I drove with these thoughts torturing my vision, and passed Oceanside, and then Carlsbad. Why did my life always steer back toward mind altering substances? How did the progression get so out of control to the point that this time, the first dabble of temptation, was a half a million dollars worth of opportunity. I could feel the money in my hands. Veto’s way for me to sneak the dope through the border was full proof. The cartel he worked with had a stretch of properties along the border past the point of border agents. It was remote and easy. Too easy.
For the next 20 minutes I couldn’t stop seeing myself cross the border with the dope. I could taste it literally. My central nervous system sparked, I was getting high thinking about it, I had to use the bathroom and wouldn’t pull over. My teeth were clamped; my hands were shaking, I was at the edge of a decision and the point of no return.
I snapped out of it and shook my head against my own thoughts. I looked out the window and realized I had been stuck staring strictly at my lane. I was almost to Mexico and I had to take a break from the torment of my thoughts so I looked at the radio. I turned it on for the first time. Nothing but static. I hit the seek button to find a station and it went through the whole dial. I did it again. At the end of the dial 107.9 came in clearly this time. I hit seek again and the same thing happened. I listened. It was a Christian station. A deep caring voice said, 'For God so Loved the World that He Sent His Only Begotten Son that whoever Believeth Shall Not Perish but Have Eternal Life.' That word Believeth means in the old language to believe in something so deeply that you be-live it. Just take the e out. The passage continues to explain that God is the perfect judge who opposes evil and metes out justice with Wrath. Love and Wrath can coexist. If you love someone with the perfect Love of God then you risk yourself to save them. I find my protection from God in God!'
The sermon was over and the radio immediately sent static through the speakers. I hit seek and it went through the entire range of stations. Only static. I had to pull over. I saw a bridge overlooking a giant lake off the freeway and decided to stop.
I parked and stood at the lake. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I watched them hit the water 10 feet below. I realized I hadn't prayed in a while and gave myself to God from deep within. When I was finished I watched my tears again drop into the water. Then I noticed the water. It was lit by the moon and there were images I could make out. The first image was a cross. Then I noticed what looked like faces in a circle around the cross. I looked at each face to see if I could see deeper into them. The closest face to the cross was my mom's right beneath me where my tears were falling. I thought about Annette, having become my wife not too long ago. More tears fell and a wind picked up and scattered those tears and I imagined the wind was God breathing them where they were supposed to go. I tried to watch where they were going each time they fell and it started raining. The water beneath was accepting the rain and I felt a serenity so deep I knew everything was going to be okay. God was in control. I said good bye to my mom and felt a longing to be with my wife so I turned to go back to the Festiva. I looked at the huge oak tree behind it and realized it was the reason for the images over the water. Right in the middle of the powerful Oak tree the branches formed a perfect cross. The branches surrounding it circled it and made the faces on the water. The moon was at just the right angle and I knew I was in God's will
I got into Mexico and felt relief. My mind was made up. My vision was to turn what I’d been through into a blessing, and now it was time to have faith and let God do the rest. My soul felt good not worrying about the details of life. The worry led to the death and decay.
More pieces of my dream surfaced. I saw myself in Mexico as if I could fly. I didn’t have to worry about flapping wings or anything. I had complete control from an Ariel view and could see the border towns. In my dream it was so simple. To take our creativity in California and bring it to Mexico where we could manufacture product without the high cost. I would tell Bat no thank you, keep the dope.
I talked to Bat on the phone and followed directions to him. He said he’d be in a black Chrysler with a custom grill that looked like a Rolls Royce.
The Mexican food restaurant looked empty but Bat was there. He was in his car waiting for me. I pulled up and nodded my head.
He had his hat on backward and black square glasses leaning out the open window. “Follow me.”
I followed the back of the Chrysler and tried to stare through the black tinted window to see if anyone else was in the back seat. I couldn’t see anything, but had a bad feeling. The stretch of dirt road was barely one. If a vehicle was coming the other way one of the two vehicles would have to pull into the sage to let the other by. I tried to calm my self with level headed thinking. We are a couple hours into Mexico. It’s different here. It didn’t help. My energy was again spiking my central nervous system, this time not in an about to do dope and come up big state, in a survival, beware state.
