Jack Update
Jack has stage 4 cancer and is sadly still being given the run around on his painkillers by the prison. He wrote that because of the level of pain he's experiencing there are times when he feels as if he's dying. Medical staff at the prison have accused Jack of complaining he is dying on a Facebook page [he doesn't have a Facebook page] and he has been threatened with disciplinary sanctions. Jack was sent to St Luke's hospital for an appointment, but the doctor never showed up, so he ended up waiting all day to no avail. Corizon Health have acknowledged our emails but done absolutely nothing to remedy the situation.
This is highly unsatisfactory and a gross violation of Jack's human right to medical care. Weird Al and I will be formulating a plan as to how best help Jack from here. We are considering joining Jack's case to a lawsuit brought by the ACLU against the ADOC prison medical.
Click here for Jack's previous letter.
Jack is seeking pen pals, so anyone interested please email me at attwood.shaun@hotmail.co.uk for his details.
Shaun Attwood
This is highly unsatisfactory and a gross violation of Jack's human right to medical care. Weird Al and I will be formulating a plan as to how best help Jack from here. We are considering joining Jack's case to a lawsuit brought by the ACLU against the ADOC prison medical.
Click here for Jack's previous letter.
Jack is seeking pen pals, so anyone interested please email me at attwood.shaun@hotmail.co.uk for his details.
Shaun Attwood
Question Time
Shaun, I attended the talk you did back in
September. I was moved when I learned your story and am pleased you came out
the other side. It was clear the scars are still there. You did come across as
contrite and accepting of the consequences of your actions. The issue of
prisons as a means of punishment and reform (contrasting roles) interests me. There
were more questions I wanted to ask you on the day, and if you don't mind I
would like to raise these now. I will read your book later to learn more.
Given your business background and aptitude for
numbers (like myself), had you persisted with stockbroking do you feel that you
could have forged a successful career there?
Yes.
I’m convinced that if I hadn’t foolishly got involved in drugs, I would have
gone onto much bigger successes in the stock market. From age 14, I felt that
trading the stock market was my calling in life. In 1999, my portfolio was
worth over $1 million. Stock market performance varies with your psychology.
When I melted down on drugs, so did my wealth.
Also has this career opportunity passed for you?
No
firm will give me a job as a stockbroker due to my criminal record, but I can trade
the stock market online with my own capital. Stock-broking is more of a sales
job, whereas I actually much prefer the trading side, which involves lots of
analysis and research. I watch the stock market every day and as I rebuild my
life, I hope to be able to trade again when I have enough capital.
Are you embittered that the wealth you genuinely
accumulated was also seized by the US government?
No.
America was good to me and I pushed my luck way too far. Losing all of my
assets was a consequence of the stupid choices I made. I actually credit the US
government for saving my life. If I hadn’t been arrested, I suspect something
bad would have happened. People who get deep into the drugs lifestyle have the highest
mortality rates.
Throughout you were deluded that you could ever get
caught. It was the interest of organised crime groups, which made you withdraw.
But had you seen the warning signs it was the authorities who were on your tail
(before knowing the full repercussions) would you have got out earlier?
Sammy
the Bull Gravano’s dealers brought massive police heat to the rave scene. I did
see that as a warning sign, and I eventually quit dealing Ecstasy at the behest
of my girlfriend Claudia in 2001. Believing I’d got off scott free, I was naïve
to the statute of limitations in Arizona which allows drug crimes to be
prosecuted for up to 7 years after the crimes are committed. Things you do in
the drug world can follow you for years, and my past finally caught up with me
when the SWAT team smashed my door down in 2002.
I do not want to go into the harshness of conditions
inside the US penal system. Where there is a rule of 'no snitching' and 'always
fight back' how do the older lags (or physically less capable) survive?
There
are old-timers in prison who are extremely formidable characters because they have
earned the respect of the prisoners over the years by virtue of how long they
have served and the nature of their crimes. These old-timers, such as my friend
Two Tonys, can call on an army of younger prisoners to do their bidding. The
physically less capable adapt in other ways. Some go to the extreme of stabbing
to make an example so no one will mess with them. Others ally themselves with
powerful prisoners.
