Volunteering in Prison (Part 1 by Guest Blogger Maria)
This is the first guest blog written by a prison volunteer.
Maria is a Cuban refugee who has been volunteering with Latinos in the U.S. for over 30 years and in prisons for 2 years.
In 2007 I decided to apply to become a volunteer at the prisons in our suburban town, which has one maximum security and one minimum security facility. My motivations to volunteer were various, and among them was anger at the smug, wealthy suburban town I lived in and how they practically pretended the prisons did not exist. I am also Latina, speaking excellent Spanish, and I knew that a large proportion of the inmates were also Latinos. My acceptance as a teacher in Insights was not automatic. I had to attend a 1 1/2 day insight training course, and a two hour volunteer course required by the Department of Corrections. At the end of the Insights training, they could have refused me as a volunteer, yet I was sure I would be accepted -only a small minority, those who are clearly unfit or have ulterior motives are turned down.
I made it clear that I was available especially but not exclusively to the Latino population. Of the six men I taught, three were Latino, two were white, and one was black. Pablo was the man who left the greatest impression on me. I was not as aware while I was teaching him that he would leave such a mark on me, and only over time have I come to realize that my experience teaching Pablo stood out from the rest.
Here's more background info on Maria:
Maria was born in Cuba and immigrated to the US at age 5. She has done a variety of volunteer work since she was in high school and through adulthood, much of it with refugee or poor Latinos, primarily from Puerto Rico but also from El Salvador and Cuba. She graduated from Princeton University in 1977 with a degree in English, with something of a concentration in the Elizabethan Period. She worked for 18 years in banking. Maria has been married 32 years to Scott, and they adopted two children from Latin America. She has worked for two non-profits, one that finds jobs for the disabled and also the statewide Parents Teachers Association. She was laid off each time due to the financial stresses felt by the non-profits. Through the Insights, Maria has tutored/ taught 6 students from the Daniels Correctional Institute individually, and probably 30 or so during the group teaching sessions. Daniels is a minimum security prison, mostly for drug related crimes, although a number of inmates come from the "Big House" maximum security prison as a transition as they complete their prison terms.
As this is Maria's first guest post at Jon's Jail Journal, your comments would be greatly appreciated.
For the previous guest blog click here.
Post comments for Maria 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
Question Time With A Blood (Part 6)
Bones of the South Side Posse Bloods is serving sixteen years for leading a gang, assisting a crime syndicate, kidnapping and aggravated assault.
Anonymous said:
I wish you could tell me how to make my son want to leave his gang and stop going back to prison.
Bones' response:
Well, make your son leave his gang. Hmmmmm. Well , I got two ideas. First, you take you and your son and move out of state. That will make him leave his gang. The other is you give him an ultimatum, and tell him it’s either you or his gang. And if he says he can't leave his gang, then you have to be an ass and cut him off. No love, no money, no food, and no shelter. Tell him let his gang provide all that for him. Then when he gets in trouble and the gang lets him down he will call you. And they will let him down one way another. Then you must tell him to leave his gang life and you will help him. Trust me it ain't easy living on them streets, with no love from your family. I know personally.
Anonymous said:
Man, it seems like in all of the gang interviews, they can't help but throw out props to their homies 90% of the time.
Response:
It’s called respect! Especially to homies that have died representing the hood. So rest in peace to all Red Riders from S.S.P. Blood gang that have fallen while representing the hood. Much Love.
Gozar said:
Bones, you wrote to your home boy, “One day we will be back out on the streets Bicking it together again.” As a citizen of Phoenix, I can't say I'm all excited about this prospect.
Response:
You a should be exited about this prospect. Because we are O.G.’s [Original Gangstas] from our hood [neighborhood], which means we might be able to talk some of these young bloods from jacking [robbing] you, your house, or car fool!
Sue O (AKA Joannie) said:
Thanks for the reply, Bones, and yes, I have a lot of friends who have stuck with me, but the closest people to me are those I met after I sought help for the family when my son was incarcerated...etc. Mostly folks who have given their lives to Christ. After figuring out addiction, prison, abuse and all that junk wasn't living.
