ROLL CALL ~ A Prison List (True Prison Story)

by Glenn Langohr

  Screwball asked, “How did that go?”

  “It went well. I studied Mr. Heimrick and got the impression he was good people with compassion and an open mind. He looked at me like I had surprised him with what I’d said. Then he thought about it and came back with a loaded question I realized was going to determine how he initially viewed me. He asked, ‘so you’re telling me that you were completely innocent and shouldn’t have gone to prison?’ I spent the next half an hour explaining my life in a nut shell. Mr. Heimrick looked like he was surprised at the amount of honesty I gave him. He admitted to me that a detective he had a lot of respect for confided in him that he didn’t believe a lot of what was written about me pertaining to my custom Harley investment with Mr. Dudley. I remembered detective Maltobano’s report.”

  Screwball said, “It sounds like you got really blessed to get a good parole officer.”

  “I got blessed big time. He even asked me if I was going to be okay living with my Dad with our checkered history? I told him I didn’t know but that I had thrown my Dad an olive branch by telling him that I was too young to acknowledge how much it must have hurt to lose our Mom when they got divorced. Mr. Heimrick asked me how that went and I told him it only got a grunt out of my Dad. Mr. Heimrick then admitted to me that he’d lived through a similar childhood divorce and barely made it himself. I felt so blessed having such a caring man for a parole officer that I started crying, praying and thanking God right in front of him. It looked like he realized he wasn’t supposed to get that personal and got professional. He told me that there was some really bad stuff in my file that would be following me for the rest of my life and that I should fill my time working as much as possible and stay under a rock and out of the mix.”

  Screwball said, “So you got off to a good start. Whatever happened to Vince and Damon? Did you hook back up with them?”

  “Yeah, I did, I’ll tell you the rest of the story as if it happened in a movie.”

  CHAPTER 130

  I was living at my Dad’s house in Dana Point with my brother. It felt weird after all we’d lived through to be back in our Dad’s house. My brother had started an auto detailing business and was at the top of his field in his territory. He had a rich clientele and dialed in exotic cars in exotic gated communities. He was doing well for himself and I was proud of him. I, on the other hand didn’t know what I was going to do. I wanted to follow my parole officer’s advice and busy myself with so much work that there wouldn’t be time for anything else. I just didn’t know where to start.

  One morning, feeling out of place and uncomfortable in my Dad’s house, I sat at the kitchen table trying to figure out what to do with my life. My brother dropped the yellow pages in front of me and said, “Find a business you can see yourself doing better than the competition. Then imagine yourself advertising it better until you come up with a business name and a philosophy. Then roll the dice.”

  I liked the advice and started looking.

  My Dad came down stairs and had a scowl on his face. He’s got black thinning hair and those blood shot eyes with those veins running through a bulbous nose giving him the look of a heavy alcoholic. He had stopped drinking but hadn’t changed his competitive ways where he had to put you down so he could feel better about himself, though. He walked to where I had to look at him studying me and asked me a question, like my answer was going to decide how he felt about me.

  “What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? What kind of job or vocation are you going to spend your time on?”

  I looked at my Dad and wondered what he wanted me to say. I didn’t have any idea what kind of job or vocation I could get involved in. I didn’t know if I’d even make it living at his house from one day to the next. I decided to test the waters and told him, “I’ve decided I want to be an attorney and study law.”

  My Dad looked shocked. I knew he looked up to lawyers and doctors so my answer couldn’t disappoint him. I watched him manufacture a reason this wasn’t a good idea.

  “I don’t think you can be a lawyer with your record. Plus that would cost a lot of money and schooling. I think you should shoot for something more realistic.”

  I just stared at him and wondered how he could expect me to come up with something on the spot. He filled in the rest of his mood with words.

  “I have some rules you have to abide by to live here. You are to pay me $350 a month in rent, keep a 40 hour a week job and go to church every Sunday. There’s a church that is just starting this Sunday in the movie theater down the street. You’re to go.”

  My brother stepped in on my behalf. “Dad, why don’t you leave him alone? He has enough pressure to deal with getting acclimated from being locked in a cell for five plus years. Give him some room to breathe!”

  I watched my Dad’s face turn red and remembered that temper. He yelled at my brother, “You’re not much better than your brother. You’re just a glorified car washer! What are you, a white Mexican?”

  I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. My skin was crawling and impulses were flying through my veins with memories. I told myself, I’m not getting involved and playing the hero! That turned into a lonely road going nowhere.

  My brother responded while walking out of the house, “Like you should talk! You’re still throwing a paper route!”

  My brother slammed the door and left me sitting at the table looking at my Dad’s scowling face. I thought about it and said, “Dad, why don’t you realize how blessed you are to have such good kids. We’re your own flesh and blood. Why would you want to put us down, rather than have a blessed life together full of good memories?”

  My Dad looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language and said, “Remember those rules to live here.”

