25 Nov 04
Bald Headed Fred
My new cellmate’s crime spree came to an abrupt end in 1995. He had been robbing drug dealers, which he considered his specialty, but his final job went askew.
BHF’s last robbery had commenced as normal. He subdued the occupants of an apartment at gunpoint, and proceeded to torture the drug dealer to get him to cough up the combination to the safe. BHF’s preferred method of torture that day involved knocking the man unconscious by hitting him in the head with a ball-peen hammer, a bloody process that broke the victim’s nose and split his head open. The victim’s hands were then raised above his head and attached to a shower with duct tape. When the victim regained consciousness, BHF played naughts and crosses (tic-tac-toe) on the fellows chest and face with a six-inch blade. After learning the safe’s combination, BHF stuffed his duffel bag with $10,000 in cash and $50,000 worth of crystal methamphetamine He was about to go on his way when some of the victim’s roommates returned home. They saw the bloodstained crime scene, fled and called the police. The police already had the place surrounded because BHF’s getaway driver was an informant, and a sting operation had been set up.
BHF hopped a fence and landed in someone's backyard. A lady holding a poodle opened a French window and BHF heard, “Easy boy, easy boy.” Fearing that the police helicopter would shine its light on him at any minute, BHF snapped into action.
“Freeze, police! In the house now!” he yelled, pointing his .357 Magnum at the lady's face.
He escorted her into the living room where he found a scantily clad and disheveled young couple, who had ventured down stairs to investigate the disturbance.
“Freeze muthafuckas, on the ground!” BHF said.
A large German Shepherd remained docile while BHF locked all of the windows and doors, and turned the lights off.
“Anyone else here?” BHF asked.
“You calm down, go and put some clothes on and come straight back,” he said to the young lady dressed only in her underwear.
“I’ve done killed nine people tonight, let’s not make that twelve.”
It wasn’t long before BHF’s picture was broadcast on the TV and the hostages learned the true nature of his crimes.
“I’m not gonna rob you or hurt you. Just don’t do anythin’ stupid, and when it gets light outside I’m gone,” he told them.
The police knocked on the front door, but after their knocks went unanswered, they shone their torches in the backyard and departed. After a few hours of hovering the helicopter left.
The hostages and BHF bonded whilst drinking beers and smoking marijuana together. Eight hours later Fred decided that it was time to leave.
“I’m gonna take yer truck. Gimme yer keys. Get whatever you want out of it and I’ll call you and let you know where I leave it, so you can quickly get it back.”
The young man obliged and BHF kept his promise.
Two days later, after many news broadcasts had advertised BHF as a wanted man, someone tipped off the authorities that BHF was at a friend’s house. The house was surrounded by a SWAT team, a helicopter, an armoured vehicle, and news crews. BHF barricaded himself in the garage and while the cameras were broadcasting live, a police negotiator threw BHF a black box containing a phone which Fred grabbed with a rake.
“Today’s a good day to die. What do you think?” Fred said.
“I’m here to help you get out. Have you got any hostages?”
“Yeah,” Fred lied, worried that they would storm the garage if they knew he was solo.
“We’re not coming in. Is there anything that you need?”
“I wanna pizza!”
“A helicopter,” Fred said.
“You’ve watched too many movies,” the negotiator said, and laughed.
One of BHF’s female friends, Special K, saw the standoff on her TV and rushed to the scene. She convinced the negotiator that she could talk BHF out of the garage without anyone getting harmed.
“Hi, honey,” Special K greeted BHF.
“Are you gonna give up and come out?”
“I’ve got dope and smokes, I’m OK.”
“You’re big-time surrounded. Look down the street.”
BHF peeped at the armoured vehicle that had positioned itself so that its battering ram could knock down the garage door.
“They’re comin’ in to get yer, honey. They promise that no shots will be fired and I’ll get to talk to you if you come out right now.”
With his hands in the air, BHF surrendered. After being pummeled by the police, he was allowed to talk to Special K.
BHF’s next violent crime occurred at Alhambra, the prison processing facility for
newly-sentenced inmates. BHF had been housed in a fourteen-man cell, and one of the occupants was a convicted child molester. BHF presided over a kangaroo court with his new cellmates and it was decided that the "cho-mo" should be stabbed and tortured.
I read BHF’s police reports which describe what happened next. The sex offender was tied up and battered for “a good five minutes”. “They stuffed strips of cloth in his mouth…prior to the stabbings to see how the muffle worked.” His boxer shorts were pulled down and he was mocked for having “a little one”. The sex offender stated, “At that point was where I got stabbed in the stomach several times”. BHF actually stabbed him eleven times and then held a shank to the eyeball of a witness who stated, “He put it at the corner of my eye like he was gonna shove it in there and he says, ya know, he says you say anything, I’m gonna take this and shove it into your eye and pop your eye out. He said then we’re gunna eat it.”
For stabbing the child molester, BHF received an additional 30 months on top of the fifteen-year sentence for the kidnappings, home invasions and aggravated assaults. He feels that the 30 months was a small price to pay for stabbing and torturing someone convicted of molesting children. He is wondering how you feel about what he did to the sex offender.
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