Prison Politics (by Warrior)
Warrior - Serving fourteen years for kidnapping and aggravated assault. Half Hispanic and Scottish-Irish with family still in Mexico. Brought up by a family steeped in drug commerce. He writes some of the best prison-fight stories on the Internet.
It was dinner time, and three guys were sat with me at the chow table.
“Hey, did you vatos catch that shit on the news?” Casper asked.
“Nah, what?” Chino said.
“The State’s talking about releasing a grip of us,” Casper said.
“What?” Chino said.
“I caught bits and pieces of that,” Balla said.
“The State’s also talking about changing the sentencing guidelines again. Dropping it down from eighty-five percent to sixty-five or seventy percent,” I said.
“Yeah, they said the prisons are too overcrowded and shit,” Casper said.
“You really think they’ll really do that, Warrior?” Chino asked.
“I’d like to hope so,” I said. “I heard some shit on the news about the Feds asking the State where’s all this unaccounted for money they gave the State.”
“Anybody with any sense knows politicians pocket the shit,” Casper said. “Arizona is a retirement state. Politicians retire here, so they line the pockets of the legislators when it comes to law. Or they exchange cash for Capitol Hill favors. Remember that Fife Symington? Our dirty old governor got busted and found guilty of all kinds of real-estate fraud. Didn’t do a minute in jail. If that was a Mexican, he’d be doing life.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Balla said.
“That’s not the only reason,” I said. “Most people don’t understand the law, even the difference between a felony and a misdemeanor. It was the Reagan Era that set the stage for where we are today with the prison system. It went from rehabilitation to punishment, and all those prison riots popped off in the eighties. Two Bushes later, and we’re in this do-eighty-five-percent-of-your-time mess, and they’re locking people up faster than they can build prisons. All the rehab programs and educational funding got cut to build prison, and line the pockets of politicians. Now we have the most people incarcerated per capita in the world.”
“And Arizona’s one of the dirtiest in this game,” Balla said. “I don’t think they’ll release any of us early.”
“Balla’s right,” Chino said.
“True, but peep this,” Casper said. “Cali did it.”
“And you vatos know that Arizona follows suit with Cali a lot,” I said. “Many of our laws are surrogates from Cali. Once Cali passes a law, Arizona waits to witness a loophole, amends it, then implements it. That’s why we get fucked.”
“I didn’t know that,” Balla said.
“Not many do,” I said. “Prison’s big business. With all the money to be made per each incarcerated individual, you think politicians want to make it easy for us to get out? The politicians have prison conventions, where it’s like a state fair. Instead of ‘Knock down the milk bottles to win a prize,’ it’s ‘Stab the shank through the vest and win one-hundred dollars.’ And they label us crazy!”
“Are you serious?” Chino asked.
“That ain’t the half of it,” I said. “Texas prisons make Eddie Bauer clothes. If you vatos ever get a chance, read Going Up the River: Travels in a Prison Nation by Joseph T. Hallinan. It’ll open your eyes.”
“Time will tell if we get out early or not,” Casper said.
“At least something good might come from this fucked-up economy,” Balla said.
We all nodded in hopeful agreement.
Click here to read Warrior’s previous blog.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments and questions for Warrior to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Mentored (Part 7)
Thanks to the Koestler Trust, I am now being mentored by Sally Hinchcliffe, a published author with an M.A. in Creative Writing from the University of London.
I’ve received some emails asking what’s going on with the mentor sessions, and the book. It’s good news all around. With the help of my literary agent and Sally, I’ve been readjusting the structure of my jail memoir. Sally said her work is done on coaching me with that book now, and that we need to move on to what I’m going to write next. I only have a few more sessions left with her, so I hope to make the most out of them. My agent is giving the latest draft of the book a proof read, and if all is well he’ll be talking to publishers about it soon. I started taking jail notes back in 2002, so the book has been a seven-year work in progress. I’ve never spent that long on a single project before, so you can probably imagine how excited I am to be almost at the finishing line.
Before the latest revisions, the structure became problematic towards the end. Here are Sally’s comments on the end chapters of the book:
This section really doesn’t work as stands. The blog material is too patchy and interrupts the arc of the story – your relationship with Claudia and what is at stake with the plea bargain and sentencing hearing.
You need to concentrate on those elements which show the inhumane conditions of the jail – for once without the leavening of humour. You also need to show what has happened to people who don’t plea bargain and make it clear that one-by-one your codefendants are plea-bargaining. What’s at stake isn’t clear.
Make your feelings about the plea bargain much clearer. Why you took the decision. How it felt to do it. The letters you used are too distancing and abrupt.
You also need to show the aftermath of your break-up with Claudia. What you did during the next hour, day, week, month. Your reaction at the time. Not how you think of it now. Don’t worry about coming across as self-pitying. Stick to what actually happened as it felt at the time and it should not come across that way.
Disembowel yourself in those penultimate chapters. Don’t hide yourself behind letters and blogs. Show it through stories and incidents. Crank up the tension. Make it felt. Write it in the frame of mind from when it was actually happening, and you didn’t know what was going to happen next.
Then, when you have got everything set up properly, the last chapter [the sentencing hearing] can speak for itself.
Acting on that advice, I ditched all of the material culled from the blogs, and added anecdotes to show what was at stake with my legal situation, and how I felt about the break-up with Claudia. The blog material was written in a humorous voice that didn’t suit such a serious juncture of the book.
Sally also recommended I read The Gathering by Anne Enright, which won the 2007 Man Booker Prize.
The final thing the agent requested was a preface. He wrote:
Preface can be short - a couple of hundred words - just to familiarise the reader, at least in the UK, who will be unfamiliar with Arpaio and his jail system.
So this month’s excerpt is my draft of the preface:
Joe Arpaio of Maricopa County, Arizona boasts he is the most famous sheriff in the world. He feeds his inmates green bologna, and garbs them in pink underwear. He calls himself “America’s toughest sheriff,” but never mentions that he is the most sued sheriff in America due to the deaths, violence and medical negligence in a jail system subject to investigation by human-rights organisations including Amnesty International and the American Civil Liberties Union.
Arpaio was voted into office in 1992. He won four more elections, but his margin of victory plummeted – in part due to several highly-publicised deaths at the hands of his staff. They include Charles Agster, a mentally-challenged 33-year-old arrested for loitering. He was hog-tied, jumped on, punched and strapped into a restraint chair, where he stopped breathing. And Brian Crenshaw, a partially-blind shoplifter who the guards pulverised for failing to produce his ID. He was found comatose on his bunk with a broken neck, toes, and severe internal injuries. The list goes on, and Arpaio actually promoted some of the guards the court found responsible, earning him the “Angel of Death” nickname by his critics.
The majority of the inmates housed in Arpaio’s jail system are unsentenced. They have not actually been found guilty of the crimes for which they are being held. Yet the conditions in the jail system are far worse than those in the prison system where convicted criminals are housed.