Bat pulled over in front of me and I noticed a mound of dirt that looked like an ant hill for a second until his car blocked it. He got out and I got out as fast as I could. I needed to see his eyes and look into them.
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Bat drove to the grave wondering why do I feel so empty? That white boy looks like he can fight so it’s time to test myself. I always give another gangster a chance until I decide he doesn’t have it coming.
Bat watched B.J get out of the car too fast. He was on alert. His hands were empty. He walked like he had complete control of his balance in a powerful agile manner.
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I got to Bat and realized he was my height and the mirror image of my build. He looked explosive. His hands were big. His knuckles were boulders with scars. He was a fighter. He wasn’t offering his hand in normal greeting…something was wrong. I had to take the initiative to penetrate if he was going to make an attempt on my life.
“Take off those glasses so I can see your eyes.”
My adrenaline spiked so hard I almost unloaded my fist to get off first. I didn’t and it cost me. He obliged me by taking his glasses off but he threw them into the dirt and our eyes locked.
His eyes were black. They were void of compassion, but lost. I knew he had lived a hard life and sought death like I used to. I felt my lack of reaction cost me as my adrenaline subsided and his eyes brought it back.
Just before he threw his right hand his black eyes tightened and I threw my body backward but kept my hips and legs planted. His punch caught my chin while my upper body thrust back so the punch lost its true power. My hands came up and I turned my lower body and reared everything forward and fired a right hand missile and hit his jaw as square as possible. He should have dropped. It didn’t faze him and I felt both his fists pounding through my hands and start reaching my face. Somehow, I was backpedalling. He was overpowering me. He was going to kill me with his bare hands. Now I was practically running backwards and he forward and he was the only one punching. I was trying to block them with both my arms up in an elbow to elbow ready to fire but stuck mode. Desperate, I tried another tactic and stopped and tried to lock him up. It didn’t work. We both went to the ground with him on top of me. He was a grappler and somehow leveraged himself on top of me, locking his knees against my armpits to aim powerful, straight down punches into my face. I heard the punches and felt the back of my head smashing against the dirt and finally felt rage mix with panic. He was going to kill me if I didn’t kill him. My strength returned with fire and my left hand found an opening between his drilling punches and found his face. My thumb locked and I felt one of his eyes and clamped and yanked. I heard him scream and gouged my thumb deeper, and then hip threw him off me. We were both on our feet and Bat was blind in one eye filled with blood. Now I was the one punching but every chance I got I tried to reach the same eye and clamp again. My thumb made it but didn’t lock, it
tore past and I heard him scream again and felt my rage respond harder. I punched as straight as I could with right left, right left combinations like pistons and we stood each other up, grappled for a moment and tried to out punch each other. Our forearms locked and we grappled and bounced into his car and he slid on the side of it. I tried another hip throw and it didn’t work. He reacted by shifting his weight and controlled my momentum and I found myself thrown in the air with him on top of me again. I landed inside a hole and felt a body beneath me and realized instantly what that ant pile was. I was on top of a dead body and not meant to come back from Mexico. Bat was securely on top of me and grabbing my throat with one hand and firing punches into every part of my face and again I heard the landing thumps. Somehow, someway, I found the strength to hip throw him off me enough to scamper out of the hole in a panic. I was done fighting. I was running for my car. I got to it and jumped in grateful to see Bat watching still knee deep in the hole standing on the dead body. He actually waved to me with a half salute.
CHAPTER—52 HORSES
A dozen horses ran wild with unbridled freedom. The black Mustang was the first to notice the van with the orphans turning into the dirt road leading to the ranch. The white Mare noticed next and her powerful hindquarters began lunging in the same direction. She galloped to the fence behind the black Mustang already stopped watching. She lowered her neck to the powerful Mustang’s hindquarters in what looked like a kiss and then pranced a couple of paces to stand next to the Mustang.
