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.