Response:
There’s no reason to feel square about saying who your real friends are. I have one real friend in here that is into God. Jesus or whatever you want to call it. And that’s all he's into is the Bible and he's a real good friend. But then I also have a few home boys that look out for me from the streets. They send me money, photos, subscriptions to magazines, look out for my kid on the streets when they can. But the most important thing to me is that they have kept it real with me while I have been lock up and before. So to those ones, I will see you upon my release. B-up!
Click here for Question Time With A Blood (Part 5)
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email questions or comments for Bones 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. Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Shaun Attwood
Bones of the South Side Posse Bloods is serving sixteen years for leading a gang, assisting a crime syndicate, kidnapping and aggravated assault.
Anonymous said:
I wish you could tell me how to make my son want to leave his gang and stop going back to prison.
Bones' response:
Well, make your son leave his gang. Hmmmmm. Well , I got two ideas. First, you take you and your son and move out of state. That will make him leave his gang. The other is you give him an ultimatum, and tell him it’s either you or his gang. And if he says he can't leave his gang, then you have to be an ass and cut him off. No love, no money, no food, and no shelter. Tell him let his gang provide all that for him. Then when he gets in trouble and the gang lets him down he will call you. And they will let him down one way another. Then you must tell him to leave his gang life and you will help him. Trust me it ain't easy living on them streets, with no love from your family. I know personally.
Anonymous said:
Man, it seems like in all of the gang interviews, they can't help but throw out props to their homies 90% of the time.
Response:
It’s called respect! Especially to homies that have died representing the hood. So rest in peace to all Red Riders from S.S.P. Blood gang that have fallen while representing the hood. Much Love.
Gozar said:
Bones, you wrote to your home boy, “One day we will be back out on the streets Bicking it together again.” As a citizen of Phoenix, I can't say I'm all excited about this prospect.
Response:
You a should be exited about this prospect. Because we are O.G.’s [Original Gangstas] from our hood [neighborhood], which means we might be able to talk some of these young bloods from jacking [robbing] you, your house, or car fool!
Sue O (AKA Joannie) said:
Thanks for the reply, Bones, and yes, I have a lot of friends who have stuck with me, but the closest people to me are those I met after I sought help for the family when my son was incarcerated...etc. Mostly folks who have given their lives to Christ. After figuring out addiction, prison, abuse and all that junk wasn't living.
Response:
There’s no reason to feel square about saying who your real friends are. I have one real friend in here that is into God. Jesus or whatever you want to call it. And that’s all he's into is the Bible and he's a real good friend. But then I also have a few home boys that look out for me from the streets. They send me money, photos, subscriptions to magazines, look out for my kid on the streets when they can. But the most important thing to me is that they have kept it real with me while I have been lock up and before. So to those ones, I will see you upon my release. B-up!
Click here for Question Time With A Blood (Part 5)
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email questions or comments for Bones 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. Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Shaun Attwood
Sugar (by Lifer Renee)
Renee – As a teenager, Renee received a 60-year sentence from a judge in Pima County. 15 years into her sentence, she’s writing from Perryville prison in Goodyear, Arizona, providing a rare and unique insight into a women's prison.
I almost got thrown into some drama. Girlfriend issues. I guess people do not listen when I say I do not do domestics.
I have a friend, Sugar. She came in with 25 to life. Under the reclassification policy at the time she came in, she automatically had to do a year in the hole. While Sugar was in the hole, the policy changed from 1 year to 2 years. She only had 3 months left with no tickets, no problems, but now she has to do 15 more months.
A mutual friend, Terri, decided to hook up with Sugar while she was in the hole. Well Sugar is my roommate, Jess’s best friend, whom I’m also close with. Jess heard on the yard that Terri was cheating on Sugar with Heather, her co-worker. Jess didn’t believe the rumors, and while she was ranting I told her she shouldn’t believe he-said-she-said gossip.
So then she started watching Terri. She noticed Terri going into a cell, and Heather following her in. The occupants came out and sat outside C-pod where they never sit. So Jess walked to the door and saw black construction paper in the window – that’s done to give people at least two seconds before an officer walks in. Jess just walked in, catching Heather between Terri’s legs, doing the business.
Jess told them, “Good to know.”
This is all that I’ve heard about for the past week. So me and my roommate have had to tip-toe around the conversation because even though I know Terri is wrong, she is my friend, as is Sugar to Jess.
