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Over the years,
I have operated trains

in the New York City
subway system,

Metro North,

Long Island Railroad,

New Jersey Transit.

And yet I have never, ever
been an employee

of any of these agencies.

Well, a Manhattan man is
getting a free ride to prison.

McCollum, said to have
an encyclopedic knowledge

of all things transit-related.

He started hijacking
modes of city transportation

before I was even born.

It was his 19th arrest

for impersonating
a train operator.

You never knew
where I was going to be at.

I may be doing
a conductor today.

I may be doing a bus operator
tomorrow.

I may be doing token booth
the next day.

McCollum claims
to have commandeered

more than 100 buses
for joyrides

over the past 30 years.

McCollum has
such a lengthy rap sheet

of transit-related crimes,

he has his own Wikipedia page.

I have been impersonating
train operators,

trackmen,
station department people.

They took it on face value.

"He knows the lingo.

"He's got the uniforms.

He must work here somewhere."

There's a man
that really likes trains a lot.

Police have just caught a guy
for the 23rd time

trying to pose
as an MTA worker.

A notorious New York City
public transit bandit.

Darius McCollum's is a unique
and troubled New York story.

I have spent more than half
of my adult life in prison.

Wanted to be there
for the morning rush hour.

Wanted to be there
for the evening rush hour.

Any little thing
that ever happened--

I don't care what it was--

I just had to be there.

My home became the subway,

and I didn't want
to give it up.

Running on empty

Running on

Running wild, ah-ah

Running into the sun...

This is just one of my old
stomping grounds here in Queens.

As you can see, there's
a massive amount of buses.

Believe me,
I used to just help myself.

No questions asked,
nobody would even bother me.

If I wasn't in
the bus department over here,

I'd go to the train yard.

If I didn't go
to the train yard,

I'd go back
to the bus department.

If you notice, the buses are
sitting here unoccupied,

so I can just go open the door,
start the bus up,

and pull on out with the bus.

Nobody will suspect anything,

'cause they probably think
I'm just one of their drivers.

There's a security booth
over here, but guess what.

There's no security over here
this time of day.

So it's like, help yourself.

It's like self-service.

People get off the bus,
leave the doors wide open.

Ain't that amazing?

There's no keys needed
on city buses.

There's just a button,
push, engine start,

release the brakes,
put it in gear, go.

A man with a reputation for
impersonating a transit worker

is in trouble with the law
once again.

The Queens district attorney

says 45-year-old
Darius McCollum

was arrested Tuesday morning

for allegedly
a New York Trailways bus

from a maintenance yard
in Hoboken.

He faces 15 years in prison
if convicted.

Thanks.

Sorry about that.

The reason why
I'm at Rikers Island is that

I came from New Jersey
with a bus.

I picked up some passengers,
I took them to the airport,

and during that course,
I was apprehended by NYPD.

I've been living my life
in the past,

and it's like I'm chasing a
dream that I can't seem to get.

Ever since I was 15 years old,

I have been running
towards the subway system.

And the thing is,
it's like I'm still living

that same life over and over.

Here in New York City,

I'm known as
the Train in the Neck.

To some people,
I'm known as the Train Nut.

People tell me that I'm crazy,

but maybe they mean it,

"He's crazy
because he's different."

Unfortunately, yes,
I did break the law.

But what do we do
about the diagnosis

that caused me
to commit the crime?

I'm really good with trains,

but I can't seem
to figure out people.

And it's hard for me to tell

what someone
is thinking or feeling.

I get confused
in social situations.

I have trouble making friends.

People in the spectrum,
they like routine,

and they like rituals,
and they like schedules.

And trains run on a schedule.

The next
Uptown Express 3 train...

The transportation system
provides a routine schedule

every single day,
365 days per year,

unless it's a leap year,
of course.

Darius McCollum
has a schedule too.

I know what time
I want to get up.

I know what time I want to eat.

I know what time
I want to go out and do things.

And I keep it the same way
pretty much every single day.

- This is Coney Island...

Coney Island,
Stillwell Avenue.

Next level
to the D, F, and Q trains.

You have some conductors
who will just say,

"Next stop is, uh,
34th Street."

That's not an announcement.

My announcements
were more so enthusiastic.

I may be on the D train,
I'll say,

"Good morning, passengers.
This is dynamite D train."

Sometimes you need to hear
that pleasant voice.

You need to hear that voice
that's going to make your day.

I'm making people laugh.

I'm making people feel like,

all right, it's not
just a train ride anymore.

It's more like an adventure.

When you hear
of crimes like this--

hijacking a train, driving it--

it's usually
for some monetary gain

or an act of terrorism.

For Darius, it was for the joy
of driving the train safely.

All of his crimes
were victimless.

There were no crashes.

He would safely
make all of the stops,

make the announcements.

When I'm actually taking
a city bus,

I'm not just out
for a leisurely joyride.

I'm actually doing
the duties of a bus driver.

I'm picking up the passengers.

I'm actually
collecting the fares.

And I'm staying
directly on the route

to make sure the passengers get
to where they have to go.

Sometimes when we have
Asperger's syndrome,

we are gullible enough
to commit

to some really
questionable ideas.

But what nobody
can ever question

is the commitment level
to whatever idea we latch on to.

That's going to be more
than the next guy.

I like to compare myself
to Superman.

He was migrated here
through some kind of meteor.

I was migrated here through
the transportation thing.

I was born in Brooklyn.

Superman came
from some distant planet.

His weakness is Kryptonite.

My weakness is the third rail.

His thing of being a superhero

is saving the world and trying
to bring about world peace.

My thing is getting people
from point A to point B

in a timely fashion.

- If you ask him about it,

he says,
"I'm volunteering my time,"

I mean, as if
he's a high schooler

getting community service hours.

It's a benevolent act.

I was just providing
a service to the public,

because how many people
in their right mind

actually go and take
a train or a bus

and actually bring it back?

We're talking
about a subway system

where people are killed
every day.

And yet it was Darius McCollum
whose face appeared

in every locker room,
in every tower

in the New York City
subway system.

You know, it wasn't
the most prolific mugger

or, you know,
the most wanted rapist

but Darius McCollum.

There was nothing about him
that seemed like

hardened inmate, criminal,

who's been going
back and forth to prison.

He can be very, very charming.

Affable, friendly.

Extremely gregarious.

Just seemed like--
like a normal guy.

When I was a kid coming up,

I definitely had
a happy childhood.

When I was younger,

there were some women
who was attracted to me.

I had some girlfriends.

I was good-natured.

I was well-dressed.

I was always polite.

It was something about me

that people just overall
they liked about me.

I never was really close
with my father.

He was only home on Sundays.

