Robert Compton and the Great Escape Bank Robbery

A dead end street, that's what Robert Compton thought of his life. It was going nowhere except to an abrupt end in some dingy basement apartment at the end of some unnamed street. Robert Compton's days were dreadful, dull and unfulfilling; tumbling him through his shadow of a life to a nothing end.

Eleven o'clock at night and Robert Compton was setting in his aging, orange tweed recliner, setting like a man in a comma or a drunken stupor. Saturday night and Robert Compton was home, or what passed for home anyway, it was his place of residence; a damp, molding back basement apartment where he entertained himself listening to mice scurrying about in the walls, water dripping from the kitchen faucets and garbage truck traffic in the alley above. It was typical of cheap, city slum lord, apartments: low ceilings, brown paneled walls empty of paintings or photos in the combination living room bedroom. A 1950s white metal kitchen and a tiny bath with rusting pipes, leaky toilet, damp molding ceiling and a dirty wire mesh glass window, with a crack that made it look like it frowned at the alley above. Saturday night and the best Robert could think of to do was to sit in his chair and mindlessly click through 120 channels of basic cable, bored he stopped to watch a fast talking salesman in a kitchen knife infomercial. The knives were of no real interest to Robert but he liked programs he didn't really need to pay attention too so he could let his mind wander, and dream dreams of the rich and famous, his eye lids drooped and then shut as he fell into a semi-sleep state.

Robert had tried dozens of things in his quest to get rich, but nothing had worked. Robert Compton was not interested in just making a living, like every day, work a day people. No he didn't want a better job or even a good job; he wanted to be rich, rich and famous. He had worked as: a substitute teacher, cook, salesman, and truck driver, then tried auto parts sales and insurance and even spent a few months stalking shelves on the graveyard shift at Wal-Mart. Get rich with these jobs, never. Three years ago Robert held two jobs, often working sixteen hours a day; he made some money, had no life outside of work and ended up giving way too much to the government.

In the past two years he started to look at several unethical ways to make his fortune and then turned to illegal. Gambling, including trying to fix a quarter- horse race hadn't worked, nor did his attempt to scam several credit card companies or to scan and print money on his home computer. Now he had a record, was on probation for four years, still had no savings and was a long way from rich and famous. Robert dozed into a real sleep, remote in hand, thinking of how he could get rich. And as an after thought to this dream, get rich quick and easy and become famous. Now that was the real Robert Compton.

The sound of a whining motorcycle startled Robert from the dream. He looked at the TV screen and there it was. The answer to his problem, and it had been there since his boyhood. Steve McQueen in, The Great Escape. He must have watched the movie a dozen times, a copy of the video laid on the dusty bookshelves in the corner of his living room with thirty or forty other of his favorite videos. Captain Virgil Hilts, McQueen's character, along with his fellow prisoners dig their way from the prison. To pull off this memorable feat they simply spend lots of time doing un-escape like activities, dump the dirt out their pant legs into the prison grounds and their captors never know that they are secretly tunneling out of the Nazi's grasp.

Movies, books and television shows have used different versions of this theme for years, tunneling out of every kind of prison and jail and best of all tunneling into a bank. The plot is always the same, come up under the vault, cut in, and the money is all yours Robert Compton. If it worked in all those books and movies, it must work in real life. Pure genius, Robert thought as he clicked off the TV and headed for the shower with a plan about to take off. Warm water poured over him and Robert closed his eyes letting his imagination read the newspaper headline, Brilliant Burglar Breeches Bank for Billions. "Life is good, now, to find the perfect bank for the perfect bank job."

"It's six A.M. and 'On the Spot News Radio' has the latest on that 26 car pile up out on state highway 30." Robert didn't tap the snooze today; no, today he was excited about life and ready to become rich and famous. Robert Compton, bank robber and millionaire, didn't report to work, not today, today his new job at the Burger Palace would do without him. He figured they would think he was dead, or realize he decided to quit, and he knew they wouldn't care either way. "Yesterday I wouldn't have cared either," Robert muttered, as he walked out the door and out into his bright new world.

The next few days turned into two weeks, Robert was nearly out of money and hadn't found a bank that fit his plans, not yet. Everyday came and went a mirror of the day before. Up at six A.M. dress in the same brown polyester slacks, white shirt and clip-on black tie, pick up the ancient brown, thrift store briefcase and visit the banks he had selected from the yellow pages the night before. The scenario was the same as he cased each bank. Robert would ask to speak with a loan officer. "Hi, I'm Rob Carpenter I'm opening a new business just a few blocks from here, I know I must sound paranoid but I worry about banks getting robbed, how safe is your bank?" In every case Robert Compton, alias, Rob Carpenter was given the grand tour, and each time Rob decided, "This is not the right bank."