Despite all of the adverse publicity and investigations by various departments of the federal government, Arpaio has managed to stay in charge and command a support base bordering on the fanatical. He’s had two books published, and was awarded his own prime-time reality TV show, Smile...You're Under Arrest!
Click here for Mentored Part 6
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Thanks to the Koestler Trust, I am now being mentored by Sally Hinchcliffe, a published author with an M.A. in Creative Writing from the University of London.
I’ve received some emails asking what’s going on with the mentor sessions, and the book. It’s good news all around. With the help of my literary agent and Sally, I’ve been readjusting the structure of my jail memoir. Sally said her work is done on coaching me with that book now, and that we need to move on to what I’m going to write next. I only have a few more sessions left with her, so I hope to make the most out of them. My agent is giving the latest draft of the book a proof read, and if all is well he’ll be talking to publishers about it soon. I started taking jail notes back in 2002, so the book has been a seven-year work in progress. I’ve never spent that long on a single project before, so you can probably imagine how excited I am to be almost at the finishing line.
Before the latest revisions, the structure became problematic towards the end. Here are Sally’s comments on the end chapters of the book:
This section really doesn’t work as stands. The blog material is too patchy and interrupts the arc of the story – your relationship with Claudia and what is at stake with the plea bargain and sentencing hearing.
You need to concentrate on those elements which show the inhumane conditions of the jail – for once without the leavening of humour. You also need to show what has happened to people who don’t plea bargain and make it clear that one-by-one your codefendants are plea-bargaining. What’s at stake isn’t clear.
Make your feelings about the plea bargain much clearer. Why you took the decision. How it felt to do it. The letters you used are too distancing and abrupt.
You also need to show the aftermath of your break-up with Claudia. What you did during the next hour, day, week, month. Your reaction at the time. Not how you think of it now. Don’t worry about coming across as self-pitying. Stick to what actually happened as it felt at the time and it should not come across that way.
Disembowel yourself in those penultimate chapters. Don’t hide yourself behind letters and blogs. Show it through stories and incidents. Crank up the tension. Make it felt. Write it in the frame of mind from when it was actually happening, and you didn’t know what was going to happen next.
Then, when you have got everything set up properly, the last chapter [the sentencing hearing] can speak for itself.
Acting on that advice, I ditched all of the material culled from the blogs, and added anecdotes to show what was at stake with my legal situation, and how I felt about the break-up with Claudia. The blog material was written in a humorous voice that didn’t suit such a serious juncture of the book.
Sally also recommended I read The Gathering by Anne Enright, which won the 2007 Man Booker Prize.
The final thing the agent requested was a preface. He wrote:
Preface can be short - a couple of hundred words - just to familiarise the reader, at least in the UK, who will be unfamiliar with Arpaio and his jail system.
So this month’s excerpt is my draft of the preface:
Joe Arpaio of Maricopa County, Arizona boasts he is the most famous sheriff in the world. He feeds his inmates green bologna, and garbs them in pink underwear. He calls himself “America’s toughest sheriff,” but never mentions that he is the most sued sheriff in America due to the deaths, violence and medical negligence in a jail system subject to investigation by human-rights organisations including Amnesty International and the American Civil Liberties Union.
Arpaio was voted into office in 1992. He won four more elections, but his margin of victory plummeted – in part due to several highly-publicised deaths at the hands of his staff. They include Charles Agster, a mentally-challenged 33-year-old arrested for loitering. He was hog-tied, jumped on, punched and strapped into a restraint chair, where he stopped breathing. And Brian Crenshaw, a partially-blind shoplifter who the guards pulverised for failing to produce his ID. He was found comatose on his bunk with a broken neck, toes, and severe internal injuries. The list goes on, and Arpaio actually promoted some of the guards the court found responsible, earning him the “Angel of Death” nickname by his critics.
The majority of the inmates housed in Arpaio’s jail system are unsentenced. They have not actually been found guilty of the crimes for which they are being held. Yet the conditions in the jail system are far worse than those in the prison system where convicted criminals are housed.
Despite all of the adverse publicity and investigations by various departments of the federal government, Arpaio has managed to stay in charge and command a support base bordering on the fanatical. He’s had two books published, and was awarded his own prime-time reality TV show, Smile...You're Under Arrest!
Click here for Mentored Part 6
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
The Death of Marcia Powell and Outdoor Cages (by Warrior)
On the same day the cops at Perryville left Marcia Powell out in a cage with no water in 106 °F weather, until the heat finally claimed her, over here at Buckeye prison, two SSU guards left me and 25 other individuals outside in the cages for two hours. They gave us only one 8 oz cup of water and expected us all to drop UA’s. We all said, “No. No one can drop.” One prisoner had to be taken inside due to symptoms of heat exhaustion. We all got booked for refusing to provide urine samples, though no one had enough water to urinate.
Now, since Marcia Powell died, state-wide policy doesn’t allow any inamtes to remain in the cages whatsoever. All over the yard and on the prison directory channel on TV are warnings about heat exhaustion, and tips to stay hydrated along with detailed descriptions about what the Arizona sun can do to a person.
What about us on that day? I bet if someone died over here, none of us would be getting booked for a refusal ticket. Right now, the Arizona Department of Corrections can’t afford another scandal of the same caliber, so we’re all guaranteed to be guilty for refusing to urinate, so they can cover their dirty tracks over here.
The system is just as corrupt as the inamtes. The only difference between us and the staff is the color of the costume.
Click here for Warrior’s previous prison story.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments and questions for Warrior to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
On the same day the cops at Perryville left Marcia Powell out in a cage with no water in 106 °F weather, until the heat finally claimed her, over here at Buckeye prison, two SSU guards left me and 25 other individuals outside in the cages for two hours. They gave us only one 8 oz cup of water and expected us all to drop UA’s. We all said, “No. No one can drop.” One prisoner had to be taken inside due to symptoms of heat exhaustion. We all got booked for refusing to provide urine samples, though no one had enough water to urinate.
Now, since Marcia Powell died, state-wide policy doesn’t allow any inamtes to remain in the cages whatsoever. All over the yard and on the prison directory channel on TV are warnings about heat exhaustion, and tips to stay hydrated along with detailed descriptions about what the Arizona sun can do to a person.
What about us on that day? I bet if someone died over here, none of us would be getting booked for a refusal ticket. Right now, the Arizona Department of Corrections can’t afford another scandal of the same caliber, so we’re all guaranteed to be guilty for refusing to urinate, so they can cover their dirty tracks over here.
The system is just as corrupt as the inamtes. The only difference between us and the staff is the color of the costume.
Click here for Warrior’s previous prison story.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments and questions for Warrior to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Guards Disciplined for the Death of Marcia Powell
Earlier this year, Renee, writing for Jon’s Jail Journal, revealed that her friend, Marcia Powell had died from heat exposure after being locked in an outdoor cage by the guards. Here’s today’s news story on what happened to the guards responsible.
