ROBBERY WAS A WAY OF LIFE FOR ADDICT

Rodney Martin paid no attention to his photo on the wanted poster taped to
a convenience store window.

He just pulled open the door, patted the pistol in his waistband and
demanded money from the clerk.

This robbery -- on Father's Day last month in the Vickers at 10310 Page
Avenue in Overland -- was typical in a string of holdups so unnerving to
the chain's employees that some clerks quit out of fear.

For reasons Martin won't discuss, he liked to hit Vickers. And he
apparently liked the one in Overland best of all: The holdup June 16 was
his fifth at that location.

Martin said in an interview in jail last week that he didn't worry whether
police had his fingerprints. He didn't wonder whether the clerks recognized
his unmasked face. All he could think about was his hunger for heroin and
the $250 a day he needed to make the craving go away.

"I guess you could say it was bold to rob the same place over and over," he
told a reporter who visited him in the St. Louis City Workhouse. "I didn't
care if I got caught. I just needed to take care of my habit."

Police said Martin robbed 15 convenience stores and two car dealerships
before he was arrested June 19. Twelve of the robberies were at Vickers stores.

Martin, 49, a quiet man with a graying beard, eluded detectives for weeks
by moving his crimes and his sleeping place from one jurisdiction to another.

But his one-man crime spree came to an end when investigators in St. Louis,
Overland, Cool Valley, Maplewood and St. Louis County began sharing
information.

Armed robberies get special attention, in part because they may involve the
especially dangerous combination of a weapon and a desperate drug user
holding it.

"This is a way of life," said Overland Police Chief Jim Herron. "He's a
drug addict who doesn't particularly care about anything but drugs. Our
concern is for the safety of the customers, employees and the suspect."

Martin's methods were always the same.

He'd wake each day about noon with a nasty hangover and a craving for
heroin. When he got low on cash, he'd hit a convenience store about 2 p.m.

Martin, who often brought an accomplice to drive the getaway car, would
wait until the store was empty.

"I always made sure there were no customers," Martin said. "You never know
what they are going to do."

Martin would pose as a customer, fetching a Mr. Pibb soft drink from the
cooler and setting it on the counter. Sometimes he'd ask for cigarettes or
directions. Then he'd declare his intentions.

"This is a robbery," he would say.

Martin usually circled the counter and snatched the cash himself. Then he
would grab as many cartons of cigarettes as he could carry - his preferred
brand was Kool - then run out the door.

He would sell the cigarettes on the street for about $20 a carton.

Martin chuckled when he thought about his mistakes.

"I always forgot to take the Mr. Pibb with me," he said.

That's how Overland police discovered Martin's identity; he left
fingerprints on the container.

Police in St. Louis separately identified Martin when they arrested another
man who knew about the robberies.

Almost every one of the crimes had been taped by surveillance cameras. More
than a dozen witnesses picked Martin from a lineup. Several of his
accomplices snitched on him.

The issue for police wasn't who did it but where was he.

Relatives and friends began turning away Martin after detectives
distributed his photos to TV stations and posted them in Vickers stores.

"Even his own mother wouldn't let him in the house," said St. Louis police
Lt. Mike Caruso.

An informer told detectives where Martin bought his drugs. They set up a
surveillance team and eventually nabbed him at a friend's house in the 5200
block of St. Louis Avenue.

Martin is charged in the city and St. Louis County with 14 counts each of
first-degree robbery and armed criminal action involving 14 of the 17
holdups. Martin doesn't dispute the other crimes, but prosecutors pressed
the cases with the strongest evidence.

Police said they devoted extra resources to finding Martin because of his
style.

"He was bold enough to walk into a business in broad daylight with a
pistol," Caruso said. "The potential for disaster in that situation is high."

Martin, who grew up in St. Louis, graduated from Beaumont High School. He
was 23 in 1976, when he was first convicted of robbery. Since then, he has
spent more than 23 years in prison.

He said he found prison life easy. Many of his friends from the street were
locked up with him.

"Had it been difficult, I never would have done anything to jeopardize
going back," Martin said. "The only difficult part was being away from my
family."

Martin said he tried to kick his drug habit on his own several times. He
stopped shooting up when he was released on parole. He had to take a drug
test twice a week while he was supervised.

"I actually thought I was through with drugs," Martin said. "Everything was
going so well."

Martin worked for a manufacturing company, unloading trucks. He said he
didn't like the back-breaking work, but he took pride in living a clean life.

"It was nice. I earned what I was getting," Martin said. "It wasn't fast
money."

But soon Martin reconnected with his old friends from the neighborhood. He
also found his way back to the needle.

"I've been shot and I've been cut," Martin said. "But t here is no pain in
the world like withdrawal. It affects every part of my body."

Martin said he robbed and shoplifted to get the cash he needed to support
his drug needs. Sometimes he'd grab enough money to last several days.
Sometimes he would have to go back after just a day.

"I didn't regret what I was doing," Martin said. "My only regret is the
fear that I put into those young people I robbed. They didn't know that I
would never hurt them."

Police said that, in fact, Martin did not injure the victims in those
holdups, although he remains under investigation for other crimes.

Martin said he particularly remembers the cries of one clerk who feared he
would kill her.

"I couldn't do anything to make her stop screaming," he said. "So I just
got out of there."

Jason Miltenberger of Miltenberger Properties Inc., which owns the Vickers
chain, said some workers did resign in fear.

"When he was caught, there was a big hurrah from our whole company," he said.

Martin said that he knows he is likely to spend the rest of his life in
prison and that he doesn't really mind.

But when pressed on the subject, he sat quietly and stared at the concrete
block walls of the jail.

"My life is over," he whispered, and then buried his head in his hands.