Due to the increasing risk of discovery with each passing day, he urged MacNally to move forward as quickly as possible with his role: devising a method of getting them safely across the Bay to land.
MacNally had never disclosed his role in the Morris-Anglin escape, other than telling the investigators that he had assisted in the planning and the gathering of certain materials, such as pilfering dining hall spoons that they used for digging out their ventilation grilles. Fortunately, Allen West did not implicate him relative to his work sewing the life preservers or rafts, and MacNally likewise took care to place a majority of the responsibility on the three men who had left the facility: no disciplinary action could be taken against those who were no longer behind bars.
As a result, MacNally was permitted to return to his job in the glove shop upon release from segregation. The flotation devices he planned to construct would be simple and easy to build, made from raincoat material that he secured from the clothing room on successive shower days, utilizing his Industries pay to compensate the con who passed him the attire. After cutting and sewing the pieces into two pant-leg shaped sleeves, he would manually inflate several rubber gloves another inmate had pilfered from the hospital, and insert them into the hollow tube he had created.
Once wrapped around their torsos, they would provide buoyancy, allowing them to ride the outgoing current-which, according to a prisoner who knew how to read tides from his time in the Navy-would take them west toward the Golden Gate Bridge and directly to the Marin Headlands, where they would make land.
There was risk-the water stood at around 54 degrees year round, so the amount of time they would be able to remain submerged was limited. If they did not get ashore quickly enough, their body temperatures would plunge, and they would perish shortly thereafter.
The crucial part of their plan required that MacNally request, and be granted, a transfer to the Culinary unit. He explained to the officer in charge that he had always wanted to learn how to cook and prepare meals, and since he had spent nearly two years working in the glove shop, he wanted a change of scenery while simultaneously getting the opportunity to acquire a new skill.
With the escape planned for this evening, he had awoken early, unable to sleep. He sat up in his bed and drew his knees to his chest. He reached over and took the photo of Henry and once again inserted it into the waterproof covering he had constructed for the last escape. The officers who searched his cell had not known what he intended to use it for, so they left it undisturbed. Also in the wallet was $31 in cash he had secured during his stay; it was money he had made trading items he had purchased with his Industries wages: a musical instrument he had no intention of playing, which he bought and then sold at a discount, and a magazine subscription that he handled in the same manner.
Once he made it off the island, he would need the money to buy food, a bus ticket-anything that would allow him to survive without having to break into a home or commit some other crime that would be reported to the authorities, giving them a bread crumb with which to locate him. He believed that not plotting ahead for the success of their own plan was a common mistake made by escapees.
MacNally placed the wallet in his shirt pocket, then grabbed his pad and pen to compose a letter that he was certain would be found. Upon discovery of his escape, the cell would be searched, and there were things he did not want left unsaid. He began writing, the words flowing freely:
Dear Associate Warden Dollison,
I wanted to thank you for treating me fairly and with respect back in June, in the aftermath of the escape. By now you know that I have left the island. But I don’t want you to take it personally; it is the unending desire to see my son, who I essentially but unwittingly abandoned, that has led me down this path. I have no desire to commit criminal acts with my freedom, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit that the boredom, the rote mechanics of life on The Rock, the sucking of intellect and the loss of person…the loneliness, the violence that I have endured are also reasons for leaving. All have left a permanent mark on me.
I find myself in this place by circumstances not of my own creation. This is not to say I don’t take responsibility for my actions. I was once told by a Leavenworth hack that life is a series of choices, and that I have made a number of bad ones. I’ve had time to reflect on that, and I don’t feel it’s quite that absolute, or black and white. I did rob those banks and I did take the money, but it was only to provide for my son. That said, I should’ve found a way to do things differently. I know that now.
My decision to leave your institution is based on my attempt to fix what I have mangled in my son’s life, and, I guess, in my own. I have only been incarcerated for three and a half years, but it feels like a lifetime. I have become a bitter and broken man, and if I die amongst the waves of cold Bay waters, at least it was with the noble intent of looking after my child’s well-being.
With respect,
Walton MacNally
MacNally folded the letter and left it on his wall-mounted desk with “Warden Dollison” scrawled across the top. He sat on his bed, thinking of the last time he saw Henry, watching him run from the car into the blind area between the houses. Tears formed, then ran down his cheeks. He grabbed his hair in two hands and pulled, the pain he had attempted to hide instantly present, replacing the numbness he had sought to guide him through each day.
The wakeup whistle blew and MacNally jumped off the bed. He could not wait for the day to begin-because when it ended, he expected to be standing on land, two miles away.
His work request had been granted and he started in the kitchen on November 6. Two days earlier, he had passed the flotation devices to Shoemacher in the yard, who stored them behind one of the large refrigerators in the basement, trusting that his partner would not depart without him.
The day passed slowly. MacNally kept watch on the time, trying to go through his activities without exhibiting behavior that would arouse suspicion. When dinner ended at 4:45, the prisoners returned to their cells for the 5pm count. MacNally, Shoemacher, and three other inmates had the assignment of cleaning the dining hall and food preparation areas, as well as wrapping and placing all uneaten food in the refrigerators. Though they were not in their cells for the standing count, Culinary Unit workers were accounted for by the correctional officer assigned to the kitchen.
On his way down to the basement, MacNally slipped a carving knife out of the deep sink filled with soaking pots, pans, and cooking utensils, and wrapped it in a soiled apron. Shoemacher joined him downstairs a minute later and they busied themselves with putting away supplies.
Once the guard finished his survey of the basement, he ascended the steps to check the remainder of his patrol.
Shoemacher grabbed a twelve-inch crescent wrench he had taken from an inmate’s maintenance toolbox and then hidden behind a large fuel tank that stood by the window from which they planned to leave. Using the tool, he went to work prying loose the nearly severed bars.
MacNally, meanwhile, used the knife to slice off the long electrical cord from the industrial floor waxing machine. He quickly made a knot every several feet, then shoved the wire into one of two potato sacks along with the knife and the flotation devices that Shoemacher had squirreled away behind the refrigerator.