We were now only a couple of miles away from my friend Diana’s house. While driving down the familiar streets of Glencoe, we came across some road construction. One of the side streets had been blocked off and a road detour had been set up. The street was in the process of being resurfaced. Robin, who was now completely inebriated, decided that he didn’t want to be inconvenienced by the detour, and proceeded to drive over the wet, black-tarred street. A construction worker, who was standing on the wayside, began yelling at Robin to get off the road. Robin rolled down the driver’s side window of the car and told the man to mind his own business. The speed limit on this street was 20 mph. Robin was doing at least 50 mph and driving in the wrong direction. It was an accident waiting to happen. Even Faith was growing concerned and began screaming for Robin to slow down, but her protests fell on deaf ears. Robin told her to shut up and leave the driving to him. Infuriated by Robin’s remark, Faith quickly climbed into the front of the car and attempted to grab the steering wheel from Robin. The commotion caused Robin to lose control of the car, which resulted in him side-swiping a parked vehicle. An elderly man, who apparently witnessed the accident, came running out of his house screaming frantically and waving his arms for Robin to stop the car. Robin ignored his pleas and kept driving while simultaneously wrestling with Faith for control of the steering wheel. Robin somehow managed to reach in the glove compartment and pull out his gun. I was panicking by now. We were now only five minutes away from my friend’s house.
Before I knew it, Robin had shot out the entire back windshield of the car. Shattered glass flew all over the backseat. Then he started shooting bullets into the front windows of the homes as he sped down the street. Faith and I began to scream at him to pull over, and let us out of the car, but he didn’t respond to our pleas. Robin continued driving recklessly down the narrow suburban street.
“How much further does this bitch live?” he yelled. “Right down there on the left side of the street,” I said as I pointed to a large, white, brick home on the corner.
“Just pull in the damn driveway and let me out!” I demanded. Robin carelessly pulled into my friend’s driveway and stopped the car long enough for me to get my things. I hastily grabbed my suitcases and got out of the car.
“Don’t you dare call the police,” Faith threatened me as I walked away from the car.
“I’ll handle this lunatic.”
Robin threw the car in reverse and squealed out of the driveway. I hauled my luggage to the front door of Diana’s house and rang the bell. My friend answered the door with a telephone in her hand. She motioned for me to be quiet.
“I’m talking to my mom’s friend, Gregg. He’s a dispatcher at the Glencoe police station.” Diana told me that Gregg had called to talk to her mother, but he put her on hold because of an emergency call that had just come in concerning a nearby shooting incident. My heart just about leapt out of my chest. I was certain that the incident the dispatcher was referring to concerned Robin and Faith. I waited anxiously for my suspicions to be confirmed. A couple of minutes later, Diana said, “I’m sick of waiting,” as she slammed down the phone on the cradle. Diana gave me a big hug and apologized for being on the telephone.
“How did you get here?” she asked. I hesitated before answering her. I figured that I might as well tell her what was going on because she was going to find out anyhow. “I was with the people involved in the shooting incident,” I remarked.
Diana, who was well acquainted with my jaded sense of humor, began to laugh.
“Very funny,” she said in her usual sarcastic tone of voice.
“I’m not kidding. I was living with these two people in San Francisco, and they gave me a ride back to Illinois,” I stated.
“Yeah right!” she nonchalantly replied as she rifled through her purse looking for her cigarettes.
“I’m serious,” I told her, “the guy I was with had a gun and was shooting people’s living room windows out about four blocks away from here.”
Diana looked at me in total disbelief. She didn’t know about the two people I lived with in San Francisco or anything that went on there. Although Diana was my only best friend, there were times that she and I didn’t communicate for several months. However, she didn’t remain in the dark for long. I told her the entire story from beginning to end and spared her no details.
Diana was shocked about what I had told her. She picked up the telephone and began to dial the number of the police station. “We’ve got to find out what’s going on,” she insisted. Her dispatcher friend answered the phone and a couple of minutes later my suspicions were confirmed. The police apprehended Robin and Faith on a nearby expressway twenty-five minutes after they dropped me off at Diana’s house. The police had received several emergency phone calls from people who lived in Diana’s subdivision, claiming that a man driving a blue car had shot out the front living room windows of their homes. According to the dispatcher, the driver of the car attempted to elude the police, which resulted in a high-speed chase. Robin lost control of the car and ended up smashing it into the guardrail. Robin and Faith were arrested at this time and taken into custody. The dispatcher was unable to provide Diana with any more information at the time. I was relieved. The episode was over, and it was one less thing I had to worry about, or so I thought.
Three hours later there was a knock at the front door. Diana’s mother answered the door, because Diana and I were sitting outside in the backyard. Two detec-tives greeted her and asked to speak to me. To make a long story short, I was taken down to the Glencoe police station for questioning, regarding the robbery and shooting incident that had transpired earlier in the day. I had nothing to hide so I cooperated with the police. I told them everything I knew about Robin and Faith, which by the way, wasn’t much. I also explained to them that I had nothing to do with the robbery that took place in Wheaton, Illinois, or any other illegal activities that involved Robin and Faith. I was simply a passenger trying to get back to Illinois from San Francisco as frugally as possible.
The police weren’t satisfied with my testimony, and placed me under arrest for burglary charges. Robin and Faith had also been charged with burglary and an assortment of other felonies that included attempted manslaughter, possession of an illegal firearm, and eluding the police. Robin was a first time offender, but Faith had an existing warrant out for her arrest for armed robbery. The three of us were in serious trouble.
Once the arrest process was completed, I was transported from Glencoe police station to a downtown Chicago precinct and put in jail. I shared a cell with a quack fortune teller and a couple of scraggly-looking prostitutes. One hour after I was locked up, a female police officer informed me that I was allowed to call one person that I thought would be willing to post my bail. Although it had crossed my mind to call my parents, I decided against it because I honestly didn’t think they would help me. There was only one other person that I could call and that was Diana’s mother.
Diana’s mom showed up at the police station a couple of hours later with a top-notch, criminal attorney, who so happened to be a close friend of hers. She posted my bond and took me back to her home. I lived with Diana and her mother for the next several weeks. The attorney was able to get the burglary charges dropped that had been filed against me and her bond money was returned to her. Robin and Faith weren’t as fortunate as I, and remained in jail until their trials were over. Both of them were found guilty on various charges and received a lengthy prison sentence. I never corresponded with either one of them again. Now, the entire incident was finally over and I could go on.