PHOENIX (AP) - Sixteen Arizona corrections employees have been fired, suspended or otherwise disciplined for their roles in the death of an inmate left in an outdoor holding cell for four hours in triple-digit heat and for a "wait-them-out" practice at the prison where she died.
Three of those disciplined were fired, two stepped down in place of being fired, 10 received suspensions ranging from 40 to 80 hours, and one was demoted. Two others will be disciplined after they return from medical leave.
Arizona Department of Corrections Director Charles Ryan announced the moves Tuesday, calling the death the "most significant example of abuse" of an inmate that he's aware of within the department.
Marcia Powell, who was serving a 27-month sentence for prostitution, died from heat-related complications hours after she collapsed May 19 in an uncovered outdoor cell at the Perryville prison in the west Phoenix suburb of Goodyear. She had been in the cell for nearly four hours, despite a policy that set a two-hour limit.
Powell, 48, was being held in the outdoor cell while being transferred from one section of the prison to an observation ward after seeing a psychologist. An autopsy report showed she had first- and second-degree burns on her face and body and a core body temperature of 108 degrees.
"That is an absolute failure," Ryan said Tuesday. "The inmate should not have been left in the enclosure that length of time."
The autopsy also found that Powell's death was an accident and that she had anti-psychotic drugs in her system. Such drugs are known to make people more susceptible to heat-related illnesses.
Ryan declined to provide the names of the corrections employees who were disciplined, saying it would be inappropriate considering they have the right to appeal their punishments. Those disciplined included a deputy warden, a prison psychologist, a chief of security and various officers.
A call to the union that represents Arizona corrections workers was not immediately returned Tuesday evening.
During the administrative investigation of Powell's death, Ryan said investigators with the Office of the Inspector General uncovered a so-called "wait-them-out" practice at the Perryville prison that went on for about a year. Inmates were placed in outdoor and indoor holdings cells for hours at a time as an alternative to using force, he said.
While Powell was not in a holding cell under that practice, Ryan said, an inmate was left in an outdoor cell for 20 hours three days before Powell's death; she did not require medical treatment. He said no one died under the "wait-them-out" practice.
The state prisons system ended its use of outdoor prison cells weeks after Powell's death. Arizona's 10 prisons had 233 outdoor cells for temporarily holding inmates awaiting transfer to punishment wards, medical units, other prisons or work assignments.
Ryan said the cells at Perryville are now used as exercise or short-term waiting areas. They are now shaded, and have misters and benches.
The criminal investigation into Powell's death is finished and at the Maricopa County attorney's office, which will decide if any corrections employees will be charged.
Donna Hamm, director of Tempe-based Middle Ground Prison Reform, said the employees' punishment helps show other prison workers that they will be held accountable for their actions.
"There was an established policy, and had it been followed, Marcia Powell would be alive today," Hamm said.
She said County Attorney Andrew Thomas should charge the employees involved in Powell's death.
"If that happens, the message is crystal clear to department employees about their responsibilities and the consequences of not following their own policy," Hamm said.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Earlier this year, Renee, writing for Jon’s Jail Journal, revealed that her friend, Marcia Powell had died from heat exposure after being locked in an outdoor cage by the guards. Here’s today’s news story on what happened to the guards responsible.
PHOENIX (AP) - Sixteen Arizona corrections employees have been fired, suspended or otherwise disciplined for their roles in the death of an inmate left in an outdoor holding cell for four hours in triple-digit heat and for a "wait-them-out" practice at the prison where she died.
Three of those disciplined were fired, two stepped down in place of being fired, 10 received suspensions ranging from 40 to 80 hours, and one was demoted. Two others will be disciplined after they return from medical leave.
Arizona Department of Corrections Director Charles Ryan announced the moves Tuesday, calling the death the "most significant example of abuse" of an inmate that he's aware of within the department.
Marcia Powell, who was serving a 27-month sentence for prostitution, died from heat-related complications hours after she collapsed May 19 in an uncovered outdoor cell at the Perryville prison in the west Phoenix suburb of Goodyear. She had been in the cell for nearly four hours, despite a policy that set a two-hour limit.
Powell, 48, was being held in the outdoor cell while being transferred from one section of the prison to an observation ward after seeing a psychologist. An autopsy report showed she had first- and second-degree burns on her face and body and a core body temperature of 108 degrees.
"That is an absolute failure," Ryan said Tuesday. "The inmate should not have been left in the enclosure that length of time."
The autopsy also found that Powell's death was an accident and that she had anti-psychotic drugs in her system. Such drugs are known to make people more susceptible to heat-related illnesses.
Ryan declined to provide the names of the corrections employees who were disciplined, saying it would be inappropriate considering they have the right to appeal their punishments. Those disciplined included a deputy warden, a prison psychologist, a chief of security and various officers.
A call to the union that represents Arizona corrections workers was not immediately returned Tuesday evening.
During the administrative investigation of Powell's death, Ryan said investigators with the Office of the Inspector General uncovered a so-called "wait-them-out" practice at the Perryville prison that went on for about a year. Inmates were placed in outdoor and indoor holdings cells for hours at a time as an alternative to using force, he said.
While Powell was not in a holding cell under that practice, Ryan said, an inmate was left in an outdoor cell for 20 hours three days before Powell's death; she did not require medical treatment. He said no one died under the "wait-them-out" practice.
The state prisons system ended its use of outdoor prison cells weeks after Powell's death. Arizona's 10 prisons had 233 outdoor cells for temporarily holding inmates awaiting transfer to punishment wards, medical units, other prisons or work assignments.
Ryan said the cells at Perryville are now used as exercise or short-term waiting areas. They are now shaded, and have misters and benches.
The criminal investigation into Powell's death is finished and at the Maricopa County attorney's office, which will decide if any corrections employees will be charged.
Donna Hamm, director of Tempe-based Middle Ground Prison Reform, said the employees' punishment helps show other prison workers that they will be held accountable for their actions.
"There was an established policy, and had it been followed, Marcia Powell would be alive today," Hamm said.
She said County Attorney Andrew Thomas should charge the employees involved in Powell's death.
"If that happens, the message is crystal clear to department employees about their responsibilities and the consequences of not following their own policy," Hamm said.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Guest Blogger Submission Guidelines
If you are an ex-prisoner or know someone in prison with a true story that you’d like to share with the readers of Jon’s Jail Journal, here are the submission guidelines:
Please keep the story within the context of this blog. Only prison stories (and occasionally crime stories) are acceptable, and they must be written by the prisoner/criminal involved.
The readers of Jon’s Jail Journal like to make up their minds for themselves, so please don’t go overboard railing against your place of incarceration or the unfairness of the legal system. Detail your situation or environment, take the readers right there with you through your words.
To determine what has worked best in the past with the readers of Jon’s Jail Journal, please read the blog entries. Here are some of the blogs that have attracted the most comments:
Polish Avenger
Rapist on the Yard
Interview with a Blood
Stories that have worked have ranged from a gangster whacking a gangster to something as simple as a prisoner smuggling peanut butter into a classroom via his sock.
