Most Men would do anything to get OUT of Prison…BUT…Maurice Clarett would do anything he could to get IN…
Break In…Break Out…Save Your Brother’s Life.
Those are the words with which I carry my life. My name is Maurice Clarett. You may know me from scoring touchdowns on fools in the Fiesta, taking more cash than Reggie Bush and getting a one year suspension, running a 5.2 40 yard dash, robbing someone of their cell phone with a gun in my waist (Am I a joke? No), rolling through the streets of Ohio wearin’ my vest, strapped with the AK and my bottle. That’s where you know me. Now, now find out why I am doing what I can do, when I can. My life is not just about Maurice Clarett…or football…my life is about a higher calling. Today, by being sentenced to three and a half years I begin to take steps to free an innocent man. A man persecuted by those who live to persecute and sully the good names of my brothers. Today, I enter a Prison, to break my man out…to break out…my brother in arms…Cecil Collins.
These halls are the ones that carry my life now. These are the halls of Foxriver Penitentiary. I now call this place home. Haven’t been here much, but already, I like it. As much as I am only here because I have to be here to break my boy out, I have taken a liking to many of the people that I roam this facility with. The familiarity is astounding to me. They shacked me up with some immigrant fool. Now, I don’t like immigrants a whole lot, but the only other option I had was hacking some database action and getting a different cell. Maurice ain’t about no dang computers, you know what I’m trying to get at? So, I walks in day one like…
I wasn’t frontin’ on the man no how. Just noticed that he was Spanish-like. I just wanted to get in, do my thing, and get out. I had to feel dude out, see if he was going to be cool with me or if he was going to bitch me out like some clown that wears Navajo Pattern sweaters. Never trust them fools. He says like…
Maurice: Oh word? “Yo”? Maurice ain’t need no damn translator up in this place?
Hispanic: I’m from America, man. Born here and all that. Played ball for some teams. You’re Maurice Clarett, right?
Maurice: WHO THE FUCK ASKING?!
Hispanic: I am. Pete Rose, nice to meet you.
Oh snap. Looks like Maurice botched that action. Dude emerged from those shadows and was like…damn…white. So, yeah, I’m livin’ with this cat that is a white boy, but I calls him Hispanic, because I’m clever as hell. He all talkin’ about how he in for some tax invasion stint he on. Shit, like Maurice got a care about that?
Couple three four days done passed while I was in the joint. You know, I was mostly just bidin’ my damn time on them weights like. Lookin’ out for my boy, but we ain’t got no yard times that be matchin’ up. Sure enough, we ain’t ever gon’ have that. They got Cecil on this other side. Fence between us and shit, finally noticed my man and MAN…I needed to bust this cat out the jail. I sees him across that fence, so I walks through. Then get this…notice they got like a walkway between the fences and yards. We can’t even give a pound up against them chain links? The fuck? This gitmo motherfucker? So my words rang out…
Maurice: CECILLLLLLLLLLL, where you at dog?!
He looked up. Yeah. Yeah, looked at me proper, like he knew I was come to bust him out this place.
Cecil: My man Maurice, shit, son, been long time since ol’ Cecil seen Maurice. You still doing good, still getting paid?
Maurice: Well, if by getting paid you mean drowning my hopes and dreams in a bottle of Grey Goose vodka, then yeah, you know, Maurice getting’ paid.
Me and my man Cecil chatted it up about the old days. Him comin’ to my camps, me runnin’ on fools while Cecil watched, shouted encouragements and the likes. I decided to let Cecil know, that within two months…he was going home.
Maurice: Cecil…you gettin’ out of here in like two months time, dog. You hear that Cecil? You gonna be going home. Cecil…home. In case I’m bein’ too rico suave on dat ass, I’m saying one thing, I got locked up…to get you out…we are breaking out this prison. You hearin’ me dog?
Cecil: Maurice, I had quite the feeling that you were here for that purpose. When I laid eyes upon thee walking through this buoyant workout yard, I knew that you were here for some other purpose. I knew that little Maurice Clarett would never fall off the straight and narrow.
Maurice: Dog, what?
Cecil: Shiiiiiiiiiieeet mothafucka, you bustin’ a mothafucka out or what? Got damn, you got a plan and shit dog?
Maurice: Got shit tatt’ed up on me. Check this shit out dog…
I shows him the tat, y’know.
Cecil: What does the Chinese symbol for “Escalade” got to do with breaking us the hell out of this place, dog?
