Charlie Brown
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- Joined
- Feb 5, 2014
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This is an excerpt from my life back when I was shooting speed balls (which we called Belushi’s) religiously and doing crime at every available opportunity. Enjoy!
I’d been released from the hospital after having surgery on my knee from an abscess which came about by shooting dope. They’d let me go with a prescription for the anti-nausea medication Promethazine and another for a strong pain medication Dilaudid. Although I’ve been red flagged at every hospital as drug seeking due to exactly that, seeking drugs, I always seem to make it out with some sort of opiate prescription. I didn’t get many Dilaudid pills, only twenty, but I’d get a decent price for them by trading straight across for dope or selling them and buying some with the profits. I started my trek toward downtown Portland, it was only 15 minutes away but it took me a bit longer after shooting nearly half my pills in the bathroom at the hospital and slowing down some. The first person I saw as I crossed over the freeway overpass into downtown was someone I knew, and who also happened to sell heroin. I immediately pitched my pills to Johnny as I approached. I told him I’d give him eight of my pills for two of his bags, I think he said something like, “Yeah, my girlfriend’ll love ‘em.” Score!
I walked until I found one of my spots to do a shot, a nook up under the freeway overpass. While there I took four of my Promethazine and proceeded to swerve down to Fifth Ave. to catch a bus about 20 miles outside of Portland, my sister was living there with my dad. I hadn’t talked to my father in years at the time and he never would have allowed me to stay in his house, my sister would let me in through her window and and sleep in her bed. Turned out that evening would be the first time she’d seen me with drugs. She knew I was on them, just had never seen me actually doing them. I’d been in the bathroom cooking a shot for about 15 minutes by the time she barged in on me. I had my spoon laid out full of the murky tan fluid I was getting ready to indulge in, a needle already full of the other half of my shit. She said, “Fuck you.” and walked away. At the time I payed no mind to the whole situation and went on as if nothing had happened, but now I feel the pain she was experiencing as she watched me tear my life and my body apart.
After finishing off all my drugs I decided it was time to go out and hit some houses for money. I was hallucinating proper by then and had started to talk to one of my dads old friends, Lonnie, who was actually in jail at the time as he darted around the back yard trying to hide from everyone but me in the house. I gathered up my supplies; a hammer, empty backpack, flashlight, child sized mountain bike. On my way out through the backyard Larry waited at the gate for me, he started encouraging me, egging me on. I was about to break into a business and steal the small black safe off the wall in the store. I’d scoped it out early in the day, all I’d have to do was pry the box off the wall and take off with it. I thought I had it all figured out anyway. I got there and parked my bike next to the back door. The door was weak, just plexi-glass with wooden slats going through it both horizontally and vertically creating a grid of plastic glass squares. I punched the hammer though one square and reached the handle to open the door. I pushed it closed behind me and for some reason forgot all about the safe and went straight to the cash register. I lifted and shook it to see if anything was inside, there was definitely something in there so I turned it on and tried to get it to open. Every twinkle of light in the shop was amplified at me in my hallucinatory haze and could hear people in the back doing dishes and talking. Then the burglar alarm started squealing at me, ‘fuck, I gotta go.’
I lifted the register up ripping the power cord out of the wall and turned to leave, I’d rest the register on the handlebars riding slowly until I found a safe spot to open it. When I reached the back door my heart jumped, the door opened inward. I thought about setting it down to open the door but instead sped up and put my shoulder through it. I managed to balance it on the bike and ride away. Police were flying down both streets adjacent to mine but not the one I was on. I unloaded the register at a nearby park and started to pry on the drawer with no luck. It must have taken two hours of slamming, smashing, kicking, and prying on the thing before it opened. I jammed all the money including tons of change in to my pockets and walked the bike the rest of the way back. I walked into the back of my dads house and started counting the money. $115.xx was all it came out to be. I rode the rest of the night out with Benadryl, Nyquil, and more Promethazine. Larry hid under a pile of clean towels for the rest of the night and we chatted. He was hiding because my dad never would have allowed him in. I was trying to go to sleep and he wouldn’t shut up so I told him to go to bed. I still haven’t seen Lonnie since but I’d love to tell him about the time he was a willing accomplice to my crimes as he stowed away in my dads house with me.