Along with the story, please send a short bio. Just a few sentences long describing your age, crimes, sentence length, and the name of your place of incarceration. If you wish your name and prison to remain anonymous, please state so.
If you are no longer in prison, the story should be typed up (preferably in Microsoft Word) and sent as an email attachment to attwood.shaun@hotmail.co.uk
If you are still in prison, my prefence is for you to mail it to a family member who can type it up and email it to attwood.shaun@hotmail.co.uk If you have no outside support, then I will accept the story via snail mail.
Please feel free to hyperlink your own website or blog to the story or bio.
Stories from female prisoners are also most welcome as there are few on the Internet.
Please keep the story within the context of this blog. Only prison stories (and occasionally crime stories) are acceptable, and they must be written by the prisoner/criminal involved.
The readers of Jon’s Jail Journal like to make up their minds for themselves, so please don’t go overboard railing against your place of incarceration or the unfairness of the legal system. Detail your situation or environment, take the readers right there with you through your words.
To determine what has worked best in the past with the readers of Jon’s Jail Journal, please read the blog entries. Here are some of the blogs that have attracted the most comments:
Polish Avenger
Rapist on the Yard
Interview with a Blood
Stories that have worked have ranged from a gangster whacking a gangster to something as simple as a prisoner smuggling peanut butter into a classroom via his sock.
Along with the story, please send a short bio. Just a few sentences long describing your age, crimes, sentence length, and the name of your place of incarceration. If you wish your name and prison to remain anonymous, please state so.
If you are no longer in prison, the story should be typed up (preferably in Microsoft Word) and sent as an email attachment to attwood.shaun@hotmail.co.uk
If you are still in prison, my prefence is for you to mail it to a family member who can type it up and email it to attwood.shaun@hotmail.co.uk If you have no outside support, then I will accept the story via snail mail.
Please feel free to hyperlink your own website or blog to the story or bio.
Stories from female prisoners are also most welcome as there are few on the Internet.
Question Time With Frankie
Frankie - A Mexican Mafia hit man and leader of prison "booty bandits" who has been proposing our gay marriage ever since he saw me rubbing antifungal ointment on the bedsores on my buttocks at the Madison Street jail. He was there on murder charges he subsequently beat.
Chris wrote: I know work is supposed to build character, but earning $6 a week is ridiculous. It's almost as though they wanted to create an irresistible incentive for drug trafficking. Nah, couldn't be. Anyway, good on you, Frankie, for resisting! Stay strong, get out, do good, do well.
Frankie replied:
Chris, I’m going to paint you a quick little picture of how corrupt this system is. The Arizona Department of Corrections is awarded $30,000 plus per year for each inmate. Times 40,000 prisoners equals over $1 billion. Are we to believe with this amount of money they can’t pay us more than $6 a week to live off? You tell me how is someone supposed to build character like that? In fact it’s the other way around, they force you and put you in a situation where you have to supplement your income with irregular activity. Not only that, this so called prison would rather spend money protecting child molesters and rapists.
Bottom line, I got busted for drugs in prison and I’m paying for it.
Chris, no disrespect whatsoever. Just thought I’d throw a little something your way. Much respect, Frankie.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments or questions for Frankie to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Frankie - A Mexican Mafia hit man and leader of prison "booty bandits" who has been proposing our gay marriage ever since he saw me rubbing antifungal ointment on the bedsores on my buttocks at the Madison Street jail. He was there on murder charges he subsequently beat.
Chris wrote: I know work is supposed to build character, but earning $6 a week is ridiculous. It's almost as though they wanted to create an irresistible incentive for drug trafficking. Nah, couldn't be. Anyway, good on you, Frankie, for resisting! Stay strong, get out, do good, do well.
Frankie replied:
Chris, I’m going to paint you a quick little picture of how corrupt this system is. The Arizona Department of Corrections is awarded $30,000 plus per year for each inmate. Times 40,000 prisoners equals over $1 billion. Are we to believe with this amount of money they can’t pay us more than $6 a week to live off? You tell me how is someone supposed to build character like that? In fact it’s the other way around, they force you and put you in a situation where you have to supplement your income with irregular activity. Not only that, this so called prison would rather spend money protecting child molesters and rapists.
Bottom line, I got busted for drugs in prison and I’m paying for it.
Chris, no disrespect whatsoever. Just thought I’d throw a little something your way. Much respect, Frankie.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments or questions for Frankie to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Two Tonys Reunited with Frankie (by Frankie)
Two Tonys - A whacker of men and Mafia associate serving multiple life sentences for murders and violent crimes. Left bodies from Tucson to Alaska, but claims all his victims "had it coming." Recently diagnosed with liver cancer, and is in chemotherapy fighting to prolong his life.
Frankie - A Mexican Mafia hit man and leader of prison "booty bandits" who has been proposing our gay marriage ever since he saw me rubbing antifungal ointment on the bedsores on my buttocks at the Madison Street jail. He was there on murder charges he subsequently beat.
I finally made it to Tucson prison with Two Tonys. The first day here I was sitting in the kitchen and one of my friends tells Two Tonys, “Guess who’s here?” And Two Tonys turns around, and starts looking, and once he sees me, his eyes got real watery, and he ho chokes up, went straight for me and we hug. He almost had me crying.
Two Tonys is very sick. He’s on medication. But since I’ve been here, I take him out for walks, out in the rec field, and we bullshit for the whole of rec. We’re back together like the old days.
Two Tonys told me if he dies now, he will die happy cuz he seen me again. He thought he wouldn’t have seen me cuz they weren’t letting me come here. But I’ve been behaving, and my score is 25-21, so they didn’t have a choice.
Click here for Frankie’s previous blog.
Click here for Two Tonys previous blog.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments or questions for Frankie and Two Tonys to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Two Tonys - A whacker of men and Mafia associate serving multiple life sentences for murders and violent crimes. Left bodies from Tucson to Alaska, but claims all his victims "had it coming." Recently diagnosed with liver cancer, and is in chemotherapy fighting to prolong his life.
Frankie - A Mexican Mafia hit man and leader of prison "booty bandits" who has been proposing our gay marriage ever since he saw me rubbing antifungal ointment on the bedsores on my buttocks at the Madison Street jail. He was there on murder charges he subsequently beat.
I finally made it to Tucson prison with Two Tonys. The first day here I was sitting in the kitchen and one of my friends tells Two Tonys, “Guess who’s here?” And Two Tonys turns around, and starts looking, and once he sees me, his eyes got real watery, and he ho chokes up, went straight for me and we hug. He almost had me crying.
Two Tonys is very sick. He’s on medication. But since I’ve been here, I take him out for walks, out in the rec field, and we bullshit for the whole of rec. We’re back together like the old days.
Two Tonys told me if he dies now, he will die happy cuz he seen me again. He thought he wouldn’t have seen me cuz they weren’t letting me come here. But I’ve been behaving, and my score is 25-21, so they didn’t have a choice.
