by Peter Pogany

Created on: October 21, 2010

When Jim pulled the visor of his ball cap down over his face, walked around shopping malls or drove his car - always carefully observing the speed limit - no one suspected that his right shoulder was disfigured by a botched dragon tattoo, even less that he was wanted by the State of Indiana for armed robbery.   

It happened mid-April.

The young woman, who worked in the same garage where he was a mechanic, carried the weekly cash earnings to the night deposit window. She was just about to get out of her car in the abandoned parking lot, considered safe in this remote southeastern suburb of Indianapolis, when the attack occurred. Jim, disguised in a Halloween clown mask, pointed his 38” police special at her and demanded the money bag. She did as was told. Jim turned around and, limping in order to mislead the investigation that would surely follow, proceeded to the “get away car” driven by his girlfriend, who took off, wheels screeching even before he could close the door.  

Jim’s parents blamed Martha (the girlfriend) for their barely 22-year old son’s crime. They did have a point. The outrageously seductive dancer, wearing not much more than a gold headband while flexing and snaking her body around the pole in a downtown joint, had complete control over Jim.    

“I want to go on a Caribbean cruise,” she declared and when he answered that he wished he had the money she issued an ultimatum:

“I’ve been true to you, Jimmy, but if I can’t go with you, I’ll have to go with someone else. My nerves are at a breaking point. My health is going downhill. Jimmy boy, my little love . . . because that’s what you are to me even if you are six foot two. Do it! Get the money somehow, I don’t care how. Borrow it, rob a bank. It happens all the time. It’s easy. I know someone who did it and never got caught.”

“Would you drive the getaway car?” whispered Jim in a husky tone, ball bearings all revved up.   

Her eyes lit up. “Sure, that would be fun.”

On the morning of the deed Jim called in sick. He needed the day to prepare and also wanted an alibi just in case a glitch occurred. And it sure did.

The surveillance camera in the bank’s parking lot had a clear picture of the car Martha drove. It was not hers. Thinking ahead, she had borrowed it from one of her many admirers. Once questioned by police, the man pointed

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