Sunday Morning Live Appearance
The link is below. Jump forward 15 minutes if you want to see my little part.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00vr7lz/Sunday_Morning_Live_Episode_16/
Widnes author Shaun Attwood to host launch party of new book at Eight Towers pub
Here's today's article in the Widnes Weekly News.
Here's today's article in the Widnes Weekly News.
Hometown Launch Party and Live Television
I’m travelling up to Cheshire later today for the hometown launch party for Hard Time on Friday night. Over 200 people are expected. Further details are here. The Facebook page is here. Pics will be posted when they become available.
On Sunday morning, I’m going to be doing live television by way of an appearance on Sunday Morning Live - BBC1's topical ethical debate show presented by Susanna Reid and broadcast live between 10am and 11am every weekend. The prison debate will be the second debate on the show, which should take place between 10.20 and 10.40am.
I’m travelling up to Cheshire later today for the hometown launch party for Hard Time on Friday night. Over 200 people are expected. Further details are here. The Facebook page is here. Pics will be posted when they become available.
On Sunday morning, I’m going to be doing live television by way of an appearance on Sunday Morning Live - BBC1's topical ethical debate show presented by Susanna Reid and broadcast live between 10am and 11am every weekend. The prison debate will be the second debate on the show, which should take place between 10.20 and 10.40am.
Unacceptable Prison Sanitation at HMP Coldingley
I just did a radio interview for BBC Surrey on the subject of prisoners at HMP Coldingley having to defecate in plastic bags and throw urine and human waste out of their cell windows due to lack of access to toilets.
I stated that I had experienced similar conditions (see my first blog entry). I pointed out that when prisoners are treated like animals, some of them will behave like animals when they are released, and society will ultimately pay the price by way of more crimes and victims.
The inspectors at Coldingley classified the prison as safe - safe in the context of escape risk. If prisoners have to throw pots of urine and human waste out of the window, how safe is Coldingley in terms of disease risk, and how close are these prisoners to rioting in order to get the inhumane conditions improved? Unsanitary living conditions like these at HMP Coldingley enable diseases such as hepatitis, MRSA and staph infections to thrive in the prison system. The cost of treatment of diseases must be factored in when prisoners living areas are spattered with fecal matter and urine.
These conditions may satisfy the lock-them-up-and-throw-away-the-key brigade and allow the prison authorities to state that everything going on is "safe" to the public, but in the long run conditions like these cost more to society than any short-term savings.
I just did a radio interview for BBC Surrey on the subject of prisoners at HMP Coldingley having to defecate in plastic bags and throw urine and human waste out of their cell windows due to lack of access to toilets.
I stated that I had experienced similar conditions (see my first blog entry). I pointed out that when prisoners are treated like animals, some of them will behave like animals when they are released, and society will ultimately pay the price by way of more crimes and victims.
The inspectors at Coldingley classified the prison as safe - safe in the context of escape risk. If prisoners have to throw pots of urine and human waste out of the window, how safe is Coldingley in terms of disease risk, and how close are these prisoners to rioting in order to get the inhumane conditions improved? Unsanitary living conditions like these at HMP Coldingley enable diseases such as hepatitis, MRSA and staph infections to thrive in the prison system. The cost of treatment of diseases must be factored in when prisoners living areas are spattered with fecal matter and urine.
These conditions may satisfy the lock-them-up-and-throw-away-the-key brigade and allow the prison authorities to state that everything going on is "safe" to the public, but in the long run conditions like these cost more to society than any short-term savings.
London Launch Event For Hard Time
A big thank you to everyone who attended the event last Thursday night at the Royal Festival Hall! Tickets sold out. We had a full house. Some people - including one of our most regular commenters here, Sue O - had flown in from America.
I ended up on the stage getting interviewed by Erwin James - a lifer who served 20 years. Erwin's rehabilitation through writing was so successful that he became a columnist for The Guardian while still incarcerated, and his prison memoir, A Life Inside, is highly acclaimed. His powerful presence did not go unnoticed. Many of my family and friends commented on what an excellent host of the talk he had been. Erwin picked up on everything going on in the audience, and adjusted the interview accordingly. He emphasized that the event was a celebration of prisoners redeeming themselves through art. Erwin also interviewed Matthew Meadows, whose excellent new book, Insider Art, showcases art by prisoners and is the first of its kind. The book is proving to be a powerful source of inspiration to all of the prisoners whose art it contains.
Sat on the front row, my parents were close enough to sabotage my feeble attempts at self-deprecatory humour.
For example, when I said, "I live the idle life of a writer. I get up whenever I want to," my mum interjected with, "He doesn't have a life. All he does is stay in his room and write."
The chief executive of the Koestler Trust, Tim, introduced and ended the talk. Koestler's Arts Mentoring For Released Prisoners program was his brainchild. That program transformed my life by way of my mentor Sally Hinchcliffe. Tim seemed moved to see the finished product (i.e. me) thriving thanks to Koestler's help.
Hammy and Wild Man (both in Hard Time) looked dapper in new suits (see photos in the blog below). After the talk, they disappeared into the dark and chilly London night like vampire bats, unable to fulfill all of the requests to autograph copies of Hard Time. Hopefully, they won't be so elusive at the hometown launch party for Hard Time this coming Friday. All are welcome. Details are:
Friday 29 October 8pm - 8 Towers Pub, Weates Close, Widnes, Cheshire, WA8 3RH Tel: 0151 424 8063
Hometown launch. Book signing, excerpts being read, and presentation with images. Special guests from Hard Time: Wild Man and Hammy.
Free event. No ticket or invitation required. Just show up on the night at any time.
Facebook page for hometown launch.
Over 200 people are expected, and the local radio station will be broadcasting live.
A big thank you to everyone who attended the event last Thursday night at the Royal Festival Hall! Tickets sold out. We had a full house. Some people - including one of our most regular commenters here, Sue O - had flown in from America.
I ended up on the stage getting interviewed by Erwin James - a lifer who served 20 years. Erwin's rehabilitation through writing was so successful that he became a columnist for The Guardian while still incarcerated, and his prison memoir, A Life Inside, is highly acclaimed. His powerful presence did not go unnoticed. Many of my family and friends commented on what an excellent host of the talk he had been. Erwin picked up on everything going on in the audience, and adjusted the interview accordingly. He emphasized that the event was a celebration of prisoners redeeming themselves through art. Erwin also interviewed Matthew Meadows, whose excellent new book, Insider Art, showcases art by prisoners and is the first of its kind. The book is proving to be a powerful source of inspiration to all of the prisoners whose art it contains.
Sat on the front row, my parents were close enough to sabotage my feeble attempts at self-deprecatory humour.