Click here for Frankie’s previous blog.
Click here for Two Tonys previous blog.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments or questions for Frankie and Two Tonys to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
From Xena (Letter 5)
Xena - A transsexual giant and Wiccan priest. The charismatic leader of Cult Of Xena (COX). Tattoos include a wasp on Xena’s penis and ant trails running up Xena’s legs. Cut off a testicle while in prison, and almost bled to death.
My Dear Friend Shaun,
I love and miss you! I hope that your new girlfriend is the one.
I have sworn off men, and now it seems I am very well hated in here. Ironic!
You are always on my mind. I have a little more than ten years left to do. Will you still be aware of me then? I hope so. I want to see you again. You changed my life dramatically, and when you left my life again was so bland. And now I feel the old anger and torment, which is a part of the prisoners’ deception of their likelihood, flowing back into my consciousness. I try to fight it. I have no friends in here to help me with the strain of its pull. I therefore must rely on memory of the one who knew how to live in here without becoming trapped by the sheer weight of time, and the pressure of its employees and other prisoners who look human yet under their skins lurk deformed atrocities, and whose purpose is to pick at the foundations of people’s faith and strength. I feel the temperament of pressure. It is heavy. It is cold, and yet I feel burned.
I am happy you are enjoying your life. I wish I could know freedom. I want to go swimming in a cold lake again, and to feel the shining of the sun on my skin afterward. The taste of honey dew and coconut with vanilla ice cream Yum! And I want you looking in my face, telling me I will be OK.
Love Xena ---XXX---
Click here for Xena’s previous letter.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments and questions for Xena to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Xena - A transsexual giant and Wiccan priest. The charismatic leader of Cult Of Xena (COX). Tattoos include a wasp on Xena’s penis and ant trails running up Xena’s legs. Cut off a testicle while in prison, and almost bled to death.
My Dear Friend Shaun,
I love and miss you! I hope that your new girlfriend is the one.
I have sworn off men, and now it seems I am very well hated in here. Ironic!
You are always on my mind. I have a little more than ten years left to do. Will you still be aware of me then? I hope so. I want to see you again. You changed my life dramatically, and when you left my life again was so bland. And now I feel the old anger and torment, which is a part of the prisoners’ deception of their likelihood, flowing back into my consciousness. I try to fight it. I have no friends in here to help me with the strain of its pull. I therefore must rely on memory of the one who knew how to live in here without becoming trapped by the sheer weight of time, and the pressure of its employees and other prisoners who look human yet under their skins lurk deformed atrocities, and whose purpose is to pick at the foundations of people’s faith and strength. I feel the temperament of pressure. It is heavy. It is cold, and yet I feel burned.
I am happy you are enjoying your life. I wish I could know freedom. I want to go swimming in a cold lake again, and to feel the shining of the sun on my skin afterward. The taste of honey dew and coconut with vanilla ice cream Yum! And I want you looking in my face, telling me I will be OK.
Love Xena ---XXX---
Click here for Xena’s previous letter.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments and questions for Xena to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Postcards from Long Island (7)
Long Island - Promising young cellmate I taught to trade the financial markets. Released on the 11th of December '05 and rearrested February ’08. Alleged to have committed forgery and hit an officer with a car. He’s writing from Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s Lower Buckeye jail.
Shaun,
As for your questions about what it’s like at Arpaio’s Lower Buckeye jail. The pod has a blue and gray color scheme. The control tower is surrounded by windows with a little trap for mail. The cell doors slide open with an access button on the inside. There are 36 cells in each pod with 2 staircases to the upper tier. There’s a door in the pod that leads to a 10x10 ft concrete rec area. Two other doors lead to Medical and a classroom. It’s designed to keep the area completely contained. We don’t have to go anywhere for anything.
It’s alright in the pod, but Visitation sucks. Our visits are via a TV screen. They have little phone booths in the pod with cameras and TV screens in them. Our visitors stay downstairs and we never leave the pod.
I can think of only one noise and smell that stand out far above the rest. The noise is the unbelievably jarring sound of metal crashing against metal every time one of those doors opens and shuts.
The smell above all smells has got to be my celly. The Mariachi has a prostate the size of a cucumber, but refuses to go to Medical because he’s afraid he has cancer. So when he pees it sprays all over the place like a cat. He does his best to clean it up, but he never gets it all. It smells like a public restroom in my cell. He can pee when he sits down, but he doesn’t like to because I tell him he pees like a woman when he sits down! He gets so mad, it’s hilarious!
I’ll probably be signing a plea shortly. If the number is right that is. I think it will be. I’ll write again soon.
Your friend,
Long Island
Click here for Long Island’s previous blog
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments for Long Island to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Long Island - Promising young cellmate I taught to trade the financial markets. Released on the 11th of December '05 and rearrested February ’08. Alleged to have committed forgery and hit an officer with a car. He’s writing from Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s Lower Buckeye jail.
Shaun,
As for your questions about what it’s like at Arpaio’s Lower Buckeye jail. The pod has a blue and gray color scheme. The control tower is surrounded by windows with a little trap for mail. The cell doors slide open with an access button on the inside. There are 36 cells in each pod with 2 staircases to the upper tier. There’s a door in the pod that leads to a 10x10 ft concrete rec area. Two other doors lead to Medical and a classroom. It’s designed to keep the area completely contained. We don’t have to go anywhere for anything.
It’s alright in the pod, but Visitation sucks. Our visits are via a TV screen. They have little phone booths in the pod with cameras and TV screens in them. Our visitors stay downstairs and we never leave the pod.
I can think of only one noise and smell that stand out far above the rest. The noise is the unbelievably jarring sound of metal crashing against metal every time one of those doors opens and shuts.
The smell above all smells has got to be my celly. The Mariachi has a prostate the size of a cucumber, but refuses to go to Medical because he’s afraid he has cancer. So when he pees it sprays all over the place like a cat. He does his best to clean it up, but he never gets it all. It smells like a public restroom in my cell. He can pee when he sits down, but he doesn’t like to because I tell him he pees like a woman when he sits down! He gets so mad, it’s hilarious!
I’ll probably be signing a plea shortly. If the number is right that is. I think it will be. I’ll write again soon.
Your friend,
Long Island
Click here for Long Island’s previous blog
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments for Long Island to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Wild Man Arrives at the Big House (Part 2)
Wild Man – My large and fearless raving partner from my hometown. He is one of the main characters in my jail memoir. He looked out for me in the jail when we first went in. He was sentenced before me, and ended up having various adventures in the prison system.
In Part 1 Wild Man knocked out an envoy from the Aryan Brotherhood who asked to see Wild Man’s charges. Now the Aryan Brotherhood intend to deal with Wild Man at recreation.
“Next day, I wake up for chow,” Wild Man said. “It’s breakfast. Rec’s at 10. After breakfast a couple of woods come up to me and say, ‘Put yer shoes on. You need to go to rec.’
