The Story of a Friend, a Car, and a Gun...
This might be slightly off-topic for The Great Outdoors, but hell, this forum is my "home" here on CD. The subject is a little too deep for Casual Discourse and doesn't quite fit under Personal Support. Anyway, on to the misadventures of one Gator Boucher (the "Cajun" name my friend thought up while down here.
Anyway, my friend is a guy I've known most of my life and is honestly the only person I consider a friend back home. I made a post a while back (couldn't find it here, it might have been lost with LWS) about his various screw ups; including running around with the county whore--who put him in prison--and being a general ne'er-do-well. Long story short, until recently he was a twice convicted felon who was released after over a year in jail less than a year ago. Straight and narrow, tried to get one of his kids back, got a job, then just lost it all over again. Abusing prescription and illegal drugs, drinking heavily, and above all else, getting behind the wheel.
Fast forward to last week. At 0230 CST on Saturday he called me letting me know he was headed this way. He'd been up since 0700 EST the previous morning, was drunk as hell, and had smashed up the house a little. By the time he called me he was a quarter of the way here, so I merely told him to drive carefully and try to pull off for some sleep. When I spoke to him later in the day and learned he still hadn't slept I figured he'd be lucky to make it without either getting pulled over or crashing and burning. Some personalities are impossible to influence, however, so I crossed my fingers. He made it later that night and finally got a little sleep.
We had a decent time, drank a lot of beer, did some cooking out, and watched some movies in the garage. I could tell that he was nearing the edge, though, as he'd crack a beer as soon as he woke up and would stay up well into the morning, getting about 2-3 hours of sleep a night. Even so, I drove him out to Pierre Part and other locations familiar to fans of Swamp People and he finally saw what struck me about South Louisiana, wishing he were able to stay in the area.
Living isolated from friends and family has made me appreciate company in short supply, but has also made me ready to say goodbye after only a few days. "Boucher" is always welcome, but with his situation I knew it was best that he hit the road before too long. I finally strongly hinted that it was time to head back Wednesday, after he had woken me up at 0230 with grandiose plans of heading out west. I topped off his gas; gave him a little gas money, a case each of water and MREs, some free Army clothing (he had come here with only the clothes on his back), and a reciprocating saw I figured he could use back home; and urged him to face the reality of heading home as opposed to unfamiliar territory. Fortunately, he did just that.
Wednesday night he told me he had stopped in the middle of nowhere, AL and found some twenty-somethings partying at a campground who welcomed him in. They had told him he was welcome to stay and he even went so far as to inquire at a couple of local places about employment. When he was turned down he hit the road again.
Now, before I go further, let me say this: he was driving his girlfriend's car and had not really talked to her for the previous two or three days. The last time he talked to he had told her he'd be heading home shortly, then cut off his phone altogether. Thursday morning came a panicked voice mail. His girlfriend had reported the car stolen. I called him back a couple of hours later and he told me he had straightened everything out with her and that she had called the police to say that the car had been located. So, later in the day on Thursday he found himself out of cash, with 165 miles to go and 161 miles estimated distance to empty on his car, and on the phone with me yet again when he started talking about police activity. He'd passed a few cars that had been pulled and started getting edgy when a cop was on his left and behind him, saying that a couple of cops had already passed him a minute or two earlier. Then the fateful words, "I gotta go, I'm getting stopped." "No, really, I've gotta go."
So, deputies made a felony traffic stop as the registration came back as a stolen vehicle. He wasn't drinking (for once) but sealed his fate even further by having a loaded gun in the car, according to the news. His girlfriend had further screwed him by portraying him as an armed fugitive (so far as he and I knew he wasn't wanted for anything, unless his girlfriend took out charges while he was gone) and stating he was suicidal. One of the articles even goes so far as to state that he was a possible "suicide by cop" case. For what it's worth he had not confided to me that he was armed, and stated that he had hidden his uncle's guns in the attic. Had I been thinking clearly, I'd have warned him to call back home and tell them where the guns were as they probably thought he had them with him.
As for the circumstances, I know he shouldn't have been driving and especially shouldn't have been armed, but at least he was trying to do right, albeit a little too late. His plan was to head to the police department before going anywhere else to ensure he was in the clear and to request an escort to his house to pick up his belongings.