For example, when I said, "I live the idle life of a writer. I get up whenever I want to," my mum interjected with, "He doesn't have a life. All he does is stay in his room and write."
The chief executive of the Koestler Trust, Tim, introduced and ended the talk. Koestler's Arts Mentoring For Released Prisoners program was his brainchild. That program transformed my life by way of my mentor Sally Hinchcliffe. Tim seemed moved to see the finished product (i.e. me) thriving thanks to Koestler's help.
Hammy and Wild Man (both in Hard Time) looked dapper in new suits (see photos in the blog below). After the talk, they disappeared into the dark and chilly London night like vampire bats, unable to fulfill all of the requests to autograph copies of Hard Time. Hopefully, they won't be so elusive at the hometown launch party for Hard Time this coming Friday. All are welcome. Details are:
Friday 29 October 8pm - 8 Towers Pub, Weates Close, Widnes, Cheshire, WA8 3RH Tel: 0151 424 8063
Hometown launch. Book signing, excerpts being read, and presentation with images. Special guests from Hard Time: Wild Man and Hammy.
Free event. No ticket or invitation required. Just show up on the night at any time.
Facebook page for hometown launch.
Over 200 people are expected, and the local radio station will be broadcasting live.
Pics From London Launch Event For Hard Time
The pics below:
1 Erwin James
2 Lynne, Garry, Aunty Lily
3 Hammy, Stephen Nash (formerly of Prisoners Abroad), Mum
4 Tim (Chief Executive of the Koestler Trust)
5 Inveterate commenter Sue O and family from Pennyslvania
6 Surrah, Gabriella and Hammy
7 Amy (from Phoenix), Yvonne and Peter (from Dublin)
8 Mum
9 Mike Hotwheelz (in Hard Time), Esther and Anna
10 Stephen Nash and Amy
11 Wild Man and Hammy (in Hard Time)
12 Charlie and Mum
13 The meal afterwards at Las Iguanas
The pics below:
1 Erwin James
2 Lynne, Garry, Aunty Lily
3 Hammy, Stephen Nash (formerly of Prisoners Abroad), Mum
4 Tim (Chief Executive of the Koestler Trust)
5 Inveterate commenter Sue O and family from Pennyslvania
6 Surrah, Gabriella and Hammy
7 Amy (from Phoenix), Yvonne and Peter (from Dublin)
8 Mum
9 Mike Hotwheelz (in Hard Time), Esther and Anna
10 Stephen Nash and Amy
11 Wild Man and Hammy (in Hard Time)
12 Charlie and Mum
13 The meal afterwards at Las Iguanas
Shit Slingers V (The Early Years Part 6 by Polish Avenger)
Polish Avenger – A software-engineering undergraduate sentenced to 25 years because his friend was shot dead during a burglary they were committing. In Arizona, if a burglar gets killed, accomplices can get 25-year sentences.
Over the last entries we discussed Magnum and his willingness – nay, eagerness – to go places deep within the forbidden landscape of scatology and self-degradation. Yet even his fellow shit slingers were taken aback and slightly nauseated by his next innovation. In the fecal arms race, he crossed a line somewhere and became a poo kamikaze.
After the great splatterings that occurred as a result of his elaborate plumbing systems (see the last couple of posts), the guards caught on fairly quickly that even with the fellow naked and spread-eagled at the door, his was not a cell to be approached lightly! He would vary the pipe design and location, but ultimately one can only do so much to disguise several feet worth of device that’s equal parts Rube Goldberg and Dante’s Inferno (particularly one lower level featuring a river of boiling poo! Good old Dante…)
The guards began to very carefully inspect the cell front – from a distance, mind you – to ensure there would be no rain of liquid horror.
And they actually thought that would work.
Perhaps with a less determined, less deranged individual they may have reached an uneasy truce.
But this was Magnum. The sine qua non of shit slingers.
So one day after an inspection, they cuffed Magnum and escorted his naked ass to the shower. Once inside, it can be anywhere from 45 minutes to several hours before they come back to collect you. On this occasion though, it was about 45 minutes. Magnum cuffed up with no complaint, the shower door opened…and the guards were introduced to a whole new nightmare level of crazy.
I have to give the guy kudos. Most people in here try to make their time easier. Magnum went balls-out in the opposite direction and single-mindedly stuck to his guns that everyone was going to have a difficult time.
So, locked in a shower stall with nothing more than a little motel-style cake of soap, how would one befoul the guards?
Well, here’s one solution: Magnum proceeded to squeeze a hot log into his cupped hands and cram it into his mouth.
Yes, his mouth.
But wait, it gets better.
He then chewed, swirled, gargled and gnashed it around to get the proper runny consistency.
And then he sat down to wait.
I’m not sure how many of those 45 minutes he sat there, naked, alone, with a mouth full of his own pureed shit sauce.
But when the guards finally came to collect him and the shower door opened, he simply pursed his lips and became a human Dookie Uzi.
Damn!
Hygiene concerns aside, can you imagine his breath?
From all reports, this act so utterly shocked the guards that they just stood there in frozen amazement as poo-syrup slowly dripped down their face shields. Magnum sensed their momentary loss of composure and launched with savage glee into a flying tackle, trying to do some damage. He really didn’t as wrestling from the handcuffed and naked position is difficult at best. As usual, he was quickly maced, subdued, and led off to yet another holding cell. The real impact was psychological: what do you do with someone willing to go that far?
Wear lots of rubber clothing, apparently!
I got promoted (in name only) not long after, and so didn’t have to mop up Magnum’s holding cells any more. No, from now on I’d be mopping up his messes at the medical area and many other peoples’. And some of the staff members were quite nearly as bad as our Lord of the Shit Slingers.
Click here for Shit Slingers IV.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Post comments and questions for Polish Avenger below or email them to writeinside@hotmail.com To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun Attwood
Polish Avenger – A software-engineering undergraduate sentenced to 25 years because his friend was shot dead during a burglary they were committing. In Arizona, if a burglar gets killed, accomplices can get 25-year sentences.
Over the last entries we discussed Magnum and his willingness – nay, eagerness – to go places deep within the forbidden landscape of scatology and self-degradation. Yet even his fellow shit slingers were taken aback and slightly nauseated by his next innovation. In the fecal arms race, he crossed a line somewhere and became a poo kamikaze.
After the great splatterings that occurred as a result of his elaborate plumbing systems (see the last couple of posts), the guards caught on fairly quickly that even with the fellow naked and spread-eagled at the door, his was not a cell to be approached lightly! He would vary the pipe design and location, but ultimately one can only do so much to disguise several feet worth of device that’s equal parts Rube Goldberg and Dante’s Inferno (particularly one lower level featuring a river of boiling poo! Good old Dante…)
The guards began to very carefully inspect the cell front – from a distance, mind you – to ensure there would be no rain of liquid horror.
