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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781927855584 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Great Plains Publications |
| Publication date: | 04/12/2003 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 224 |
| File size: | 452 KB |
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CHAPTER 1
"Sorry I was late. I ran into an old friend."
Maybe it was the way Robert Sand said it, or the way his eyes looked when he spoke. Either way, Elisabeth Colbourne knew something was up. The day was half-over, a day they had planned to spend furniture shopping, picking out Christmas presents for their parents, pigging out on fast food, just catching up, and Robert had just arrived at her downtown Edmonton apartment, hours later than promised, with a mysterious excuse. Elisabeth had been pacing around her modest suite all morning, putting away dishes, checking her e- mail, re-arranging couch pillows, anything to pass the time, not wanting to think the worst. This was Robert, after all. Mr. Unpredictable. But for all his faults, she could always count on him to be on time whenever he came to visit. Not today, though.
Elisabeth wanted to know more, worried that something had happened, that Robert had given into temptation and done something stupid. He looked fine, albeit somewhat distracted. At least he's not back in jail, she thought. After giving her a hug, like always, Robert had quickly changed the subject, clearly not wanting to talk about what had kept him so long. Elisabeth knew all too well how precious their time together was, so there was no sense wasting more of it by having an argument. They certainly had done enough of that in the past.
As a couple, Robert and Elisabeth were as mismatched as they come. Elisabeth, the prim and proper Catholic school girl; Robert, the wild-eyed, long-haired rebel without a cause. Their differences helped bring them together, but also had driven them apart. Long-time neighbours and friends, Elisabeth and Robert had turned many heads when they started dating in the mid 1990s. In the central Alberta town of Westlock, the Sand and Colbourne families shared plenty of good times. Backyard barbeques, hunting, camping, roasting marshmallows. Friends since early childhood, Robert and Elisabeth had gone through the "boys have cooties" stages, past the playful teasing and wet willies phase, into puberty, and then into each other's arms. It had seemed inevitable. And while their lives may have taken drastically different paths in recent years, their bond remained strong. But sometimes, like now, Elisabeth wondered how well she really knew Robert.
* * *
Westlock is the kind of town you could blink and miss. An hour north of Edmonton, it is a pretty enough farming community, with colourful floral baskets dotting the wide, tar-patched streets, and small, lush lawns bursting with vegetable gardens. Homes are modest, although some on the north end of town sport two-car garages. Campers and trailers seem to fill every second driveway, a sign people are anxious to get out of town whenever possible. A large number of area lakes beckon many of the town's 4,800 residents, especially on the weekends. Everything seems big, from the expansive, wide-open skyline to the super-sized mosquitoes and grasshoppers which seem to have settled on Westlock as their permanent summer residence, snacking on nearby leafy farm fields.
There isn't a lot to do for those who call this place home, especially when you are young. It doesn't take long to tire of loitering around McDonalds, A&W, Subway, KFC and the two local grocery stores. Hooligan's Bar sounds like fun, but getting in underage is nearly impossible in a community where everyone knows everyone else. Thursday nights are hopping at the Hitching Post Saloon, where locals parade their worst impressions of Garth Brooks and Alan Jackson at the ever- popular karaoke night. Liquid courage is definitely a requirement before most take the stage.
With boredom comes trouble, and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police stationed in Westlock are kept busy, mostly with the sort of mischief crimes that teens tend to get into. The Towne Square, filled during the summer with potted plants and floral arrangements, is a popular place for local drunks and young ne'er-do-wells to relieve themselves and vandalize. Staff at the IGA and Extra Foods stores have their hands full keeping an eye on young shoplifters who seem to do it more for sport than necessity.
Drugs are rampant in the area, a dark underside that everyone seems to know about, but nobody wants to discuss. Marijuana is the drug of choice, much of it home-grown, courtesy of sparse farmland and isolated homes that make it easy to get away with. Being so close to Edmonton, it isn't difficult to get harder drugs into Westlock and the surrounding farm communities, which include Clyde, Thorhild, Boyle. All the youth in the area seem to be doing it, most willingly, but some succumbing to the pressure of having an entire town thinking you're a wimp.
Cocaine first made its presence felt in the Westlock-area in the mid 1990s. A local resident, who had just turned 16 and received a souped-up truck, had gone into Edmonton, purchased a few rocks of crack, and brought them back to the community. A handful of local drugs users were eager to try something new, and they loved the results. In fact, they couldn't get enough, and soon were making their own two-hour return trips into the big city to stock up. The gang quickly learned how to purify their coke by mixing a spoonful of it in water and baking soda, heating the mixture to burn off the impurities, skimming the purified oil with a knife, waiting for the oil to solidify in to a rock, and then melting the rock into a bed of ashes, to be smoked in a pipe. Things quickly got out of hand as addiction began to take over.
Naturally, with drugs come crime, but the crime rate seems to fluctuate from month to month in Westlock, although not nearly as much as it used to. In the past, police never had to look far for the cause – if the Sand brothers were in jail, it usually meant quiet days and peaceful nights. But when they were out, God help everyone.
* * *
Robert still carried a heavy heart over a tragic incident from August 1995, the kind of life-changing event which would stay with him forever. The Westlock summer fair was on, an annual event filled with carnival rides, games of chance and sweet, sticky and salty foods. Robert, his best friend Richard Ford, and several other friends went to a liquor store in town, where Richard was able to buy a six-pack of beer without being carded. He was only 16, but looked of age, thanks to his lanky build. One of the other friends had some pot. They all drove to an isolated spot in Westlock's Industrial Park, just on the edge of town, to drink, smoke joints and eat pizza. Suddenly, Richard began to cough uncontrollably. Everyone, especially Robert, knew he was in trouble. Richard, a severe asthmatic, had been hospitalized only weeks earlier for another serious attack. Richard began giving himself squirts from the inhaler, crying, sweating and foaming at the mouth. "I'm going to die," he gasped to his friends. He pleaded with them to get him to hospital.
The group arrived at the hospital within minutes, but had trouble getting inside, as the doors were locked. They frantically buzzed the intercom and kicked the doors, finally catching the attention of a nurse, who rushed Richard to the emergency room. Robert and the others paced nervously in the waiting area. They grew agitated when the nurse began questioning them about their drug and alcohol intake that night. Robert rushed past the nurse and stormed into Richard's hospital room, where he found his best friend in dire straits. His eyes were glazed, veins bulged in his neck, and doctors had several tubes feeding into his body. Richard began to defecate and urinate, and Robert was ordered out of the room in a scene of total chaos.
Robert couldn't take it. He felt guilty, and helpless. Hours later, doctors came into the waiting room with the grim news – Richard had gone into cardiac arrest and died. They tried everything to revive him, from CPR to adrenaline to electrical stimulation. The official cause of death was an asthma attack, likely brought on by the drugs and beer. Robert was devastated.
A pall bearer at his friend's funeral, Robert kept his emotions hidden from even those closest to him, rarely wanting to discuss Richard's death. He fell into despair, taking deadly risks with his own life like when, high on pot, he drove a friend's Mustang down the highway in the wrong lane of traffic.
Robert began spending more time with Sharon Ford, but rarely spoke directly about what happened to her son, Richard, whom he described as his only true friend. He also told Sharon he felt guilty he couldn't do more to help Richard, blaming it on the drugs he took. Robert was also simmering with anger at the way police had treated him. He had seen it too many times, with his own father and some of his friends. Robert soon began experimenting with harder drugs, like crack cocaine, which accelerated his freefall.
While camping in the woods one night, Robert woke up, violently screaming out Richard's name. His parents, Dennis and Elaine, were used to Robert's sleep-walking habits and used cold water to get him out of his trance-like state. Still, Robert refused to talk about Richard with his parents. But everyone could see something was horribly wrong. Inside, it was slowly eating away at Robert, his self-control seeping away.
* * *
Elisabeth had always vowed to stand by Robert, although he could certainly test her commitment like no other. When he began going through the revolving door of the youth criminal justice system, still struggling with the pain of losing his best friend, Elisabeth remained by his side, the good girl with the bad boy. They were the ultimate odd couple. She had constantly pleaded with him to get his act together, stop being so selfish, but Robert, although ashamed to face her at times, could never go through with the many promises he had made. Following several stormy months together, which seemed to stretch their lifelong friendship to the very limit, Elisabeth had made the mature decision to end it, promising to always remain loyal and loving, but from a safer distance. Robert hadn't fought her, although neither liked the outcome. Robert still wanted to run away together, to live in the woods, camp out like they had when they were kids, live off the land. Elisabeth was horrified about leaving her friends and family, but Robert joked they would make sure they were always near a pay phone.
"You can run down the hill and call your mom," he would say.
The feelings were definitely still there, for both of them, but Elisabeth had to fight them back with the reality of the situation. She told Robert things would have to change, in a big way, and Robert knew it. Now, after his latest stretch, he was finally out, and on the right track. Maybe lightning would strike twice.
As a young offender, Robert had managed to rack up 13 convictions, most resulting in probation or fines, which he rarely paid. But his biggest mistake came in April 1998, shortly after he had been freed from jail, making yet another vow to clean up his act, only to fail miserably. Robert, 19, was at a house party and wanted to get beer, but had no vehicle. No problem, he would just take one from someone else.
Robert, his then-girlfriend Sonja Boutin and a 15-year-old friend came up with a plan to order a pizza, then jump the delivery boy for his car when he arrived. They executed the plan perfectly, at least until they got into the car and it broke down. Robert and the other two set it on fire, then stole a truck at a nearby farm, which they later burned. They repeated the pattern of stealing and burning twice more, ending up some 30 kilometres south of Westlock in the town of Sylvan Lake. Days later, having turned much of the cash into drugs, Robert and another strung-out friend, Tom Fitzpatrick, decided to rob a small country grocery store. They put black nylon stockings over their heads, then burst into the Perryvale Country Store armed with a gun. Fitzpatrick grabbed the cash box, but was nervous and dropped it on the floor, spreading bills and coins everywhere. As this happened, the cashier's two-year-old son walked in from the back room, to see his Mommy being confronted by two masked gunmen. Robert's nerves were frazzled, but he remained calm, telling the woman to keep her cool so her son wouldn't be afraid. He and Fitzpatrick gathered up the cash, plus booze and cigarettes, then fled the store.
They continued their crime spree days later, when Robert and an underage teen friend burst into the Road House Tavern in the small town of Fawcett, armed again with a sawed-off .22 semi-automatic rifle and black nylons. The 15-year-old teen held the gun to the head of the store owner, while Robert grabbed $70 and six bottles of liquor. Robert and the teen fled, meeting up with some other friends at a nearby gravel pit to drink and celebrate. But the party would be short-lived.
Sonja's parents, who never did like the influence Robert had on their daughter, had tipped off the police, who tracked down the suspects and set up a spike belt on the highway. Robert was driving a stolen truck, his young companions at his side, when he came across a police dragnet the following morning and tried to speed away. Soon, he was driving down country roads, on just his rims, after three of the four tires were punctured by a road belt. A RCMP helicopter joined in the chase. The teen in the truck grabbed his gun, opened the rear window, and began shooting at a pursuing police car. He missed, and police began returning gunfire, knocking out Robert's last good tire. Another occupant grabbed the spare tire from inside the box of the truck, throwing it at the police car, along with several empty beer bottles. Robert eventually turned into a farmer's field, which proved to be a mistake. He smashed into a fence, and the police car was right on his tail, nailing his truck from behind. The boys tried to run, but were quickly caught.
The law had finally caught up to Robert big time, who was convicted in October 1998 of several charges, after his 15-year- old "friend" snitched to police about everyone's role. Robert had remained silent, but it ended up costing him. He was sentenced to seven years in prison, and at the age of 19, was facing the biggest challenge of his life. In prison at Drumheller, Robert initially felt sorry for himself. Sonja, the longest girlfriend of his life at two years, broke up with him, not wanting to wait for a convict boyfriend. But through it all, Elisabeth remained loyal, although deep down she wondered where things had gone so wrong.
* * *
Elisabeth was especially close with Robert's younger brother, Danny. "Little Sis", he would call her, and she considered him a brother. Dusty, the youngest of the three Sand boys, was also a good friend. Danny and Dusty loved to pick on her when they were young, but Robert, her saviour, would always ride to the rescue, scolding his younger brothers for being so mean.
"She's just a little girl," he would say with a mischievous grin.
Robert only had two years on her, Danny one, and Dusty was the same age, but she still did seem little next to these brutes. Robert and Elisabeth could still spend hours laughing about the good times they shared growing up.
Unfortunately, Danny had taken a nosedive similar to his elder brother. At the age of 18, Danny thought he was in love and was even talking marriage, but his girlfriend abruptly broke up with him because her parents didn't approve of his less-than-stellar background. Danny went off the deep end, repeatedly phoning the girl and leaving frightening messages on her answering machine, threatening to harm her family. His cocaine use got heavier, and his crimes intensified. He viewed his past endeavours as lightweight. Danny told friends he wanted to be the meanest, toughest guy in town, the one everyone feared yet somehow admired at the same time. At five-foot-nine, he wasn't the biggest guy around, but he was certainly the most unpredictable. Danny began listening to hardcore death-metal music, distancing himself from his family and closest friends, all in the name of getting his next score. At the same time, he began burying himself in the Bible, memorizing scripture.
When Danny turned 18, he started hanging around Hooligan's Bar in Westlock, a gritty establishment filled with truckers on layovers, highway construction crews spending the night, local users and dealers, and even the occasional Hells Angel passing through town. One night, a group of college students from Edmonton, on a "pub crawl" through the area, stopped in for a drink, or ten. Darren Peacock, a long-time friend of Danny's, had just started working as a bouncer, a job the burly teen with a short-fuse seemed perfect for. He had spent countless days and nights with the Sand boys, doing drugs, shoplifting, getting drunk and acting stupid. But on this night, it was Danny who stole the show.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Nowhere To Run"
by .
Copyright © 2003 Mike McIntyre.
Excerpted by permission of Great Plains Publications.
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