His day was sports.

"Leave me alone.
Don't bother me."

Drink a beer, that's it.

Just by seeing us together,

you pretty much know
I'm a mama's boy,

because my mother pampers me,
and I pamper my mother.

He was the first thing
I saw in the morning

and the last thing
I saw at night.

She wanted me
to have the best education.

My mother always helped me out
with my homework.

So my mother did everything
she could to provide for me.

The only thing I didn't like
when I was a kid

was taking cod-liver oil
in the morning for breakfast.

I loved to take
that boy anywhere.

We rode the trains
all the time.

We went to off-Broadway plays.

My mother used
to take me shopping.

And he can shop.

He can really shop.

I was her golden child.

I taught Darius,

you do not have to wait
for Christmas to get a gift.

Easter, your birthdays
are every day for you.

My parents one year
bought me a drum set.

I wasn't really good at it.

I tried to learn
how to play the guitar.

I just made noise with it.

My calling
wasn't to be a musician,

even though I kind of wanted
to be like Liberace.

My overall calling was--listen.

You know, like,
the wheels on the bus

keep going round and round,
that type of thing.

So I chose to stick
for the train.

In the '70s and '80s,

the subway
was dirty and dangerous.

But for me, it was paradise.

Looking up
at these big machines,

it was just something
I fell in love with.

He loved the train so much.

He'd be looking at everything.

He wouldn't miss nothing.

He used to go
from one place to the other,

peeping out the doors.

He'd grab me by the hand and,
"Come on, Ma, look out there.

See the track?"

"I want to look.

Let me see. Let me see."

She says, "No, no, no.

Just come over here
and have a seat."

We had people calling up
when he was seven years old,

asking him how to get
to different parts of New York

by the train.

And he could tell them.

When I was on the train,

I always had to be on
my Ps and Qs with my mother.

Even though I wanted
to run around

and push the buttons,

just like, "Listen,
don't touch nothing."

She would be like,
"Come here, Darius.

Come here."

And she would take my pants down

and just tear my hide
right there.

Didn't care who was looking.

She was more like a corrections
officer, so to speak.

All aboard!

Attention, passengers,
we are being held here

by the train dispatcher.

We shall be moving shortly.

We are sorry
for any inconvenience.

I actually enjoyed
going to school.

I even asked for extra work.

They thought I was a nerd.

They used to say, "Well, gee,

"you get better scores
than I do.

I got a job for you;
I want you to do my homework."

They'd be like, "What you got
for lunch today?

I'm eating your lunch."

I didn't want to be bullied.

I didn't want to be picked on.

I didn't want
to have to be beaten up.

I used to have
to make up escape routes

just to get away from them.

I was like, I can't wait
until school is over

so I can go down
into the subway,

because everybody liked me
down there,

so it was like,
"Hey, Darius, how you doing?

Yeah, come on in."

Nobody picked on me.

The only thing they did was,
like, "Listen,

"I got a job for you.

Get the broom, sweep out
the office real quick."

I was cleaning up
the bathrooms.

I used to assist conductors
in making announcements,

opening and closing the doors.

All of this stuff made me feel
more and more important.

The people down there
were, like, my friends.

Even though I was a kid,

they made me feel
like as if I was

as equal as they were.

One day
when I was 12 years old,

it was a winter storm
that took place.

There was two of us
in the classroom.

The teacher gave me
and the other kid a puzzle.

The other kid,
he wanted to do both puzzles.

She said, "No.

"You do your puzzle
that I gave you.

He'll do the puzzle
that I gave him."

While she was trying
to straighten out some shelves,

she left a pair of scissors
on her desk drawer.

And suddenly,
this kid comes over to Darius

while he was looking like this,

had the scissors,
and stabbed him in his back.

And I yelled real loud,
believe me.

I yelled so loud,
it probably shook the school.

And she turned around,

and she saw him
about to stab me again.

And she was like, "Help, help!"

And then had to hold me down
on the ground,

because I was losing blood.

I didn't even know
if I was gonna die or not.

I had saw him
when he was on that gurney,

with all the blood
running out of him.

And I saw the fear
in his face.

When I got to the hospital,
I had to get surgery done,

because I had a punctured lung.

The doctor said
that if he hadn't had

the care that he had,

he said he would have died,

because that scissors blade
was so close to the heart.

This is the one
where I got stabbed at.

This scar down here
is the one

where they had the tube
entered into my back

to withdraw whatever liquid
was going up into that area.

It would actually come down
and drain out.

It was the changing point
of my life.

After the stabbing incident,

I just didn't trust
kids my age.

I didn't know who to trust.

I didn't know who to be around.

I became more and more
frightened of going to school.

It was like,
I would pull the fire alarm

just to get the heck
out of school.

When I felt pressured,
I would throw the desk

at the students
and so forth, like that.

And I just didn't want
to go anymore.

Because of my acting out
or running away,

my parents felt that I needed
to be committed someplace.

The first
was Elmhurst Hospital.

I stayed there for nine months.

They were trying to find a way
to stabilize me.

Doctors gave me Thorazine.

So I have these drugs that
weren't even qualified for me.

I was only a kid.

I was only about
12, 13 years old.

I would be sitting there
just drooling at the mouth.

My parents said,
"This place is not helping him.

They're just making him
more into, like, a vegetable."

I'd still run away,
down to the subway system,

because I felt protected
down there.

That was like my safe haven,
my sanctuary.

The subway
became my new school.

I used to ask
what a certain button was

or certain switches were.

The employee told me,

"These buttons here
control the doors.

This button here
is for the buzzer."

I just learned
by listening to the radios.

I learned by listening
to the dispatchers.

I learned by listening
to the tower operators.

I kept myself advancing
all the time.

I was issued a full uniform
at that age of 12 years old.

I felt like as if I was
actually part of the team.

Here was a kid who was lonely

and found acceptance
and comfort in the subways.

Why?

Because all of the workers
thought he was

the most interesting kid
they'd ever met.

He could talk about all kinds
of things train-related

and with expertise in it.

My phone may ring, like,
about 5:00 in the morning.

They used to be like,
"Listen, Darius,

can you come in and help me out
over here for the day?"

I'm like, "Sure, I have
no problem with that."

Sometimes people
would try to fight over me.

"I want him to cover me
for the train."

"Well, I want him to cover me
in the token booth."

"No, I want him."
"No, I want him."

Wherever I could make
the person the most happiest,

that's where I pretty much
ended up going.

And they used to actually say,

"Well, listen, you want to learn
how to operate a train?"

I'm like, "Okay."

The guy says,
"Come on, let's take a ride."

I'm not expecting
to operate the train.

I was expecting just
to charge the train up for him.