And they actually thought that would work.
Perhaps with a less determined, less deranged individual they may have reached an uneasy truce.
But this was Magnum. The sine qua non of shit slingers.
So one day after an inspection, they cuffed Magnum and escorted his naked ass to the shower. Once inside, it can be anywhere from 45 minutes to several hours before they come back to collect you. On this occasion though, it was about 45 minutes. Magnum cuffed up with no complaint, the shower door opened…and the guards were introduced to a whole new nightmare level of crazy.
I have to give the guy kudos. Most people in here try to make their time easier. Magnum went balls-out in the opposite direction and single-mindedly stuck to his guns that everyone was going to have a difficult time.
So, locked in a shower stall with nothing more than a little motel-style cake of soap, how would one befoul the guards?
Well, here’s one solution: Magnum proceeded to squeeze a hot log into his cupped hands and cram it into his mouth.
Yes, his mouth.
But wait, it gets better.
He then chewed, swirled, gargled and gnashed it around to get the proper runny consistency.
And then he sat down to wait.
I’m not sure how many of those 45 minutes he sat there, naked, alone, with a mouth full of his own pureed shit sauce.
But when the guards finally came to collect him and the shower door opened, he simply pursed his lips and became a human Dookie Uzi.
Damn!
Hygiene concerns aside, can you imagine his breath?
From all reports, this act so utterly shocked the guards that they just stood there in frozen amazement as poo-syrup slowly dripped down their face shields. Magnum sensed their momentary loss of composure and launched with savage glee into a flying tackle, trying to do some damage. He really didn’t as wrestling from the handcuffed and naked position is difficult at best. As usual, he was quickly maced, subdued, and led off to yet another holding cell. The real impact was psychological: what do you do with someone willing to go that far?
Wear lots of rubber clothing, apparently!
I got promoted (in name only) not long after, and so didn’t have to mop up Magnum’s holding cells any more. No, from now on I’d be mopping up his messes at the medical area and many other peoples’. And some of the staff members were quite nearly as bad as our Lord of the Shit Slingers.
Click here for Shit Slingers IV.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Post comments and questions for Polish Avenger below or email them to writeinside@hotmail.com To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun Attwood
Just Another One (by Shane)
Shane - 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.
It was November 1999. The citizens of Phoenix were in a panic. Murders were on the rise, and the “Sonic’s Bandits” had a body count of at least 7.
The Sonic’s Bandits – two cousins armed with high-power semi-auto handguns – had been on a murderous rampage, robbing and shooting people at Sonic’s fast-food restaurants, an AutoZone, and various other businesses.
Seconds after the “hot-call” tone broadcast on the South Mountain Precinct police channel, the call went out: “Subject with a gun. Family barbeque restaurant, 23rd Street and Broadway. Suspect is a black male. Blue jeans. North Carolina hoody.”
An officer happened to be passing the restaurant: “Four-thirty-one-frank, I’m 23 on the location.” He parked next to the restaurant. Approaching the restaurant, the officer spotted the suspect standing at the counter looking up at the menu. Entering the building, the officer thought, Probably just another citizen calling 9-1-1 out of fear of the Sonic’s Bandits.
The suspect coolly glanced over at the uniformed officer. “What’s up,” he said, and went back to looking at the menu.
“What’s up,” the officer responded, approaching the man. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
The man put his hand in his right front pants’ pocket. “Sure, what’s up?”
“Sir, get your hand out of your pocket, put your hands on your head and interlace your fingers.”
The man complied.
“Sir, do you have any weapons, guns, knives or grenades on you?” The officer began to frisk the suspect.
Another officer entered the restaurant behind the man.
The first officer felt a pistol in the man’s pocket. “Gun!”
The man broke free, spun around and elbowed the officer in the face, breaking the officer’s nose. Reaching into his pocket, he tried to pull the gun. The second officer grabbed the man’s hand, trapping it inside the pocket. The first officer swung viciously, hitting the suspect in the face and head in order to disable the threat.
The suspect was unfazed by the blows, and continued to hit both cops repeatedly with powerful punches.
Breaking away from the fight, the first cop drew his sidearm from three feet away. “Nine-oh-one-george,” he yelled, expecting the second officer to recognize the radio code for a shooting and to stand clear. His training had kicked in and he wanted to neutralise the threat with a close proximity headshot.
But the second cop remained in the line of fire.
The first holstered his gun, and radioed, “Nine-oh-seven!” in a panic, the code for “Officer needs immediate assistance,” and jumped back into the fight.
After a knock-down drag-out three-minute fight, several other officers arrived and helped subdue the man.
After searching the man, and finding a second gun in his waistband, the first officer was putting him in his patrol car when the man told him something that he’ll never forget.
In a calm matter-of-fact tone that sent chills down the spine, the man said, “You should be pleased with yourself. You just got one of the Sonic’s Bandits.”
Still unsure, the officer said, “Yeah, right. What’s your problem?”
“Officer, when you walked in the door I was about to shoot you in the head. I’ve killed so many people. I’ve capped my family a few days ago even. You should be dead right now.” The man described how he had murdered his mother and brother.
The officer had been on the scene of those murders just days earlier. He now knew that the man was a Sonic’s Bandit, and that he had cheated death once again.
The officer in this true story is a friend of mine, who, years later, would sadly become addicted to prescription pills and get sent to prison for forgery and obtaining narcotics by fraud. His 11½ year career and military service in Iraq as an army medic with 2 Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star didn’t matter when he was sentenced to 2 years in prison. Drug addiction sees no race, sex, color, creed… or occupation.
Click here for Shane’s own blog
Click here for the first blog about Shane at Jon's Jail Journal
Some of Shane's prison stories:
What Comes Around
Convict Justice
Fighting For No Good Reason
Our friends inside appreciate your comments
Post comments for Shane below or email them to writeinside@hotmail.com To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity
Shaun Attwood
Shane - 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.
It was November 1999. The citizens of Phoenix were in a panic. Murders were on the rise, and the “Sonic’s Bandits” had a body count of at least 7.
The Sonic’s Bandits – two cousins armed with high-power semi-auto handguns – had been on a murderous rampage, robbing and shooting people at Sonic’s fast-food restaurants, an AutoZone, and various other businesses.
Seconds after the “hot-call” tone broadcast on the South Mountain Precinct police channel, the call went out: “Subject with a gun. Family barbeque restaurant, 23rd Street and Broadway. Suspect is a black male. Blue jeans. North Carolina hoody.”
