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.

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