I kinda thought about it, Do I go out swinging or listen to what they’ve got to say? I thought I’d just wing it.
I walk out to rec with three woods, and there’s six more waiting for me at the poker table. These six are the heads of the whites from all of the yards.”
“Hold on a minute. What do the heads look like?” I asked.
“Three of them are about my size. Bald heads. WHITE PRIDE on all of them. All affiliated with the Aryan Brotherhood.”
“So they would do some serious damage if they started on you?”
“Definitely. I woulda took one or two out, but I woulda got severely hurt.
I walk up, and one called Boon says, ‘Alright, Wild Man. It’s been a long time. How you doin’?’ and gives me a hug. Boon’s running Building 5.
The main guy, Jody, says to Boon, ‘You know him?’
Boon laughs, and says, ‘Yeah. He fucked a lotta dudes up at Towers jail.’
Boon whispered something to Jody, and then Jody turns to me and says, ‘What the fuck were you thinking?’
I said, ‘I didn’t know where the guy was coming from. Whether he was asking me am I a PC-case, by asking for my paperwork. I didn’t wanna leave any unanswered questions, so I gave him a left. I didn’t mean to knock him out, and embarrass him. I’m English, and that’s what you do in English prisons.’
One – with WHITE PRIDE right on the back of his head in German – started laughing. Boon was laughing. But three of them shook their heads.”
“So they were split about what to do with you?” I asked.
“Yes. Then Jody said, ‘Are you willing to apologise to him? The only reason we are not dog-piling you right now is because Boon knows about you from Towers. He said you beat the shit out of a baby shaker, and that goes a long way with us. But don’t get things fucked up. You can’t just go around hitting our heads.’
So I said to the guy I knocked out, ‘Soz about that.’
He didn’t know what soz meant. He just shook his head.
After that, I was going to rec, kicking it with Boon and the heads. I did a couple of missions for them on big guys. I’d only work one-on-one. I don’t believe in dog-piling. They were impressed with my work. They gave me the go ahead, and material to make hooch for the heads and me. Then they give me the green light on the job of the guy I knocked out.
So four weeks after knocking him out, I go up to him and say, ‘I’m having the dorm now. I’ve got the go-ahead from the heads. What you gonna do about it?’
He says, ‘You can have it. I’ll roll over. I’m going home in two months. But to save face, will you talk to me about what decisions you make, so the rest of the fellas still think I’m your right-hand man.’
Looking him dead in the eye, I tell him, ‘I’ll throw a dog a bone,’ meaning I’ll do that for him. That’s how I ended up running the dorm.”
“That’s incredible!” I said. “Only you can get away with beating up an envoy from the Aryan Brother your first day on the yard. I think they saw what a gladiator you are and figured they’d be better off putting you to good use. How many more stories you got like this one you can share at Jon’s Jail Journal?”
“About fifty.”
Do we want more Wild Man prison stories?
Email comments for Wild Man to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Wild Man – My large and fearless raving partner from my hometown. He is one of the main characters in my jail memoir. He looked out for me in the jail when we first went in. He was sentenced before me, and ended up having various adventures in the prison system.
In Part 1 Wild Man knocked out an envoy from the Aryan Brotherhood who asked to see Wild Man’s charges. Now the Aryan Brotherhood intend to deal with Wild Man at recreation.
“Next day, I wake up for chow,” Wild Man said. “It’s breakfast. Rec’s at 10. After breakfast a couple of woods come up to me and say, ‘Put yer shoes on. You need to go to rec.’
I kinda thought about it, Do I go out swinging or listen to what they’ve got to say? I thought I’d just wing it.
I walk out to rec with three woods, and there’s six more waiting for me at the poker table. These six are the heads of the whites from all of the yards.”
“Hold on a minute. What do the heads look like?” I asked.
“Three of them are about my size. Bald heads. WHITE PRIDE on all of them. All affiliated with the Aryan Brotherhood.”
“So they would do some serious damage if they started on you?”
“Definitely. I woulda took one or two out, but I woulda got severely hurt.
I walk up, and one called Boon says, ‘Alright, Wild Man. It’s been a long time. How you doin’?’ and gives me a hug. Boon’s running Building 5.
The main guy, Jody, says to Boon, ‘You know him?’
Boon laughs, and says, ‘Yeah. He fucked a lotta dudes up at Towers jail.’
Boon whispered something to Jody, and then Jody turns to me and says, ‘What the fuck were you thinking?’
I said, ‘I didn’t know where the guy was coming from. Whether he was asking me am I a PC-case, by asking for my paperwork. I didn’t wanna leave any unanswered questions, so I gave him a left. I didn’t mean to knock him out, and embarrass him. I’m English, and that’s what you do in English prisons.’
One – with WHITE PRIDE right on the back of his head in German – started laughing. Boon was laughing. But three of them shook their heads.”
“So they were split about what to do with you?” I asked.
“Yes. Then Jody said, ‘Are you willing to apologise to him? The only reason we are not dog-piling you right now is because Boon knows about you from Towers. He said you beat the shit out of a baby shaker, and that goes a long way with us. But don’t get things fucked up. You can’t just go around hitting our heads.’
So I said to the guy I knocked out, ‘Soz about that.’
He didn’t know what soz meant. He just shook his head.
After that, I was going to rec, kicking it with Boon and the heads. I did a couple of missions for them on big guys. I’d only work one-on-one. I don’t believe in dog-piling. They were impressed with my work. They gave me the go ahead, and material to make hooch for the heads and me. Then they give me the green light on the job of the guy I knocked out.
So four weeks after knocking him out, I go up to him and say, ‘I’m having the dorm now. I’ve got the go-ahead from the heads. What you gonna do about it?’
He says, ‘You can have it. I’ll roll over. I’m going home in two months. But to save face, will you talk to me about what decisions you make, so the rest of the fellas still think I’m your right-hand man.’
Looking him dead in the eye, I tell him, ‘I’ll throw a dog a bone,’ meaning I’ll do that for him. That’s how I ended up running the dorm.”
“That’s incredible!” I said. “Only you can get away with beating up an envoy from the Aryan Brother your first day on the yard. I think they saw what a gladiator you are and figured they’d be better off putting you to good use. How many more stories you got like this one you can share at Jon’s Jail Journal?”
“About fifty.”
Do we want more Wild Man prison stories?
Email comments for Wild Man to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Wild Man Arrives at the Big House (Part 1)
Wild Man – My large and fearless raving partner from my hometown. He is also Hammy’s cousin, and one of the main characters in my jail memoir. He looked out for me at Arpaio’s Towers jail when we first went in. He was sentenced a year before me, and ended up having various adventures in the prison system. I recently asked him to share some of his prison stories. Click here to read the previous blog I did on him.
“So what was it like your first day arriving at a prison yard?” I asked.