Do you still feel stigmatized by the wider society
when they learn of your criminal record?
 |
| Two Tonys |
When
I first came out of prison, it was a concern, but not anymore. I think most
people put my criminal record in the context of what I’m doing now as a public
speaker and author.
For me the talks and work you do in schools is an
honourable way to give something back. When do you consider this particular slate
will be wiped clean?
I
don’t view it as a slate to wipe clean. I’m just doing the best I can to make some
positive changes in the world in my own way. Helping people keeps me focussed
on the needs of others instead of my own selfish wants and desires. It acts as
an automatic braking system on my ego – which when unbridled led to many of the
disastrous choices I made.
I hope that in the fullness of time you are able to
develop a regular life. You deserve that. Please keep up the good work or
warning young people not to take short-cuts and enter a life of crime.
My new memoir Prison Time is now available for
pre-order on Amazon. It includes many of the regulars I’ve written about over
the years at Jon’s Jail Journal such as Two Tonys, T-Bone and Frankie.
UK Amazon link: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Prison-Time-Shaun-Attwood/dp/1780576625/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1387397916&sr=8-4&keywords=shaun+attwood
USA Amazon link: http://www.amazon.com/Prison-Time-Shaun-Attwood/dp/1780576625/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1387397953&sr=8-6&keywords=shaun+attwood
Worldwide with free shipping: http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/Prison-Time-Shaun-Attwood/9781780576626?selectCurrency=GBP
Welcome from Europe!
Click here for questions that I answered about my Banged Up Abroad episode for National Geographic
My books the Banged Up Abroad episode is based on are all available with free shipping to Europe and worldwide by clicking here.
If you are inclined to see how dangerous the jail is, here's a video of an Aryan Brotherhood gang member murdering an inmate who has refused to beat someone up for the gang:
Here's a video of the guards murdering a mentally ill war hero who is unsentenced:
Shaun Attwood
My books the Banged Up Abroad episode is based on are all available with free shipping to Europe and worldwide by clicking here.
If you are inclined to see how dangerous the jail is, here's a video of an Aryan Brotherhood gang member murdering an inmate who has refused to beat someone up for the gang:
Here's a video of the guards murdering a mentally ill war hero who is unsentenced:
Shaun Attwood
The Beginning of Pot Smuggling (Guest Blog by Weird Al)
This is a brief story about how I got
started smuggling marijuana into the USA from Mexico. I was just seventeen
years old and a senior at Westwood High school in Mesa, Arizona. I would not
want the reader to think I am proud of this. I am not. Everything is true with
the exception of the names of a few of my old friends who are still among the
living. All the places I’ve named exist to this day.
The full Moon rose like a big brilliant
orb over huge saguaro cactuses, some of which were nearly two-hundred years
old. These giant sentries stood with their arms upraised towards the heavens as
the marijuana was passed over a three-foot barbed-wire fence, which in those
days was the only barrier which separated the USA from Mexico. The place was
Organ Pipe National Monument in southern Arizona.
Organ Pipe had been designated a
National Monument in about 1937. It was, and still is, a true national
treasure. Hunting has always been prohibited in all national monuments and this
meant the park was teeming with all types of wildlife. There was a large
contingency of coyotes and more rattle snakes than I have ever seen in my life.
Most of these animals were nocturnal and Organ Pipe came to life each night. The
State of Arizona law makers originally deeded the land to the Federal
Government during prohibition. Prohibition banned all sales of alcohol in the
United States. As strange as it might seem, the legislative record from that
time frame clearly shows legislators wanted a paved highway to facilitate the
movement of illegal alcohol through Arizona. Go figure. All I can say about
this is, only in Arizona.
On that night, I waited until the full moon
began to rise and took myself and my five friends to an isolated spot along the
border that separates the USA from Mexico. It was not by accident that I chose
a night when I knew it would be a full moon. Out there in the middle of the
deserted desert, under a full moon, it was like daylight. Nor was it by
accident that I had chosen this spot to cross the border that night. I had
earlier that night climbed a hill in Mexico as it began to get dark. I could
easily see the headlights of the Customs and Border Control trucks as they
headed out for the night to set up shop. They tended to pick a spot each night
and most often stayed at that spot until morning. They always stayed close
together, safety in numbers was, and still is, a rule of thumb out there in the
“Pipe.” Even back then, it could be a dangerous place to be alone.
