Skip to main content

I (Did) Get Away With It by Mark Anthony Given

Busting Scripts by Mark Anthony Given

Just wrote that this morning.  It ain't brag'n if you can do it....

Son, I have done them all, and Dilaudid's the best. -Elvis Presley

             I HAD THIS FANTASY of walking into a small town pharmacy, calling the pharmacist over while bending over the counter and wrote: 
Dilaudid 4 mg.,
Disp. L (50)
Sig:  1 Q 4-6 H
PRN Pain,
scribble a signature and circle Five Refills, but I usually sat out in the parking lot and wrote them beforehand.  I would usually put an expensive antibiotic with them.  The guy who got me started busting scripts wore a black eye patch over his left eye where a failed drunken suicide attempt left the whole area scarred up.  He would pull that pirate patch off and replace it with a two-inch gauze pad and medical tape so you could see all you needed to see and they would throw pain pills at him.  Ninety percent of the time as long as it's written correctly and there are no known alerts on that doctor, you look respectable you got 'em.  I have seen people shave their head and draw boxes with a purple marker like radiation treatment... I had a whole different scam and it worked like a charm.
           ANY GIRLFRIEND I ever had, especially if they have children have prescriptions they couldn't afford to fill laying around.  I'd white-out all the handwriting, make a copy of that, touch up the spots where the writing went over the lines, make another copy of that and walla, a blank prescription. I'd cut it to the right size, take a red magic marker and run it across the top to make it look like it was torn off a pad and it was time to go to work.  In the back of old dictionaries, you can find out what the signs and scribbling the doctor means.  The first script I walked was in Mid-city, New Orleans at the biggest pharmacy chain in New Orleans about a quarter to six in the evening, an all white neighborhood in a very black city.  

 Percodan Tabs
 # L (fifty)
 Sig: 1 q 4-6 H
 PRN Pain

          and drew a line through the refills meaning none and made it out to "Anne Laurent," who I looked up and lived in the neighborhood.
         They were as busy as hell, just like I like it and I  had a business suit and a thirty dollar hair cut (back in the eighties).  Give it to the girl, she asks for the address and date of birth which I just guess at and told her I was waiting for it but I left. 
           SITTING IN the parking lot a couple of stores away and wait for the cops....  
Continued at:

by Mark Anthony Given


A CRIMINAL is a person with predatory instincts who has 
not sufficient funds to form a corporation. #CLARENCEDARROW

        STANDING IN LINE at the bank in a little strip mall along Highway Ninety in Biloxi, Mississippi, this was probably the fiftieth bank I robbed and I got too comfortable. I used the same bank account I had swiped off a mailbox right next to the front door of an old historic home, in a wealthy part of Gulfport. I had already called the bank to verify a one thousand dollar check, pretending to be a local merchant so I knew there was that much in there.  Monday morning at eleven forty, I strolled into the Main Branch of the Hancock Bank and Trust, the biggest bank on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, in downtown Gulfport, Mississippi.
TWO BLOCKS FROM the beautiful Gulf of Mexico, I parked a block away from the bank and walked into the tallest building on the Coast, and up the escalator and grabbed Another Hot Grand before breakfast. I forced down the little fear I knew was good, it keeps you on your toes, I learned long ago, that I was so sporadic and switching jurisdictions so fast, that they were not looking for me to walk into their bank, and the Show didn't start until I handed them the checks and Deposit Slip. As long as I stayed calm, everything went well and I was able to detect any hint of cops, I would see it in their eyes.


