Skip and had an idea. “You guys know who Skip is right? I heard he used to ride with you guys and cook dope for you.”

  Bob watched Chrome Jeff’s face get angry. “Yeah, we know Skip. He’s a back stabbing thieving lying piece of shit!”

  Bob watched Big Johnny nod his head in agreement. “We took his patch off his jacket and kicked him out of the club a couple of years ago.”

  Bob said, “That piece of shit is trying to burn me. What if I have B.J. regulate him? Will that get your club to trust him?”

  CHAPTER 88

  I spent the next couple of days on Paul’s couch. Then, that got uncomfortable. It felt like I never really got any real sleep or peace, I was intruding on their space. I asked myself, why don’t I just rent my own place so I can get away from it all. I thought about it and told myself, I’ll get a place after I figure out this Dennis thing.

  I spent the next two days at Tom’s on his couch. The same thing happened. It felt like the walls were closing in on me. I thought about it, maybe I should go to San Bernardino for a while, Bob does have his own place now…

  I called Bob. He gave me directions to his house in Colton and I was on the freeway in the Festiva five minutes later.

  On the way I called Mr. Dudley. He and Brock had just got back from the river run and I asked if the Custom Creation Harleys had sold.

  He told me, “They could have sold. We had a bunch of interested parties that wanted to buy them… But we forgot one thing.”

  I asked, “What?”

  “We forgot about credit. We didn’t have a credit system worked out for people to buy them. Not everyone buys things cash like you do. We did meet another guy in the Custom Harley world who is going to help us shore up that end of things. His business name for his custom Harleys is Iron Horse. We are opening up a shop together in a dealership in Irvine. We’re going to be right across from a B.M.W. dealership. We’ll have our two Custom Creation Harleys on the show room floor on pedestals. I’m confident they will sell within the month now that we have a credit system in place to document everything legitimately.”

  I got off the phone and wondered where I stood with Mr. Dudley now that he had another partner. I pulled over at the exit Bob told me his house was at and stopped at an In and Out Burger. While waiting for my order I saw a Crown Victoria with double tinted windows cruising by slowly. At first glance I thought it was an undercover cop. Then, I noticed the vehicle was slightly lowered, and it had deep dish rims that gave it a gangster look. I couldn’t see through the blacked out tint, but I got the impression there were a couple of neighborhood gangsters inside the vehicle. It felt like they were studying the area. I got my order and drove a street away to where Bob lived and ended up behind the Crown Victoria.

  It stopped in front of Bob’s. I watched a short Chicano get out of the passenger seat. I pulled over a few houses behind them. The Chicano looked about 25 years old; he was wearing a Pechuco gangster pin stripe suit. He looked straight at me so I popped the hood of the Festiva and got out like I was checking the oil. I stopped looking at him while he was at Bob’s gate and grabbed my SKS gun I had hidden by the battery and put it along the waist of my pants so
my shirt could cover it. I got back in the Festiva and saw Bob letting the gangster in the front door. The Crown Victoria was driving away. I pulled up to where it had just left. It felt like the gangster had an arranged meeting with Bob but I wasn’t sure. I got out and followed my instincts.

  I hopped the waist high gate and managed not to lose my piece tucked against my waist by flexing my stomach muscles to hold it in place. Then, I walked toward the front door and decided to pick up a hose off to the left. I turned the water on full blast and began watering the part of the yard that had dirt. I knew that hopping the gate made enough noise for Bob and the other guy to hear and I knew that turning on the water would also alert them to my presence. I looked around the front yard to examine the angles best suited for watering and kept an eye on things. Inside the gate was a circular drive way that fit about four cars if you parked them in line. From where I was with the hose there was about that much more room where a large tree sat in the middle of a bunch of dirt. I found the angles to water from so I could see Bob’s front door and the entrance to his street I’d just driven.

  A few minutes later the front door opened. I kept watering from my post and noticed the Crown Victoria had circled back and was driving back toward Bob’s. The gangster looked at me and nodded and walked with Bob to his gate. Bob opened the gate and I watched the gangster duck his head into the passenger seat.

  Bob walked back while I turned the hose off and we went inside. The first thing I did was check his new residence out. I wanted to know what the escape routes were like. Upon entering I noticed the front yard was twice the size of the house. It was a one bedroom. From the front door I saw the entire one story structure. The living room was as soon as you stepped in, a bathroom and the bedroom was off to the right, the kitchen was straight ahead. I walked to the kitchen and looked out the window to check out the back yard. It was pretty small. I could see that if you hopped Bob’s backyard fence you’d be in another back yard that fronted the next street. From there you could get to the next street I assumed the Crown Victoria had circled.