Drama! Can not stand it.
Click here for Renee's previous blog
Post comments for Renee 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 P. Attwood
Renee – As a teenager, Renee received a 60-year sentence from a judge in Pima County. 15 years into her sentence, she’s writing from Perryville prison in Goodyear, Arizona, providing a rare and unique insight into a women's prison.
I almost got thrown into some drama. Girlfriend issues. I guess people do not listen when I say I do not do domestics.
I have a friend, Sugar. She came in with 25 to life. Under the reclassification policy at the time she came in, she automatically had to do a year in the hole. While Sugar was in the hole, the policy changed from 1 year to 2 years. She only had 3 months left with no tickets, no problems, but now she has to do 15 more months.
A mutual friend, Terri, decided to hook up with Sugar while she was in the hole. Well Sugar is my roommate, Jess’s best friend, whom I’m also close with. Jess heard on the yard that Terri was cheating on Sugar with Heather, her co-worker. Jess didn’t believe the rumors, and while she was ranting I told her she shouldn’t believe he-said-she-said gossip.
So then she started watching Terri. She noticed Terri going into a cell, and Heather following her in. The occupants came out and sat outside C-pod where they never sit. So Jess walked to the door and saw black construction paper in the window – that’s done to give people at least two seconds before an officer walks in. Jess just walked in, catching Heather between Terri’s legs, doing the business.
Jess told them, “Good to know.”
This is all that I’ve heard about for the past week. So me and my roommate have had to tip-toe around the conversation because even though I know Terri is wrong, she is my friend, as is Sugar to Jess.
Drama! Can not stand it.
Click here for Renee's previous blog
Post comments for Renee 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 P. Attwood
Question Time
Jake from Gordon's School in Woking wrote the following:
Coming in and telling your life story about your experiences touched me and made me think in many ways. It made me realise that life is more important than any other thing in the world no matter what comes in the way. After listening to your talk, I walked out the door and I was just hit with many thoughts rushing through my mind. I had images in my head what it was like and then I asked myself if I ever got put into that situation would I be able to cope. So when you were in the American prison what were you emotions like and how did you deal with them, without others around you noticing?
When I first went in, I was terrified and it showed. Prisoners would come up to me and say I needed to get the fear off my face or else I’d get preyed on. When you're in such an environment you adapt fast or else you perish. It's like being in a video game with danger all around you, but you just soldier on and get through it. You'd probably do the same. We all have an amazing ability to adapt that we don't know about until we get in situations. As you adapt you lose the look of fear. A year in I'd see the same look of fear I once had, only in the eyes of the new arrivals. I used yoga to get my stress level down.
Would you say covering up your emotions in prison was one of the hardest things that you've ever done in your life because of the consequences that were on the line?
Covering up emotions became routine for me, but it was hard at first. For the first few days, I couldn’t sleep, and my emotional state was obvious. I was emotionally immature before I went in, and prison made me grow up fast.
You may have said in the talk, but how long were you in prison for? And when coming out of the prison did you come straight back over to England?
I served almost 6 years. I was deported straight back to England, and I'm banned from America for life. You can read more info about this here at my biography.
Now you’re back in England do you regret trying to take the rave scene across to America? Or would you have still tried knowing the consequences?
My biggest regret is the hurt I caused my loved ones. If I had known all of the consequences, I would have modified my behaviour.
And finally, for your book, is there a set date in September for its release?
There is no set release date yet. The publisher said it is slated for September-October publication.
Click here for the previous Question Time.
Post comments 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
Jake from Gordon's School in Woking wrote the following:
Coming in and telling your life story about your experiences touched me and made me think in many ways. It made me realise that life is more important than any other thing in the world no matter what comes in the way. After listening to your talk, I walked out the door and I was just hit with many thoughts rushing through my mind. I had images in my head what it was like and then I asked myself if I ever got put into that situation would I be able to cope. So when you were in the American prison what were you emotions like and how did you deal with them, without others around you noticing?
When I first went in, I was terrified and it showed. Prisoners would come up to me and say I needed to get the fear off my face or else I’d get preyed on. When you're in such an environment you adapt fast or else you perish. It's like being in a video game with danger all around you, but you just soldier on and get through it. You'd probably do the same. We all have an amazing ability to adapt that we don't know about until we get in situations. As you adapt you lose the look of fear. A year in I'd see the same look of fear I once had, only in the eyes of the new arrivals. I used yoga to get my stress level down.