He says, "All right, now,
listen, take this lever here.

"Once that light comes on--
oh, there it is--

release your brakes,
nice and easy, there you go."

You can hear the "boom."

You can feel the train starting
to kick in from behind.

He says,
"Just let the train roll."

I just felt like, "Wow,
I'm actually moving a train."

It's like, "Cool,
this is, like, really groovy."

It was something
I'd been waiting for

all my life to do,
and then next thing you know,

here I am, actually doing it.

And he says,
"Pump the brake, pump the brake,

"and let the train just ease up
to the ten car marker,

and let the throttle go."

I guess you could say

it was like me
actually losing my virginity,

because I'm more adapted
to the trains

than I am, you know,
with the women part.

I just felt so doggone good,

it was like, "Gee, I can't wait
to go do it again."

- This is Kings Highway.

Back on January 29, 1981,
I was only 15 years old.

I was with a friend of mine,
Carl Schulak.

Carl used to operate
the E train, and he asked me,

"Would you be interested in
driving the train by yourself?

"All you have to do is just go
down to the World Trade Center,

come back, and pick me up."

I says, "What the heck?
I'll do it."

When we get down
to the train station

at 34th Street and 8th Avenue,

he actually set foot
off the train.

And I opened the window,
he says, "All right,

make sure you pick me up
when you come back."

He went to go see
a girlfriend of his

who was actually
a railroad clerk.

Conductor closes the doors,
I just move on out.

That was my first time
operating a train solo.

I'm actually
picking up passengers.

It's like, wow.

Next stop is 23rd Street.

The next stop is 14th Street,
West 4th Street, Spring Street,

Canal Street, World Trade
Center Hudson Terminal.

I followed
the whole entire line,

as if I'd been doing it
for years.

When I pulled
into Chamber Street,

a passenger saw me
operating the train

and went downstairs
and told the tower.

The tower called ahead
and told the dispatcher,

"Listen, check out that train.

I think there's a kid
driving the train."

My conductor goes to me,
"Hey, where's Carl at?"

I'm like, "Oh, he's around."

I get down to the other end
of the train,

charge the train up,
put the lights on.

I'm waiting for the dispatcher
to give me the signal

so I can proceed.

The dispatcher is like,
"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean,
what am I doing?"

He says, "Where's
the train operator at?"

I says,
"I am the train operator."

He says, "No, no, no, no.

Seriously,
where's the train operator?"

"I'm telling you,
I'm the train operator.

"Matter of fact, I got to leave.

Let me have my signal
so I can go."

He says, "Give me one minute."

I already knew
that he knew at that point

that I wasn't
the actual train operator.

But I figured, you know,
if I make everything look good,

he might just give me
the signal so I can go.

He comes back outside to me,

"Listen, the train's
out of service."

I'm like,
"Train's out of service?"

I go to the PA system, I says,

"Attention, passengers
and conductor, be advised,

"this train's out of service.

I repeat, this train's now
out of service."

And transit cops
came down there,

and then another boss
came down there.

He says, "Listen, where's
the train operator at?"

I'm like, "I don't know."

And then the cops detain me.

There was TV cameras
outside of my house

three or four days straight.

Update: the latest
from News 4 New York.

Transit Authority officials
were stunned,

to say the least, late today,

when they heard
a 15-year-old Queens boy

had actually hijacked
a subway train

and taken it for a joyride,

stopped at stations
along the route,

let some passengers get on,
some passengers get off,

had a fine time.

My mother didn't want me
to even mention

the word "train" in the house.

And she kept saying
the same thing over and over:

"If you hadn't never started
going down there,

none of this
would have ever happened."

They said the train
hadn't driven that good

for a long time.

She started complimenting me
about it,

because she kept reading
the story in the newspaper.

"But what you still did
was wrong, though.

"You could have killed somebody.

You could even
have killed yourself."

My mother was like,

"Do not set a foot out that
house unless I tell you to."

I wasn't trying
to defy my mother,

but I just felt as if I had
to go back down there.

It was like the devil's advocate
in my head.

The one side was like,
"No, don't go."

One part was saying, "Go."

My mother was trying
to do everything she could

to hold me back.

But I went anyway.

I didn't care
what my mother was saying.

And that's all there is to it.

I got tired
of crying and worrying,

trying to find out where he is.

So I got to the place I didn't
worry about him anymore.

I just turned him over to God.

I said, "You take care of him."

The transit system
made up excuses not to hire me.

They felt that I was
an embarrassment to the system.

You know, "We feel that you
will be a liability,

because look at who you are,

look at the name that you
created for yourself."

And at that point,
I was directly to give up

from hanging out
in the subway system.

So I kept doing what I did.

Sometimes I came in
through back gates.

Sometimes I would get rides in

with people
who drove transit vehicles.

I would walk
right past security and say,

"Listen, I need to get a pair
of pants and some shirts."

And, bingo, I'd just sign
for them and bring them home.

I had a total, one time,
of 139 keys.

Keys, to me, were the most
important aspect of the job.

Some keys were for the towers.

Some keys were for
the garbage disposal areas.

I even had the keys
for the wheelchair lift

so I can lift the person up

and put them
into the proper seat

and secure them
and so forth like that.

I used to have lockers
in various train stations,

so I used to actually
just sleep there.

Sometimes I'd step
on the tracks.

Sometimes I'd step
in the train yards.

You know, they got showers.

I made it my own personal hotel,
my own personal everything.

Good morning, passengers.

The dynamite D train
making express stops.

Next stop on this train
will be Fordham.

Please step in, not step out,

and please stay
out of closing doors.

The next stop on this train

will be 34th Street
and 6th Avenue.

Excuse me, if you'll please
step in the door,

it would be appreciated,
so the train can move.

Thank you.

When he's in that world
of the subway,

there is a kind of sense
which is like,

everything is going
to be okay there,

like he's kind of
ended up in Wonderland.

And in that Wonderland state,

he can live there for as long
as they will have him,

until he gets arrested.

But while he's there,
the rules are,

you get to stay
as long as you want

and have as much candy
and eat as much pie.

And there's something really

exciting and wonderful
about that.

Of course, the problem is,
is that what he's doing

is actually breaking the law.

What he's doing
is putting himself in trouble.

And in this state
of thinking, like,

"It's going to be great,"
combined with,

"And I can do whatever I want,"

is a guy who actually ends up,
at the end of the day,

spending most of his life
in jail.

"Dear Mom, I'm sorry
for getting locked up again.

When I get home, I hope we
can become a family again."

"My dear son,
you are our only child,

"and we miss you very much.

Keep smiling."

"Hi, Mom.

"Unfortunately I'm locked up
for another Christmas.

N"We had roast beef for dinner,

but it wasn't the same
as your good ol' home cooking."

"Dear Darius,
your father and I

"are moving to North Carolina
for retirement.

We want you to join us there
when you get out."

"Dear Mom, I'm back in jail.

"Being without you
on your birthday,

there is no one
to share the cake with."

"My darling son,
I love you very much,

"but you chose this life
for yourself.

You must pay the piper."

"Mom, when I went
to bed last night,

"I cried for what I've done.

I'm asking
for your forgiveness."

"You have a good heart,

but you won't accept
responsibility."

"I promise, I will change
when I get out.

"I don't intend
for this to happen

ever, ever, ever again."

"I don't believe
anything you say anymore.

You have to climb
out of this one yourself."

Darius, all these years,

had this man as his lawyer
named Stephen Jackson.

He was one of these
celebrity lawyers

who was just trying
to make a name for himself.

He signed on with Darius

because Darius
was high-profile.

Whenever my name
came across the newspapers,

it was like, oh,
Jackson to the rescue.

What did Jackson do to help me?

Nothing.

Jackson didn't show up
for Darius' court dates,

which meant
that Darius would spend

maybe another six months
just sitting in jail.

Darius had even, at one point,
asked the judge,

"I really need
to change my lawyer.

"I don't want to keep
going back to jail

without even
having been charged yet."

And because the courts label
Asperger's as a mental defect,

the judge's response was,

"You are not capable
of making the decision

to terminate your lawyer."

Right now, the case
is still open in court.

I'm just in limbo
until further notice.

You're watching New York 1:
news all morning.

An attorney is charged
with stealing

more than 100,000 dollars
from his clients.

Stephen Jackson stole
more than 150,000 dollars

from Capital One Bank
in a fraudulent check scheme.

Jackson faces several charges,

including grand larceny,
forgery, and identity theft.

I think that the judge
chose me to take this case

because I sort of
am one of those people

that don't really
handle somebody's--

Am I allowed to say bullshit?

From day one, I thought
it was an interesting case.

Just when you get a case file
that is five inches thick,

you know that there's
gonna be something interesting.

And I felt bad, 'cause the case
had been hanging around

for so many years,
and nothing had been done.

He likes to talk a lot.

He writes me
a letter every day.

And if I haven't received
a particular letter,

he gets very upset.

It's already been a challenge,

and I've only had the case
for two months.

So when he stole this bus,
which I think is wild,

that he got through Manhattan
and he ends up in Queens,

and when the police officers
stop him,

he says he stole the bus.

So he was pretty much cooked.

The thing I want to see
most of all

is Mr. McCollum
never arrested again.

I would love to see
some solution

that would afford him
the opportunity

to never go back
into the transit system

and commit the crimes
that he's committed

on so many hundreds
of occasions.

But certainly,
if he's gonna continue

to put the public at risk,

I think prison is an option
that has to be considered.

When he stole this bus,

there was a lot
of media attention.

When there's media attention,

the district attorney's office
digs their heels in deeper.

They're so fearful
that he will get out

and steal a bus,
steal a train,

and then they'll bring this
back up and say, "Listen,

"they had a chance
to throw him in jail,

"and instead they gave him
this alternative sentence,

"and as a result,

we've got this massive pileup
of subway trains."

He must now do more jail time
than the last time.

And the last time
was two and a half

to five years in prison.

This time, the offer is
three to six years in prison,

and they don't want
to come down from that offer.

If he were to lose the case,

he could get up to 7 1/2 to 15.

He will go
into a maximum facility,

and he will be in
with the worst of the worst:

the killers, the gang leaders,

those that are doing
25 years to life.

Then he has the option
of pleading

an insanity defense,

that this is something
that he will do

based upon his Asperger's.

If a jury were to say,
"We agree,"

they remand him
to psychiatric custody,

and he remains there

until such time
they decide they've cured him.

So they could keep him forever.

And he would be locked up
with the criminally insane.

And it's a bad place to be.

It's in lockdown, it's cages,
it's whatever they want.

Every client I've had that is
in that sort of a facility,

I've never seen them get well.

I've never seen them released.

They die there.

He's an individual
that New York State Corrections

doesn't know how to handle,

doesn't want to handle,

and doesn't have the money
or the support

to figure it out.

Failure is in the cards for him.

Who knows what set it off,
but in just minutes,

Nthere's chaos in a housing area
at this Rikers Island jail.

That particular evening,
I had just gone to the shower,

and I left my stuff
down by one of the tables.

Next thing you know,
tables are flying.

Chairs are flying.

I'm like, "Well, gee,
what in the world is going on?"

It lasts for nearly an hour.

Broom handles swung,
chairs tossed,

cups of hot water thrown.

I was like, well,
which way do I go?

I mean, like, I felt like
I was a a sitting duck,

because I didn't know
who they were going after.

Look at some of these injuries
from this fight,

a man's face bloodied
and beaten,

this one's neck
slashed all the way across,

a slice
to this inmate's stomach,

and one victim
reportedly lost his eye

after being gouged
with a broomstick handle.

I was sleeping
in my cell one day,

Nbecause I was overly exhausted.

And I had awoken because my
stomach was starting to hurt.

And when I had realized it,

somebody had took
some hot baby oil

and threw it on me.

So my stomach was in, like,
a third-degree burn.

"Dear Mom, I'm trying
to survive this jungle

"without getting hurt.

It would make me
so happy to see you."

"Darius, I beg of you,
don't lose yourself.

Your life is at stake."

"Mom, I'm scared about
what may happen to me.

"On November 2nd,
I tied a noose around my neck

and tried to hang myself."

Good morning, passengers,
the fantastic F train,

making express stops in Queens.

"Write back to me.

Please."

I've seen him
break down and cry.

I've seen him holler and scream.

I've seen him in positions

that ordinary people
have not seen him in.

"My dear son,
when you get out,

"we will be waiting for you
with open arms.

I will be so happy
when this nightmare is over."

When I spoke to Darius,

there was something
that really troubled me.

While he was in jail,
he never got any therapy.

Not five minutes of therapy
in 23 years.

The government has spent
60,000 dollars a year

for every year
that Darius was in prison.

If they just took
a fraction of that

and set it aside
for therapy for him,

that would have perhaps
broken the cycle.

The American legal system
has not found a way

to handle criminals
like Darius,

a criminal who is acting
out of a compulsion.

He can't help it,

sort of like the addict
who might have been clean

for X amount of time,

and one day that drug or that
drink is in front of them,

and guess what, they're, like,
not caring about tomorrow.

The need for that drink
is powerful.

The uniform presents an image.

You have to keep it clean.