An officer happened to be passing the restaurant: “Four-thirty-one-frank, I’m 23 on the location.” He parked next to the restaurant. Approaching the restaurant, the officer spotted the suspect standing at the counter looking up at the menu. Entering the building, the officer thought, Probably just another citizen calling 9-1-1 out of fear of the Sonic’s Bandits.
The suspect coolly glanced over at the uniformed officer. “What’s up,” he said, and went back to looking at the menu.
“What’s up,” the officer responded, approaching the man. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
The man put his hand in his right front pants’ pocket. “Sure, what’s up?”
“Sir, get your hand out of your pocket, put your hands on your head and interlace your fingers.”
The man complied.
“Sir, do you have any weapons, guns, knives or grenades on you?” The officer began to frisk the suspect.
Another officer entered the restaurant behind the man.
The first officer felt a pistol in the man’s pocket. “Gun!”
The man broke free, spun around and elbowed the officer in the face, breaking the officer’s nose. Reaching into his pocket, he tried to pull the gun. The second officer grabbed the man’s hand, trapping it inside the pocket. The first officer swung viciously, hitting the suspect in the face and head in order to disable the threat.
The suspect was unfazed by the blows, and continued to hit both cops repeatedly with powerful punches.
Breaking away from the fight, the first cop drew his sidearm from three feet away. “Nine-oh-one-george,” he yelled, expecting the second officer to recognize the radio code for a shooting and to stand clear. His training had kicked in and he wanted to neutralise the threat with a close proximity headshot.
But the second cop remained in the line of fire.
The first holstered his gun, and radioed, “Nine-oh-seven!” in a panic, the code for “Officer needs immediate assistance,” and jumped back into the fight.
After a knock-down drag-out three-minute fight, several other officers arrived and helped subdue the man.
After searching the man, and finding a second gun in his waistband, the first officer was putting him in his patrol car when the man told him something that he’ll never forget.
In a calm matter-of-fact tone that sent chills down the spine, the man said, “You should be pleased with yourself. You just got one of the Sonic’s Bandits.”
Still unsure, the officer said, “Yeah, right. What’s your problem?”
“Officer, when you walked in the door I was about to shoot you in the head. I’ve killed so many people. I’ve capped my family a few days ago even. You should be dead right now.” The man described how he had murdered his mother and brother.
The officer had been on the scene of those murders just days earlier. He now knew that the man was a Sonic’s Bandit, and that he had cheated death once again.
The officer in this true story is a friend of mine, who, years later, would sadly become addicted to prescription pills and get sent to prison for forgery and obtaining narcotics by fraud. His 11½ year career and military service in Iraq as an army medic with 2 Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star didn’t matter when he was sentenced to 2 years in prison. Drug addiction sees no race, sex, color, creed… or occupation.
Click here for Shane’s own blog
Click here for the first blog about Shane at Jon's Jail Journal
Some of Shane's prison stories:
What Comes Around
Convict Justice
Fighting For No Good Reason
Our friends inside appreciate your comments
Post comments for Shane below or email them to writeinside@hotmail.com To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity
Shaun Attwood
Hard Time Reviews by Prisoners No. 4: Andrew Donegan
Andrew Donegan is the author of the blog, Wheel of Life at piebald77.blogspot.com
This may well be a slightly biased review because I have personally met the author and we hail from the same town! However, because the only other books I have read in this genre have been ghost-written for quasi-celebrity hard men I have no affiliation with, this is only to be expected. I’m sure many of the blog visitors and other people who have come into contact with Shaun throughout his journey would feel the same.
This is a special, intimate read, flowing effortlessly in parts, like high-octane fiction. It’s a novel-length book, with enough fascinating characters to warrant it, their range of personalities (as eluded to via their tattoos, pranks, predatory smash-on-sight instincts and general buffoonery), by no means restricted to the intense confines of Sheriff Joe’s walls. The only constant is Shaun himself, and his loving family. The case prosecutors play the indifferent role of chief protagonists.
Few people will condone the drug lifestyle responsible for Shaun’s incarceration, but his activities, prior to a SWAT team arrest, were not motivated by the typical greed we see in regular ruthless criminal masterminds. Already well-to-do via a legitimate career, it becomes apparent that his passion for the rave scene during the advent of ecstasy was bordering on the utilitarian, when he flew friends over and gave away drugs for free, intent to share his revelation of the party scene on a large scale.
It’s not impossible to conclude that Shaun, while encased in the pleasure dome of hedonism, may have, at the time, with his own admitted ignorance, considered his behaviour harmless.
Slapped with an outrageously exorbitant bond, and no definite release date in the violent gang-culture dungeon of America’s toughest jail, his former existence soon shrinks away into the realms of distant, dreamy fairytale. Balancing his sincere remorse for his crimes along with the penal system's cruel treatment of him prove to be a juggling act that pushes him to breaking point. Another tenuous thread is the strain on those close to him back home and the 5000 mile distance separating them.
Included are actual letters of correspondence, most notably between Shaun and his girlfriend. To be fussy, I would have liked one or two of these touching inserts to be set in italics, to further heighten their emotional impact within the text of the book (or perhaps the acknowledgement pages at the end).
It’s a level playing field in Maricopa Jail for rapists, murderers, and petty cons alike. The aim is survival. Through yoga, working out, education, discipline, and, most importantly, love and support, Shaun Attwood not only emerges with his life intact, but with a cautionary tale he now shares publicly within schools and colleges back home. HARD TIME is the physical embodiment of one man’s struggle through adversity, his stand for success in an ordeal of truly terrifying proportions, and with it, via an international blog, the liberation of many unheard prison voices.
Well may it sell.
Click here for the previous review in this series.
Hard Time at Amazon UK. Hard Time at the Book Depository.
Andrew Donegan is the author of the blog, Wheel of Life at piebald77.blogspot.com
This may well be a slightly biased review because I have personally met the author and we hail from the same town! However, because the only other books I have read in this genre have been ghost-written for quasi-celebrity hard men I have no affiliation with, this is only to be expected. I’m sure many of the blog visitors and other people who have come into contact with Shaun throughout his journey would feel the same.
This is a special, intimate read, flowing effortlessly in parts, like high-octane fiction. It’s a novel-length book, with enough fascinating characters to warrant it, their range of personalities (as eluded to via their tattoos, pranks, predatory smash-on-sight instincts and general buffoonery), by no means restricted to the intense confines of Sheriff Joe’s walls. The only constant is Shaun himself, and his loving family. The case prosecutors play the indifferent role of chief protagonists.