Would you say covering up your emotions in prison was one of the hardest things that you've ever done in your life because of the consequences that were on the line?
Covering up emotions became routine for me, but it was hard at first. For the first few days, I couldn’t sleep, and my emotional state was obvious. I was emotionally immature before I went in, and prison made me grow up fast.
You may have said in the talk, but how long were you in prison for? And when coming out of the prison did you come straight back over to England?
I served almost 6 years. I was deported straight back to England, and I'm banned from America for life. You can read more info about this here at my biography.
Now you’re back in England do you regret trying to take the rave scene across to America? Or would you have still tried knowing the consequences?
My biggest regret is the hurt I caused my loved ones. If I had known all of the consequences, I would have modified my behaviour.
And finally, for your book, is there a set date in September for its release?
There is no set release date yet. The publisher said it is slated for September-October publication.
Click here for the previous Question Time.
Post comments 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
What is Mephedrone?
Mephedrone is a drug based on the chemical compounds of a plant out of Eastern Africa. Sold as a legal high, it’s use has exploded in the UK, where it has been linked to several recent deaths of young people, resulting in calls to have it prohibited.
As I’m getting asked a lot about mephedrone at my talks to schools, here is more info on it from Wikipedia:
Mephedrone (2-methylamino-1-p-tolylpropan-1-one),[3] also known as 4-methylmethcathinone (4-MMC), 4-methylephedrone, meow meow, [4] Miaow,[5] or MMCAT[6], is a stimulant and entactogen drug of the amphetamine and cathinone chemical classes. It is reported to be contained in some legal highs and is sometimes sold mixed with methylone, also known as bubbles.[7]It is a synthetic substance based on the cathinone compounds found in the khat plant of eastern Africa. Mephedrone can come in the form of capsules, tablets or white powder that users may swallow, snort or inject.[8] In 2009 it became the fourth most popular street drug in the United Kingdom, behind marijuana, cocaine, and ecstasy.
History
The Psychonaut Research Project, an EU organisation that searches the internet for information regarding new drugs, first identified mephedrone in 2008. Their research suggests that the drug first became available in 2007.[6] Mephedrone was first seized in France in May 2007 after police sent a tablet that they assumed to be ecstasy to be analysed.[10] The drug was used in early products, such as Neodoves pills, by the legal high company Neorganics,[12] but the range was discontinued in January 2008 after the government of Israel, where the company is based, made mephedrone illegal. It has been reported to be sold as a designer drug, but little is known about its pharmacology or toxicology at present.[13] Mephedrone has recently been reported as having been sold as "ecstasy" in the Australian city of Cairns, along with ethylcathinone,[14][15][16] and has also been reported in Europe and the United States.[17][18] It is reportedly currently manufactured in China.[19] The Daily Telegraph reported that manufacturers are making "huge amounts of money" from selling the drug.[20] In January 2010 Druglink magazine reported that dealers in Britain spend £2,500 to ship one kilogram from China but can sell it on for £10 a gram making a profit of £7,500.[21][22] A later report, in March 2010, stated that the wholesale price of mephedrone was £4000 per kilogram.[9]
Use in the United Kingdom
Between the summer of 2009 and March 2010 the use of mephedrone grew rapidly in the UK, becoming freely available at music festivals, head shops and on the internet. The drug is used by a diverse range of social groups including teenagers, polydrug using nightclubbers, psychonauts and over 40s with no previous experience of drug use. Whilst the evidence is anecdotal, researchers, charity workers, teachers and users have all reported widespread and increasing use of the drug. The reasons for the rapid growth in popularity is believed to be related to both the availability and legality of the drug. Researchers also believe that the emergence of mephedrone is related to the decreasing purity of MDMA and cocaine on sale in the UK.[23]
Effects
Intended effects
According to the company Crew2000, intended effects include increased alertness, euphoria, excitement, feeling of stimulation, urge to talk and openness.[7] Psychologists at Liverpool John Moores University are conducting research into the effects of mephedrone on up to 50 students.[24] Les Iversen, the chair of the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs called the experiments "pretty unethical".[25]