 I JUST ROBBED the Hancock Bank & Trust in downtown Gulfport, Mississippi with my trusty twenty-cent Bic and blank checks I found on doorsteps out of Another Hot Grand (link below) and was driving down beautiful Highway 90 in West Biloxi Beach with patches of condos and now casinos and plenty of places to pull over and enjoy the sea breeze and smell of seafood.  They had almost completed the I-110 interchange linking Interstate 10 with the Gulf of Mexico.  Right where the cars are discharged onto Highway 90, is the original/first high rise ten or twelve story upscale apartment building.  The owner lived on the top and I was told he won the building in a poker game.  It was said to have been built to withstand any hurricane and you can see it still standing after Katrina. On the other side of the interchange is now the Bellagio Hotel & Casino and the Hard Rock Casino, side by side right on the beach.  With a Liquor and Wine store, a Hair Salon and fine dining restaurant on the ground floor, a marque out front read:
                               "One BR Furn $400 a month,"

                                COPYRIGHT 2016 by Mark Anthony Given
                 All Rights Reserved 28 USC 1746  Public Law: Pub. L. 94-553 (Oct. 19, 1976)
                   U.S. Statutes at Large: 90 Stat. 2541   11:42 AM 2/1/2016


  The Dope Feign Shuffl
by Mark Anthony Given

       YOU KNOW there is no place to hide in the French Quarter, right? Unless you have a door key or run in a public building, your next bad move is under a vehicle parked bumper to bumper along nearly every street. I got in a foot chase, well they was doing the chasing but I out ran two New Orleans’s detectives one Monday morning. I had just walked out of my apartment with a small travel bag and the little ordinary mid size Ford Taurus from Snappy Car Rental out in New Orleans East, was almost to the end of the street. I seen them but didn’t see them until I heard,

      “Excuse me, sir. New Orleans Police we need to talk to you.” 

I had just placed the bag in the back seat and still on the sidewalk, I turned around and closed the door and took off my shades as I faced them. I could not pick either out of them out of a line up because I just remember their shoes. I heard a New York detective could tell your whole life story by the shoes you had on your feet. Worn out, too cheap to buy a nice pair, middle of the road, about to retire that didn’t have a chance in hell of catching me in a footrace. One was trying to circle around me while reaching for his cuffs and in a moment now seared in stone in my mind, I jumped like a Standing Broad Jump, probably leaping ten or twelve feet out of their grasp, and sprinted like a Gazelle and was to the end of the street and around the corner onto Royal Street, right under the Original Royal Street Pharmacy sign, before they realized what happened. They gave it a valiant effort but I wasn't going to jail that morning because I had something in my pocket I could not throw away or get caught with. As soon as I made the entire length of the block a pedestrian stepped out of the Verde Mart, and turned right into me crossing Governor Nichols with two cops maybe fifty feet behind me, hollering, 
 "Stop him", Stop him."

         Actually, I don't remember if they were hollering that, but I am pretty sure because the guy squared up in front of me like he was thinking about blocking me or grabbing me. I sped up a little faster like I was going to knock him on his ass and he stepped out of the way never slowing me down. I had a really nice suit on with a pair of expensive New Balance running shoes and could run for miles. I was fixing to drive to Mobile or Jackson, Mississippi on another one man crime wave which is why I didn’t have dress shoes on, and besides, you never know when you will have to leave a couple of fat cops in the dust. 

                                COPYRIGHT 2016 by Mark Anthony Given
                 All Rights Reserved 28 USC 1746  Public Law: Pub. L. 94-553 (Oct. 19, 1976)
                   U.S. Statutes at Large: 90 Stat. 2541   11:42 AM 2/1/2016


 The Real Drug Store Cowboy 
                      by Mark Anthony Given


There comes a time in a man's life when to get where he has to go - if there are no doors or windows he walks through a wall. -Bernard Malamud

          I’M RIDING THROUGH Ocean Springs, Mississippi it’s 4 am and 64 degrees and the Sun will be up soon.  Tony’s Discount Drugs in a strip mall next to an abandoned grocery store looks like a good place to break thru the cinder block wall in the utility closet and tiptoe over to the pharmacist goody drawer.  My buddy from New York living next to me on the beach in Biloxi, the next town over, told me this pharmacy was fat because it was so big and everything on the shelf was stretched out to take up space, they must be doing a booming pill business.   Were they ever!  I cased it a time or two and wound up parking down the road and doubling back to it on foot and behind it, where I easily scaled up the back of the building's pipes and stuff.