  I watched him leave and decided I needed to take a walk.

  I walked to the supermarket and wondered why I was so resistant to go to the church he was forcing me to go to. I thought, I have a strong faith in Jesus, I believe in the Holy Spirit and Guardian Angels, so why am I so resistant.

  I picked up a protein bar and paid for it. Then I felt someone staring at me and turned in that direction. It was the late Mr. Dudley’s daughter, Shana. I remembered her on the stand contradicting what detective Pincher wrote in his report and actually helping me. I waved at her to show her I didn’t hold any animosity and she took off in a rush. I walked back to my Dad’s house and wondered what the ripple effect of that encounter would be.

  An hour later at my Dad’s house I got a phone call from the late Mr. Dudley’s son, Brock.

  “So B.J. you’re back out huh… Do you want your territory back? Are you going to claim it again?”

  I heard other people in the back ground and assumed they were tape recording the conversation. I responded, “I’m not going to get caught up in any of that stuff. I just want to enjoy the blessing of being free where I can go to the beach and see all of this beauty. I don’t want to go back to the concrete jungles in prison.”

  Brock didn’t sound happy with my answer. He said, “I’m going to get you sent back to prison where you belong!”

  Then I heard the dial tone.

  I made some phone calls and found out that Brock had hooked up with a couple of pretty big drug dealers who seemed to have a free pass to deal because they were informants. One owned a clothing company and the other was a big club scene promoter. I got off the phone frustrated with our system. They could say whatever they wanted to put law enforcement to work for them.

  CHAPTER 131

  I talked to my Dad about it and explained what I was facing.

  He responded, “As long as you’re not doing anything wrong they shouldn’t be able to mess with you.”

  The next morning I heard a bunch of vehicles pull up out front and saw they were undercover units. I saw detective Pincher leading the charge with six other plain clothed detectives and my parole officer.

  I opened the front door and detective Pincher stepped in.

  �
�Hands behind your back Benny, you know the position.”

  One of the other detectives grabbed my arms and put handcuffs on me. I tried to look at my parole officer to see what was going on and detective Pincher filled me in.

  “Benny, I’m with the gang task force now but still help the narcotic detectives. You’re under investigation. Where is your room?”

  I got escorted up the stairs to my room and watched the detectives search the room. I only had one drawer of clothing. Nothing else in the room was mine. The rest of the stuff in the room was my sister’s, my late grandmother’s and my father’s. I told this to detective Pincher and he looked disappointed.

  My parole officer and my Dad made it into my room and I asked my parole officer, “What am I being investigated for?”

  He looked at me like I was naïve for asking a question he couldn’t answer. I watched my room get tossed up and studied detective Pincher. It looked like he wanted to take the search elsewhere. He looked at my Dad and decided against it. As fast as they entered I watched them leave, except for my parole officer.

  He stayed behind and told me, “Somebody called in and said you threatened them and said you wanted your territory back.”

  “So anyone can make a call to you guys and get me sent back to prison?”

  My parole officer nodded his head that it was so and said, “They also said that you had drugs in your room so their credibility has been weakened.”

  I followed my parole officer outside and saw my Dad shaking detective Pincher’s hand.

  CHAPTER 132

  Sunday came and I walked to the movie theater church. I walked through the parking lot and saw a man standing in front of the theater.

  “You look lost young man.”

  “I am. I’m looking for the new church.”

  “It’s right this way.”

  The usher showed me the way. One of the theaters was set up for church. I sat in the back row and noticed there were only about 25 people scattered in the chairs in front of me. There was a choir set up on the stage. They started singing “Amazing Grace” and I felt the power of the Holy Spirit washing over me. I studied the beautiful people singing such pure praises and tried to add my voice with the “Wretch like me” part and felt my voice cracking. The next song was just as pure and I felt anguish I didn’t know I had stored up washing out of me and felt the tears streaming down my face. Another beautiful song later and I was choking on even more emotions I didn’t know needed to be released.

  The preacher walked out next and introduced himself as Joe Venterella. He had a meek posture and a gentle spirit. I wondered how he could possibly know the depth of the spiritual war of Good against evil that I’d seen and lived. Then he started speaking

  “God use me as a utensil to get the word out to this flock of your children gathered here. I can feel that someone in the congregation needs to hear some encouragement.”

  Tears flooded my eyes again as I listened to him talk of how chaotic the world was in these times we were living in. He painted a picture of the world the same way I saw it. He spoke of how much hypocrisy we see every time we turn on the news. Maybe he did know. He prayed.

  “Lord, help us to not get caught up in this world, with the popularity contest going on, where we have to be someone else to fit in and lose ourselves in the process. Don’t let us become cookie cutter images of everyone else to try and find meaning in this world. Lord, I ask you to give us the strength to just be ourselves, to find the person deep inside of us that you want us to be, help us to break down the strong holds Satan uses against us to keep us from you, give us the strength to take on things we’ve been afraid to. We ask that you give us enough faith to be bold to face these fears and put one foot in front of the other so we can build up the Momentum to get through these obstacles our minds have built against us.”