Side effects
According to the Darlington Drug and Alcohol Action Team, mephedrone can cause nose bleeds, nose burns, hallucinations, nausea, vomiting, blood circulation problems, rashes, anxiety, paranoia, fits, and delusions.[1] According to Crew2000, other side effects may include poor concentration, poor short-term memory, increased heart rate, abnormal heart beats, anxiety, depression, increased sweating, dilated pupils, the inability to normally open the mouth, and teeth grinding.[7]
A survey conducted by the National Addiction Centre, UK found that 51% of mephedrone users said they suffered from headaches, 43% from heart palpitations, 27% from nausea and 15% from cold or blue fingers.[26]
Long-term effects
BBC News reported that one person who used the drug for 18 months, in the end using it twice a week, had to be admitted to a psychiatric unit after he started experiencing hallucinations, agitation, excitability and mania.[27] Almost nothing is known about the long term effects of the drug due to the short history of its use.[26]
Typical use and consumption
The Guardian reported that some users compulsively redose, consuming their whole supply when they only meant to use a small dose.[28] A survey conducted in late 2009 by the National Addiction Centre (UK) found that one in three readers of Mixmag had used mephedrone in the last month, making it the fourth most popular drug amongst clubbers.[26]
Harm reduction
The charity Lifeline recommends that to reduce the potential harm caused by using mephedrone, users should only use mephedrone occasionally (less than weekly), use less than 0.5g per session, dose orally rather than snort the drug and avoid mixing it with alcohol and other drugs.[29]
Toxicity
At present, very little is known about the toxicity of 4-methylmethcathinone. In 2009, one case of sympathomimetic toxicity was reported in the UK after a person took 0.2g of mephedrone orally and 3.8g subcutaneously. They were treated with 1mg of lorazepam and the sympathomimetic features decreased within 6 hours of treatment.[30] Reported side effects suggest it may cause pronounced peripheral vasoconstriction, which has been speculated to result from formation of the potent vasoconstrictor 4-methylephedrine as a metabolite,[3] a compound known to have significantly more cardiovascular toxicity than ephedrine itself.[31] The Swedish medical journal, Läkartidningen reported that mephedrone could theoretically cause the cardiovascular problems associated with the use of cocaine and amphetamines and serotonin syndrome associated with the use of ecstasy and LSD.[2] Reports of addiction and problematic use have also emerged.[1] Professor David Nutt, former chair of the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs (ACMD) in the UK has said "people are better off taking ecstasy or amphetamines than those [drugs] we know nothing about" and "Who knows what's in [mephedrone] when you buy it? We don't have a testing system. It could be very dangerous, we just don't know. These chemicals have never been put into animals, let alone humans."[32] Les King, a former member of the ACMD, has stated that it appears to be less potent than amphetamine and ecstasy but that any benefit associated with this could be negated by users taking larger amounts. He also told the BBC "all we can say is [mephedrone] is probably as harmful as ecstasy and amphetamines and wait until we have some better scientific evidence to support that."[11]
Deaths
In 2008, an 18 year-old Swedish woman died in Stockholm after taking mephedrone allegedly in combination with cannabis. An ambulance was soon called to Bandhagen after the girl went into convulsions and turned blue in the face, Svenska Dagbladet reported.[33] Doctors reported that she was suffering from hyponatremia and an autopsy revealed the woman's brain had swollen.[2] Mephedrone was scheduled to be classified as a "dangerous substance" in Sweden even before the girl's death at Karolinska University Hospital on Sunday, 14 December, but the death brought more media attention to the drug. The possession of mephedrone became classified as a criminal offence in Sweden on 15 December 2008.[34]
The death of a teenager in the UK in November 2009 was widely reported as being caused by mephedrone but a report by the coroner concluded that she died from natural causes. According to criminologists, the reporting of the death by newspapers followed "the usual cycle of ‘exaggeration, distortion, inaccuracy and sensationalism" associated with the reporting of recreational drug use.[23]
In February 2010, a 46 year-old man in the UK suffered a heart attack after taking mephedrone. Toxicology reports revealed he died directly as a result of taking the drug.[35] There have been other unconfirmed reports speculating about the role mephedrone has played in the deaths of several young people in the UK.