Few people will condone the drug lifestyle responsible for Shaun’s incarceration, but his activities, prior to a SWAT team arrest, were not motivated by the typical greed we see in regular ruthless criminal masterminds. Already well-to-do via a legitimate career, it becomes apparent that his passion for the rave scene during the advent of ecstasy was bordering on the utilitarian, when he flew friends over and gave away drugs for free, intent to share his revelation of the party scene on a large scale.
It’s not impossible to conclude that Shaun, while encased in the pleasure dome of hedonism, may have, at the time, with his own admitted ignorance, considered his behaviour harmless.
Slapped with an outrageously exorbitant bond, and no definite release date in the violent gang-culture dungeon of America’s toughest jail, his former existence soon shrinks away into the realms of distant, dreamy fairytale. Balancing his sincere remorse for his crimes along with the penal system's cruel treatment of him prove to be a juggling act that pushes him to breaking point. Another tenuous thread is the strain on those close to him back home and the 5000 mile distance separating them.
Included are actual letters of correspondence, most notably between Shaun and his girlfriend. To be fussy, I would have liked one or two of these touching inserts to be set in italics, to further heighten their emotional impact within the text of the book (or perhaps the acknowledgement pages at the end).
It’s a level playing field in Maricopa Jail for rapists, murderers, and petty cons alike. The aim is survival. Through yoga, working out, education, discipline, and, most importantly, love and support, Shaun Attwood not only emerges with his life intact, but with a cautionary tale he now shares publicly within schools and colleges back home. HARD TIME is the physical embodiment of one man’s struggle through adversity, his stand for success in an ordeal of truly terrifying proportions, and with it, via an international blog, the liberation of many unheard prison voices.
Well may it sell.
Click here for the previous review in this series.
Hard Time at Amazon UK. Hard Time at the Book Depository.
Wild Man’s Nascar Lottery
Wild Man - My large and fearless raving partner from my hometown. He looked out for me in Arpaio’s jail after we were arrested, and is one of the main characters in Hard Time.
“So you knocked out the head of the whites and the Aryan Brotherhood put you in charge. As the new head, you probably had to fight constantly to maintain discipline and to keep your position. How long after they made you the new head was your first fight?”
“Eight days.”
“What was it over?”
“Collections for indigent inmates.”
“Can you explain that for the general public?”
“The head of the whites is in charge of helping out the white prisoners who arrive with no money. To give them hygiene products, toothpaste, stamps, paper and envelopes. To raise the money for this I go round the prisoners and have them put a stamp up for the Nascar Racing pool. There’s 43 cars. I write the numbers 1 to 43 on little pieces of paper, throw them in a bag, or one of them orange beanies they give you when it’s winter. Whoever wins gets 20 stamps.”
“Alright, so let’s get back to the fight.”
“A white guy just moved in. He was high on OxyContins, he didn’t shower and he stunk. All the white boys who could were doing the Nascar pool, but this guy tells me, ‘I don’t see why I should have to buy a number.’ I said, ‘Look, motherfucker, I’m not telling you you have to do anything, but I’d appreciate it if you’d do the white-boy thing and buy a Nascar because the stamps are going to the people who haven’t got anything.’
He said, ‘Fuck what they’re going through!’
I said, ‘Tell you what, mate, I’ve got three numbers left. When I’ve got one, I’m going to come back and see ya, and you’re going to buy a number. How’s that?’
There’s a fine line between bulldogging, and standing up for your race. I didn’t like this dude’s attitude. When I had one number left, I walked up to him. He was a big corn fed fucker too.
He said, ‘My mamma and dadda work hard for the money I get. I’m not just wasting it on fucking people I don’t know.’
He actually didn’t get past ‘don’t know.’ I hooked him with a left right in the chin. I swear to God, his feet came off the ground, and he landed on the side of a wall. He was clean out. You know what I did? I got his mate to go to his locker, get a stamp, and pay in for the Nascar. You know what? This is no fucking joke. He won the Nascar.”
“He won! How much did he win?”
“Twenty stamps. I paid him, too. He wasn’t even gonna play. I had to knock him out to play the Nascar and he won. He picked Jimmie Johnson. He was so shocked when I gave him the twenty stamps. I said, ‘I wasn’t trying to bulldog you out of shit. I was just trying to explain to you what was going on.’"
Click here for Wild Man's previous blog
Wild Man - My large and fearless raving partner from my hometown. He looked out for me in Arpaio’s jail after we were arrested, and is one of the main characters in Hard Time.
“So you knocked out the head of the whites and the Aryan Brotherhood put you in charge. As the new head, you probably had to fight constantly to maintain discipline and to keep your position. How long after they made you the new head was your first fight?”
“Eight days.”
“What was it over?”
“Collections for indigent inmates.”
“Can you explain that for the general public?”
“The head of the whites is in charge of helping out the white prisoners who arrive with no money. To give them hygiene products, toothpaste, stamps, paper and envelopes. To raise the money for this I go round the prisoners and have them put a stamp up for the Nascar Racing pool. There’s 43 cars. I write the numbers 1 to 43 on little pieces of paper, throw them in a bag, or one of them orange beanies they give you when it’s winter. Whoever wins gets 20 stamps.”
“Alright, so let’s get back to the fight.”
“A white guy just moved in. He was high on OxyContins, he didn’t shower and he stunk. All the white boys who could were doing the Nascar pool, but this guy tells me, ‘I don’t see why I should have to buy a number.’ I said, ‘Look, motherfucker, I’m not telling you you have to do anything, but I’d appreciate it if you’d do the white-boy thing and buy a Nascar because the stamps are going to the people who haven’t got anything.’
He said, ‘Fuck what they’re going through!’
I said, ‘Tell you what, mate, I’ve got three numbers left. When I’ve got one, I’m going to come back and see ya, and you’re going to buy a number. How’s that?’
There’s a fine line between bulldogging, and standing up for your race. I didn’t like this dude’s attitude. When I had one number left, I walked up to him. He was a big corn fed fucker too.
He said, ‘My mamma and dadda work hard for the money I get. I’m not just wasting it on fucking people I don’t know.’
He actually didn’t get past ‘don’t know.’ I hooked him with a left right in the chin. I swear to God, his feet came off the ground, and he landed on the side of a wall. He was clean out. You know what I did? I got his mate to go to his locker, get a stamp, and pay in for the Nascar. You know what? This is no fucking joke. He won the Nascar.”
“He won! How much did he win?”
“Twenty stamps. I paid him, too. He wasn’t even gonna play. I had to knock him out to play the Nascar and he won. He picked Jimmie Johnson. He was so shocked when I gave him the twenty stamps. I said, ‘I wasn’t trying to bulldog you out of shit. I was just trying to explain to you what was going on.’"
