The Transit
Bandit
How did I get
into this? Honestly, it was an impulse
thing at first, a way of getting out of a problem – but after that…
I clearly
remember the day of my first time. I
needed money to pay my rent – I was two months behind – and I got onto the line
heading north from Lexington Avenue and looked round.
That was when I
saw her – early forties, with long dark hair, wearing a white vest top, black
knee length shorts and brown sandals.
She was reading a book, but I saw the rings she was wearing, and – well
something snapped in me.
When she got
off at Parkchester, I followed her from a distance, and then saw her walk into
a terraced house. There was a 7-11
nearby, so I went in as if I was in some sort of daze, bought a couple of
things, and then made my way back to the house, screwing up my courage if you
like.
Eventually, I
walked up to the house and tried the front door – surprised to find it
unlocked. I had a scarf wrapped loosely
round my head, so I used it to cover my face, and then walked to where I presumed
she was.
That was the
kitchen – and as I grabbed her form behind, and told her not to fight, I just
wanted her money, she began to calm down.
I told her to put her hands behind her back, and then used the duct tape
I had found to tape her wrists together, before wrapping it round her waist to
keep them against her back.
Turning her
round, I frog marched her into the front room and made her lie face down on the
long seat there, taping her ankles together as well as her legs below her
knees, and then rolled her over as I told her to close her eyes.
Tape over her
eyes, tape over her mouth – and as quickly as I could I searched the house,
took money and jewellery, and then walked out while trying not to panic. I knew a pawn shop near my place that did not
ask too many questions – and to my surprise, I had more than enough to meet my
immediate needs.
And equally to
my surprise, once the adrenaline rush died down, I had a chance to think
rationally about what I had done, why I had done what I had done – and I
decided I wanted to do it again.
And that, my
friends, is how the legend of what the papers call the Transit Bandit was born…
In those early
days, I wasn’t too fussy – the heady scent of inexperience. Here’s a simple example – I was on the 7th
Avenue line when the train stopped at 72nd Street, and a young
Muslim woman got on. She was casually
dressed – a black jumper, blue pants, black shoes, and a black hijab – but she
had a very fall brown bag over her shoulder, and a Gucci bag in her hand.
She intrigued
me, and when she got off at Washington Heights I followed her. By then I was carrying a “go bag” with me, in
case something came up – so when she opened the door to an apartment building
on W170, I followed her in – and then pressed the end of a small pipe into her
back and told her to act natural, just let me into her apartment, and I wasn’t
going to do anything other than rob her.
She nodded as
she let me into her apartment, and then I told her to lie face down no her bed
as I slipped my bag off, and removed from it a ball of grey twine. Making a loop with the free end, I put it
over one of her wrists and then crossed her free one over it, wrapping the
twine around and between her arms so that they were held tightly together.
I then bent her
legs back and played the twine out to secure her ankles together – a loose
hogtie, but given she was too scared to do anything, I knew it would do for
what I needed it to do. She rolled over
onto her side as I balled a pair of ankle socks, and then pushed them gently
into her mouth, telling her to keep them in there as the edges sat between her
lips.
As it was, she
didn’t have that much – the Gucci bag contained her gym outfit and a towel, and
her shoulder bag just her pocket book, so I took what money she had and then
left her with a pair of scissors nearby.
Like I said, a
game at first, but then it did get very profitable, and very serious.
I was on the
Lexington Avenue express line when I saw her – late forties, her hair up in a
bun, and wearing a black dress with a white check. The skirt of her dress came well above her knees,
but she was wearing fishnet patterned stockings with black shoes, a double row
of pearls round her neck. She sat with
her bags on her lap, looking through her dark glasses at her iPhone – and every
inch of her oozed money.
So I stayed on
the line to Eastchester, and then followed her as she walked to Park Drive, and
then up the driveway of a very nice wood panelled house. I watched for a moment as she let herself in,
looking round, and then walked quickly up the driveway and let myself quietly
in.
I could hear
music playing in the front room, so I pulled down the rim of my woollen cap,
covering my head so that only my eyes and mouth could be seen, and slowly
opened the door. She was sitting in a
leather armchair, a pair of Boss headphones covering her ears, but when she
opened her eyes and saw me standing in front of her, she did something totally
unexpected.
She nodded,
without removing her headphones, and then she held her hands out, palms
together in prayer before she said “go ahead – I am prepared.”
“Are you going
to remain in this seat?”
She smiled, and
said “let us assume I am not – what are you going to do?”
Well, by then I
had learned a few tricks, so I started by binding her wrists tightly together
in front of her with white rope. I then
took a longer length of rope form my bag, and wrapped it round her arms and
body, forcing her arms into her sides as I made two bands to frame her chest.
“Not bad,” she said
quietly as I tied the ropes off, and
then knelt down, crossing her ankles and securing them together, followed by
her legs below her knees. One more
length secured her wrists to that length around her legs, as she said “very
good – now how are you going to keep me quiet?”
She saw the roll of brown fabric plaster I took from my bag, and said
“old school – very nice. I have a safe
in the bedroom – this is the combination.”
She gave me a sequence of numbers before I covered her lips with a
length of the fabric, and then nodded as she closed her eyes and kept listening
to the music.
