We watched the van, a six-month stretch of timing red lights and maps. Satellite images from the net, auto schematics and photographs. We remembered our masks - those getaway faces - we'd use when we were done. The gun,the gas - those tools of the trade - we remembered every one.
It blows me away how and idea can form and just take over.
It's not every day you find yourself behind the wheel with an armored car to steal.
That old man driving, he's no match his eyes they say it all. The kid in the back, he's got no gun just a phone with no one to call. No contingency plan was ever considered; no retreat and no plan B. After all when you run for that gold you only plan to succeed.
It blows me away how and idea ignored can just boil over.
It's not every day that you find yourself with a loaded gun and your getaway faces on.
God told me in a dream last night: God wants you to know you're wrong.
So I took that razor to my face and strapped my pistol on.
When God speaks you'd better listen son so I shot that bastard dead on sight. I don't know if it was part of the plan or if I was just trying to avoid the fight.