Yes, you read that correctly. In the state of Georgia I am a fugitive.
A lot of people who meet me ask about why I’m a dumbass fugitive. Why didn’t I show up to court? Why did I get arrested? All sorts of reasons and each time I tell them: I’m the posterboy for criminal behavior and well, trouble just seems to know where I am. Even when I was a little knucklehead kid, I was constantly finding myself in precarious positions. Nowadays I embrace that type of stupidity because it makes for good blog fodder. No one wants to read about me petting a kitten or giving a homeless guy a quarter. They want to read about me doing stupid shit.
When I was in Georgia last year with the perky tit ex girlfriend, I got arrested. I wrote about why in my three part Georgia saga aptly titled, “Georgia Sucks“. The minute I was on the opposite side of those jailhouse bars I knew I wasn’t going to hang around. I had my sights set on moving to Virgina anyways. Once I got bailed out I knew in my heart of hearts that I wasn’t going to ever be in Georgia again. My court date was a couple days before Christmas and my final, fleeting Christmas gift to Thomaston, GA was a big no-show fuck you. Sure, I could have flown down to Thomaston and took care of my business. They probably would have slapped me with some fines and probation, but fuck that. That is what most people would have done. As you probably know by now I’m not most people. I’m Nick Sterling, bitch. And I’m a fugitive.
Even my girlfriend at the time knew I was up to something nefarious. She bonded me out and walked me to the street corner where the jail was. In a bush underneath the sign that said “Thomaston County Jail” was a plastic bag. She opened it up for me and it was a Steel Reserve 24oz can of malt beverage greatness, nice and cold. What a swell girlfriend I had. I drink it on the way back to our place and she asks me, “So what are you going to do, Nick?“.
I told her, “I’m going to do what I do every time my back is against the wall: throw up my middle finger and make the situation inevitably worse. Hey, it’s what I’m good at, right?“. She chuckled. Having known me for a couple years she was use to this type of irresponsible behavior from me. I guess word got out that I was skipping bail and moving somewhere far away, because the fuzz kept calling Becca and threatening her. It didn’t help that my roommate, and new found great friend, Patrick, was also wanted by the local police for something unrelated. So when he got his truck out of impound and we began loading it up with our belongings, the locals notified a bounty hunter. That sounds far-fetched, right? Not in small town Georgia. An hour after we hit the road like a couple of lawless bandits, Becca’s cell phone blows up with threats from the bounty hunter.
“Tell Nick that yew and yar friend Patrick are fewwwgitives. Ya’ll need to come back ta Thomaston an turn yerself in, ya’ll hear? Cuz if I have ta come and find yew, it won’t be purdy”.
The bounty hunter had apparently notified local authorities in the neighboring towns that a blue pick-up truck driven by three unlicensed fugitives would be coming through. Now I know how Harrison Ford felt in the movie, The Fugitive. Driving the three hours through north Georgia at 11:30pm, all of our worldly belongings getting soaked in the back of the truck, our dog and cats shitting themselves with fear the whole way, was the longest three hours of my young life.
Becca wanted to stop and see her dad on the Georgia border before we made it to South Carolina. To make matters more nerve racking, her dad is a former cop. Patrick and I could only think about being home free once we crossed the border into South Carolina, but here we are taking a detour at midnight so my girlfriend can see her cop dad. I might be a wanted fugitive with poor decision making ability, but a bad boyfriend I’m not.
I pretended to be the doting, loving, responsible boyfriend (that I surely was not) in front of her father. I’m sure if he knew that his only daughter was traveling with a wanted fugitive he probably would have shot me on the front porch and fed me to the coyotes. Instead, he was happy we showed up a little after midnight just to say hi.
The next 30 minutes to the South Carolina border was the most gut-wrenching, nail biting 1800 seconds of my life. Whether or not the bounty hunter was telling the truth about notifying authorities in neighboring counties about our passing through was true or false, at the time, Patrick and I were hellbent on the notion of getting to the Carolinas because we would be out of Georgia, and presumably impervious to prosecution. We might have been idiots that did illegal things, but we weren’t going to take the chance of getting popped in Georgia for anything, even a speeding ticket.
30 minutes later we crossed into South Carolina with boisterous cheers and high fives all around. Did we continue on our trip to Virgina and play it safe? Hell no, we stopped at the fireworks store at the first exit and took a piss in the street. Because hey, we’re fugitives, and what better way to maintain that image?
Fireworks.
