Bondsman of A Bonding Company in Opelika, Alabama. Nice guy.
But wait, there’s more...(this may drag on a bit, but it's real life shit)...
When you’re in jail without a friend in the world
and a perfect stranger comes in and chats with you and walks you out the gate
it’s a pretty groovy feeling.
Several months ago, I had conjured up and put into practice a little hustle involving swiping textbooks from college book stores and selling them back to other book stores for pure profit. Worked like a charm. Until last Wednesday.
Got caught that time. Bastards hauled me off to the Lee County Jail like I was some kind of criminal. Honestly, though, I was never scared. Pissed off, yeah, but the whole thing was kind of amusing. The two un-uniformed police officers that drove me to jail were total Jesus Freaks. I don’t mean to be judgmental or anything, but these dudes were card carrying psychos. They asked me why I didn’t go to a church and ask for money and food and love the god and all like that. I entertained them for a while, then I let them have an argument over church dress code standards. They were totally into it, quoting scripture and everything. Jesus.
Anyway, once I got to jail, it was just a matter of waiting and calling. And eating. (I’ll get to Corey Marmaduke in second). Man, was I hungry. The reception lady was all, “You wanna tray?”
“Hell yeah!” I says. Then I glanced at the sign which said “NO PROFANITY” and apologized to her. She smiled.
The meal came in a covered plastic tray with a plastic cup of ice water. No meat. The main course was lima beans. Not totally bad. There was a small square of cornbread. Hard and dry. However, there were also collard greens with some green juice in the tray slot and I made a discovery: dip the parched cornbread in the collard green juice, and you’re in for a treat! The rice sucked, they must have micro waved it.
MMMmmm!!! Two medium sized powdered doughnuts!!! Aaaagghhhrrhhhrhhrhghrhr...
Then I got to use the phone. First person I called was Bartholomew, my best friend since third grade (a man of 23). Demitri answered the cell phone instead. Went something like this.
“Demitri, it’s T-Bone, I’m in jail. Where’s Bartholomew?”
“He’s skating.”
“Dude, you got to go get him or help me or something, they arrested me. I need 50 bucks.”
”Yeah right.”
“Damnit, Demitri, I’m seriously in jail with no rights and shit and you have to come get me, I’m gonna call a bail bondsman, my bail’s 500, but they usually charge about 10 percent. That’s 50 bucks. Okay?”
“I still don’t believe you.”
“Fucking look at the caller ID, ass! I’m a jailbird.”
We are then cut off. I call back and there is no answer. D'Oh! I hoped this wouldn’t be a glitch.
I called Bond, James Bond, Inc. because it had the coolest name. I gave a bunch of information to a receptionist before she asked me if I had a parent or relative who could cosign with me. No dice, I planned to keep this on the DL. I asked her if every bail bond company required a cosigner. She said yes. This was a glitch…
I tried Demitri. No luck.
I got pissed and eventually called A Bonding Company, first in alphabetical order, just like my great state, Alabama. One Corey Marmaduke answered the phone. It go a lil sum like dis:
“Yes, Mr. Marmaduke, I am in need of your services.”
“You in jail?”
“Yessir. Bond’s 500.”
“Don’t call me sir. It’s Corey. I can do that for 85.”
“Do I need a cosigner?”
“You a student, gonna graduate?”
“Yes I am.”
“No, you don’t need a cosigner. Just 85.”
“No problem. I got to get my friend to bring you the money. Do you want him to bring it to the jail or to you.”
“I’ll come up there, I’m just around the corner.”
“Thanks Corey.”
Then I hung up and said “Heeeel yeeeeah!” and I thanked the Center of Multidimensional Energy for a while and promised to stop stealing and leading a life of petty crime. But there was still that minor glitchoid…
I couldn’t get through to Demitri. I didn’t know if he was at home or not, but when I tried, his home line was busy, too. When I turned around, I saw a fortyish man with a goatee smiling at me. I said “Hi there. Do I know you?”
“You ready to leave?”
“Me? Oh yeah, Corey. My friend’s not here though, I can’t get through on the cell.”
“Give me the number.” I give him both Bartholemew’s cell and Demitri’s home number. “Were you at Lowes yesterday?”
“Yes I was.”
“Yeah, I noticed that hair you got there [my mohawk] . You wear it like that all the time?”
“Yeah, I keep it real 24-7!”
“What were you getting there?”
“Well, my friend Bartholemew is fixing up a trailer for work and we needed a strip of wood for the floor/wall base thing.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s see what we can do.”
He chatted with the officers and workers in the jail, seemed to know them well, and went into another room.
I tried the phone one more time before they had to fingerprint me. A huge (at least 300 pound) African American officer performed this duty.
When we were done, I saw Corey again.
“Okay, I just talked to Demitri.”
“Great, is he coming?”
“He said he’s got to think about it.”
Yet another glitch. “What? He better fucking think about it.”
“Ha ha! That’s what he told me...”
Five minutes later Demitri calls back and agrees to bring the bread. I am relieved. Corey explains to me the whole bond thing, which I still don’t understand except for that I don’t have to pay him the full $500 bail as long as I show up for court. If I don’t show up he has the right to hunt me down and beat me severely. I think he would just ask for the money, really, but I’m not missing court for shit.
It is Corey who walks me past all the locked doors of the jail and into the parking lot. He asks what I did and says I should get an honest job and not fuck around. I explain that in two weeks I’m moving down to the beach in a Winnebago, I just lost my job, and there’s no time for another one. He says I need to give him my address when I move. “Why? So you can kick my ass if I miss court?”
“Exactly.”