About this Blog:

This is a written account of a series of events that took place last year (2010) and continue even now. As a means of protecting myself, and those involved, my name, and the names of all involved will be changed. I will post as often as I am able to, but as the events continue to influence my life, finding myself at a computer for long enough to detail these events is not easy. For the interests of this account, my name is Allen Bishop, and I lived in Riverside, California.
First time readers should start HERE.

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Escape

So, escaping a bank job is even trickier than getting in. Getting in is always easy. Here's the trick we used. It'd only work once anyway, so I don't really feel bad telling you. Basically, everything in a bank is computerized, actually, basically everything in a city is computerized nowadays. So, we gathered our hostages and headed for the front door. See, cops don't like to mess with people with hostages, and they don't like to negotiate. But, if you don't let them try, they don't really know how to handle you. So, we just walked out the front door with our guests, before they had even gotten in a call to try to talk us down. We seriously just walked out, and grabbed a cab we had called for, bringing along one of our hostages. I mean, honestly, how fucking great is that? It was scary as hell, of course, but it worked. they didn't know what to do with us. Then came the tricky bit. I should have mentioned, when we walked out, Allen showed off a little backpack he had brought. he placed it against the rear bumper of the taxi before we drove off, and waved at the cops, smiling and pointing at the backpack. He did a kindof "Boom" gesture and laughed as he got in the car. Then we left in our cab. So, we had left the cops sitting at the bank, scared to death of the bomb we had left behind us, and drove off in a cab. Allen had placed it so that between us and the cops was a bomb, which of course they were going to take heed of before making chase. So, in the meantime, I texted The old man, and told him to fire up the program I had built that week. The Gps tracking number of this cab, (which by the way, is easy to look up, ) was suddenly splitting down several different roads. I mean, there are all sorts of bits of info that cabs drop out, and I had researched a lot of them, and set up a program to dump out decoys. Then, we had the cabby drop us off at a random location and gave him a huge tip for his trouble, and the fare to return the bank teller to her car. Then we split off down a few alleys and trick paths we had looked up, and bought a gallon of gas before meeting back up at the car. We filled up the car and got the fuck out of town.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Bank job

     See, the secret to a bank job is never to mess with people. You see in the movies, or on tv, the robbers always bust in during the day, guns blazing, themed masks, and lots of shouting. A good bank job takes place at closing, when the only people you'll encounter are staff. We didn't bother with a theme, or anything like that, because we didn't have the cash to buy masks, and that sort of thing makes a trail. I don't know if you know this, but they can track cash now. Anyway, when a bank is closing up, the manager has to lock everything up. But the trick is, you have to get in, get your pay and get out in a certain timeframe, because all vaults have time-locks on them. It's a technique invented in the cowboy days. The vault locks itself automatically at a certain time, so that you can't force the manager to open it for you after hours. They used to make very intricate locks with clockworks inside of them. Now it's all done by computer. Anyway, we tore up a blanket we had found behind a house, and cut it into masks. They were uncomfortable, but they covered our faces.
     It was a monday, so there wasn't a lot of business going on, they weren't holding the door for anyone. The manager usually locks up at five, so that the cashiers can count up, and get everything locked up for the night, without people wandering in. That was basically the crux of our plan. The manager moved to the door to lock up and two men with guns pulled the door away from him. We each trained our gun on him and told him to lock up as usual. We stepped in and he locked it behind us. That part of the plan made me nervous, but Allen had apparently given this a lot of thought. The manager was told to leave the key in the door, and he did. Allen very calmly announced that we were robbing the bank, and that everyone should put their hands up. The lexan around the bank protected the tellers from our guns, but they all did as they were told anyway. The manager lead us to the door that opened to the back of the bank, and the tellers walked out into the center of the bank. We sat them down in the middle. Allen put me on guard while he and the banker walked the back. He looted the registers, and then they headed for the safe. It was 5:07, the vault locked at five thirty. We were making very good time. Allen packed everything into bags and headed for the door. Just in time for the sirens to arrive. The police headed for the front door, but it was locked. Thank goodness. Allen took over guard duty, and I headed for their computers. We figured if we were going to take the risk, we'd better make some good out of it for someone. First of all, I formatted the security computers. That way they couldn't track our faces, or anything else we had done in the bank. Then I headed to a teller's computer. Allen made one of them log in, and then I got systematic. I erased the details of the money we had stolen. They lost track of every serial number that'd gone through the bank, so that the money couldn't be tracked. Then, while I was in the terminal, I did a little robin-hooding, and destroyed as many Details as I could, so the banks couldn't track the loans they had made. Basically, everyone who had ever borrowed money from the bank was getting out scott-free. So, instead of a hundred thousand or so in cash, we kinda stole millions. But most of it we gave away. We've been debating about whether or not that was a good thing ever since. Well, I mean, we used to debate it. Anyway, let's build some suspense for this, since I have got to stop writing soon, and the escape is going to take some time to detail. Here we are, two guys with guns, in a bank full of hostages, and two duffel bags full of cash, Standing in a bank surrounded by cops. Our only help  was a sixty year-old man sitting in a gassless car with a laptop, four blocks away.