Ok. So I got popped, running down the tracks, trying to get away from some "good samaritans" who'd seen me entering what we call the paint farm or the wall farm or the free walls. Now, these walls arent deemed legal, and they arent protected or surveilled, but they're just hurricane ruins out in a wooded field next to a road that comes off the state's busiest highway. They used to be parts of a strip of bars and restaurants.

So, here's the whole rundown. I was going down the road, backpack on, duffle in hand, and bandana on my neck. Ive been here a few dozen times in the last few years. Same story every time, until this point.
I make my left turn into the path, which is barely accessible to cars because there are concrete barriers. Usually semis come here to rest though. And now and then, cars come back to do donuts and take pics of the walls. Im walking down, looking at all the new art, flicking the nice shit for my memories and the toys to laugh at later.

Boom. Unknown to me at the time, this is the turning point.

I barely notice a car pulling into the Kawasaki/Polaris dealer across the street behind me. I continue taking pics and walking. I go all the way to the back to check on the wall my crew has held for a year or so, and it's TRASHED! None of WOMG has been back here in like 3 months, so it's expected, but it still got me hot. I say fuck my plans to take another wall in the front from the toys, and went ahead and dropped my bags and got started.

Im applying shines and cut backs when i hear tires on dirt and gravel. I throw all my shit in my bag and peek around the wall...

THREE CARS are slowly moving towards me!
I kinda figure theyre a bold crew or just here for Scrapin' the Coast, (a huge local modified car event where thousands of people come to the coast and do car shit,) because now and then, writers come down, hit the walls, and take pictures with their dropped hondas and airbagged '64s, (right now theyre doing the same for Cruisin' the Coast, an antique car event of the same calibur, just with restored caprices and bel aires) in front of their new pieces.

Not this time. No, this time, it's a bunch of older people, in normal cars, and within a few seconds, it's obvious thy're only here to yell at me and threaten me.

So naturally, i try to sweet talk and explain that im making the rubble and Katrina relics not be eye-sores. They werent havin it. So when one gets out, phone in hand, pointing and walking at a fast pace towards me, I reach into my bag with my left hand and into my pocket with my right, and I grab my lighter and a can. I point the can at the guy, and he pulls a knife and says something like, "boy, I ain't playin with you! The cops are comin, you goin ta jail, and if you don't calm down, you gon be in tha hospital too, son! I will defend mahself."

Now, at this time, I'm thinking I have one option, and one option only. Mace this dude with Flame Orange, and grab my shit and book it.

Luckily, since they really did call the cops, and with my bags i couldn't run my usual speed, (12 and a half minute 2 mile when i was in the army; pretty damn fast, but probably more like 14min/2mi now, which is still way too fast for almost any cop in uniform, not to brag,) I realized my best opportunity to get home was to calmly talk him down while grabbing my bags, and hit the tracks (theyre about 40 feet from the walls, and go east to west, same as the walls. The road to get there is north and south, so they do intersect,) so I can get away without them chasing me in cars and updating the police.

So, I'm telling him I dont mean any harm, theres no reason to call the police, im leaving, blah blah... All the while putting on my pack and grabbing my dufflebag. Its at this point i look like a thug (not to say im not) because i have my bandana on my face (safety first) so i pull it down with my free hand and turn, hoping he doesnt try to tackle me on some citizens arrest bullshit, and keeping an ear out for more car doors.

I dip to the tracks at an angle, headed west to home, and get to the street when i see a K9 unit (one of their silver, almost unmarked SUVs) turning onto the street, about 1/3 a mile away, and he doesnt have his lights on. So i keep running hard, thinking they didnt call. I get past the street, which is 4 lanes, so it took longer than i wanted, and all that surrounds the tracks now for the next mile is woods, and i live about 3/4 of the way down. I figure im gonna make it half way before the cops get to the wall, see the cars, question them, and come after me. Then i just gotta hit the woods and make my way home the long way.

Nope! They get to the track, blip their siren, hit their lights, and put a QBeam on me (it was dusk)

Im not sure what all happened back there after as I busted right, down off the tracks, into the woods, busting my ass on the rocks along the way. I get almost to the trail that goes to my apartments, and i know im almost home free. Then i Hear dogs from 3 different places, directly behind me towards the walls, to my left at the tracks, and to my right/in front of me. I kinda knew it was over then, so i buried my duffle in leaves, threw my pack under a log, and ran straight to my right to try to make it to the city side. I hit a fence. I now know exactly where i am, and know i cant go anywhere. I look right, see no cop, look back, see no cop, then i hear from my left, which was front before, "stay right dare son, dont think about jumpin that fence," and it's at this point I looked left, saw the cop and German Shepherd, put my hands behind my head and yelled, "Im not resisting! I have no weapons!" and dropped to my knees. Then all the sudden, there's 5 cops and 3 dogs on me.

They asked why i was running, i said the people back there pulled a knife. (Never admit youre running because of the police. Thats another charge.) They asked what i was doing back there, i said painting. They handcuffed me, asked me where my gear was, and i said i only had 2 cans, a black and a white, and that I threw it in the ditch near where i got off the tracks.

The rest is easier to explain. They walk me out to the tracks, go their seperate ways and the sergeant keeps me with him. We walk back towards the walls, hes pushing me constantly, so i tell him im already detained, that i wasnt gonna run, and he was killing my wrists, and he actually lets go and lets me walk. We get to his car: the one i saw in the first place, and he puts me in back. I see theres no cars at the walls now. He drives me back there, makes me get out, and tells me to point at what i did.

I point to this toy ass tag that was on my wall over a crew bomb i did a while back, that said Chik'n Sammich in black and the same thing over it in white.

He caught me off guard tho when he laughed at me, and told me he wouldve ran too if he got caught doing that.
Then he asked me why i needed a bag for 2 cans. I told him i didnt have a bag, he said thats not what the people said, and i said they were crazy drunks.

He took some pictures, put me back in the car, and the next 6 months I sat in jail, meeting people i hadnt seen in years, fighting, and of course, to my detriment, drawing.

Worst part of this story is that i was sentenced 4 months and almost no fines. I got a month added twice. The first time was for fighting for a third time, and the second was because they found my drawings and concluded they were "continuances of prior criminal behavior," which is apparently a thing in only a few states, mine included.

The upside is, I got in good with 2 COs by just not being a dick and by being in my cell when they wanted me to be for a change, and it helped my appeal review so I got out without the extra months and a time served packet.

I touched down 3 days ago, remembered my bags yesterday, and just got them today.

Morals of the story: Keep your Black Book in a water proof bag, run faster, be good at covering your ass, dont do any extra shit if youre gonna get caught anyway, and always, ALWAYS, jump back on that horse when you get home.

Write On
-KRYO aka CHILL1
WOMG/BS Crews