I had taken five good friends on this
adventure. Most of them I had known since childhood. I knew they were all trustworthy,
honest and in great shape physically. Some were high school athletes. More
importantly they trusted me and were willing to do as I asked. I told them I
would give each of them three kilos of pot, about seven pounds, for their
efforts that night. I had purchased expensive back packs, one for each of them,
and made sure they all had good boots to wear. The desert in Organ Pipe is hard
on regular shoes and can destroy a new pair of tennis shoes in one night.
I had already placed the kilos in large
bags and secured them to back packs and had only to remove them from the
vehicle once we reached the border fence. I did so, placing the loaded
backpacks on the ground and had all but one guy grab a backpack and cross over
the fence. I told them each to grab one backpack and follow me. I took them to
a spot about 30 yards from the border, loaded the packs and told them to wait
for me to return.
I quickly went back to where I had left
my best friend Tommy. I went a few yards back into the desert on the Mexican
side of the fence and cut off a small branch from a bush, which had many small
leaves attached to it. I told Tommy to take the one remaining backpack, cross
the border fence and watch me. I then proceeded to use the branch from the bush
and used it to erase all of the footprints on both sides of the border that
might give away our location to any law-enforcement officers who might drive
along the dirt road on the American side of the fence. I felt that seeing a
bunch of footprints would be a dead giveaway that something was going on in the
“Pipe” that night. I then followed Tommy
back to the others erasing our footprints.
I explained to Tommy that I wanted him to follow all of us, making sure
no one got lost and to erase our footprints whenever we crossed a sandy wash. He
simply nodded his head. He was and still is, a man of few words.
By the time Tommy and I made it back to
where I’d left my other friends, they had put on the backpacks, which had the
pot tied and taped shut on them. One for each and Tommy had one already on his
back. I carried nothing but two gallons of spare water. Each of my friends had
also been given one gallon of their own to carry. Each backpack held about 15
kilos, about 30 pound more or less. It added up to about 150 pounds, far more
than I’d ever had at one time in my life.
By the time I returned with Tommy to
where my other friends were hidden, the young coyote pups had just begun to cry
out for their parents who were no doubt out hunting food for their children. Despite
what many people think, adult coyotes are extremely family orientated. Both
parents take part in raising their young pups. Because no hunting of any kind
had been allowed in Organ Pipe National Monument for over 40 years the coyote
population had thrived and there was great numbers of them. For anyone hearing
these pups yelp, it is like no sound you have ever heard. It’s otherworldly and
actually a little scary. At least that had been my experience the first time I
heard it. It usually starts with just one or two pups and rapidly increases to
many hundreds of them. When the yelping reaches its full crescendo, it’s quite
loud, which under the circumstances suited me just fine. It’s easily loud
enough to cover the sound of a few men walking through the desert at night. I
explained to my friends what all the noise was and they seemed to relax a bit.
One of my friends asked, “Allan, how the
hell do you know where we are going?” I pointed to the lights of the parking
area of the visitor center, which were clearly visible, and told all of them
that’s where we are going. One commented that it seemed only a few hundred yards
away and I explained that in the pristine desert things often seem closer than
they are. I also told them for the first time that I had already done this by
myself just to make sure it was safe. I also told them that it would take
between one and one half hours of steady walking to reach our destination that
night. Actually, I had already done this twice. The first time I carried
nothing but water and the second time I carried 15 kilos myself. I had used the
money I made from those 15 kilos to finance this trip. So off we went on our
first great adventure together.
Something else I did not tell them was
that I had recruited another of my best friends to drive the pot from the rest
area back to Phoenix. As planned, he had taken a room in an old landmark motel
named The Space Age Motel in Gila Bend, Arizona. As far as I know it’s still
there. I knew my friend was already at the motel because I had instructed him
to leave the car we were going to use to transport the pot in plain sight. I
had seen the car as we drove through Gila Bend earlier in the day.