       I SCANNED THE ENTIRE roof and seen a cinder block, sitting on top of a piece of plywood, sitting on top of a eighteen-inch duct vent with the fan missing and two bare wires showing.    I was expecting to have to break through something, but even the losers get lucky some time.  I remove the stuff and I’m looking down at a big rack of candy bars, on the floor of the barely lighted store.  I just happened to have my handy twenty foot of soft rope and the Superman pillow case, off my girlfriends’ kid’s bed stuffed down the front of my pants for just this occasion.  I tied the rope off on a nearby pipe and down I went, sliding straight down a huge round stainless steel air conditioning vent till I got to the bottom, maneuvered around the rack and just sit there about thirty or forty seconds, waiting to get attacked by dogs with their voice box gone, I didn’t know what to expect.  I thought I’d be at least an hour hacking thru something and it only took a ten-second slide down the shoot, and here I was in wonderland, had me a little surprised, but I still had work to do.  The first thing I seen was a huge aluminum ladder laying down nearby so it set it up under the hole in the ceiling I had just come out of, grabbed a candy bar and moseyed on to the back.

 Continued at:

                                COPYRIGHT 2016 by Mark Anthony Given
                 All Rights Reserved 28 USC 1746  Public Law: Pub. L. 94-553 (Oct. 19, 1976)
                   U.S. Statutes at Large: 90 Stat. 2541   11:42 AM 2/1/2016


    The Real Drug Store Cowboy Busted
           by Mark Anthony Given

                                        I busted a mirror and got seven years bad luck, 
                                          but my lawyer thinks he can get me five.
                                                             -Steven Wright
         GETTING BUSTED SUCKS!  All the things I've done, all the things I got away with, you would have thought I was a natural, but not this time.  Busted Red-handed and trapped right inside the pharmacy, there was only one thing to do... Just like before, Tony's Discount Drug's in a strip mall along Highway 90 in Ocean Springs, Mississippi, early morning hours, still had the hole in the roof from the broken exhaust fan and three bare wires.  After I removed the piece of plywood and cinder block I could see right down into the dimly lit store.
           THE FIRST TIME I ROBBED the Drug Store I described in "The Real Drug Store Cowboy," here on this blog, I remember thinking right after I tied off my little soft rope and slipped off into the Rabbit Hole into Wonderland, "This is either going to be a good story or a really bad idea."  This time, however, I looked around in the early morning hours and at the hole in the roof just like before, and it was kind of 'de ja vu, and the last thing I was thinking as my head slid below the roof and out of sight into round metal exhaust, was, "Your going to jail, this can't be this easy...."       
          SURE ENOUGH, I get back to the pharmacy, I was running this time, trying to outrun the Cop's getting there I guess, filled up my pillow case or backpack, get back up to the front of the store, and as soon as I get up to my rope hanging, right before the front register or check out,, I see a Cop dressed in Black with a flashlight in one hand and a gun pointing at me. I froze and squatted at the same time and hit a spinning rack of postcard and many of them went flying as I tried to steady the display.  If the Cop didn't see me before, he damn sure seen me now, fifteen or twenty feet from the floor to ceiling plate glass front of the store.  The Cop stood right at the locked double doors almost in the center of the store and rapped on the glass with his weapon and screamed,
        "FREEZE!  Don't you move!"
        He's talking into his shoulder Motorola notifying Dispatch of a "Burglary in Progress,"  and "Subject Inside."   His Black & White Patrol car was just feet behind him with the driver door open, and I figured right then I must have hit the sensor under the mat where the Pharmacist stands all day....
            I THINK I WAS DOPE SICK and squatting down behind now nearly empty display was senseless, we were looking right at each other so I stood up and extended my arms and stepped aside and toward the door so he could see me real good.    All I could focus on was that Cannon he had pointing right at my chest, damn I didn't want to get shot!
         "Who else is in there?"
         "Just me."
         I hear him relay what I told him and they were gonna need the keys.
         "How did you get in there?"
         I sadly pointed to the rope hanging from the hole in the ceiling where an exhaust vent should be.
          "Don't you move!  I'll blow your fuck'n head off!"
          He had dark hair about twenty-three and had put the flashlight away and was now standing before me in the Police Stance double fist'n his Police weapon right at my heart, I started hearing police sirens in the distance and I noticed that the giant weapon was shaking ever so slightly, and he was scared as I was.  I eased my right arm down and with my right hand where I had cargo pants on and eased two fingers in and grabbed onto something and started fishing it up...
        "Don't you do it!  I'll fuck'n shoot you, you son of a bitch!"
        "Control  'Step it Up!"