“It was around July ’03,” Wild Man said, “and I’d just got 8 years. I’d already done 14 months at Arpaio’s jail, where I was with you. I’m sentenced, so I’m going straight to the big house. I walk into Steiner Unit at Buckeye prison, a high-medium yard, and go to the end of the dorm. It was a twenty-five-man dorm. Four bunk beds. The rest single cubicles. I put my net bag on the top bunk, and this big wood comes over all slung down with political ink, and a big WHITE PRIDE across his chest.”
“Someone the Aryan Brotherhood’s sent to check you out?”
“Yes. He walks up to me and says, ‘What’s up, wood! I’m the head of the white boys in this dorm.’
I say, ‘I’m Wild Man, and I’m having a bad day. I just got 8 years. I’ve been in transport all day. I’m going to get my head down for a few hours. Could you wake me up?’
He says, ‘I need to see your paperwork.’
I said to him, ‘What the fuck did you just ask me?’
He said, ‘You heard. Where is your paperwork? I need to see it.’
Well, the next thing you know, I swung a big ol’ left that caught him on the jaw. He fell like a bag of turd, and was knocked out.”
“Holy shit!” I said. “How were you planning on getting away with that?”
“He shouldn’t have come at me like that. I’d had a hard day in transport. You know how it is, Shaun.
So his boys come rushing in, saying, ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You’re not gonna get away with that! We’ll handle this at rec.’”
“How did that make you feel?” I asked.
“I went to sleep for a few hours. I was tired.”
“Unbelievable!” I said.
“Next day, I wake up for chow. It’s breakfast. Rec’s at 10…”
Wild Man – My large and fearless raving partner from my hometown. He is also Hammy’s cousin, and one of the main characters in my jail memoir. He looked out for me at Arpaio’s Towers jail when we first went in. He was sentenced a year before me, and ended up having various adventures in the prison system. I recently asked him to share some of his prison stories. Click here to read the previous blog I did on him.
“So what was it like your first day arriving at a prison yard?” I asked.
“It was around July ’03,” Wild Man said, “and I’d just got 8 years. I’d already done 14 months at Arpaio’s jail, where I was with you. I’m sentenced, so I’m going straight to the big house. I walk into Steiner Unit at Buckeye prison, a high-medium yard, and go to the end of the dorm. It was a twenty-five-man dorm. Four bunk beds. The rest single cubicles. I put my net bag on the top bunk, and this big wood comes over all slung down with political ink, and a big WHITE PRIDE across his chest.”
“Someone the Aryan Brotherhood’s sent to check you out?”
“Yes. He walks up to me and says, ‘What’s up, wood! I’m the head of the white boys in this dorm.’
I say, ‘I’m Wild Man, and I’m having a bad day. I just got 8 years. I’ve been in transport all day. I’m going to get my head down for a few hours. Could you wake me up?’
He says, ‘I need to see your paperwork.’
I said to him, ‘What the fuck did you just ask me?’
He said, ‘You heard. Where is your paperwork? I need to see it.’
Well, the next thing you know, I swung a big ol’ left that caught him on the jaw. He fell like a bag of turd, and was knocked out.”
“Holy shit!” I said. “How were you planning on getting away with that?”
“He shouldn’t have come at me like that. I’d had a hard day in transport. You know how it is, Shaun.
So his boys come rushing in, saying, ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You’re not gonna get away with that! We’ll handle this at rec.’”
“How did that make you feel?” I asked.
“I went to sleep for a few hours. I was tired.”
“Unbelievable!” I said.
“Next day, I wake up for chow. It’s breakfast. Rec’s at 10…”
.
Do you think the Aryan Brotherhood will retaliate against Wild man for knocking out one of their woods?
.
Email comments for Wild Man to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
.
Shaun P. Attwood
Convictions of a Juvie (by Shane)
Shane - After being denied psychiatric medication by ValueOptions, Shane turned to illegal drugs financed by burglaries. For stealing a few hundred dollars worth of goods, he was sentenced by Judge Ron Reinstein to eleven years. Shane is the author of the blog Persevering Prison Pages.
“This is your bunk,” the balding middle-aged man told me, his crooked finger pointing at an empty lower bunk.
As my tired eyes scanned the small bedroom containing four bunk beds, the smell of sweat assaulted my olfactories. “Can I get something to eat?” I asked, still unsure of whether the group-home parent was anybody to worry about.
His inebriated response told me how it was going to be with him. “No. Breakfast is a privilege here. You ain’t with your mommy and daddy anymore.”
As soon as John the house parent left the room, a toe-headed youngster sat up in the bed across from mine. “It’s OK, he’s an asshole to us all. I’ll get you something to eat.” He climbed out of the bed, and tiptoed to the door. He looked to be about ten-years old, which wasn’t a surprise to me. In my thirteen years, I’d learned that the world had unwanted kids of all ages.
Sneaking out of the room, he left the door slightly ajar. Minutes later he returned with a girl of around fifteen years with black hair.
“Jimmy says, you’re new here and hungry. My name’s Alexis. I live down the hall. Here’s a muffin. This should get you until breakfast.” She told me with a coquettish smile.
Accepting the muffin, I thanked her. The three of us sat around for a few minutes in whispered conversation before she snuck back to her room and we all went to sleep. Exhausted, I fell asleep fairly quickly.
Awoken by the sound of a loud menacing voice yelling, “Who the fuck did it?” I jumped up and quickly ran out of the door towards the racket. As I stood in the doorway of Alexis’ room, I saw four girls in their underclothes standing in a row with John before them, clearly in a rage. He had startled them awake and lined them up still half asleep. Scared, they hadn’t even noticed their near nakedness.
“Who ate my fucking food?” John yelled again, still unaware I was there.
I could see the fear in Alexis’ pretty hazel eyes as John approached her face to face. Looking at her up and down in a lecherous manner, John asked, “You ate my muffin?”
On the verge of tears, and now painfully aware of her near nakedness, Alexis looked ready to break.
Before I could even think it over, I blurted out, “I ate your stupid muffin!”
Surprised, John turned on me, dumbfounded. His look of astonishment quickly turned to fury. He took a step toward me, so I quickly turned and dashed down the hall, finding myself in a dining room. The house was foreign to me, making me that much more panicked.
When John quickly entered the dining room, my mind was already in flight mode. As he came around the table, I picked a candle holder off a table and flung it at him.
Ducking, it narrowly missed his head. Now even more enraged, he ran around the table, but I’d already shot out an open door into the kitchen.
Grabbing a small plastic jug sitting on the counter top next to the refrigerator, I threw it at the open door. Just as I’d hoped, the jug and its contents hit John in the chest as he entered.
“Get the hell away from me!” I yelled, watching the water soak his shirt. Spying a door that locked outside, I shot towards it. Please be open, I thought as I reached for the doorknob. Moving too frantically, I fell out the door as it opened, sending me stumbling into some bushes in the backyard.
Fighting back the tears from fear and the pain from the scrapes and scratches, I got to my feet and was gone. Hitting the back fence, I was up and over in seconds, sprinting down the alleyway.