Legal status
· Australia: Mephedrone is not specifically listed as prohibited in Australia. Federal Police have stated that it is an analog to methcathinone and therefore illegal. In February 2010, 22 men were arrested in conjunction with importing mephedrone.[38] In March 2010 a youth was convicted of importing the drug and sentenced to six months alternate detention.[39]
· Canada: According to The Globe and Mail, mephedrone is considered a controlled substance by Health Canada.[40]
· Croatia: Mephedrone became illegal in Croatia on January 4, 2010.[41]
· Denmark: Denmark's Minister for Health and Prevention, Jakob Axel Nielsen, banned mephedrone,[26] flephedrone and ethylcathinone on December 18, 2008. This is from the Ministry of Health and Disease Prevention press release.
· Estonia: Classified as a "narcotic or psychotropic" substance and added to controlled substances list on November 27, 2009.[1][42]
· Finland: Through the Medicines Act, 4-methylmethcathinone is classified as a "medicinal product", making it illegal to manufacture, import, possess, sell, or transfer without a prescription. (from ot.fi, date unknown and City.fi, September 5, 2008)[1]
· Germany: Mephedrone became illegal in Germany on January 22, 2010.[43]
· Guernsey: It is illegal to import mephedrone into Guernsey.[44]
· Hungary: As of February 2010, mephedrone is legal in Hungary but legislators are considering whether to make it illegal.[45]
· Republic of Ireland: Mephedrone is currently legal[46] but possession and supply of the drug will become illegal in June 2010.[47]
· Isle of Man:The Medicines Act 2003 was changed in February 2010 in the Isle of Man so that the import and sale of mephedrone is now illegal.[48]
· Israel: In December 2007, 4-methylmethcathinone was added to Israel's list of controlled substances, making it illegal to buy, sell, or possess.[1]
· Jersey: Classified as a Class C drug in 2009.[49]
· Netherlands: In March, 2010, the Dutch Ministry of Health and the Medicines Authority IGZ informed the Ministry of Justice that they now consider Mephedrone an unregulated medicine and sales and distribution of it are now prohibited.[1][47]
· New Zealand: Classified as a Class C drug under the Misuse of Drugs Act 1975. [50]
· Norway: The "Derivatbestemmelsen" is an Analog Act-type law in Norway that controls 4-methylmethcathinone, Bk-MBDB, Bromo-DragonFLY, 1,4-butanediol, GBL, and MBDB. See legemiddelverket.no. (last updated April 29, 2009)[1]
· Poland: Mephedrone is still legal in Poland (27.02.2010), but it can be mistakenly regarded as amphetamine by police since it comes out as amphetamine in standard police tests.[51]
· Romania On February 10, 2010 Romania revised its drug policy including 4-mmc and all cathinone related products to Table I considering it a high risk narcotic. Possession, sale, manufacture or distribution are punishable by 10 to 20 years in prison.[52]
· Singapore As of February 2010 mephedrone is legal in Singapore, 'CNN Go' reported that it is ordered over the internet and exported from the UK.[53]
· Sweden: Classified as a "health hazard" or "hazardous substance" ("hälsofarlig vara") pending further legislation, a ban on 4-methylmethcathinone went into effect on December 15, 2008, making its sale illegal. On June 15, 2009 it was classified as a narcotic.[1][54]
· United Kingdom: Mephedrone/4MMC is currently not covered by the Misuse of Drugs Act 1971; psychiatrists have lobbied for it to be banned.[19] It is, however, an offence under the Medicines Act to sell it for human consumption, so it is often sold as "plant food".[26][1] The Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs (ACMD) are investigating mephedrone as a priority along with other legal highs and will report their findings in 2010.[32] The chair of the ACMD indicated strongly in March 2010 that the drug would become illegal and hinted that it could be classified as a Class B drug.[25] The European Monitoring Centre for Drugs and Drug Addiction are also reviewing the situation and will report their findings in July 2010.[55]
· United States: 4-Methylmethcathinone is unscheduled in the United States[56] but has been made illegal in North Dakota. [57] Those selling the drug for human consumption may however, be prosecuted under the Federal Analog Act due to its similarity to MDMA.