That was quite
a payday as well – a collection of coins and other gems in the safe, but it was
also one of the last times everything went as smoothly. There were occasions when I had to find a way
to be more persuasive – and I have to say, I’m not too proud of some of them.
Such as when I
was on the 6th Avenue Express line, wondering what if anything I was
going to do that day, when I noticed the mother and son sitting opposite
me. It was about four in the afternoon,
so I figured she had collected him from his school – he was wearing a black
blazer over a white shirt, with a tartan tie round his neck, grey trousers,
black socks, black shoes, and his hair cut with a number One clipper.
He was looking
at the phone his mother was holding – she had a grey great coat on over her
clothing, a grey tartan scarf round her neck, and knee length black leather
boots. Both of them were obviously from
a Chinese background.
They were
obviously following intently what was on the phone, so they didn’t notice me
weighing up the options…
They got off at
Norwood, and walked a short distance down the road before they entered a
terraced two storey house – so I went round the back and entered the rear yard,
making my way to the back door as I pulled the balaclava down.
The back door
was unlocked, but when I went in someone was in there – the son, pouring
himself a glass of water. He turned and
saw me, dropped the glass so that it fell and smashed on the floor, and opened
his mouth to scream – only I ran over and grabbed him, putting a leather gloved
hand over his mouth to stifle the scream.
Sadly, the
breaking glass had the effect of bringing his mother in. Her coat had been over a grey jersey dress,
but she still had the scarf round her neck as she stared at me, her son kicking
at me as I held him.
I told her to
tell him to stop struggling, or he would end up getting hurt – to be honest, at
the time I was more concerned that in his panic, he might kick me somewhere
sensitive as well. But thankfully for
me, he calmed down as his mother talked to him.
Looking at her,
I told her to tell him not to scream, and to take his tie off before he handed
it to me. He did that, and then I took
my hand away before I used it as a cleave gag, pulling it between his lips and
tying it round his head. Not the most
effective way to keep him quiet, perhaps, but fine for then.
I then told his
mother to use the scarf round her neck to gag herself with, while I took her son’s
hands behind his back and used some white cord to bind his wrists
together. He just watched as she opened
her mouth and put the scarf inside, tying t round her head as well, before she
walked over and stood with her back to me as I tied her wrists together as
well.
I then walked
them out of the kitchen and up to the main bedroom, telling them both to sit on
the bed as I produced more ropes, and tied their ankles together as well as
their legs below their knees. They them
moved so they were sitting back to back, and I could see her reaching out and taking
her son’s hand as I produced the longest length of rope I had and tied them
together back to back.
They just sat
and watched as I ransacked that room, and then searched the rest of the house,
before I left them there. As I walked
down from the house, I saw a car pull in and a man get out – so I sped up my
walk before he realised what had happened to his family…
Over time, the
tales of the Transit Bandit became more well known, but I also had to keep
going – and sometimes, just sometimes, it was fun as well. One occasion comes to mind when I was riding
the 8th Avenue line, when two young blondes got on. They were chatting about what they had bought
as they sat opposite me – one had on a brown great coat and brown over the knee
suede boots, the other one a long black puffer jacket and knee length black
felt boots.
They were
certainly loud about what they had bought, so it seemed a done deal when they
got off at Woodhaven Boulevard, then walked the short distance to 55th
Street and entered a white home opposite a school. I had my go bag with me, and so I made my
way to the rear of the house and managed to get in the door that led to the
rear yard, the mask down.
Well, I found the two young ladies in the front
room of the house. The blonde with the
brown coat was actually wearing a denim blouse and jeans, the legs tucked into
her boots, while her friend had on a black jersey dress, a black hairband
holding her hair back – but it was the gentle kiss they were sharing that I really
felt bad about interrupting…
They noticed me
there, however, and so I decided if they cared that much for each other, they
should bind each other. So I told the
one in denim to take two lengths of rope form me, and bind the ankles and legs
of her partner tightly together – something she seemed to know how to do, and
something she seemed to take great pleasure in.
The other girl
smiled as I saw the rope compressing the black fabric of her boots round her ankles,
and then holding her legs together, before she returned the favour for her partner,
leaving them both unable to separate their legs.
I then gave
more rope to blonde number one, and she bound the other girl’s wrists tightly
together behind her bac, before securing her arms to her sides with a longer
length of rope. As the second blonde
wriggled round, I made sure the first one was just as tightly secured – and
then made sure they both stayed quiet with socks in their mouths and white tape
smoothed down over their lips and chins.
They certainly
did not seem to mind – in fact, I think they found it quite – stimulating, as
they kissed each other while I took their things…
But I’ve probably
told you too much. After all, you know
who I am now don’t you?
Don’t struggle –
after all, all you will do is tire yourself out. I assure you, those ropes around your upper
body, your legs, your ankles – they’re going to make sure you go nowhere, and
the only thing you will hear is the squeak as your boots rub together.
I do like your
outfit, thought – that scoop necked jumper goes well with the jeans, and your
hair looks nice, even with the white
tape holding it against the back of your neck, and your lips look so nice under
that band.
I’ve never been
to Middle Village - nice place, nice house.
I think I’m going to find a lot of nice things here…
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