The next morning I woke up and decided to go to Portland as early as possible. I’d be deathly ill if I didn’t get some dope soon. Before leaving I ate more of the Benadryl, Nyquil, and Promethazine. Then, in the early hours of the morning walked across town car prowling in peoples driveways. After a while I found and old Ford pick-up truck in the parking lot of a restaurant with its window open. I hopped right in and without reality in my head started the truck and lit up a cigarette I found inside. I drove about three blocks before I realized the truck was seriously fucked up and might not even get me all the way to Portland. In the middle of a four-way intersection in a residential neighborhood I got out and started walking to find another suitable car. It didn’t take long, I got inside a brand new Toyota 4-runner, the keys were in it, and it was full of gas. Off I went. Somewhere along the highway I woke up to the car next to me honking its horn and motioning for me to pull off the road, I did just that. After stopping for a few minutes to regroup I started off again, only along the back roads this time. When I’d gotten downtown I found the first Parking space available and pulled in. I spent most of the day getting high and hustling up more money before heading back to my sisters to grab some things and return to Portland. I was still eating all my pills so the journey to my sisters and then back to Portland isn’t memorable to me whatsoever. I do know that I wiped the entire car down with wet wipes you get at the grocery store for carts, ditched the car and rode a bus back.
I woke up in the following morning to the sounds of Portland State University students walking around on campus. I was in one of my spots near the Soccer field/track. I rolled over to cook my dope up before heading out when a buddy of mine walked over to me from another area. He wanted to go to the airport to spange for money. The airport has always been good to me so I agreed to go and split my shot with him. We took the twenty minute MAX Train ride out there and after twenty minutes and making only ten bucks a security guard kicked me out. I didn’t know where my friend was so I walked outside to raid the ashtrays. I’d been smoking a few minutes when A Sheriff walked up to me and said I need to be inside one of the designated smoking areas inside the painted lines. As I walked away the sheriff said, “Hey are you even old enough to smoke?” being 20 years old and looking like a 16 year old junkie always comes back to bite you in the ass. I turned and said, “Yeah, I’m 20.” Then the worst possible thing happened, she asked for my ID. I had warrants out of three different counties in Oregon and they all bordered each other, Multnomah county (Portland) was one of them. When she figured out who I was I was fucked, I’d be going on a statewide tour of the county jails. I told her I didn’t have ID and she started writing down the info I gave her. I’d been released from Prison eight months prior to this and I wasn’t ready to go back yet so as soon as she was done I scampered away saying I needed to grab my backpack from around the corner. As soon as I was out of sight I bolted for the MAX Train to hide inside, I thought about running down the tracks but figured I’d be spotted for sure so I ducked down behind a seat waiting for the train to leave but it just stayed there.
“James Griffin! Come out now!” I peaked my head up to the window to see cops at all entrances with guns pointing inside. I was fucked, I stood up to see one cop on the train, at first he didn’t notice me but as soon as he did he pointed his gun at me screaming to get on the floor. I followed his directions and laid down. I think this was the moment I lost my mind. I was taken to Multnomah county jail in downtown Portland. While there they gave a my medications from the hospital which were high doses of Promethazine, I stayed pretty loopy. I was transferred to Inverness jail in Hillsboro, OR the next day. There I had video court, they decided to PR (Personal Recognizance), basically me promising to come back to court if released. But I wouldn’t be released, I still had warrants in the next county over, I was going to Washington County jail in Tigard, OR next. Before that I had to go over to the transport hub at Marion county jail in Salem, OR. Once in Washington county I was placed in the medical unit due to my withdrawls. This is where it gets a little fucked up. The protocol in most jails is to medicate the hell out of inmates that are withdrawing, that included Promethazine. So someone fucked up and added another dose of the anti-nausea medication, doubling my dose. My brain started playing fucked off tricks on me. I’d fall asleep and wake up every hour looking for my backpack or shot of dope I’d just got ready. I’d ask my celly where my shit was while tearing my bunk up and and eventually passing back out. At one point I could hear my dad talking to the cops around the corner from my cell, he was describing some of the exact cars I’d stolen over the last month. I was devastated, I’d never get out. I began harassing the cops trying to figure out what he’d told them.
I guess I went to court at some point because I was told I was going back on transport to Yamhill county jail in McMinnville, OR. That court had also agreed to release me if I promised to return. Yamhill county is quite a blur. Both my anti-nausea meds followed me there and I didn’t argue with it. I remember looking at myself in the mirrored window that the guards could see in but we couldn’t see out. I thought I looked like a dying cancer patient. There is nothing right about a man that weighs 105 pounds who should be carrying around 160 pounds usually. I was sick, depressed, and hating every piece of myself. I vowed not to use drugs again when I go out. I got called out for a phone call with the judge unexpectedly one afternoon. I knew it would be to determine if I should be released. I made myself sound as good as possible, telling the judge I had a permanent address nearby, and that I didn’t plan on going anywhere. I am still in disbelief that he had let me go as well as two other counties although I have many failure to appear in court citations. In any case I was out the door the same day. Me and another man were released together and we hitchhiked to the next town heading to Portland, from there we found one of his friends and got a ride to where he was going and where I could catch a bus to Portland.
