The Bankrobber I Knew - Part Four

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“If I were to attempt to be a successful bank robber,” Westley began over a couple of beers at the Wildside.  “I'd have to know the consequences.”

“The consequences?  You go to jail, right?”  I asked.

“Well, if you get caught, you go to jail.  But there's a lot of different kinds of jail and a lot of different kinds of sentences.  A smart bank robber would think that all the way through.  A smart bank robber would try to get the least sentence in the best prisons for the most robberies.”

“Wouldn't a smart bank robber just not get caught?” I asked.

“The law of averages, Rick.  Eventually even the best bank robber gets caught if he keeps doing it.”

Curious, I asked him, “Doesn't a good bank robber get enough money from a single robbery to get out of the country and live a nice life?”

“No. It's only in the movies that you get into the vault, hold hostages, get a big score and skip the border.  In the real world the key is just to get what's in a couple of cashier tills and get out before the cops show up.  The objective is to never be in a stand-off and never be in a chase.  How it's done is like this:

“First you pick your bank, then you get a room nearby and watch it for a couple of days.  You have to know how far the bank is from the police station for response times and you have to know how often a patrol car just comes driving by.  Usually you start looking at it around the tenth of the month or the twenty-fifth or twenty-sixth – right before federal paydays.  That's when the tills are stocked with the most cash. 

“Then on payday you watch the bank until a patrol drives by.  You wait a while and then walk in with a briefcase, put it on the counter, open it up to show the teller that it's an explosive device and then you show her the detonator in your hand so she can see you push the button. Then you say, 'if I release this button, it'll blow.'”

“A Bomb!  Westley, you robbed banks with a bomb?”

“Not me.  A good bank robber did,” he said with a wide smile.

“Then what?” I asked impatiently. 

“Then you say, 'put all the money in this bag and I want to watch you do it.'  You hand her a bag and encourage her to get it done as fast as possible.  Then you hand her the detonator, tell her not to release the button, and you get out as fast as possible.”

“No vault?”

“Absolutely not.”

“How much can you get by robbing the tills?”

“Well Rick, I have no way of knowing, but at my trial, they claimed that this great bank robber got away with forty thousand dollars a bank.”

At that I was a bit stunned.  It hadn't occurred to me that a teller would have that kind of money within reach, even at a bank.  But looking at the till, the neighboring two tills, and a reserve box behind them, I can see it.  I look at banks in a totally different way now, after talking to Westley. 

“What about the bomb?”

“I never said it was a bomb,” he answered.  “I said it'd blow.  It always blew at least according to the FBI.”

“It blew up?”

“The detonator would release a spring, that'd strike a flint and light a fuse that would explode three firecrackers.  Every single time.  The FBI made a point of talking about how shielded and intricate the device was and how disarming it never succeeded.  Those damned firecrackers embarrassed the FBI all over the country.”

“So you built bombs in briefcases and left them at banks,” I asked him. But he didn't answer and instead stared at me expressionless.  I rephrased, “Someone who was a great bank robber built bombs in briefcases, but they really weren't bombs but instead they were radio frequency activated firecracker lighters?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Is that a lot of trouble?  I mean, wouldn't it be easier to just use a gun and leave with the gun and not have to build something so complicated that even the FBI can't figure it out?” 

“Then there'd be a firearms charge.  That adds fifteen years onto the sentence.  Firearms are a bad deal.  So a great bank robber doesn't resort to a firearm.  Besides, if you're carrying one you have to be ready to use it and if you're ready to use it someone's bound to get hurt.  A great bank robber isn't out to hurt anyone, just to steal some money from a federally insured bank.”

“You robbed banks but didn't want to hurt anyone?” I asked, then corrected, “Someone robbed banks and didn't want to hurt anyone?”

“A great bank robber thinks ahead, remember?”

“Yeah, explain that to me,” I said.

“Well, you'd want your sentence to be a short as possible, so you just rob the banks.  It's all the other charges that they can tack on that make you end up in jail for a long time.  Firearms, property damage, tax evasion, and assault – a great bank robber avoids all that stuff.”

“Okay, so how do you pay taxes on stolen money?” I asked.

“Well, I was able to produce tax receipts from casinos in Atlantic City.  I wouldn't know how someone who robs banks does it,” he said.

“You've had a lot of practice telling this story, haven't you?” I asked him.  Here we were in a titty bar and I'd forgotten to even look at the naked girls, I was so wrapped up in Bank Robbing 101.  Karen was over on a ratty couch I wouldn't let my dog sit on, giving a lap dance to Jackson.  A couple guys we knew were playing game after game of Cricket, which is my favorite dart game. 

Westley just smiled and said, “I spent five years in the joint.  I had time to practice.”

“So, five years for robbing banks.  How was that?” I asked.

“I'll tell you about time inside another day.  It's better to be in a federal pen than it is to be in the state systems, though.”

“Better?”

“Better food, better cells, more amenities, higher budgets, and usually less violent criminals.  The murderers and rapists are all in state pens.”

“That makes sense.  So how do you get into federal prison?” I asked as if I needed the key.

“You rob banks.  Or you do crimes in multiple states and transport the money or material across state lines.  Or you do both.”

“Like robbing banks in multiple states?”

“That'd do it.”

“So how'd you not get caught?” I asked.

“I did get caught.”

“But only once,” I said.

“The only time I tried it,” he countered.

“Okay, how'd a great bank robber not get caught?  Disguises, gloves for fingerprints?”

“No way.  Those are things surely to attract attention.  A great bank robber only wears a baseball cap and never wears gloves.”

“But fingerprints?”

“Just put some superglue on your fingers and let it dry.  No fingerprints. Disguises are overrated.  If I'd been the guy who robbed those banks wouldn't my parents have recognized me on America's Most Wanted on television?” I nodded and he continued, “but there I was in Ma's living room watching America's Most Wanted and this guy on all these security cameras was shown going in and out, standing at the counter and she didn't see enough of the face to pick me out.  Far as she was concerned, that guy on television was a complete stranger.”

“Wow,” I said.  “I bet those bank tellers were scared shitless when you plopped that bomb case on the counter.”

“Not at all,” he said grandly.  “For them it was a dream come true.”

“What?”

“Let me tell you about how bank tellers rob bank robbers,” he began.

Comments

[a rose is a rose]

man, what a GREAT tale. then again, all of them from you are. even the sad ones

i'm liking westley more and more

[mark]

firecrackers...now that is good.

[a rose is a rose]

ok ok ok, by sheer coincidence, i just read THIS: http://www.boston.com/news/local/new_hampshire/articles/2007/07/08/man_disguised_as_tree_robs_bank/

can i assume this was NOT westley?

[Cherise]

I want MORE!!! This is a fanfuckintastic story. Reading these stories is like getting to the end of a great book and discovering the last chapter is missing. You're killin me!!

[Sister Mary Lisa]

I'm just sitting here with a huge grin on my face.

[CV Rick]

You are right, Rose. That's not Westley. A tree? They guy thought a tree was a good disguise INSIDE a bank? Was he going to drop fruit on people?

I should just write the stories more quickly so y'all can get to the endings right away.

NOT!

[wry catcher]

LOVING your stories! I should get myself a blindfold I'm thinking.