Outrunning the Law: My Teenage Race Against Detective Mike Merlo in Chicago's Southside
- Eric J Herrholz
- 4 minutes ago
- 3 min read
Every afternoon, the final bell at school wasn’t just a signal to pack up and head out. For me, it was the starting gun for a race against time, a desperate sprint to avoid the cold grip of Chicago jail. The police came knocking almost every other day, accusing me of everything from fights to boosted car stereos. I was a teen caught in the gritty street life of Chicago’s Southside, trying to stay one step ahead of Detective Mike Merlo, a man who seemed to know my every move and had handcuffs with my name on them.
The Daily Grind of Street Life
Growing up in the Southside meant the streets were both a playground and a battleground. The cityscape was my hiding ground, a maze where I learned to disappear after lunch or slip into a stairwell just in time. The days blurred together — some flew by in a haze of getting high or just getting by, others dragged like a nightmare. I called it my buzzer beater: buying just enough time to avoid going to juvie or worse, spending another night locked up at 1100 Hamilton, the infamous gateway to hell.
The pressure was constant. Every time I thought I had a moment to breathe, the sirens would wail, and I’d be back on the run. Detective Merlo was relentless. He knew my patterns, my hangouts, and my weaknesses. It felt like a game I was doomed to lose, but I kept playing anyway.
The Race Against Detective Mike Merlo
Detective Merlo wasn’t just any cop. He was the embodiment of the law in my world, the shadow that followed me through the streets. Every accusation felt personal — fights, stolen stereos, petty crimes — he was always there, waiting to catch me slipping. The fear of going to juvie was real, but worse was the thought of ending up in Chicago jail, a place I knew too well.
I learned to read the signs — the way the police cruisers moved, the timing of their patrols. It was a constant game of cat and mouse. Sometimes I’d make it, slipping through cracks in the city’s concrete jungle. Other times, I wasn’t so lucky. But each close call taught me something new about survival in the street life.
The Weight of Being “In Again”
Every time I got caught, the weight of being “in again” crushed me. The walls of 1100 Hamilton weren’t just physical barriers; they were reminders of every mistake, every wrong turn. The Southside’s reputation for tough streets and tougher cops was no joke. It was a place where freedom was fragile, and time behind bars was a harsh reality.
But those experiences shaped me. They forced me to understand the consequences of my actions and the importance of timing and quick thinking. The race wasn’t just about avoiding the law; it was about fighting for a chance to change my story.
Lessons from the Streets
Looking back, the street life taught me more than just how to run or hide. It taught me resilience, awareness, and the value of freedom. I learned that every choice had a price and that the race against Detective Merlo was a fight for my future.
If you’re caught in a similar struggle, know this:
Timing is everything. Knowing when to move and when to stay put can make all the difference.
Stay aware of your surroundings. The city is full of eyes and ears; use that to your advantage.
Every close call is a lesson. Learn from mistakes to avoid repeating them.
Freedom is worth fighting for. Even when the odds seem stacked against you, keep pushing.
My story isn’t just about running from the law. It’s about the fight to survive and the hope to break free from a cycle that traps so many in the street life.
I thank now retired Detective Mike Merlo for keeping on me and making a difference in my life. He actually appeared in the hearing that bought my freedom and changed the very direction of my path.
