04 Jan 09

T-Bone Stands Up For Don (by T-Bone)

T-Bone - Radiating power and strength, this deeply-spiritual massively-built African American towers over most inmates. He is a prison gladiator with more stab wounds than Julius Caesar. A good man to have on your side.

I want to tell you about when I cut loose from the prison gang and went independent here in the joint.

After I smashed Monkey, I had a big target on my back. I was jumped once, and fought one-on-one several times. After a while the word went to the streets, and all of the new guys decided they’d better go find someone else to fight because fighting me was dangerous.
You know how the cons who have been locked up the longest always get the new guys to do their bidding. In plainer terms, the Aryan Brotherhood, the Mexican Mafia and the Mau-Maus use the new guys to do their dirty work.

I had changed and it was a good change. I helped guys who needed help.
There are a lot of things that go on in prison that the cops know about but don’t see it or pretend not to see it. They just don’t care to stop a lot of things that are going on, and I had decided to step up and make a difference in the lives of many.

I went to this old man – a little guy who was always minding his own business – and asked him, “What would you do if you don’t like seeing people hurt by being raped and extorted?”
He looked at me and said, “You’ve already made up your mind, so don’t worry about anything besides the cops getting involved.”
“The cops?” I said.
“”You don’t want people calling you a cop.” He was telling me to be careful, and I knew better than to allow anyone to call me a rat!

Things were going as they usually do in places like these, the same old same old, and it was nasty.
I was on the pile showing the wannabees (drug users and racists) how to workout for strength and conditioning. They were sporting prison ink and stupid looks because all they do is workout to intimidate and take. I heard some whimpering from the rec shed. I kept working out, and I was a little scared because no one had my back.
I left the pile and asked this guy to pitch me a few balls. I took out my frustration with the bat. When 7 out of 12 went over the fence, the guys who played all of the time asked me to join a team, so I did.

That evening we played a team from South Yard, and while we were in the fourth inning, this fish (new guy) was being punked by the Aryan Brotherhood on the phones, about 60 yards away from the back stop. I was playing 3rd base, and got behind because I was watching them.
Three days went by and finally I had a chance to talk to the fish. Don was six-foot-three tall and about 180 pounds. He didn’t understand a lot about prison and asked me, “What should I do?”
“Stand up and fight for yourself, I said. “Don’t allow yourself to become like them.”
He didn’t. He was giving those guys blowjobs in the showers and whatever else when they forced him to.
There are a lot of guys in prison who are gay and that’s their business, but rape and intimidating someone into sex are appalling.
They then had the guy send $100 a month to one of their books or else they were going to kill him. That’s how cheap life is in here. That went on for five months.

One day I get a letter from a middle-aged lady asking me to look out for her son. It was Don’s mom.
I spoke to Don, and he told the wannabees, “Leave me alone or else T-Bone will get you.”
It was on! I had a visit that night from two guys who weren’t smart enough to wipe their own noses. They’d come to chow with looks that gave them away that evening. Then they had this redneck C.O. put their cell doors on access, and mine on entry. They were pushing and pulling my sliding door with looks on them that made me ready, for exactly what I didn’t know.
I had no celly because of the target on my back, but like I said before there is a God.
I heard them whispering outside of the cell door at 1:17AM. I slid to the floor on my belly and rolled left to the toilet. I got in between the toilet and the cell door in the dark. They pushed and pulled that damn door open and rushed in on me. In my boxers, I managed to bam-bam-bam-bam! one of them and give a serious chop to the other who was bleeding from his mouth and nose but managed to stab my leg. I grabbed his face and arm, put the back of his head into the wall, which stunned him, and put my right thumb into his right eye, and body-slammed him.
The other guy was still on his butt trying to clear his head, so I helped him up and kneed him between the legs.
I went to the door, and looked outside of the pod. Nothing. I opened the door and the good Lord saved my life period. This wannabe named Boo-Boo had a river rock in his laundry bag, which missed my head and hit the door slightly above my head.
Everyone was up now, and Boo-Boo ran to his cell and locked-down. There wasn’t a cop in the tower when I dragged those two out. The cops had gone elsewhere, turning a blind eye because I was the one supposed to be getting smashed or killed that night. I am still amazed by how easy it is to manipulate the people who work in this place.

Anyways, that situation was hairy to say the least, and I know I am here by the grace of God.

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Shaun P. Attwood