Click here for Wild Man's previous blog
Question Time with 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.
Leigh asked about the frequency of violence during the holiday season, and the procedure for obtaining medical treatment.
Warrior responded: The holiday season amplifies what already exists. The media is a constant reminder of what holidays traditionally are, yet the reality here is certainly otherwise. We are absent children, loved ones, good food, and memorable moments, and these are things some prisoners will never have again. It’s a hard reality.
A lot of prisoners deal with depression through drugs, anger and violence. Their inability to cope makes these avenues of escape more attractive. Emotions are infectious, so imagine 500 to 1000 prisoners all feeling this way. One slight may lead to a fight, then a riot, and so on. This occurs every year.
As for the medical process, a prisoner submits a “Health Needs Request.” I’ve enclosed one so that perhaps Shaun can post a copy. Whatever need you have determines who you will see: dentist, doctor, psychologist, eye specialist… However, getting seen is no guarantee you’ll get treated. If it’s cheap and easy you may get treated. Also if it’s “necessary” i.e) the prison might get sued if they don’t treat you. With “might get sued” defined as: does this prisoner have the knowledge and resources to sue us, if not then we can screw him over.
The commissary does provide some basic health items for us to purchase – ibuprofens, cough drops, sinus pills – but the quality is so poor that they do little to alleviate any symptoms.
Click here for the previous Question Time
Links to more prison stories by Warrior:
Warrior v Big E.
Rapist on the Yard
Bucket of Blood
Central Unit
Tags: Arizona Department of Corrections Health Needs Request Form
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.
Leigh asked about the frequency of violence during the holiday season, and the procedure for obtaining medical treatment.
Warrior responded: The holiday season amplifies what already exists. The media is a constant reminder of what holidays traditionally are, yet the reality here is certainly otherwise. We are absent children, loved ones, good food, and memorable moments, and these are things some prisoners will never have again. It’s a hard reality.
A lot of prisoners deal with depression through drugs, anger and violence. Their inability to cope makes these avenues of escape more attractive. Emotions are infectious, so imagine 500 to 1000 prisoners all feeling this way. One slight may lead to a fight, then a riot, and so on. This occurs every year.
As for the medical process, a prisoner submits a “Health Needs Request.” I’ve enclosed one so that perhaps Shaun can post a copy. Whatever need you have determines who you will see: dentist, doctor, psychologist, eye specialist… However, getting seen is no guarantee you’ll get treated. If it’s cheap and easy you may get treated. Also if it’s “necessary” i.e) the prison might get sued if they don’t treat you. With “might get sued” defined as: does this prisoner have the knowledge and resources to sue us, if not then we can screw him over.
The commissary does provide some basic health items for us to purchase – ibuprofens, cough drops, sinus pills – but the quality is so poor that they do little to alleviate any symptoms.
Click here for the previous Question Time
Links to more prison stories by Warrior:
Warrior v Big E.
Rapist on the Yard
Bucket of Blood
Central Unit
Tags: Arizona Department of Corrections Health Needs Request Form
The Blob of Glob Interview
I was interviewed by Andy, who has served time in the UK, and recently read Hard Time. Here's the link: http://piebald77.blogspot.com/2010/10/shaun-attwood-interview.html
I was interviewed by Andy, who has served time in the UK, and recently read Hard Time. Here's the link: http://piebald77.blogspot.com/2010/10/shaun-attwood-interview.html
Hard Time Reviews by Prisoners No. 3: Brandon
Brandon Obaza, a Somerset, PA, USA SCI inmate. So far we’ve had one favourable review in this series, and one unfavourable.
Shaun’s story is an incredible and astonishing, yet somehow typical account of the American jail experience. Whether you’ve spent half your life in prison or have never been there before, this is a frightening, sad, and hilarious must read. Those reading it on the inside will enjoy empathizing with and relating to the “every day” excitements of the joint (to be ridiculously vague), while you outsiders will be simultaneously surprised, horrified, entertained, and informed (perhaps even ‘warned’). Trust me, you will be taken for a ride.
“Hard Time” follows the incarceration and criminal past of its author, Shaun Attwood, a British stockbroker success story in America whose interest, then total immersion, in the rave scene and Ecstasy lands him in Maricopa county, Arizona. Facing charges of crime syndication and drug trafficking, he spends 26 harrowing months in the county system amidst some of the most violent offenders and interesting characters in the country.
The book is full of graphic detail starting with Shaun’s arrest and the psychological marathon that is the process known as “intake.” Packed holding cells, days without sleep, endless waiting and uncertainty, the infamous “no privacy” communal toilet (not to mention “no seat”, dammit, now dirty is that thing?), the list goes on.
After all that, you only have to look forward to an indeterminate amount of time behind bars pending charges and court appearances and disappointments without number, while trying to avoid being killed by departmental neglect and predatory inmates. Not to mention, if all this madness is occurring at the county level and you’re looking at state time, how bad will it get? Sounds like a really f’ed-up math problem. Try not to think of it, or the gnarly institutional grade food.
Shaun articulates quite well the inner struggle of prison, when you’re alone and all you have for company are your thoughts. I see men sitting alone in the yard, their faces pained, eyes distant and dim, almost lifeless. You can see their self-loathing and regret, the hate and sadness they have for themselves. Even those who aren’t sorry for what they’ve done will be eventually. It’s only a matter of years.
We all have reservations about our system of justice, whether it works or not, what its purpose really is. If you are truly a good person and use your time in prison to temper and improve upon yourself as Shaun did, then maybe it does work. If it instils purpose in you, gives you new appreciation and lust for life, maybe those precious years haven’t been lost. I hope so deeply and desperately that my and our years have not been lost.
Hey, you! Still reading this? Thanks for stickin’ with it. Now, as a convict and state inmate myself, I DEMAND you read this book. I mean it. I’m not asking you to “share our pain” or feel sorry for me, I’m simply telling you READ THIS, because if you ever entertain similar activity, this will happen to you. You will go to jail, you will ruin your life, your will regret it. Don’t DO HARD TIME, read HARD TIME. (That cheesy line is free of charge, you are welcome).
Note: Firstly, I would like to thank Shaun and his family for his blog, Jon’s Jail Journal, which my mother Sue and I have enjoyed for several years now.
Hard Time at Amazon UK. Hard Time at the Book Depository.
Brandon Obaza, a Somerset, PA, USA SCI inmate. So far we’ve had one favourable review in this series, and one unfavourable.