You have to keep it pressed.

You always want to look good.

You have the nice
little clip-on tie.

Then you have the patch.

Everything about the uniform
has to match from head to toe.

It's something
that immediately

makes him feel very special.

When he's not in the role
of the train guy,

it's very difficult
to express what his purpose is.

When he was young,
when he was assaulted,

he lost that sense of value
as to who he is.

Wearing a uniform creates
a sense of value for Darius.

I feel like I'm proud.

I feel I'm worthy of something.

I feel like
I'm a part of something.

One of the recollections
I have of Darius

was that the MTA was on strike.

As we were walking
out of our office,

we see Darius on a picket line
along with other MTA workers.

People wanted better pay.

They wanted better benefits.

They wanted a just contract.

We was even chanting,
"No contract, no peace,"

marching over
the Brooklyn Bridge.

One station we was at
was Broadway-Nassau.

Some of us was trying
to slow down the train

because they don't want
to give us a contract.

When the trains
came into the stations,

we were actually
pulling the emergency cord.

I got arrested
with nine other people

who were actually
employees of the MTA.

I actually sacrificed
and went to jail

for a union
that I don't even belong to.

I was so passionate

about fighting
for other MTA employees.

One day, I was out
in Coney Island,

and some guy came up to me,
he says,

"You was at the union
meeting last night."

I'm like, "Yes, I was."

He says, "We want to vote you
for being union rep."

I'm like, "Oh, uh, I don't
think you guys can do that."

"Why not?"

I says, "Well, I'm not directly
a full employee of the MTA,

and I don't work for transit."

"You're not?"
I'm like, "No."

"But you advocated so well.

We thought you
were actually an employee."

I was like, "No, I'm sorry,
I'm just a train buff.

That's all there is to it."

Darius knows how to talk
the talk and walk the walk.

He knows the system fantastically.

Even thought I was a conductor
at one point in time,

I was a train operator
at one point in time,

I'm kind of like,

you know what,
I need to improvise.

I need to give myself a raise.

He somehow got ahold
of a superintendent's badge.

And he went
to one of the yards,

and he introduced himself
as Superintendent Manning.

He takes out a transit van,

and he goes out
to a general order site

and inspects it.

And he makes people
move the flags around,

saying, "Oh, this is not set up
according to regulation."

I would give them suggestions
more so,

not really tell them what to do.

He's giving all this grief
to the people out there.

And it provided
such comfort for the guys.

They were like,
"Wow, you're a good boss."

He gets away with it
for the first night,

goes out the second night,
you know,

signs out the equipment,

goes out and inspects
another general order.

By the third night,
he does it again.

And now some of the people are
wondering, "What's going on?"

"Superintendent Manning
told us to do this."

They finally figured out

that Superintendent Manning
was Darius McCollum.

The best out come for Darius

would be for him to be hired
by the MTA.

One, they wouldn't have somebody

stealing their buses
and their trains anymore.

And two,
they would have an employee

who probably knows more
than anybody who works there.

This is somebody who
not just would love their job

but would live for their job.

The MTA cannot take a chance
with Darius McCollum.

He's a loose cannon.

You got, like, 1,000 people
packed into a train.

If you do something stupid,
you could hurt a lot of people.

A railroad's
like a military system.

Trains move on orders.

It's the only way to organize

such a massively
complex system.

You cannot just do
what you want.

And that's what Darius does.

He does whatever he wants to do
when he wants to do it.

We've got a big rulebook,

and the rules
are written in blood.

Every rule is down here
because someone got hurt.

If you legitimize him
by giving him a job,

who knows what he could do?

- How you doing?
- Pretty good.

As you know,
my name is Michael Dougherty.

I'm the assistant DA
here in New York County.

I'm the prosecutor
who's now in charge of this case

for which you've been arrested.

This was my 19th arrest.

They asked me a series
of questions

relating to the crime.

"At what time did you actually
enter the train station

of 57th Street?"

I told them I entered
the train station

maybe about 6:00-something
in the evening.

"What was you doing
when the train

came into the train station?"

I said,
"I was sitting in the tower,

trying to get warmed up."

Now, seeing as I got
the keys for the tower,

naturally, I could just
let myself on in.

There was a northbound N train
coming into the train station.

This one guy
who was driving the train,

his name was Chris,

he picked up speed, and bam.

All you here is, "Chow."

Now, when you hear, "Chow,"

that means the train
just went into emergency.

This looks like a job
for Superman.

Someone tripped the brakes
on the train,

and he immediately sprung
into action.

I proceed out of the tower.

I go to the train operator's
position.

I'm like, "What happened?"

He's like, "I don't know."

His conductor got a call
from command, saying,

"Listen, get the passengers
off the train."

I'm coming up
in between the cars,

unlocking the storm doors.

The main thing is to get
the people off the train

so they can at least
continue in their route

without a problem.

He loved relieving people
of their burdens.

That was his fantasy.

That's his thing.

I was just trying
to be the regular

Good Samaritan kind of guy.

After everybody gets off,

we now have to find out

what actually
caused the train to trip.

A couple of cops come along.

The train operator,
he was the one

that initiated
for the cops to actually come,

because he recognized me
from the wanted poster.

His conductor was trying
to, like, keep him quiet,

like, "Listen, let the guy
do what he's doing.

He's all right."

Now, I could have took off
and ran down the platform,

but I chose to be, like,
if I cooperate with you,

I probably won't
have any problems.

I told the transit cop,
I'm like, "Listen, you got me."

He says, "What do you mean,
you got me?"

I'm like,
"I don't work for transit."

"Are you serious?"

And he was like,
"Can't believe it."

The detectives told me

I would have to go
down to the DA's office

to make a video.

And I'm thinking that
if I can give you a video

that's going to help
clear my name,

then let's go for it.

I'm struggling a little bit
to believe

that you didn't flip the switch
that stops the train.

Yeah, I know.

You know that we
think you did.

They was under suspicion
that I was the one

that actually caused the train

to go into emergency
from the tower.

- You do it?
- No, I didn't.

You know why I think
you did, because...

I know so much about it.

You know so much about it.

Box is right there
inside the control room.

It's a very small room, right?

Yep.

But it's just like
I told them before.

I says, if you would
have dusted that board,

you're not gonna find
my fingerprints on it.

I was trying to do
everything I could

to get myself cleared.

The keys that I have
can key me into the tower,

but the keys that I have

would not give me access
to switches.

All of this was directly
all impossible.

Maybe it was an accident;
maybe it was a mistake.

But I want you
to be honest with me about it,

because otherwise
I don't believe you.

No, I'm being
as honest as I can be.

I didn't touch the board
under any circumstances.

Darius' mother was there.

She was sitting next to me.

She had come up
from North Carolina.

He looked defeated.

And seeing how vulnerable
he really was,

my heart just went out for him.

Of course, he wasn't allowed
to speak to anyone,

and I'm sure that was
very, very hard for his mother,

sitting there and not being
able to go over to him.

The Honorable Carol Berkman
was the judge.

Having educated myself
on the website and so forth,

Mr. McCollum has
some characteristics

which are very much
inconsistent with Asperger's.

Without any
psychiatric evaluations,

she decided
that he didn't have Asperger's

just based on her review
of Asperger's on the Internet.

You know, she did
a Google search.

She decided that Darius

really was doing
these things willfully,

and there were no excuses.

Asperger's would not
disable him from knowing

that he's not supposed
to take the trains,

which I gather
has been his specialty.

He can stop doing this.

Basically, they were wasting
time in her court room.

I sentence the defendant
to five years in prison.

Stand clear
of the closing doors, please.

While he's incarcerated,
he assists the government.

They asked me
about transit-related matters.

He tells them where
their vulnerabilities are,

and he assists them to correct
those vulnerabilities.

They were afraid
that he may be vulnerable

to terrorists interrogating him
while he's incarcerated

so that they can learn
the things that he knows.

So he got put
in special housing for that.

I didn't realize the severity
of what I was doing.

You don't have a guy help you

and then turn around and make
life more miserable for him.

He's housed by himself.

He is in lockdown.

You have to have
your feet shackled.

You don't have contact
with other inmates.

He gets none
of the same things

that everybody else gets.

This is not right.

I got released from prison
a few years later.

I pretty much stayed to myself,
becoming more of a loner.

One night, I was in Brooklyn.

I'm walking
through the train station,

and there's this one lady
sitting there on the bench.

I says, "Wow, you look cold."

She says, "Yeah,mucho frio."

I sat down next to her,
and I keep her company.

I had always been looking
for that one girl

who's compatible to me.

If I could find this lady,
my train days are over.

My bus days are over.

She was a seamstress
from Ecuador.

Didn't speak a word of English.

He didn't speak
a word of Spanish.

They somehow managed
to communicate.

She says, "You work here?"

I'm like, "Yes, I work here."

He was impersonating
a subway conductor.

She was impressed
with his uniform.

"You get paid good?"

I'm like, "Yes, I get paid very,
very, very, very good."

She wrote down
her phone number,

and she wrote down her name.

Nelly had a problem
pronouncing "Darius,"

so she translated his name
into "Dario."

I ended up moving in with her.

She even gave me the keys
to her place and everything.

It wasn't until sometime later
when he was arrested

that Nelly realized that he was

the great imposter
of the New York City subway.

She came to pretty much
every visit.

I used to call her every day,
tell her how much I miss her.

I enjoyed my wife,

and after my release,

we just figured we can
work things out together.

Everything was fine
in their relationship

until Darius
started disappearing,

and Nelly began to suspect
that he was having an affair.

She said, "Darius, why are you
coming home so late?

Do you have someone else?"

And he says, "No."

His other women are the trains.

The hope that she represented
was that she can change me.

But I don't think
she understood

what I was going through.

She said, "Who do you
love more, me or the trains?"

And he looked at her,
and he says,

"Well, if I have to pick one,

I'm gonna go with the trains."

Because I have
Asperger's syndrome,

I prefer things over people.

I made a commitment
to the subway system years ago.

It was like I was married
to the MTA,

till death do us part,
for better or for worse.

You couldn't convince me there
was nothing else better in life

other than the transit system.

He sacrificed his freedom.

He sacrificed half his life
for this.

If that's not love,
I don't know what is.

I'm being released
on Christmas Eve.

I'm afraid of getting out
and just going

and taking another bus
or another train.

I want to get out
and able to say,

"Oh, nice bus; nice train,"

and just say,
"Have a nice day."

I'm looking forward
to moving on,

away from all
of the old bad habits

that have led me
to coming back,

because I don't want
to be a part

of the recidivism rate anymore,

and I'm just tired
of jail and prison, period.

- How do you feel?
- Good, happy now.

I'm only issued
directly 40 dollars, that's it.

That's for me to basically
get home or whatever I need.

Merry Christmas.

He comes out with no housing.

He comes out with no services.

He just lands on the street.

Hello.

It's me.

It's me, yeah.

Hi, Ma.

The parole board won't let him
go back to North Carolina

while he is on probation.

Where's Daddy at?

He has to go back
to New York City,

where all his problems are.

And, in fact,

it's about the worst thing
they can do for him.

I know, but--

I do too.

All right,
I'll talk to you later.

All right, love you too.

No problem.

A little "Jingle Bell Rock"
on New York's Christmas--

No, heck no.

It's only you in my life

I'm happy.

I'm like--I'm just happy.

See, New York City,
I'm back at home.

I don't think he's ever
paid rent or held a job.

He has no skills
to live in the real world.

That's the little
7th Street train yard.

There's the 1 train right there,
going back Uptown.

And he does
what he knows how to do.

If you go
a little further down,

you'll see
the other train tracks,

which is for Metro North,

which comes into Highbridge.

I'm actually really excited,
more than I'm probably showing.

But, you know,
I really do appreciate

everything that's
going on today.

Tell him Darius.

Hey, as-salaam alaikum.

Boy, I tell you.

How you doing, man?

Hey, good.

So you know
I had to come here.

Yeah, I know
you had to come here.

While I was in prison,

I ended up coming upon
the religion of Islam.

I can't say I'm the most
perfect Muslim there is,

but I do try to keep up
with it as much as I can.

I've worked on Rikers Island
for the last 23 years

as imam to the inmates
who are incarcerated there.

I have been with him
for the last 13 years

as his spiritual leader.

'Cause you know
I'm very concerned...

- I know.
- About you.

Right.

And your...

your happiness.

I know.

I'm hoping
and praying to Allah

that you have somewhat
got a grip

on that particular problem.

Right.

That you don't have
that urge to go out

and do a thing that you know
is un-Islamic.

You're right.

It's not the behavior
of a Muslim.

Mm-hmm.

So I'm happy
to see you home.

I'm happy to be home too.

You're here,
so get your stuff.

I'll go get my stuff.

Yep, thank you.

I've done so much,

and it's cost me so much.

I have to move on.

Okay, we're good.

I have missed
everything about New York.

New York is my earth.

New York raised me.

I've missed being able
to be out and just walk about.

I've been away
from mass amount of people.

People rushing to go home,
"Get out of the way."

People calling up,
"You dumb idiot!"

But you really can't get
any better than that,

because where else
is it known to happen?

New York.

Cheese.