The Space Age Motel sits on the main
drag going through Gila Bend and you can miss it as you drive through the town.
To get to Organ Pipe you leave Phoenix, drive through Gila Bend, then on to a
small town called Ajo. From Ajo, you drive a few miles from town and come to a
small hamlet called Why. At Why, you have two choices: drive through and go to
Tucson, or turn right and head to Mexico. The entrance to Organ Pipe Visitor
Center is on the right side of the highway about six or seven miles from the actual
border separating the USA from Mexico.
A few hundred yards beyond the entrance
to Organ Pipe Visitor Center there is highway road sign telling you that the
border crossing closes each day from midnight until 6am the next day. I felt I
could use this to my advantage. I had instructed my friend who was going to
drive the pot to not leave Ajo until it would be too late to cross the border
that night. I told him rather than drive right into the visitor center to instead
drive right past the entrance until he saw the sign, pause long enough to read
the sign and turn around and go to the visitor center. I did this on the off
chance that someone – Border Patrol or custom officials – might be watching the
entrance to the visitor center at that time of night. It would simply appear to
them that arriving too late to cross the border that night, the person driving
the car had simply decided to spend the night at the visitor center. I had told
my friend to park as close to the edge of the parking area on the side nearest
to Mexico. He had already done this once with me when I brought the 15 kilos
across myself so he knew exactly what to do and why. The only difference was
that we were in a different car this time. I told my friend to simply park the
car and set up the little two man tent he had next to the car and crawl into
it. I also told him to take the key to the trunk of the car and leave it in the
trunk lock.
My friends who were carrying the pot and
I arrived about one and a half hours after we started. We had, at my insistence, taken about a 15-minute
stop to rest a little and drink some water.
Upon our arrival just below the parking area, I had everyone stop. I told
them to take off the backpacks and wait for me to return. I went up the steep
incline to the rest area to make sure the car had arrived safely and was in the
proper place. It was. I then returned to the others and had Tommy help me to
take the backpacks to the rest area and place them into the large trunk of the
car. My friend Tommy had never met my friend in the tent and never even saw his
face that night because I told him to stay in the tent while the pot was being
loaded into the trunk of the car. When
we were done, I took the key to the trunk with me when I left. I did this not out of fear my friend would
try and steal anything from me, but rather on the off chance if he was to be
pulled over on the way back to Phoenix he could honestly tell anyone who wanted
to look in the trunk that he did not have a key.
All went well that night and the next
day. It was the beginning of what would turn into my worst nightmare in just a
few short years. I fully realize that I have given anyone who reads this a
blueprint for smuggling small amounts of pot into this country. I beg you to please
pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you. All of this took place in
the early 1970’s. If you tried to do this today you will get busted the very
first time. Times – and border security – have changed. Aside from being
illegal, it is morally wrong. It set me on a path in which heartache and death
became commonplace. As I said, I am not proud of all this. Truth be told, I am
ashamed.
Welcome from India!
Click here for questions that I answered about my Banged Up Abroad episode for National Geographic
My books the Banged Up Abroad episode is based on are all available with free shipping to India by clicking here.
In this video I describe in much more detail the horrific jail conditions:
My books the Banged Up Abroad episode is based on are all available with free shipping to India by clicking here.
In this video I describe in much more detail the horrific jail conditions:
Australian Radio Interview
I was just interviewed by Annie Gaffney (ABC Sunshine Coast) about Australia introducing Sheriff Joe Arpaio's jail techniques.
To listen to the interview, please click here.
Shaun Attwood
To listen to the interview, please click here.
Shaun Attwood
Prison Time
The publication of my new book Prison Time has been brought forward to Feb 6th. It features many of the prisoners at Jon's Jail Journal, including Two Tonys, T-Bone and most of the prisoners listed here. It includes all of the stories I couldn't post at my blog because of potential trouble from inmates and guards. Prison Time is now available for pre-order via Amazon and worldwide at the Book Depository.
Shaun Attwood
Questions I Answered About Locked Up Abroad Raving Arizona
Welcome if you just watched my episode. Click here for my answers.
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