My crime-spree continued until I went back up to Seattle. I spent a few months on the streets there and eventually landed myself in prison again.
I’d been released from the hospital after having surgery on my knee from an abscess which came about by shooting dope. They’d let me go with a prescription for the anti-nausea medication Promethazine and another for a strong pain medication Dilaudid. Although I’ve been red flagged at every hospital as drug seeking due to exactly that, seeking drugs, I always seem to make it out with some sort of opiate prescription. I didn’t get many Dilaudid pills, only twenty, but I’d get a decent price for them by trading straight across for dope or selling them and buying some with the profits. I started my trek toward downtown Portland, it was only 15 minutes away but it took me a bit longer after shooting nearly half my pills in the bathroom at the hospital and slowing down some. The first person I saw as I crossed over the freeway overpass into downtown was someone I knew, and who also happened to sell heroin. I immediately pitched my pills to Johnny as I approached. I told him I’d give him eight of my pills for two of his bags, I think he said something like, “Yeah, my girlfriend’ll love ‘em.” Score!
I walked until I found one of my spots to do a shot, a nook up under the freeway overpass. While there I took four of my Promethazine and proceeded to swerve down to Fifth Ave. to catch a bus about 20 miles outside of Portland, my sister was living there with my dad. I hadn’t talked to my father in years at the time and he never would have allowed me to stay in his house, my sister would let me in through her window and and sleep in her bed. Turned out that evening would be the first time she’d seen me with drugs. She knew I was on them, just had never seen me actually doing them. I’d been in the bathroom cooking a shot for about 15 minutes by the time she barged in on me. I had my spoon laid out full of the murky tan fluid I was getting ready to indulge in, a needle already full of the other half of my shit. She said, “Fuck you.” and walked away. At the time I payed no mind to the whole situation and went on as if nothing had happened, but now I feel the pain she was experiencing as she watched me tear my life and my body apart.
After finishing off all my drugs I decided it was time to go out and hit some houses for money. I was hallucinating proper by then and had started to talk to one of my dads old friends, Lonnie, who was actually in jail at the time as he darted around the back yard trying to hide from everyone but me in the house. I gathered up my supplies; a hammer, empty backpack, flashlight, child sized mountain bike. On my way out through the backyard Larry waited at the gate for me, he started encouraging me, egging me on. I was about to break into a business and steal the small black safe off the wall in the store. I’d scoped it out early in the day, all I’d have to do was pry the box off the wall and take off with it. I thought I had it all figured out anyway. I got there and parked my bike next to the back door. The door was weak, just plexi-glass with wooden slats going through it both horizontally and vertically creating a grid of plastic glass squares. I punched the hammer though one square and reached the handle to open the door. I pushed it closed behind me and for some reason forgot all about the safe and went straight to the cash register. I lifted and shook it to see if anything was inside, there was definitely something in there so I turned it on and tried to get it to open. Every twinkle of light in the shop was amplified at me in my hallucinatory haze and could hear people in the back doing dishes and talking. Then the burglar alarm started squealing at me, ‘fuck, I gotta go.’
I lifted the register up ripping the power cord out of the wall and turned to leave, I’d rest the register on the handlebars riding slowly until I found a safe spot to open it. When I reached the back door my heart jumped, the door opened inward. I thought about setting it down to open the door but instead sped up and put my shoulder through it. I managed to balance it on the bike and ride away. Police were flying down both streets adjacent to mine but not the one I was on. I unloaded the register at a nearby park and started to pry on the drawer with no luck. It must have taken two hours of slamming, smashing, kicking, and prying on the thing before it opened. I jammed all the money including tons of change in to my pockets and walked the bike the rest of the way back. I walked into the back of my dads house and started counting the money. $115.xx was all it came out to be. I rode the rest of the night out with Benadryl, Nyquil, and more Promethazine. Larry hid under a pile of clean towels for the rest of the night and we chatted. He was hiding because my dad never would have allowed him in. I was trying to go to sleep and he wouldn’t shut up so I told him to go to bed. I still haven’t seen Lonnie since but I’d love to tell him about the time he was a willing accomplice to my crimes as he stowed away in my dads house with me.
