To Free the Truth

–old enough to do the crime (or not), old enough to do the time–

I lived in places like this off and on for most of my free years just as when this part of my story took place.

My life in the free world came to a screeching halt in August of 1995 when I was 15 years old. I burglarized a home with my cousin and a friend, and we were apprehended later that night. Some of the stolen guns from theburglary were found in my trailer park the next morning by my neighbor, Ray. All but two of the weapons were eventually turned over to the cops by my father to show that he was an honest parent. Eight days later I was released from juvenile hall to my parents’ custody.

 Being locked up for the first time was a rude awakening. I told myself that I’d straighten up and promised the same to my parents and friends. No more getting high, running the streets, and being a thug. I told my best friend that I wanted to be the first Pruett to finish high school.

 But, I wasn’t entirely reformed. About a week after I was released, I found out my neighbor, Ray, had a couple of guns from the burglary. This angered me because Ray and I weren’t getting along, and I somehow still thought that was “my” property.

 At first I got along well with Ray and his wife, Jane. There were older, but I liked hanging out with older people. I smoked pot with them and even took Ray to score crack a few times before he quit smoking it. Things between us deteriorated that summer. Jane’s daughter Nicole, who was my age, came down to Texas to stay the summer. She and I had started messing around like teenagers do and Ray didn’t like that. He said I was a bad influence, and, in retrospect, he was right. But, he allowed things to go on until Jane’s purse was stolen by my friend. Ray blamed it on me and forbid me to ever come over to his place or see Nicole. So, when I heard he had some of the stolen guns, I was furious. I asked him about them one afternoon and he denied having them. A heated argument ensued and ended with my mom yelling at me to get my butt inside.

Later that day, I told my brother–who was closer to Ray’s age at 25–what Ray said. He told me he’d kick his ass when Ray got home. I, then, told my father what happened and he echoed what my brother had said. Fights were a common way for settling disputes in the neighborhoods where we lived, and this trailer park was no different.

My parents fell asleep before Ray ever made it home. My brother talked to me about the situation and said that it would be best to let it blow over. I agreed because a part of me really wanted to stay out of trouble.

As I prepared for bed, I heard Ray’s truck pull into his driveway. Moments later I heard cursing and screaming so I looked out the window and saw him waving his arms at our trailer. I told my brother and he went to wake my dad up as I put on my boots. I walked outside and rounded the end of the trailer. Ray was bent over inside his truck. I panicked thinking he was going for a weapon, and rushed him. I yanked him from his truck and we fought briefly until my brother arrived. He wrestled Ray to the ground and they rolled around for maybe a minute before my father appeared. Ray broke loose before Dad arrived and ran behind his trailer, where my brother and father chased after him. I stayed by his truck talking to people from the trailer park who had come out to see what was happening. Shortly thereafter my father came running from behind the trailer covered in blood.

First, all of this was a huge misunderstanding. At trial, Ray’s wife testified that their dog had gotten out when Ray came in which is why he was screaming when I looked out the window. I thought he was yelling at me. He kept an extra dog leash in his truck, which is why I saw him bent over inside of it.

Second, I never saw Ray get stabbed nor did I want that. It freaked me out to see both my father and my brother covered in blood. All of that being said, I was still certified as an adult at age 16 and sentenced to 99 years in prison under the law of parties.