That’s not my pot!

“That shit ain’t mine,” Douglas Glidden said, feeling the handcuffs tighten around his wrists. “I’m telling you, I don’t do marijuana. It’s not my style.”

Lt. Joseph Sage said, “It’s in your vehicle, so I guess that puts it in your possession.”

“Uh huh, Officer. It ain’t mine ‘cause I just stole the car,” Douglas said. “I just lucked out, that’s all.”

“You lucked out, huh?”

“Yeah, something like that. I’ve been lucking out a lot lately. You think you could give me a break?”

Lt. Sage had to grin at Douglas thinking how this guy was one dumb criminal.

By Vincent Holland

Inspired by the case of Douglas Glideen – http://sunjournal.com

Patrón margarita?

Akeem Monsalvatge couldn’t believe what the Judge was telling him. Thirty-two years felt more like an execution than a sentence. “Do I get a last meal, a patrón margarita?” Akeem said, but thinking now how the Judge just gave him the mandatory minimum sentence for a heist. Just like that, as if it didn’t mean shit. “It weren’t like we shot anybody, we just took the money.” Akeem watched the Judge shrug and his expression change. “The terms are harsh,” the Judge said. “Each of you showed great potential. It’s a pity your youth will be squandered behind bars.”

By Vincent Holland

Inspired by the case of the Hollywood styled heist – http://nypost.com

Robber poops in his pants

The suspect, Nathan Severin, wriggled on the ground under the weight of Jason Guerra, saying, “Come on, give me a break, I’m in a bad spot here. Would it make any difference if I told you I were sorry, that I didn’t mean to rob you?”

“You shit your pants,” Guerra said, tightening his grip.

“Yeah, I pooped my pants. You got a problem with that?”

“Uh huh,” Guerra said. But I got a problem with you trying to steal my kid’s laptop. Shitting yourself, well that’s just your problem that you’ll have to live with for a while longer.”

By Vincent Holland

Inspired by the case of Nathan Severin pooping his pants – http://kptv.com

Forgetful thief

Donald Van Arsdale stood with his back facing the Hudson City Savings Bank. He had his hands inside his empty pockets and was staring at his getaway vehicle trying to figure it out. He guessed that he’d left his car keys inside the bank, remembering how he had placed them on the cashier’s counter as he pulled the shotgun on her and demanded she hand over the money. He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand and shook his head. There was no going back inside, he’d have to escape on foot and hope nobody works it out.

By Vincent Holland

Inspired by the case of Donald Van Arsdale – http://thedailyjournal.com

Robbery by body but not mind

It was going to work. He had already thought it through a hundred times. All he had to do was hand the cheque over to the bank clerk and demand the money. Easy, right? Hell, yeah, he thought. He took a quick glance at the cheque again to make sure his mother’s name was scratched out good and proper. “You know what to do,” he told the bank clerk, “or we all die. I’ll start shooting you first.” Yeah, that should just about do it, he figured. Maybe now he can get some sleep and stop thinking about it all.

By Vincent Holland

Inspired by the case of the out of body robbery – http://koco.com

69-year-old with attitude

“You want to talk to me, then let’s talk,” McCormik said, pressing his index finger onto the officer’s nose. Yeah, he was feeling good right about now, on a cocaine merry-go-trip and wanting to duke it out with the officer. “Let’s fucking go, man,” he said, prodding the officer again, this time in the chest. “Touch me with that taser and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

Officer Faulkner said, “You finished with the attitude?”

“Uh huh, I’m just getting started here,” McCormik said, taking a glance at officer’s hand pulling the taser gun from his belt.

By Vincent Holland

Inspired by the case of John Sherman McCormick – http://nwfdailynews.com

The old, dwarf excuse

Even though the pedals were a little hard to reach and the steering wheel blocked his view of the road, Gunnar still managed the manual gearshift of his father’s Volvo as he drove to his grandparents’ home just north of Oslo. If only his friends could see him now, he thought. Ten years-old seemed big enough, to him at least, to be driving. That is, until the snow made it harder to see and he swerved to the left and then to the right and finally came to a stop in a ditch by the side of the road.

By Vincent Holland

Inspired by the case of the boy, aged ten, who stole his parents’ car – http://dailymail.co.uk

Banana with an AK-47

It seemed like a good idea at the time, at least that’s what the owner of the store told him. Nineteen year-old Taylor stood on the street corner dressed in a banana costume with his AK-47 slung over his left shoulder when the Beaumont police pulled up alongside him. Yeah, he thought to himself, how the fuck do you work this one out. He held up his handwritten sign saying – Golden Triangle Tactical Grand Opening – and gave the cop stepping out of the patrol car that fucked up grin of his. Except, now he weren’t feeling that smart.

By Vincent Holland

Inspired by the case of Golden Triangle Tactical’s promotion – http://nydailynews.com

Couple hit the wrong house

Don Parrish pressed the shotgun’s barrel against Rohen Slater’s head, saying, “Fuck you, muver fucker.”

“I’m telling you, you’ve got the wrong house,” Rohen said. “I don’t know anybody called Jennifer Dreewes.”

Don had to think a minute. “This isn’t 2014 Main?”

“Uh huh, 1524. You aren’t even close.” Rohen thinking if this guy was for real. “You check the number on my front door when you came in?”

Whilst Don was still trying to figure it out, his girlfriend, 39-year-old Michelle Thomas came into the room. “Shit, Don, we got the wrong house.”

Don said, “You think?”

By Vincent Holland

Inspired by the case of Don Parrish and Michelle Thomas – http://kirotv.com/

Methamphetamine trafficking

The beaten Chevrolet pickup tailed the car in front too closely. The driver, Eduardo Enriquez, was unaware of the sheriff’s patrol car until he’d heard the sound of the siren whoop at him from behind. He pulled over onto the hard shoulder and tucked the .9mm handgun into his waistband behind his back and leant his elbow on the window seal. Thinking. Six months out on parole with five hundred grams of methamphetamine stashed in the spare tire and in possession of a handgun wouldn’t go down too well if he were caught. He watched the sherif in the rearview.

By Vincent Holland

Inspired by the case of Eduardo Enriques and 500 grams of methamphetamine – http://amarillo.com