Gerard-
Frank was the bravest person I’d ever met.
Frank was put into a juvenile detention centre at the tender age of 17.
Frank didn’t even commit the crime, not completely anyway.
They robbed a liquor store, Frank and Mikey, or at least tried to. Mikey is my brother, the younger of the two of us, but sometimes older in state of mind.
They got caught by the cops; all they tried to take was a couple of packs of cigarettes and a bottle of vodka to share. They didn’t expect the shop to have an alarm, barely any corner shop in New Jersey had alarms, and this one did.
The alarm shocked them, they tried to run, couldn’t move fast enough, there was a cop car parked on the next street, the cops cut Frank and Mikey off on fifth avenue.
It was Mikey’s fault; he dragged Frank into his little circle of friends, created a safe place for Frank. A group of friends that wouldn’t turn on him, wouldn’t bully him, but would help him when he needed it most. So much for that, Frank was turned into a falsely accused criminal instead.
I still love Mikey though, he’s my brother, and I couldn’t abandon him even if I tried.
Mikey was 18 when it happened, just one year older than Frank, Mikey was put in prison for 3 years. 3 years was too long for attempted robbery, I think at least, but Frank got 5 years in the juvenile detention centre, and it was hell for him.
July 25th 2012
Mikey-
“Frank!” I whisper sharply.
“Yes?” He replies.
“Are you ready to do this?” We are hiding behind a bush across from the minimart, which is only two blocks away from Frank’s house where I have been staying.
He nods into the darkness, it is exactly quarter past midnight and we are finally ready to do what we have wanted to do for so long, rob the store, but only of cigarettes and vodka.
“Its go time,” Frank whispers to me, a worried grin spreads across his face. I slowly stand up from behind the bush and quickly scan the street in front of me to see if there is anyone directly in our way. There isn’t.
“Clear,” I whisper to Frank, he jumps up a little to eagerly, before, smiling at me, excited for what was to come.
“Ready,” he says and with that we are jogging across the street straight towards the main door of the minimart. We reach the main entrance of the minimart; I pull my crowbar out of my rucksack and wedge it between the door and doorframe. The door makes a slight creaking noise but nothing that would blow our cover. I gently push the door open and step inside. Frank follows me in and carefully shuts the door behind us. I flick on the lights.
Suddenly an alarm blares.
It is deafening.
I look back at Frank, who has an extremely worried look on his face; he is scared, very scared.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper before properly realizing what is happening, “RUN!” I shout at the top of my lungs, Frank jumps in shock before turning, throwing the door open and running as fast as he can. I run after him, catching up quite quickly, he isn’t the fastest runner on the planet. We run together at a steady but fast pace. A cop car siren wails, a little too close for comfort. We pick up speed, but not enough.