Mephedrone is a drug based on the chemical compounds of a plant out of Eastern Africa. Sold as a legal high, it’s use has exploded in the UK, where it has been linked to several recent deaths of young people, resulting in calls to have it prohibited.
As I’m getting asked a lot about mephedrone at my talks to schools, here is more info on it from Wikipedia:
Mephedrone (2-methylamino-1-p-tolylpropan-1-one),[3] also known as 4-methylmethcathinone (4-MMC), 4-methylephedrone, meow meow, [4] Miaow,[5] or MMCAT[6], is a stimulant and entactogen drug of the amphetamine and cathinone chemical classes. It is reported to be contained in some legal highs and is sometimes sold mixed with methylone, also known as bubbles.[7]It is a synthetic substance based on the cathinone compounds found in the khat plant of eastern Africa. Mephedrone can come in the form of capsules, tablets or white powder that users may swallow, snort or inject.[8] In 2009 it became the fourth most popular street drug in the United Kingdom, behind marijuana, cocaine, and ecstasy.
History
The Psychonaut Research Project, an EU organisation that searches the internet for information regarding new drugs, first identified mephedrone in 2008. Their research suggests that the drug first became available in 2007.[6] Mephedrone was first seized in France in May 2007 after police sent a tablet that they assumed to be ecstasy to be analysed.[10] The drug was used in early products, such as Neodoves pills, by the legal high company Neorganics,[12] but the range was discontinued in January 2008 after the government of Israel, where the company is based, made mephedrone illegal. It has been reported to be sold as a designer drug, but little is known about its pharmacology or toxicology at present.[13] Mephedrone has recently been reported as having been sold as "ecstasy" in the Australian city of Cairns, along with ethylcathinone,[14][15][16] and has also been reported in Europe and the United States.[17][18] It is reportedly currently manufactured in China.[19] The Daily Telegraph reported that manufacturers are making "huge amounts of money" from selling the drug.[20] In January 2010 Druglink magazine reported that dealers in Britain spend £2,500 to ship one kilogram from China but can sell it on for £10 a gram making a profit of £7,500.[21][22] A later report, in March 2010, stated that the wholesale price of mephedrone was £4000 per kilogram.[9]
Use in the United Kingdom
Between the summer of 2009 and March 2010 the use of mephedrone grew rapidly in the UK, becoming freely available at music festivals, head shops and on the internet. The drug is used by a diverse range of social groups including teenagers, polydrug using nightclubbers, psychonauts and over 40s with no previous experience of drug use. Whilst the evidence is anecdotal, researchers, charity workers, teachers and users have all reported widespread and increasing use of the drug. The reasons for the rapid growth in popularity is believed to be related to both the availability and legality of the drug. Researchers also believe that the emergence of mephedrone is related to the decreasing purity of MDMA and cocaine on sale in the UK.[23]
Effects
Intended effects
According to the company Crew2000, intended effects include increased alertness, euphoria, excitement, feeling of stimulation, urge to talk and openness.[7] Psychologists at Liverpool John Moores University are conducting research into the effects of mephedrone on up to 50 students.[24] Les Iversen, the chair of the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs called the experiments "pretty unethical".[25]
Side effects
According to the Darlington Drug and Alcohol Action Team, mephedrone can cause nose bleeds, nose burns, hallucinations, nausea, vomiting, blood circulation problems, rashes, anxiety, paranoia, fits, and delusions.[1] According to Crew2000, other side effects may include poor concentration, poor short-term memory, increased heart rate, abnormal heart beats, anxiety, depression, increased sweating, dilated pupils, the inability to normally open the mouth, and teeth grinding.[7]
A survey conducted by the National Addiction Centre, UK found that 51% of mephedrone users said they suffered from headaches, 43% from heart palpitations, 27% from nausea and 15% from cold or blue fingers.[26]
Long-term effects
BBC News reported that one person who used the drug for 18 months, in the end using it twice a week, had to be admitted to a psychiatric unit after he started experiencing hallucinations, agitation, excitability and mania.[27] Almost nothing is known about the long term effects of the drug due to the short history of its use.[26]
Typical use and consumption
The Guardian reported that some users compulsively redose, consuming their whole supply when they only meant to use a small dose.[28] A survey conducted in late 2009 by the National Addiction Centre (UK) found that one in three readers of Mixmag had used mephedrone in the last month, making it the fourth most popular drug amongst clubbers.[26]