I should pee on the bus,
just for the hell of it.

But I'm not.

I used to ride that bus
when I used to go

to and from court
from Rikers Island.

That's a bumpy-ass ride
on that freakin' bus.

You have the background?

Yeah.

Hey, what's up?

- Hey.
- Happy New Year.

Oh, it's good
to see you, man.

It's good to see you too.

Look at this,
you're not wearing orange.

Yeah, thank God,
you know what I mean?

Oh, how are you?

Oh, good, I tell you.

Come in here, come on.

Come here, let me hear
how your life is going.

You know,
being downstairs in the subway

or being around the buses,
hearing the engines,

you know, I still get the--

I have to fight
through all that stuff,

and it's kind of hard.

Listen, I bought this thing
so I can keep myself busy.

I got to run from the cops,

get all the coins
and so forth, like that.

So, yeah,
this is not that bad.

I need something like this

to keep, you know,
my mind active a little bit.

We got all these fun things
while you were locked up,

so this is pretty new
to you, right?

- This is all new to me, yeah.
- Yeah.

Are you just getting
on the subway

to go to point A
and point B, or are you--

Point A to point B.

Have you been
on any buses?

Of course.

Okay.

Have I been on the bus?

Yeah.

And you weren't
in the driver's seat?

- No.
- Okay, good answer.

So I guess the question is,

what are you gonna do
this time differently

than all the other times?

You know that right now,
you're on the hustle and bustle

of getting your life
back together again,

but it's all going to come
to a point

in which you've got
to address this.

Yeah.

Well, I'm gonna work on it.

No, no, no, no, no.

"I'm gonna work on it,"
doesn't work for me.

I want to hear,
what are you going to do?

What I was saying is,
is that I don't know

what kind of counseling
I'm gonna get

that's going to help me
move on.

Yeah, I just bought
the newspaper,

and I heard
that I was actually in it,

so I wanted
to verify it for myself.

If you notice,
this is the whole article.

Down here, it even says,

"Transit bandit
sprung from jail."

So I just figured--I just wanted
to see what it says about me.

You know what
the funniest thing is?

I'm gonna tell you
something funny.

My picture came out
in the newspaper on the 25th.

I'm on the train,
I got the paper open.

Like, I was talking
to this one girl like,

"You know who this guy is?"

"No."
"You sure?

Come on, I'm sitting
right here next to you."

Got my picture
plastered in the newspaper,

but nobody knows
who the heck I am.

- You're yesterday's news.
- Yeah.

Can you remain
yesterday's news?

I'm gonna remain
yesterday's...

That is the question here.

I'm going to remain
yesterday's and beyond news.

I'm not going, you know...
- Okay.

Really great
to meet you, Darius.

Yes, thank you.

The D train
is your top line?

The D is my line.

Why is that?

"D" as in Darius.

He's a celebrity
when he's in the news.

How many "New York Times"
articles?

You know, there was, I think,
ten, minimally.

He thrives on the attention.

Trying to put a diagnostic
impression of Darius together,

I think that what really
stands out

is that there are elements

of narcissistic
personality disorder.

He is grandiose.

This is a baby picture of me.

It says, "My son,

the next president
of the United States."

So my mother had already
foreseen me in the future

where Obama is at today.

However,
it went a different way,

and I started getting involved

more and more
with the transportation system.

So I became my own president.

Matter of fact, I became
my own president of my own club:

the Darius Club.

When Darius was first caught
in 1981,

that arrest was

a really positive media frenzy
and flurry.

And in the 30 years
since then,

he's continued
to steal the trains, I think,

in a desire to recapture that.

You see his picture
in the paper, he's laughing.

Most criminals,
they get arrested,

they're trying
to hide their face

when they coming in.

Darius, he's up there looking.

He's committing crimes,

and if Darius
wasn't doing that,

he probably wouldn't
be getting all this attention.

You ever see the commercial
on TV,

bite into a York
Peppermint Patty,

you get the sensation?

Right.

I get that.

That's my thing.

So, you know,
the York Peppermint Patty

that I'm biting into
is the subway for me.

Around all the grandstanding
is usually someone

who feels like they
really need to do that,

who must do that,

that if you stop
being grandiose,

then you've got nothing.

This is a man who has not
been loved in a very long time.

This is someone who enjoys
the camaraderie of people,

even perfect strangers,

because of how isolated he is.

I haven't been able
to see my parents

for the past
almost four years now.

I want to go see my parents
in North Carolina,

but by me being on parole,
I can't leave New York.

Hello?

I just figured I'd call

and see how you were doing
and everything

and check on you.

I talk to my mother
every single day,

and I miss my mother.

It's supposed to be
up in the 40s

all weekend here in New York.

If that's the case, I can go
to a swimming pool then.

You never heard
of the Polar Bear Club?

It was a joke, Ma.

My mother was always
my greatest influence in life.

All right, love you, have fun.

Yeah, okay, I'll see you.

All right, bye.

There are many times
when I have felt

that I was a disappointment
to my mother

by not staying
out of the subways,

not coming home
and talking about my problem.

I never followed through

on a lot of things
that I should have.

But my mother
always made it like,

"You're not a disappointment.

Don't think of it like that."

I don't care what he does.

I'm gonna still always love him,
no matter what he does.

I love him,
and it's because he is my kid,

so I love him.

You still have a future;
you're still young.

Oh, yeah, well, I'm 48.

I'm not that young, but...

We still young.

I'm older than you.

We still here.

We can still breathe.

We can still walk.

We can still do stuff
for ourselves.

So do you have any goals
that you want to achieve?

Eventually, I'd like to move
down to North Carolina.

I am looking forward
to going down there,

because she needs
all the help she can get.

My mother, she has
polymyalgia, fibromyalgia,

so if I even touch her
like this, everything hurts.

You know, I mean, I can't even
hug her like I used to.

Is she down South alone?

Right now, she is, because
my father's in the hospital.

He has dementia.

So the thing is, she's got
the whole house to herself.

But the faster I can get there,

you know,
it'll be better for her.

My mom is so old,

if something happened to her

and I wasn't able
to get to her,

I really wouldn't be able
to forgive myself.

I would love to go up there
to see him,

but I can't make
that kind of trip.

She's 87,
and she worries about him,

and she wants him to be able to
stand up on his own two feet,

and...he can't right now.

He can't.

When I'm not in jail
and I'm not in transit,

I don't know
what to do with myself.

I feel as if
I don't have no purpose.

I collect government benefits,

but I would prefer
to earn a paycheck.

The next stop is 23rd Street.

I just think
there should be a way

that the MTA
can do something to help him.

We are standing out in front

of the New York City
Transit Museum.