Shaun’s story is an incredible and astonishing, yet somehow typical account of the American jail experience. Whether you’ve spent half your life in prison or have never been there before, this is a frightening, sad, and hilarious must read. Those reading it on the inside will enjoy empathizing with and relating to the “every day” excitements of the joint (to be ridiculously vague), while you outsiders will be simultaneously surprised, horrified, entertained, and informed (perhaps even ‘warned’). Trust me, you will be taken for a ride.
“Hard Time” follows the incarceration and criminal past of its author, Shaun Attwood, a British stockbroker success story in America whose interest, then total immersion, in the rave scene and Ecstasy lands him in Maricopa county, Arizona. Facing charges of crime syndication and drug trafficking, he spends 26 harrowing months in the county system amidst some of the most violent offenders and interesting characters in the country.
The book is full of graphic detail starting with Shaun’s arrest and the psychological marathon that is the process known as “intake.” Packed holding cells, days without sleep, endless waiting and uncertainty, the infamous “no privacy” communal toilet (not to mention “no seat”, dammit, now dirty is that thing?), the list goes on.
After all that, you only have to look forward to an indeterminate amount of time behind bars pending charges and court appearances and disappointments without number, while trying to avoid being killed by departmental neglect and predatory inmates. Not to mention, if all this madness is occurring at the county level and you’re looking at state time, how bad will it get? Sounds like a really f’ed-up math problem. Try not to think of it, or the gnarly institutional grade food.
Shaun articulates quite well the inner struggle of prison, when you’re alone and all you have for company are your thoughts. I see men sitting alone in the yard, their faces pained, eyes distant and dim, almost lifeless. You can see their self-loathing and regret, the hate and sadness they have for themselves. Even those who aren’t sorry for what they’ve done will be eventually. It’s only a matter of years.
We all have reservations about our system of justice, whether it works or not, what its purpose really is. If you are truly a good person and use your time in prison to temper and improve upon yourself as Shaun did, then maybe it does work. If it instils purpose in you, gives you new appreciation and lust for life, maybe those precious years haven’t been lost. I hope so deeply and desperately that my and our years have not been lost.
Hey, you! Still reading this? Thanks for stickin’ with it. Now, as a convict and state inmate myself, I DEMAND you read this book. I mean it. I’m not asking you to “share our pain” or feel sorry for me, I’m simply telling you READ THIS, because if you ever entertain similar activity, this will happen to you. You will go to jail, you will ruin your life, your will regret it. Don’t DO HARD TIME, read HARD TIME. (That cheesy line is free of charge, you are welcome).
Note: Firstly, I would like to thank Shaun and his family for his blog, Jon’s Jail Journal, which my mother Sue and I have enjoyed for several years now.
Hard Time at Amazon UK. Hard Time at the Book Depository.
Prison Pot Pie Recipe (by Wild Man)
Wild Man - My large and fearless raving partner from my hometown. He looked out for me in Arpaio’s jail after we were arrested, and is one of the main characters in Hard Time. His first day at Buckeye prison, he knocked out the head of the whites in his dorm, so the Aryan Brotherhood put him in charge.
You need these ingredients:
From the inmate store:
1 box of Cheez-It (little square cheesy crackers available at the inmate store)
1 Rip-N-Ready Beef Tips in Gravy
1 jalapeno cheese squeeze
1 bag of beans
1 hot spicy sausage
Stolen from the kitchen:
salt
pepper
garlic
You put the crackers on a bag stolen from the kitchen and crush them up. Add the salt, pepper, garlic and a bit of boiling water. Then you knead it, and the crackers turn into a dough. You let it cool for a little bit, and you flatten it out by rolling a peanut butter jar over it. Your goal is to make it a nice square about the size of a dinner plate. You put the bag of beans and the spicy sausage on it. You put half of the Rip-N-Ready on it, and the jalapeno cheese squeeze. Now you’ve got a big lump of meat and food on pastry. It’s still on the bag, so you grab one corner and the other corner, and the other and the other. It makes it go round. Then you twist it. You tie a knot on it, and steam it for three hours in an ice chest. It comes out with no moisture at all in the crackers and it’s actually cooked like a crust. You let it cool for about an hour. It tastes just like a pot pie and it’s absolutely fit.
Click here to read how Wild Man brewed prison hooch
Wild Man - My large and fearless raving partner from my hometown. He looked out for me in Arpaio’s jail after we were arrested, and is one of the main characters in Hard Time. His first day at Buckeye prison, he knocked out the head of the whites in his dorm, so the Aryan Brotherhood put him in charge.
You need these ingredients:
From the inmate store:
1 box of Cheez-It (little square cheesy crackers available at the inmate store)
1 Rip-N-Ready Beef Tips in Gravy
1 jalapeno cheese squeeze
1 bag of beans
1 hot spicy sausage
Stolen from the kitchen:
salt
pepper
garlic
You put the crackers on a bag stolen from the kitchen and crush them up. Add the salt, pepper, garlic and a bit of boiling water. Then you knead it, and the crackers turn into a dough. You let it cool for a little bit, and you flatten it out by rolling a peanut butter jar over it. Your goal is to make it a nice square about the size of a dinner plate. You put the bag of beans and the spicy sausage on it. You put half of the Rip-N-Ready on it, and the jalapeno cheese squeeze. Now you’ve got a big lump of meat and food on pastry. It’s still on the bag, so you grab one corner and the other corner, and the other and the other. It makes it go round. Then you twist it. You tie a knot on it, and steam it for three hours in an ice chest. It comes out with no moisture at all in the crackers and it’s actually cooked like a crust. You let it cool for about an hour. It tastes just like a pot pie and it’s absolutely fit.
Click here to read how Wild Man brewed prison hooch
Intestinal Cancer for 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.
I’m having serious medical issues and the staff at Medical are dragging their feet. I’ve fallen over a few times due to severe pain, but the staff do not seem to want to figure out what’s wrong with me. First, my stomach burned when I ate, then I developed a chemical taste in my mouth, now I’m feeling pain in my spine, chest and kidneys. I have a bad feeling.
A year ago, I had a dream. A gentleman came to visit me to tell me I had developed cancer. The horrible news woke me up. No one in here wants to say the “C” word for fear of catching it alone. I dismissed the dream, but shortly afterwards some symptoms began. I believed I had every facet of my life together, ready to be successful once I was released from here. I had my body and mind in order, but had neglected the spiritual side of things. I believe the gentleman in my dream was an angel come to warn me, and I am on borrowed time right now.
I wake up at 3am every morning as though I need to savor each moment of each day. If I die in here, I don’t want it to be in vain. I’ve endured 10 years, and worked hard to reclaim my life. How ironic to be seriously ill two years from going home.
So now I wait for confirmation from Medical. I will write more about the whole Medical ordeal, but I feel I have intestinal cancer. I don’t think I can finish my last blog story, “Standing Up.” I feel I need to write something more positive.