Annette sat on my lap. I was sitting on what we’d just decided was our prayer tree. The roots were splayed out of the ground like fingers holding on to the earth and we were seated on a pillow on one of them. I had both my arms around Annette’s waist and was kissing the back and side of her neck.
She said, “That is the most gorgeous horse I’ve ever seen. Look at how powerful he is.”
As if on cue the black Mustang snorted and reared up in the air standing on his hind legs. I noticed how incredibly well hung he was. He looked ready for the Mare. I laughed, “I think he wants to bone again.”
Annette turned her face to kiss my lips and breathing into my mouth said, “I feel your boner straining against my back again mister. We’ve already had three remarkable explosions and you’re ready again.”
I kissed her and said, “You are my dream girl ballerina.”
She said, “Thank you God for letting my mom up there talk you into sending B.J into my path!”
Maltobano watched B.J and Annette and smiled at Bonafino. “I’m glad B.J didn’t do the drug run. There is a God. How much time do you think he will do?”
Bonafino said, “The California Prison Board will take B.J to Chino and process his violation within 45 days.”
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CHAPTER—53
“This is a California Prison Board violation hearing for Benny Johnson-prison number V-67777. We are recording this interview for posterity. My name is Lieutenant Jim Paulson. Here with me is the CC2, Andrea Adley and our secretary Denise Davidson. Benny Johnson it looks like you are dealing with 2 violations, one for not notifying your change of address to your parole agent who isn’t with us but sent a report, and also absconding from parole thereafter. What do you have to say?”
I took in the surroundings and took my time. I was handcuffed to a chair and wasn’t in a huge hurry. The Lieutenant and other employees of the prison system looked well fed. The last 45 days incarcerated had been easy. My wife wrote me daily and the good news kept rolling in. My novel Roll Call had sold over 100,000 copies, Bantam Publishing house took me under the wing and wanted the sequel. I was getting requests for interviews, speaking engagements, business propositions relating to the prison outreach that was now well underway but the best news of all; the ultra-sound showed a healthy two and a half month old baby girl. She looked like a ballerina already. I smiled at my wife as our eyes locked and didn’t let go. I responded to the Lieutenant, “I have only one thing to say…Through God anything is possible for you.”
The Pastors of our church were on both sides of my wife as well as Julie the shelter volunteer. They had been there for my wife every day in every way and that also made the last 45 days easy. It gave me time to finish the sequel and bounce a few more business ideas of redemption around inside my pea brain.
The Lieutenant said, “So you have nothing to say. I’ll ask the witnesses the same question.”
Julie the shelter employee was the first to speak. “He never left the shelter. I witnessed him living in it a few days after our volunteer wrongly told the parole officer he’d been kicked out. It was all just a misunderstanding.”
“Can you prove this?”
“Only with my word and some pictures and a sworn affidavit.”
The Lieutenant studied the pictures and read the affidavit and started laughing. “B.J did you really make a home underneath the shelter? Is this your entrance and exit point?”
I couldn’t help but laugh with him looking at the square I’d cut underneath the shelter to have access to PCH. I still didn’t say anything, just looked interested and amused.
The Lieutenant continued, “Well B.J even if we find you guilty of these 2 violations they are so petty you’re going home anyway. You do have to enter a plea for the record.
As if I was in court, “Not guilty your honor.”
It was my first violation hearing, I’d always caught cases.
The Lieutenant laughed again. Well you’re going home today a blessed man. I have to say the whole state has felt the power behind those postcards of inspiration you sent from that shelter. You see this piece of art from High Desert level 4, which happens to be the hardest core yard outside of the Pelican Bay SHU because when inmates finally get processed out from that particular SHU they go to the yard at High Desert.
I looked at Topo’s depiction of Sampson. The passionate man of God was standing in a prison cell with both arms pushing the bars so hard the rest of the building was falling around him. Above Sampson there was a cross with blood dripping where the empty nails used to be.
Upon Release From Prison Page 21