Mr. Sterling,
I do hope that you realize that you are not only “I’m the posterboy for criminal behavior and well, trouble just seems to know where I am' but so does anyone that would like to find you. Bounty Hunters, AKA Bail Recovery, Bail Enforcment, Fugitive Recovery Agents have ways of finding anyone….anytime…..as they please. I say that to say, if you were truely wanted T vs T was established in the supreme court to allow the legal crossing of state lines, breaking and entering of homes, and the extradition of fugitives back across state lines and it would be done. However, I then ran you through the Georgia State database….and you don't even exist. I understand, now, that you were attempting humor, just as with your FBI top 10 and the claims from your social networking pages. Just so that you know, some people may take these claims as very personal and non-humorous…..If they wanted they could print your own words to use against you, pick you up in cuffs, transport you to the state of suggested offenses, and then “attempt” to straighten the case out. You would then be on your own to find you way back home and cover any expenses for that trip. Just wanted to let you know,; some friendly advise. Some stuff is only funny, in theory. Thank you for the humor (I am one of those people that CAN appreciate humor) and keeping the day lively, however, please realize there are things in this world that are not as taken as they are meant. “Intent is not the important fact but perception is that which causes war”.
Also, you can't be picked up, threatened with revocation, or re-apprehended by a “Bail Recovery Agent” until you have missed court…so whoever called (if they called) was not a bounty hunter and had no legal action against you. If you were to miss court then they will come to whatever state you are in and arrest you. Until then, it is illegal for them to do or say anything and I can't see any Bondsman or Recovery Agent putting thier license on the line for anything like this. Infact, in Georgia, you would be picked up within 48 hours of your failure to appear. Bounty Hunters don't notify anyone….we come to get folks. They don't know we are coming; they don't know where we will show up; they don't know anyone is looking; they just realize that they have hand and anckle cuffs on and are being taken to jail. Virginia would not have a concern in the world about your record in Georgia. It is up to Georgia to settle your forfieture….and they would. I still say that this is a humorous story. Very entertaining.
Mr. Sterling,
I do hope that you realize that you are not only “I’m the posterboy for criminal behavior and well, trouble just seems to know where I am' but so does anyone that would like to find you. Bounty Hunters, AKA Bail Recovery, Bail Enforcment, Fugitive Recovery Agents have ways of finding anyone….anytime…..as they please. I say that to say, if you were truely wanted T vs T was established in the supreme court to allow the legal crossing of state lines, breaking and entering of homes, and the extradition of fugitives back across state lines and it would be done. However, I then ran you through the Georgia State database….and you don't even exist. I understand, now, that you were attempting humor, just as with your FBI top 10 and the claims from your social networking pages. Just so that you know, some people may take these claims as very personal and non-humorous…..If they wanted they could print your own words to use against you, pick you up in cuffs, transport you to the state of suggested offenses, and then “attempt” to straighten the case out. You would then be on your own to find you way back home and cover any expenses for that trip. Just wanted to let you know,; some friendly advise. Some stuff is only funny, in theory. Thank you for the humor (I am one of those people that CAN appreciate humor) and keeping the day lively, however, please realize there are things in this world that are not as taken as they are meant. “Intent is not the important fact but perception is that which causes war”.
Also, you can't be picked up, threatened with revocation, or re-apprehended by a “Bail Recovery Agent” until you have missed court…so whoever called (if they called) was not a bounty hunter and had no legal action against you. If you were to miss court then they will come to whatever state you are in and arrest you. Until then, it is illegal for them to do or say anything and I can't see any Bondsman or Recovery Agent putting thier license on the line for anything like this. Infact, in Georgia, you would be picked up within 48 hours of your failure to appear. Bounty Hunters don't notify anyone….we come to get folks. They don't know we are coming; they don't know where we will show up; they don't know anyone is looking; they just realize that they have hand and anckle cuffs on and are being taken to jail. Virginia would not have a concern in the world about your record in Georgia. It is up to Georgia to settle your forfieture….and they would. I still say that this is a humorous story. Very entertaining.
[...] I didn’t know why but I soon found out. I wrote about that portion of our journey on the Nick’s a fugitive portion of my Georgia [...]
Even though this is a year past due, you ran only my surname. My full name is Nicklas M. Sterling. Run that and you'll find me. Attempt at humor? Yes. Honest to God true story? You bet your law enforcement ass! Besides, the two people who were there with me read my web site and post on my message board. They have no reason to lie on my behalf. They were the entire time. It's not like I'm making this up. It all really happened, dude.
But you know your shit about the law. Thanks.
dude.. you suck.. yeah.. thomaston sucked.. my brother ran me through the data base and im not in there either.. they spelled my name Paerick Dempsey .. not Patrick dempsey.. dumb shits.. and they guy above that thinks he knows it all can suck my dick.. it was scare tactics by the way dick. try to over analyze some shit you know nothing about. I dare you to go to Thomaston GA.. one hour south of atlanta GA and see if and when you ask around our names pop up.. hell.. i almost lost all connection with ALL my family because they found my old phone.. got the numbers and started calling threatening people that know me. my good friend who was in IRAQ at the time got a call saying he was forced for court for bailing me out of jail in georgia.. guess what.. he was in BASIC while i was leaving the state.. so fuck you.. suck my and nicks dick at the same time.. im sure he wouldnt mind.. and dont comment message again thinking you know shit
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