Days later, I’d be arrested for being out past curfew. To my disbelief, I learned that John had filed a police report saying I’d stolen $20 from his wallet and assaulted him when he confronted me.
I was charged with petty theft, adjudicated guilty and sent to Juvenile Detention for this “crime.” I’ve committed my share of crimes over the years. I deserved punishment, but who doles out the punishment for those working the system for their benefit?
Click here for Shane's previous story
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments for Shane to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Shane - After being denied psychiatric medication by ValueOptions, Shane turned to illegal drugs financed by burglaries. For stealing a few hundred dollars worth of goods, he was sentenced by Judge Ron Reinstein to eleven years. Shane is the author of the blog Persevering Prison Pages.
“This is your bunk,” the balding middle-aged man told me, his crooked finger pointing at an empty lower bunk.
As my tired eyes scanned the small bedroom containing four bunk beds, the smell of sweat assaulted my olfactories. “Can I get something to eat?” I asked, still unsure of whether the group-home parent was anybody to worry about.
His inebriated response told me how it was going to be with him. “No. Breakfast is a privilege here. You ain’t with your mommy and daddy anymore.”
As soon as John the house parent left the room, a toe-headed youngster sat up in the bed across from mine. “It’s OK, he’s an asshole to us all. I’ll get you something to eat.” He climbed out of the bed, and tiptoed to the door. He looked to be about ten-years old, which wasn’t a surprise to me. In my thirteen years, I’d learned that the world had unwanted kids of all ages.
Sneaking out of the room, he left the door slightly ajar. Minutes later he returned with a girl of around fifteen years with black hair.
“Jimmy says, you’re new here and hungry. My name’s Alexis. I live down the hall. Here’s a muffin. This should get you until breakfast.” She told me with a coquettish smile.
Accepting the muffin, I thanked her. The three of us sat around for a few minutes in whispered conversation before she snuck back to her room and we all went to sleep. Exhausted, I fell asleep fairly quickly.
Awoken by the sound of a loud menacing voice yelling, “Who the fuck did it?” I jumped up and quickly ran out of the door towards the racket. As I stood in the doorway of Alexis’ room, I saw four girls in their underclothes standing in a row with John before them, clearly in a rage. He had startled them awake and lined them up still half asleep. Scared, they hadn’t even noticed their near nakedness.
“Who ate my fucking food?” John yelled again, still unaware I was there.
I could see the fear in Alexis’ pretty hazel eyes as John approached her face to face. Looking at her up and down in a lecherous manner, John asked, “You ate my muffin?”
On the verge of tears, and now painfully aware of her near nakedness, Alexis looked ready to break.
Before I could even think it over, I blurted out, “I ate your stupid muffin!”
Surprised, John turned on me, dumbfounded. His look of astonishment quickly turned to fury. He took a step toward me, so I quickly turned and dashed down the hall, finding myself in a dining room. The house was foreign to me, making me that much more panicked.
When John quickly entered the dining room, my mind was already in flight mode. As he came around the table, I picked a candle holder off a table and flung it at him.
Ducking, it narrowly missed his head. Now even more enraged, he ran around the table, but I’d already shot out an open door into the kitchen.
Grabbing a small plastic jug sitting on the counter top next to the refrigerator, I threw it at the open door. Just as I’d hoped, the jug and its contents hit John in the chest as he entered.
“Get the hell away from me!” I yelled, watching the water soak his shirt. Spying a door that locked outside, I shot towards it. Please be open, I thought as I reached for the doorknob. Moving too frantically, I fell out the door as it opened, sending me stumbling into some bushes in the backyard.
Fighting back the tears from fear and the pain from the scrapes and scratches, I got to my feet and was gone. Hitting the back fence, I was up and over in seconds, sprinting down the alleyway.
Days later, I’d be arrested for being out past curfew. To my disbelief, I learned that John had filed a police report saying I’d stolen $20 from his wallet and assaulted him when he confronted me.
I was charged with petty theft, adjudicated guilty and sent to Juvenile Detention for this “crime.” I’ve committed my share of crimes over the years. I deserved punishment, but who doles out the punishment for those working the system for their benefit?
Click here for Shane's previous story
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments for Shane to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Central Unit (Prologue by Warrior)
Warrior - Serving fourteen years for kidnapping and aggravated assault. Half Hispanic and Scottish-Irish with family still in Mexico. Brought up by a family steeped in drug commerce. He writes some of the best prison-fight stories on the Internet.
In this story, the guards at Central Unit are staging human cockfights, and part 7 left off with Warrior almost getting attacked by a Mexican.
In my time at Central Unit, I saw a lot. The numerous ways of causing harm were unbelievable. From the physical to the psychological. I took advice from the wise, examined the minds of the sadistic, and observed the actions of the mentally ill. My comprehension began to blossom.
My time there reminded me of Plato’s parable of the cave. Few want to come out of their cave and question what they believe to be true.
It’s even worse when a system designed to serve and protect operates like Central Unit. Or when a system contributes to the maintenance of its own job security at the expense of lives, society and the innocent.
Jail a man, degrade him, harm him psychologically and physically, provide no rehabilitation, then release him out into society. What will he do? How will he survive? By the same brutal inhumane ways that sustained him in prison. When you don’t know any better, you rely on the survival skills that have always worked.
The unfortunate outcome is recidivism. Another crime or victim, lives damaged, lives lost.
In the end we are all held accountable for our works, the systems we design, even the subtle contributions we think are on the periphery of the universe’s vision.
Click here to read Central Unit Part 1
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments and questions for Warrior to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Warrior - Serving fourteen years for kidnapping and aggravated assault. Half Hispanic and Scottish-Irish with family still in Mexico. Brought up by a family steeped in drug commerce. He writes some of the best prison-fight stories on the Internet.
In this story, the guards at Central Unit are staging human cockfights, and part 7 left off with Warrior almost getting attacked by a Mexican.
In my time at Central Unit, I saw a lot. The numerous ways of causing harm were unbelievable. From the physical to the psychological. I took advice from the wise, examined the minds of the sadistic, and observed the actions of the mentally ill. My comprehension began to blossom.
My time there reminded me of Plato’s parable of the cave. Few want to come out of their cave and question what they believe to be true.
It’s even worse when a system designed to serve and protect operates like Central Unit. Or when a system contributes to the maintenance of its own job security at the expense of lives, society and the innocent.
Jail a man, degrade him, harm him psychologically and physically, provide no rehabilitation, then release him out into society. What will he do? How will he survive? By the same brutal inhumane ways that sustained him in prison. When you don’t know any better, you rely on the survival skills that have always worked.
The unfortunate outcome is recidivism. Another crime or victim, lives damaged, lives lost.
In the end we are all held accountable for our works, the systems we design, even the subtle contributions we think are on the periphery of the universe’s vision.
Click here to read Central Unit Part 1
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments and questions for Warrior to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood