Copyright 2012 All Rights Reserved 2012 by Mark Anthony Given
A man with a briefcase can steal more money than any man with a gun. -Don Henley
STANDING IN LINE AT THE BANK in a little strip mall along Highway 90 in Biloxi, Mississippi, this was probably the 50th bank I robbed and I got too comfortable. I used the same bank account I had swiped off a mailbox right next to the front door of an old historic home, in a wealthy part of Gulfport. I had already called the bank to verify a $1,000 check, pretending to be a local merchant so I knew there was that much in there. Monday morning at 11:40, I strolled into the Main Branch of the Hancock Bank and Trust, the biggest bank on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, in downtown Gulfport, Mississippi.
Two block from the beautiful gulf of Mexico, I parked a block away from the bank and walked into the tallest building on the Coast, and up the escalator and grabbed Another Hot Grand before breakfast. I forced down the little fear I knew was good, it keeps you on your toes, I learned long ago, that I was so sporadic and switching jurisdictions so fast, that they were not looking for me to walk into their bank, and the Show didn't start until I handed them the checks and Deposit Slip. As long as I stayed calm, everything went well and I was able to detect any hint of cops, I would see it in their eyes.
As usual, I stopped at an island and pretended to fill out a Deposit Slip and organize my four or five checks I already had prepared, as I try and get a feel for the place. Banks, especially Main Office Banks, are like Emergency Waiting Rooms, and all that marble and brass and Mahogany provided a heightened sense of awareness and level of importance in the air. Most of these Tellers were making little more than Minimum Wage, and rolling out of bed every morning they wondered if they might die for someone else’s money that day.
I took my time like I was endorsing all the Checks right there, as I was really waiting for a particular young attractive female Teller to become available. I knew from experience I don’t want an old schoolmarm broad, no high maintenance broads with Three Hundred dollar hairdo and badly fitting expensive clothes. I diffidently don’t want a male, young or old or in between. I want a hot young chick bored out of her mind handing out other people’s money all day, and looking for Mr. Right Checkbook! I timed it so I was standing there in a thousand dollar suit, expensive haircut, tanned and talented and turned on the megawatt smile the moment we made eye contact.
She was gorgeous, probably less than three years out of high school and knew I was way out her league, but she could hope. I slid the five personal checks all made out to the account holder, and the Bank Deposit Slip (I should have had my own if this really my Account), and I complimented her hair or eyes or smile and leaned in the window and let her get a good gander at that Ten Thousand Dollar Rolex President. I literally seen her breath halted she was so impressed and probably would have been stuttering had she tried to talk. Didn’t even ask for identification! Think about it, who’s going to walk into the Main Office of the biggest bank for a hundred miles in any direction, and slap down five checks totaling thirty four hundred dollars and only wanted a thousand dollars bank, from an account that wasn’t theirs? She checked the account, verified there was plenty of money in there to cover any or all, of these checks, and the thousand dollars cash I was walking out with, what’s the problem?
As soon as she counted out the new Benjamin’s in front of me for the second time I asked her what my balance was. They never tell you. They always write it down on a piece of paper and slide it too you. I never even glanced at it and tucked it into my red leather valise and spun around and floated out of there heading straight for the beach. I was so surprised by the amount of money in the account I couldn't let it go. No wonder she was flustered; $76,000! I probably walked in every bank on the Gulf Coast from Pensacola to Houston, Texas, I never had an account this fat and I couldn’t let it go.