        He almost hollers into his right shoulder Radio.
I pull out a pack of Marlboro Red's and fish back in for a Bic Lighter, lit the cigarette and squatted in front of him Indian Leg style on the Floor mats right in front of him, never taking my eyes off the front of the barrel of that gun.  Which looked like it was about 12" across....
           THAT'S WHEN I GOT PISSED.  I knew I was going to jail, would lose my girl, be gone for at least a couple of years.  I was dope sick and somehow in the back of my head, I had this idea that you can't shoot straight into plate glass standing right up on it like that.  Right or Wrong, I stood up and took a big drag on that cigarette that was almost spent, and flicked it right into his face but it shattered back in sparks off the glass, and said,

        "Fuck you asshole!  Shoot me, I'm getting High!"
Continued at:

    COPYRIGHT 2016 by Mark Anthony Given
                 All Rights Reserved 28 USC 1746  Public Law: Pub. L. 94-553 (Oct. 19, 1976)
                   U.S. Statutes at Large: 90 Stat. 2541   11:42 AM 2/1/2016


Popular posts from this blog

My Appointment With the Devil by Mark Anthony Given


We may not pay Satan reverence, for that would be indiscreet,  but we can at least respect his talents. -Mark Twain
  MID-THIRTIES I found myself alone at a lonely interstate rest area in Florida in the middle of the night, having driven from  New Orleans for the last several days, I went from rest area to rest area withdrawing from Methadone, starving but couldn't eat.  Dying of thirst, but couldn't drink.  Throwing up, diarrhea, high temperature and worst of all, I couldn't sleep.  Beg for sleep for three or four hours and sleep for ten minutes and start all over again.  I was at probably the lowest point of my life.  And I still had an appointment with the devil.    And he's going to be here in a minute.....          THE DEVIL IS REAL.  I met him.  Twice.  I know you're not going to believe this but I don't care.  I ain't got a reason to lie to y…

Circle Jerk City by Mark Anthony Given

 My father carries around the picture of the kid who came with his wallet. -Rodney Dangerfield

I BUSTED OUT OF every juvenile home they placed me in when I was a kid.  Industry, The New York State School for Boys, fifteen miles south of Rochester, New York where my parents were, was the largest juvenile reformatory in the Empire State. I thought of this escape hundreds of times throughout the years as the seminal moment I became bad. Not real bad mind you, but bad none the less. Still thinking I was Matt Helm or James Bond, I plotted my daring escape from the moment they brought me there from a local juvenile detention facility which I also broke out of. To be honest with you I thought it was my duty to escape. I don’t know really why like I said I was a bad kid. Rolling thru the beautiful upstate New York countryside in the back of state car in the early morning hours to the famous “Industry,” the place you didn’t want to be, I considered for a few minutes the possibilit…

ONE RAT AT A TIME by Mark Anthony Given

 Information is the currency of democracy. — Thomas Jefferson
              THE FEDERAL REPORTER’S come out every few weeks in paperback. The latest United States Court of Appeals decisions, and the Federal Supplement’s containing every case worthy of publication from the lower or United States District Court’s. This is where the Rubber Meets the Road when determining WHO’S A RAT or who isn’t. If you are named in a Case as a Confidential Informant or Cooperating Witness; it’s written in stone. When I was the Head of the Inmate Law Library at the Federal Correctional Facility at Seagoville, Texas, just minutes from Dallas-Ft. Worth, in the early 1990’s, we had a file called “The Cut Case’s.” Guy’s would literally run from the Bus that brought them there, many Self-Surrender, to the Inmate Law Library and surgically cut their Cases right out of the Law Books. Or make the book disappear.              NEARLY ALL the cases brought to me involved Ra…