What I'm about to tell you is something I'd tell my children and they'd pass it along to posterity.

I think this happened during my 19th birthday.

I was all happy and bubbling that I had hit past the 18 years mark.

I went to the market to get a fine Denim Jean and a round neck T-shirt which I intended to use for my birthday photo shoot, with a nice pair of sneakers and a durag.

A Durag!

That was how I started having problems one month after I had marked my birthday.

I wore a durag with my fine Denim Jean and sneakers to snap my birthday shoots.

I would tell you, I felt there was nothing wrong with wearing a Durag. It's just a mere piece of cloth. Even up till now, my inner self still tells me there's nothing wrong with wearing a durag.

Not until my family members got to see the pictures on social media and sent a screenshot to my parents.

My parents thought I had joined a local fraternity and became a cultist. Lol????. You read me write ????. Because if I was not one why would wear a durag?????

My dad even threatened to get me arrested if I didn't confess. Ah, Ah, Daddy for wearing a Durag, I should admit for rubbish????. It was one of the most trying periods for me. I won't even lie.

After much pressure, my Dad took me to one of my Church Elder; I was a bit close to the man, I'd assume he was my Spiritual Father then.

The man wanted me to confide in him and tell him the truth. I had to truth to tell.

After much ado and the usual African Elder's advice, the man said something that shocked me. He knows one of the biggest cultists in town and he'd make enquires.

Omo, he phoned somebody almost immediately in my presence. 

The man knew me. He said I was clean. Funny enough, he was in my church I never knew.

That was how I survived all the emotional blackmail from all angles.

The next few weeks were hellish for this young man.

I was deprived of my regular pocket allowance. I had to take permission to buy something in the next street. My movement was monitored. I was almost withdrawn from school and lots more.

Little by little, that phase passed away and I was back and bouncing.

You've got an experience like this? Share in the comments section. I'd read.

Nevertheless, till we get to the Father's house, in all your future endeavours; Preach Peace and Practise Love.

P.C -Unsplash

He escaped by impersonating a prison's guard. He diligently observed the prison’s guards, got a t-shirt and some red sweat pants and stole a Walkie Talkie. He walked out of the prison just like that— the guards thought he was an undercover police officer. He spent 2 years on the run with his partner before he was eventually apprehended again by the police. His partner died while he was in prison. 

While still prison in May 1996, his pending trial was a 45-year sentence for theft and his bail was set at $900,000. Afraid to spend 45 years in prison, Russell impersonated a judge. Pretending to be the judge, he called the district clerk’s office and reduced his bail amount to $45,000. He was freed on that bail and he fled. He was caught three days later. 

5 months later, he plotted his third escape and it was successful. He walked out the prison’s front door dressed as a doctor and pretending to be one. He pulled that off successfully by using water and Magic Marker pen to dye his prison clothes to green. He fled to Mississippi but was arrested ten days later.

Russell’s fourth and final escape from prison in 1998 was even more elaborate and well planned. He falsified his medical records, intentionally lost a huge amount of weight and faked the symptoms of someone dying of late stage AIDS. 

The Prison's authority believed he was truly dying of AIDS so they admitted him to a nearby hospice on parole. While in the hospital, Russell called the hospice from an internal phone, and then pretended to be a doctor specialising in experimental AIDS treatment. He had himself taken away from the centre to take part in a fictitious AIDS treatment. He later declared himself dead. He was free again.

 He was later caught and given a 144-year sentence.

~Apotheosis of knowledge 

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