Monday morning, two weeks to the day after he quit, Robert was back at his old job, breakfast cook at Ernie's Fat Burger Palace. But this time it didn't feel so bad because now Robert had a plan. Mornings he cooked and afternoons were used to case jewelry stores for his perfect crime. "Jewelry stores, why didn't I think of that in the first place," He'd blurted out last night while watching an old lady with pink fingernails, blue hair and rings on every finger sell fake diamonds on channel 114, the 'Shop Till You Drop' channel.

On the third afternoon he found it, the perfect place. Brims Jewelry, it was operated by an elderly couple, nearly senile, Robert guessed, and best of all it was loaded with diamonds, gold, silver and from the looks of it, cash in the safe behind the counter. He could see it now, the headlines, Brilliant Burglar Bashes Brims for Billions. He knew they didn't have billions but it sure sounded good.

This time his new basement apartment was just what he was looking for. It was directly behind the jewelry store with only a walk-way in between. "An easy dig", Robert thought. "Looks like my luck is finally changing," rent was twenty bucks a month less than his present apartment and riches and fame were less than twenty feet away. Robert paid the deposit and moved in the next weekend.

That afternoon Robert started digging, he whistled as if he was watching a pretty girl walk by, when he found concrete only two inches thick under the yellowing linoleum of his living room floor. The arrangement of the apartment was perfect, Robert would slide the skirted sofa over the hole every day when he went out and no one would be the wiser. Getting rid of the dirt was another story; Steve McQueen and the boys never had it so tough. After three days of thinking, pacing and worrying Robert came up with an idea. He bought some painters whites and two empty five gallon paint buckets at a second hand store. He looked like a painter as he walked from his apartment each day with the buckets full of dirt and not one person asked a question about him or the buckets. Robert sang or hummed as he raised and emptied each bucket into one of the neighborhood dumpsters he walked past each day.

On the third day of digging Robert made a decision to not go into Brims Jewelry again, not until he came through the floor. He had visited the store twice since he rented the new apartment showing interest in various items, but didn't want to stir suspicion. As Robert dug deeper his thoughts became deeper and he decided that he would not only stay out of Brims he would avoid that entire side of the block. Soon enough the tunnel would be ready and then he would visit Brims Jewelry to do some late night shopping.

After nearly a month of nocturnal digging Robert struck pay dirt. He was in, or at least under the floor of Brims and that old couple were none the wiser. He really wanted to go around the corner, go into Brims Jewelry and check it out again, they would never know. But he was not your typical dumb criminal, no sir, not master criminal Robert Compton; he would avoid the urge and stick with the plan. Stay away now and collect big soon. Brilliant Burglar Breeches Brims for Billions screamed the headlines of his mind.

"Tomorrow night," thought Robert, "tomorrow night and its all mine, money, fame, everything the rich people have. Tomorrow night Robert Compton will have it all".

He was inside Brims, Robert couldn't believe it, he was inside. But something was wrong. The store was bare. Nothing, no money, no jewelry, not even counters or displays, the store looked completely empty as empty as-the florescent lights blinked on and three cops, revolvers drawn, smiled as they cuffed the master criminal and took him down town.

On the way to the police station Robert heard the entire story. Brims Jewry had been robbed two weeks ago, the perpetrators got away with nearly three-hundred thousand dollars in cash and merchandise. The next day the Brims decided they'd had enough and closed the store, sold the inventory and fixtures to a competitor at the mall and moved to Hollywood Florida. The three police officers were in the unused building on a surveillance shift, watching a laundry across the street from Brims Jewelry, a laundry, where it was rumored, money was being laundered along with shirts, pants and party dresses and the police were simply eating donuts and waiting for the bad guys to appear across the street. When they heard Robert digging and then sawing his way in, they sat back in their chairs and waited. Later the officers would laugh about the easiest bust they ever made.

In Jail, again, Robert Compton stared at the runny scrambled eggs and black toast on the platter in front of him, fiddled with the packet of grape jelly and opened the newspaper he'd ask the guard to bring him.

Baffled Buffoon Burgles Brims Bare Business Building.

-End- © 2007