free pdf right here - The Crime Factory

CRIME FACTORYISSUE FOURTEENbut let me take out some ofthe Venezuelan currency,bolivares, I had hid. I neversaw that old dollar bill againand I was stupidly naïve tothink she would believe me.I stashed the fewbolivares I had into my cowboyboot. I snuck behind her andcalled my roommate. No oneanswered, but I left a message.Another PM led us, in Indianfile, through clanging gatesto the jail. The concretewalls were greasy with sootstains. To our right therewere showers where you couldshoot up drugs. An Italian- who I later found out wasbusted for trying to smugglecoke out of the country - metus after we walked in. He saidhe had basuco - a very cheap,but highly addictive form ofcocaine - for sale.The cops who led usthrough the starkly lithallway heard him offering thedrugs to us.They let him sell thedrugs because they got aslice of the profits. I askedhim if he had any cigarettes.He nodded and I bought two.They took us to one of thejail cells in the building,a vast and bare windowlessroom with the high overheadlights burning through thenight. There were no bedsin the place. Prisoners werecurled up on the dirty floorwith shirts pulled over theirheads to block out the light.Two reeking buckets wereplaced in the back for ournecessities.The prisoners had carvedout pass-through holes in thewalls where the cells couldcarry out jailhouse commercefor food, cigarettes, anddrugs. There were about 45men in the cell. The youngerones pranced around the cellwith a cocky attitude. Somehad fresh tattoos and brandnew- expensive - runningshoes. We were the newcomersand they wanted to show their37