Paper Bars

As I got to know and understand Jerry, I saw that he didn't need bars to keep  him in prison. His life had been spent creating his personal incarceration. From the first time he shot at someone and went to the state prison, it had followed him. He craved excitement and living on the edge, and would constantly seek that knowing the probable result. I would ask why when he knew the authorities were closing in, he didn't run, and his answer was always that he didn't fear getting caught. It was almost as though he accepted it as losing the game. When the feds closed in on him in Fort Lauderdale, he could've taken his yacht and sailed anywhere, or flew in one of his planes. Instead, he remained where he knew he would be caught. As he got close to parole, and knowing him this way, I worried what he would do on the outside. Would he resort to form? He assured me he would go straight, and I thought he deserved that chance, but I questioned the outcome.