The next morning I woke up and decided to go to Portland as early as possible. I’d be deathly ill if I didn’t get some dope soon. Before leaving I ate more of the Benadryl, Nyquil, and Promethazine. Then, in the early hours of the morning walked across town car prowling in peoples driveways. After a while I found and old Ford pick-up truck in the parking lot of a restaurant with its window open. I hopped right in and without reality in my head started the truck and lit up a cigarette I found inside. I drove about three blocks before I realized the truck was seriously fucked up and might not even get me all the way to Portland. In the middle of a four-way intersection in a residential neighborhood I got out and started walking to find another suitable car. It didn’t take long, I got inside a brand new Toyota 4-runner, the keys were in it, and it was full of gas. Off I went. Somewhere along the highway I woke up to the car next to me honking its horn and motioning for me to pull off the road, I did just that. After stopping for a few minutes to regroup I started off again, only along the back roads this time. When I’d gotten downtown I found the first Parking space available and pulled in. I spent most of the day getting high and hustling up more money before heading back to my sisters to grab some things and return to Portland. I was still eating all my pills so the journey to my sisters and then back to Portland isn’t memorable to me whatsoever. I do know that I wiped the entire car down with wet wipes you get at the grocery store for carts, ditched the car and rode a bus back.
I woke up in the following morning to the sounds of Portland State University students walking around on campus. I was in one of my spots near the Soccer field/track. I rolled over to cook my dope up before heading out when a buddy of mine walked over to me from another area. He wanted to go to the airport to spange for money. The airport has always been good to me so I agreed to go and split my shot with him. We took the twenty minute MAX Train ride out there and after twenty minutes and making only ten bucks a security guard kicked me out. I didn’t know where my friend was so I walked outside to raid the ashtrays. I’d been smoking a few minutes when A Sheriff walked up to me and said I need to be inside one of the designated smoking areas inside the painted lines. As I walked away the sheriff said, “Hey are you even old enough to smoke?” being 20 years old and looking like a 16 year old junkie always comes back to bite you in the ass. I turned and said, “Yeah, I’m 20.” Then the worst possible thing happened, she asked for my ID. I had warrants out of three different counties in Oregon and they all bordered each other, Multnomah county (Portland) was one of them. When she figured out who I was I was fucked, I’d be going on a statewide tour of the county jails. I told her I didn’t have ID and she started writing down the info I gave her. I’d been released from Prison eight months prior to this and I wasn’t ready to go back yet so as soon as she was done I scampered away saying I needed to grab my backpack from around the corner. As soon as I was out of sight I bolted for the MAX Train to hide inside, I thought about running down the tracks but figured I’d be spotted for sure so I ducked down behind a seat waiting for the train to leave but it just stayed there.
“James Griffin! Come out now!” I peaked my head up to the window to see cops at all entrances with guns pointing inside. I was fucked, I stood up to see one cop on the train, at first he didn’t notice me but as soon as he did he pointed his gun at me screaming to get on the floor. I followed his directions and laid down. I think this was the moment I lost my mind. I was taken to Multnomah county jail in downtown Portland. While there they gave a my medications from the hospital which were high doses of Promethazine, I stayed pretty loopy. I was transferred to Inverness jail in Hillsboro, OR the next day. There I had video court, they decided to PR (Personal Recognizance), basically me promising to come back to court if released. But I wouldn’t be released, I still had warrants in the next county over, I was going to Washington County jail in Tigard, OR next. Before that I had to go over to the transport hub at Marion county jail in Salem, OR. Once in Washington county I was placed in the medical unit due to my withdrawls. This is where it gets a little fucked up. The protocol in most jails is to medicate the hell out of inmates that are withdrawing, that included Promethazine. So someone fucked up and added another dose of the anti-nausea medication, doubling my dose. My brain started playing fucked off tricks on me. I’d fall asleep and wake up every hour looking for my backpack or shot of dope I’d just got ready. I’d ask my celly where my shit was while tearing my bunk up and and eventually passing back out. At one point I could hear my dad talking to the cops around the corner from my cell, he was describing some of the exact cars I’d stolen over the last month. I was devastated, I’d never get out. I began harassing the cops trying to figure out what he’d told them.
I guess I went to court at some point because I was told I was going back on transport to Yamhill county jail in McMinnville, OR. That court had also agreed to release me if I promised to return. Yamhill county is quite a blur. Both my anti-nausea meds followed me there and I didn’t argue with it. I remember looking at myself in the mirrored window that the guards could see in but we couldn’t see out. I thought I looked like a dying cancer patient. There is nothing right about a man that weighs 105 pounds who should be carrying around 160 pounds usually. I was sick, depressed, and hating every piece of myself. I vowed not to use drugs again when I go out. I got called out for a phone call with the judge unexpectedly one afternoon. I knew it would be to determine if I should be released. I made myself sound as good as possible, telling the judge I had a permanent address nearby, and that I didn’t plan on going anywhere. I am still in disbelief that he had let me go as well as two other counties although I have many failure to appear in court citations. In any case I was out the door the same day. Me and another man were released together and we hitchhiked to the next town heading to Portland, from there we found one of his friends and got a ride to where he was going and where I could catch a bus to Portland.
My crime-spree continued until I went back up to Seattle. I spent a few months on the streets there and eventually landed myself in prison again.
