In 1987, I was 29, when I was arrested for conspiracy, manufacturing a controlled substance and money laundering. I was looking at 75 years, so my highly paid attorney and I pleaded to simple possession. At that time, Arizona had mandatory minimum sentences, which, in my case, was 4 years.
Being led to my cell, I was thinking how tough the next 4 years was going to be. My next shock was meeting my cellmate who told me he was doing 25 to life for murder and if he ever got paroled, California wanted him to do the same for murdering an elderly couple and stealing their Winnebago. I was beside myself, asking more questions in my head but getting few answers.
During my stay, I had to have surgery on my right wrist. When it was done, I went back to my cell the same day with my hand wrapped the size of a basket ball. Before leaving the hospital, the doctor gave me a shot of Demerol, which I needed badly. I asked him about the pain once the shot wore off and he said he was sending a prescription for some powerful pain killer with the guards. I felt relieved knowing that, however, when I asked for the pain relief, I was told I was in prison, not the streets and to stop whining. It took four days before I could tolerate the pain.
In prison, they feed on violence, with a whole world of prison rules and how they live. After about 9 months, the AB finally left me alone.
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