Vincent ‘Vince’ Rourke

Vincent Rourke never planned on being a criminal — but he was born into it. His uncle ran an illegal gambling ring out of a bar on the south side of St. Louis, and by 15, Vince was running cash and watching doors. He had a head for numbers and a calm under pressure that most grown men lacked.

But what really set him apart was his ability to think two steps ahead. At 23, he and two friends started planning small bank hits — rural branches, poorly staffed, quick in-and-outs. Vince wasn’t the trigger man; he was the planner. Blueprints, getaway routes, timed drills — he treated every job like a chess game.

They pulled off four jobs in three years, always clean. No fatalities, no heroics, no slipups. Then came the fifth job — a regional bank in Springfield. The rookie in the crew panicked, fired a shot that hit a teller in the leg, and everything unraveled.

Vince could’ve run. He had fake IDs, cash, and a car in another name. But instead, he stayed. Tried to carry the wounded teller out before the cops arrived. They arrested him on the sidewalk, bloody hands in the air.

He served 11 years in federal prison. Kept his head down, read a lot, even learned to mop floors better than anyone.

Now he’s out, cleaning hospital hallways at night, living in a small apartment above a pawn shop. Keeps to himself. Doesn’t talk about his past. Doesn’t smile much either.

But he still walks with his head up. Like a man who’s done bad things — and is still trying to figure out if he’s allowed to do good again