  The preacher had us bow our heads in prayer. When he was finished I started praying to God, Lord I know everything happens for a reason… But I can’t understand it. I don’t know what you want me to do. I feel like I’m hanging on to my freedom by a thread and I don’t know which way you want me to go. I know you’ve been right there with me this whole time and I’ve been too focused on my own will to acknowledge yours in time. I have noticed it in hindsight and I have noticed all of the Guardian Angels you’ve had protect me through the darkest hours. Show me where You want me to go from here…”

  As soon as I was done with my prayer I felt the power of the Holy Spirit urging me to get up, I felt so much love and protection surrounding me it was like there was a host of Guardian Angels surrounding me, urging me to get up. I wondered what they wanted me to do? I imagined myself getting up and walking to the preacher. What would I do then? It felt like if I would have followed those urges, God would have handled the rest. He probably would have had me just lay my head down and weep that I needed to be a slave of Jesus, rather than a slave to my sinful nature. Instead, I examined those urges and saw my will trying to explain myself to the preacher. I imagined what I’d say, ‘Preacher, I just got out of prison, I don’t know how I’m going to stay free with all of these obstacles in my way but I know the war of Good against evil! Utilize me for Good before I get caught up in surviving this world!’

  I knew this was the Truth flowing from my heart and I knew I needed to go up there and say it!

  I felt myself on the verge of getting up. I hesitated. I saw a vision from my past where I’d felt urges this strong. In my brother’s apartment when I felt the urge to flush the rest of my speed down the toilet! I knew I must be at the same significant crossroad I was then and almost got up. Again, I hesitated. I listened to another voice tell me, “You can’t go up there to the preacher! You’d be disrespecting his service! You’d go up there and make a fool of yourself! He doesn’t want you up there!”

  The Moment passed. I knew, deep in my soul, that I wasn’t done struggling. The preacher spoke again.

  “This is our first service together and I have to tell you I’ve agonized over what to say to you because I want it to be perfect. My wife helped me out and just told me to be myself. To give you an idea of what I’m like, I am just a humble servant of God and my story is a meek one. I have a terrible sense of direction and get lost really easy. I can park in a large parking lot at the mall or a stadium and forget where I parked and walk around lost for hours trying to find my car. I get so caught up in this world trying to figure it out, that I drive my car on cruise control and don’t pay enough attention to where I’m going, and get lost really easily. Sometimes all of my insecurities seem to bind me and overwhelm me with indecision to the point I freeze up with anxiety. When my mind runs away like this I have to pray to God and put it in his Hands. Once I do that, I feel free enough to let go and actually get moving. With my mind free, I can do things like get directions to where I’m going and take things one step at a time. The amazing thing is that once you put it in God’s Hands with prayer and get bold enough to get moving, you realize it’s a lot easier than you thought. Once you get moving and start getting things done, give the credit to God.”

  I left the service feeling like every word the preacher spoke was meant for me. I knew what he meant about a poor sense of direction, getting easily distracted and getting lost. The story of my life. I walked out of the movie theater and thought about the yellow pages I’d looked through. The section that advertised Limo’s and Town cars had caught my eye. I had envisioned myself doing it but stopped the Momentum because of my bad sense of direction. I thought about what the preacher said about being bold and facing your fears. Then I saw my friend Joe Costello, who I hadn’t seen in five years, in front of a coffee shop.

  CHAPTER 133

  I remembered how my brother and I had met Joe surfing all those years ago. We soon learned he was a jack of all trades. He shaped surf boards, built and installed stereo systems and renovated houses. He was originally from Philadelphia and his only vice was drinking; his strength was he was a true friend. He was sittin
g at a table looking the same as always with a bald head, brown eyes and a five o’clock shadow goatee. He saw me and his face lit up in a big smile. I gave him a big hug. Then I filled him in on my status.

  Joe smiled with his entire face. Then he thought about things. Then he came up with a lot of solutions.

  “Benny. I know you’ve got some money saved up from your past don’t you.”

  “Most of it went to attorneys. I spent $15,000 on mine and $5,000 on my partner’s. I’ve got a little left.”

  “Put a thousand of it in the bank and ask for it to back up a secured credit card. That way you’ll be on the credit radar. I’m going to teach you some stuff about credit that, if you would have known when you were balling out of control, you would have been able to start that mechanic shop with Paul and bought yourself a house. After you use your secured credit card for about three months you’ll start getting applications for other credit cards. Study the offers and get one of them. Then after another three months of paying them both off on time, try getting a Sears card. For some reason that gives you some status with the credit companies and the ball will be rolling for you to start your limo business.”