Chris Squire and the Tori Cobras at the Casbah
(photo by Eric Rife)
He Should Have Known Better
Page 4
Squire Behind Bars
Squire was now facing serious time with no chance of making
his $60,000 bail. He figured he'd be in jail for a while. Coming
down off the drugs hard, he told the jailers about his issues with
depression and landed on the jail's psych ward.
"It was my own One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest. I was in the
fucking nuthouse in jail with all the fucking loony tunes and
some not-so-loony tunes," he said.
Squire wasn't faking his illness, but he also knew he would be
prescribed drugs.
"If I'm going to be in jail, maybe I can get some fucking Klonopin
or something. I used to be prescribed Klonopin by a shrink earlier
that year. I thought I could use my case history with anxiety to
get some good fucking drugs and numb the shock of it all.
"Unfortunately, I wasn't crazy enough for them," Squire said.
"I think I was the only guy in the psych ward that wasn't on
Klonopin. Everyone was taking all sorts of crazy meds that they
prescribed -- only nobody took their own meds. It was like this
big fucking pharmaceutical barter town, where everyone took
everyone else's drugs, which made it even weirder in there. There
was this full-on black market in there, where you could get stuff
from commissary, like snacks and stuff, and people were using
their commissary like cash to buy each other's drugs. People had
credit going on and all kinds of crazy shit.
"You had these guys jonesing for each other's drugs, and they
would roll them up in pieces of paper and they would flick them
across the floor and use strings to fish them into each other's cells
when we were locked up. I really didn't get involved with it."
The rules of jail tend to keep most people in line. Squire said the
only time he had a problem involved a cell-to-cell drug deal. He was
in the common area of his cellblock, waiting to be escorted to the
visitor area, when two guys yelled for help moving pills into a cell.
"These guys wanted me to -- mind you, you're under constant
scrutiny, and there are deputies everywhere -- and these guys are
trying to flick drugs under their doors and have me deliver them
to other cells or slip them under the door.
"I told them, 'Fuck that. I'm not getting caught up in your shit.
I've got court in a few days, and I'm trying to stay out of prison,
and the last thing I'm gonna do is get in trouble in here.' These
guys couldn't deal with that. They started talking all this shit and
calling me a 'fucking pussy.'
"There are certain things you have to do in jail. There are certain
guidelines you have to follow. No matter who you are, you don't
let someone call you a pussy in jail -- or you are one.
"These guys were just a couple of mooks from El Cajon, stupid
white-trash tweakers. I told them, 'You know what? Say that to
my fucking face when you get out of your cell, and then we'll see
who the fucking pussy is. Until then, shut the fuck up!'
"I lost my temper a few times in jail, but that was probably the
worst time I lost my temper. There's a hierarchy and segregation
in there with reps. I had to go to the white rep, because these guys
were white guys, and I had to tell them what had happened. That's
when the rep and his right-hand man stepped in and made those
guys apologize to me."
Despite the number of charges, which included possession, transport,
and intent to sell a controlled substance, Squire did less than six months
in jail. He considers himself lucky he didn't get sent to state prison.
As part of his release agreement, Squire was required to go to rehab,
but he got kicked out early this year after he told someone he was
thinking of making an unapproved stop at Pokéz while on a pass to
run personal errands.
Normally, the probation department would have bounced him back
to jail, but the court considered him a New Hampshire resident. His
probation officer cut him loose on the condition he return to New England.
This past August and September, Chris Squire was spotted at a handful
of local shows, chatting up acquaintances and hanging out as if he'd
never left. He reformed the Tori Cobras for two quick shows at the
Tower Bar on September 7 and Scolari's Office on September 11 before
leaving San Diego once again in October.
In a recent phone call, Squire said he was happy to report that he was
in New Orleans, back where he wants to be, playing in three bands and
working sound in another nightclub while documenting it online at
posttraumatic.blogspot.com.