Maurice: Awww, shit, dang, that definitely is not the right one. Here, peep this shit…
And I shows him my back all covered with the tat. Here a picture I took of what I was getting done on me…since I ain’t all abouts photographin’ my back.
Cecil: Damn, now we are talkin’. Why you got that Goose and the AK on there?
Maurice: Oh, you know, jus’ rememberin’ how to get in here and all, figure if the cell-phone bit I pulled ain’t about it, then usin’ these two items here is going to get the job done for a definite.
Cecil: Maurice, you a smart cat. How am I ever going to repay you for this?
Maurice: Well, dog, we got a lot of work ahead of us. We need to get with a dude who can get us the tools we need. We need to get working. You know. Might even need a team, so keep your eyes open. Dog, also, never forget.
Cecil: Never forget what?
Maurice: Not sure, seen some dude on CN’ talkin’ about 9/11 in memorial and shit and he said them words, I figured they were definite proper for this situation we gots here. Never forget.
Cecil: Never forget.
So I took off. I needed to find the man to get the tools. The man who makes the connects that get you anything you need when you’re in the joint. On my way to the man, I was stopped by a man who I used to look up to as a kid. Dwight Gooden is how you know him. I know the man by Doc.
Maurice: How it be Doc, how it be?
Doc Gooden: The hell with the small talk kid. I hear you’re breaking out of this place? You say you want to clear Cecil Collins’ good name?
Maurice: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Doc: OH, the HELL with that, Junior. You think I don’t know what is going on here? I got to get out of here, and you got the means. We all know you got the smarts Maurice. Now, I’m living in here, in this BOX. I gotta get out. Got to. Can’t come back when I gets out. Rather get shot than come back here. I sure as hell have not got my message, I’m gonna be on the drugs when I’m out. So, you gotta take me with you man. The hell with playing dumb with me Maurice.
Maurice: Listen, old timer, Maurice gonna do his thing.
Doc: The hell with that. You think you some big shot with the Grey Goose and the vest? Doc been snortin’ cocaine in his bulletproof number since the mid-80s, you know? You need some intelligence on this shit, Maurice.
Maurice: Man, no. You aren’t needed.
Doc: Yeah…what you gonna do when you get out, Maurice? Got that figured out? They’re going to be on you.
Maurice: I got plans.
Doc: Well, Doc has got something that could make everything right once we scale these walls. You just let the Doc in on this and the doc will pay you back ten fold.
Maurice: I’ll think on it.
So, I left. Had places to be. I walked towards my man. Ha, classic, he was on the cellular when I approached him. I told him I needed tools, he said…
Jamal Lewis: Yeah, yeah, you think I haven’t heard about that? Look, I’m the man in here with all the connections you need. But, I need in on this.
Maurice: For the tools, you get in. We need it.
Jamal Lewis: Then you know I’m down. Plus, I got a man on the outside who is going to get us some transportation the hell out of here.
Just then “the man” came up and held us down.
Jim Tressel: Break it up, boys. Jamal, I’m going to need that cell-phone.
Jamal tossed him the phone and winked at me. He had plenty of cells. Later on, back in the room, I told Pete the plan. I needed him in on it. He was pretty quiet, but then he said he was down. I trusted him. Had to. I laid my head down, slept up. Next day in the yard, I watched my man Pete aka Hispanic, make his rounds. I couldn’t hear his conversations, but I had a feeling I knew what they were about.
Pete Rose: You heard about this thing to?
Rick Tocchet: Yeah. I heard.
Pete Rose: I need to lay some action on it.
Rick Tocchet: Really?
Pete Rose: Yeah, I got 15 grand saying we never break out of this prison. Think you can do that?
Rick Tocchet: I’ll talk to Janet, get her on it. Sounds good on this end, though.
Pete walked away. As long as he could chisel some holes in a wall, whatever, the hell with it. I had other things to attend to.
Maurice: Nurse, I’m having some problems with my ears, problems hearin’ shit and what have ya.
Lisa Left Eye of TLC: Really, let me have a look…
TO BE CONTINUED…
On the next…Prison Break 2: Maurice’s Song…What surprises does Doc Gooden have in store? Can Jamal Lewis continue to get Maurice everything he needs? Will Jim Tressel beat any fools with a nightstick? Andre Rison got a house Lisa Left Eye can burn? Stay tuned, next installment is coming this weekend or Monday.