It looks like
an actual subway station.

But if you notice the sign
that says "NYTM, enter."

Well, I used to be
a volunteer down here.

I used to come here pretty much
on a daily basis.

There was so much down there

to keep you active
and to keep you motivated.

It was like, hmm,
this could be my new home.

By me being a volunteer,
maybe it will show

that I'm a good person.

He was working there, and
I know that there was tours,

he would be fantastic
at leading a tour.

The director of the museum,

she started getting
phone calls,

like, "Listen, we don't want
the guy on the property."

And she came to me that day
and said, "Listen, Darius,

"I want to keep you.

"I don't see
there's any problem

"with you being down here.

"I mean, the thing is,
you're doing a wonderful job,

"but unfortunately
I'm going to have to,

you know, ask you to leave."

This would have been
a stepping-stone for me,

because I felt like as if
I was actually on my way

to help me grow.

My ambition
was more so just shattered.

I had just lost hope.

It was proposed
that the best thing for Darius

would be if we just destroy
this passion for trains,

stamp it out, kill it.

But if you do that,
you may be destroying

the capacity for future passion
for anything else.

And that's a lousy life
to subject somebody to,

if you succeed.

One of Darius'
parole stipulations

was that he was not to go
anywhere on the trains.

That included going
down the stairs,

onto the platform.

I remember Darius walking
to the train with me,

and he couldn't come
down the steps.

It was almost
like an electric fence.

Like, he had to stop.

It was really strange
watch him

and sort of have
to be like, "Bye,"

you know, and,
"You figure it out."

I need an alternate
means of transportation

compared to riding the subway
and riding the bus,

so I figured
I'd go rent a bike.

You know, hey, maybe I can ride
to North Carolina on this thing.

You never know.

Whee.

There it is.

That's all I'm trying
to do, change the gear.

Anyway, this ought to be fun.

How do you...

God damn it.

Shit.

I'm tired of wearing
this stupid ankle bracelet.

Trains are the only thing
I have left.

If I can't ride the trains,

then I might as well
be back in jail.

People in the spectrum,

they have their
own coping mechanisms

to calm themselves down.

Having that same interest,
going back to it,

it's soothing.

Some people can take a pill.

He gets a five-minute
or a ten-minute ride,

and he's happy again.

He has been stuck
in this revolving door

for his whole entire life.

He gets caught.
He lands back in jail.

They don't rehabilitate him.

He gets out.
He does it again.

And they have not addressed
the problem.

Why would prison
be the option on the table?

As I sit here now,

I don't know of another option
that would solve his problem.

Your run-of-the-mill
drug counselor at a program

is not what he needs.

He needs a real high level
of care and expertise.

I've been doing this
a long time,

and I don't feel
that I'm adequately equipped

to handle this.

There is this suggestion

that's been made to me
plenty of times:

"Just give it up.

"The guy's almost 50.

He's been doing this
since he was 15 years old."

And I certainly can't argue

from the standpoint
of all of the success

that I've personally
had with him,

because I haven't.

He's still right where he was
when we found him.

I would love Darius' story
to be celebrated.

He's a Shakespearian character.

He has this fatal flaw

that causes him
to break the law

in pursuing his dreams.

But what he wants to do

isn't all that different
from what you or I want to do,

you know,
to make something happen,

to do something exciting
and adventurous.

It's a deep human need
that he is responding to.

I hope that there's some place
for him in the world

when he gets out.

I just got released

without any
parole restrictions.

I don't have no probation.

I don't have anybody
hanging over my head.

I can pretty much go
wherever I want to go.

But if I got caught again,

I'll get a mandatory
15 to life sentence.

And since I'm 50 years old now,

there's a possibility that I can
definitely die in jail.

I don't believe that when God
written his history,

it was for him to die

with the sad history
of him taking train or buses,

and that's it.

He has managed
to remain impervious

to the incredibly
depressing surroundings

that he's been in
most of his life.

Yeah, come on, up, up, up.

Somebody who's had that much
time in the prison system

coming out as somebody
who actually looks

like they have the capacity
to be truly happy...

Come on, there you go.

You know, that little glow
of emotional strength

that sometimes exists
in some of us.

I just want to live a life
and be free.

This is my absolute last chance.

From this day forward,
guess what.

I'm done.

This is the last final stop.

All passengers are asked
to leave the train.

This train is going
to the yard.

Thank you for riding

with the New York City
Transit Authority,

and thank you
for riding this train.

- Where you going?
- North Carolina.

The reservation should
already be in there.

I only have two true loves:
the trains and my mom.

When I was a kid,

I used to see my mom
every single day.

But over the past 30 years,

I have only seen my mom
five or six times.

Darius.

Hey.

You lost some weight.

Yeah, hey.

Mm.

Yeah.

- Hey.
- Hi.

How are you?
- I'm fine. How are you?

I'm good.

- Huh?
- I'm good.

You didn't shave.

Ah, I figured I'd shave
when I get home.

You should shave before.

That's all right.

- Yeah.
- Yeah?

You lost some weight too.

I lost some weight.

- Not enough--oh.
- I know.

I told you
I was coming home.

- Mm-hmm.
- Yeah.

Oh, boy.

Let me tell you,
you don't know the half.

My mom is the only person that
can give me the love I need.

What you got in here?

We make a good team.

In New York, I have things

that I look forward
to going to.

Being in North Carolina,
it is kind of dull.

I go out to the backyard.

All I hear is crickets.

There's no excessive people
walking around.

So I have to try to find ways
to keep myself busy.

I've done a great job of
impersonating other people,

and it's time for me
to just be myself.

I had to go through the rituals
of getting up every day,

dressing up like
an actual MTA employee.

And guess what.
I've never been.

Just like you have
a reality show,

well, this is my reality.

I'm not a transit employee.

It's time to stop
running down a dream.

I have spent the last 50 years
as the train guy.

But guess what.

I would like to be known
as just Darius.

Darius came out of his shell.

He let the trains go.

50-year-old Mr. McCollum
was arrested tonight

and charged, once again,

with stealing a form
of mass transit.

He apparently went
to the Port Authority

and jumped in this
running Greyhound bus

and took off
on his latest joyride.

He has spent 18 years
of his life in prison

for repeatedly, uncontrollably,
obsessively hijacking

trains and buses.

And, yeah, police say
he did it again.

He was actually
applying for jobs.

He ran out of money,
and he didn't want to tell us.

And he was going to be homeless
on the night that this happened.

That's where
he really has difficulties,

when he gets scared,

and any person
facing homelessness

Nwith not a dime in their pocket
is going to be scared.

This is not necessary.

We can do something
about this as a society

rather than lock people up
and throw the key away.