The last time I went to Medical, I got into an argument with the staff. They kept telling me nothing was wrong. Well, I don’t think they live in my body and feel my pain. I told them they should be ashamed of themselves for their indifference. It doesn’t seem fair of them to deny that I am sick, and to only be ready to intervene when extreme suffering occurs. They told me that I am crazy. They find it OK to allow people to get sick and die due to medical neglect. They ease their consciences with the thought, “You shouldn’t have come to prison. It’s all your fault.” To me, that is crazy!
Right now, I am in pain. My family and friends are getting involved, but I can use all of the help I can get. I’ll be damned if I let them get way with indirectly contributing to my death.
Promise me, Shaun, no matter what happens to me, you’ll live a good life, one for me and all of the lives prison has destroyed. Don’t be seduced by fame, and don’t neglect your spirit. I feel your success coming on, but you must remain grounded. If you don’t, you’ll fall, and I don’t want that. We are meant to help each other, to live in hope, faith and love, to lift each other up, and guide one another the right way. We can’t live in selfishness, bitterness, anger, ignorance, and lack of effort for what is good. We are meant to love each other, create peace, and have compassion.
Shaun, you’ve become a friend and a brother to me. I’m proud of you. I have your name written in my heart, bro. I keep you in my daily prayers, and love you. You are going to do great things. I really need you to pray for me, and your blog readers too.
I’m not afraid to admit that reading this letter from Warrior brought tears to my eyes. He has so much faith in me, yet I feel so helpless as to what to do for him. The strategy of the medical staff is to deny serious conditions exist so they can absolve themselves from having to perform costly treatments and surgeries. It’s all about money. They assign little value to the lives of prisoners. As soon as they diagnose a problem they legally have to provide treatment as prisoners have the right to medical care. On top of the recent death of Two Tonys, this is a big shock to me. I pray that Warrior’s youth and resolve pull him through.
Links to more prison stories by Warrior:
Warrior v Big E.
Rapist on the Yard
Bucket of Blood
Central Unit
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.
I’m having serious medical issues and the staff at Medical are dragging their feet. I’ve fallen over a few times due to severe pain, but the staff do not seem to want to figure out what’s wrong with me. First, my stomach burned when I ate, then I developed a chemical taste in my mouth, now I’m feeling pain in my spine, chest and kidneys. I have a bad feeling.
A year ago, I had a dream. A gentleman came to visit me to tell me I had developed cancer. The horrible news woke me up. No one in here wants to say the “C” word for fear of catching it alone. I dismissed the dream, but shortly afterwards some symptoms began. I believed I had every facet of my life together, ready to be successful once I was released from here. I had my body and mind in order, but had neglected the spiritual side of things. I believe the gentleman in my dream was an angel come to warn me, and I am on borrowed time right now.
I wake up at 3am every morning as though I need to savor each moment of each day. If I die in here, I don’t want it to be in vain. I’ve endured 10 years, and worked hard to reclaim my life. How ironic to be seriously ill two years from going home.
So now I wait for confirmation from Medical. I will write more about the whole Medical ordeal, but I feel I have intestinal cancer. I don’t think I can finish my last blog story, “Standing Up.” I feel I need to write something more positive.
The last time I went to Medical, I got into an argument with the staff. They kept telling me nothing was wrong. Well, I don’t think they live in my body and feel my pain. I told them they should be ashamed of themselves for their indifference. It doesn’t seem fair of them to deny that I am sick, and to only be ready to intervene when extreme suffering occurs. They told me that I am crazy. They find it OK to allow people to get sick and die due to medical neglect. They ease their consciences with the thought, “You shouldn’t have come to prison. It’s all your fault.” To me, that is crazy!
Right now, I am in pain. My family and friends are getting involved, but I can use all of the help I can get. I’ll be damned if I let them get way with indirectly contributing to my death.
Promise me, Shaun, no matter what happens to me, you’ll live a good life, one for me and all of the lives prison has destroyed. Don’t be seduced by fame, and don’t neglect your spirit. I feel your success coming on, but you must remain grounded. If you don’t, you’ll fall, and I don’t want that. We are meant to help each other, to live in hope, faith and love, to lift each other up, and guide one another the right way. We can’t live in selfishness, bitterness, anger, ignorance, and lack of effort for what is good. We are meant to love each other, create peace, and have compassion.
Shaun, you’ve become a friend and a brother to me. I’m proud of you. I have your name written in my heart, bro. I keep you in my daily prayers, and love you. You are going to do great things. I really need you to pray for me, and your blog readers too.
I’m not afraid to admit that reading this letter from Warrior brought tears to my eyes. He has so much faith in me, yet I feel so helpless as to what to do for him. The strategy of the medical staff is to deny serious conditions exist so they can absolve themselves from having to perform costly treatments and surgeries. It’s all about money. They assign little value to the lives of prisoners. As soon as they diagnose a problem they legally have to provide treatment as prisoners have the right to medical care. On top of the recent death of Two Tonys, this is a big shock to me. I pray that Warrior’s youth and resolve pull him through.
Links to more prison stories by Warrior:
Warrior v Big E.
Rapist on the Yard
Bucket of Blood
Central Unit
Naked Escape Attempt From Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s Durango Jail
Inmate Clayton Thornburg was in the recreation yard when he decided to escape from the minimum-security Durango jail yesterday. His black and white jail stripes and pink boxers got stuck on the series of 5 security fences, some 15 feet high, topped with razor wire, rendering Clayton naked other than his pink socks. The 24 year old unsentenced inmate was captured after clearing the final security fence, running down 35th Avenue. He was treated for cuts at the Maricopa County Medical Center. Being held for property crimes, Clayton now faces an additional five year sentence for attempting to escape. Arpaio - who wants to stick Clayton with the additional charge of indecent exposure - said, "It's a little unusual. I think you can imagine this guy running down the street with no clothes on...where was he gonna go?"
Inmate Clayton Thornburg was in the recreation yard when he decided to escape from the minimum-security Durango jail yesterday. His black and white jail stripes and pink boxers got stuck on the series of 5 security fences, some 15 feet high, topped with razor wire, rendering Clayton naked other than his pink socks. The 24 year old unsentenced inmate was captured after clearing the final security fence, running down 35th Avenue. He was treated for cuts at the Maricopa County Medical Center. Being held for property crimes, Clayton now faces an additional five year sentence for attempting to escape. Arpaio - who wants to stick Clayton with the additional charge of indecent exposure - said, "It's a little unusual. I think you can imagine this guy running down the street with no clothes on...where was he gonna go?"