Harm reduction
The charity Lifeline recommends that to reduce the potential harm caused by using mephedrone, users should only use mephedrone occasionally (less than weekly), use less than 0.5g per session, dose orally rather than snort the drug and avoid mixing it with alcohol and other drugs.[29]
Toxicity
At present, very little is known about the toxicity of 4-methylmethcathinone. In 2009, one case of sympathomimetic toxicity was reported in the UK after a person took 0.2g of mephedrone orally and 3.8g subcutaneously. They were treated with 1mg of lorazepam and the sympathomimetic features decreased within 6 hours of treatment.[30] Reported side effects suggest it may cause pronounced peripheral vasoconstriction, which has been speculated to result from formation of the potent vasoconstrictor 4-methylephedrine as a metabolite,[3] a compound known to have significantly more cardiovascular toxicity than ephedrine itself.[31] The Swedish medical journal, Läkartidningen reported that mephedrone could theoretically cause the cardiovascular problems associated with the use of cocaine and amphetamines and serotonin syndrome associated with the use of ecstasy and LSD.[2] Reports of addiction and problematic use have also emerged.[1] Professor David Nutt, former chair of the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs (ACMD) in the UK has said "people are better off taking ecstasy or amphetamines than those [drugs] we know nothing about" and "Who knows what's in [mephedrone] when you buy it? We don't have a testing system. It could be very dangerous, we just don't know. These chemicals have never been put into animals, let alone humans."[32] Les King, a former member of the ACMD, has stated that it appears to be less potent than amphetamine and ecstasy but that any benefit associated with this could be negated by users taking larger amounts. He also told the BBC "all we can say is [mephedrone] is probably as harmful as ecstasy and amphetamines and wait until we have some better scientific evidence to support that."[11]
Deaths
In 2008, an 18 year-old Swedish woman died in Stockholm after taking mephedrone allegedly in combination with cannabis. An ambulance was soon called to Bandhagen after the girl went into convulsions and turned blue in the face, Svenska Dagbladet reported.[33] Doctors reported that she was suffering from hyponatremia and an autopsy revealed the woman's brain had swollen.[2] Mephedrone was scheduled to be classified as a "dangerous substance" in Sweden even before the girl's death at Karolinska University Hospital on Sunday, 14 December, but the death brought more media attention to the drug. The possession of mephedrone became classified as a criminal offence in Sweden on 15 December 2008.[34]
The death of a teenager in the UK in November 2009 was widely reported as being caused by mephedrone but a report by the coroner concluded that she died from natural causes. According to criminologists, the reporting of the death by newspapers followed "the usual cycle of ‘exaggeration, distortion, inaccuracy and sensationalism" associated with the reporting of recreational drug use.[23]
In February 2010, a 46 year-old man in the UK suffered a heart attack after taking mephedrone. Toxicology reports revealed he died directly as a result of taking the drug.[35] There have been other unconfirmed reports speculating about the role mephedrone has played in the deaths of several young people in the UK.
Legal status
· Australia: Mephedrone is not specifically listed as prohibited in Australia. Federal Police have stated that it is an analog to methcathinone and therefore illegal. In February 2010, 22 men were arrested in conjunction with importing mephedrone.[38] In March 2010 a youth was convicted of importing the drug and sentenced to six months alternate detention.[39]
· Canada: According to The Globe and Mail, mephedrone is considered a controlled substance by Health Canada.[40]
· Croatia: Mephedrone became illegal in Croatia on January 4, 2010.[41]
· Denmark: Denmark's Minister for Health and Prevention, Jakob Axel Nielsen, banned mephedrone,[26] flephedrone and ethylcathinone on December 18, 2008. This is from the Ministry of Health and Disease Prevention press release.
· Estonia: Classified as a "narcotic or psychotropic" substance and added to controlled substances list on November 27, 2009.[1][42]
· Finland: Through the Medicines Act, 4-methylmethcathinone is classified as a "medicinal product", making it illegal to manufacture, import, possess, sell, or transfer without a prescription. (from ot.fi, date unknown and City.fi, September 5, 2008)[1]
· Germany: Mephedrone became illegal in Germany on January 22, 2010.[43]
· Guernsey: It is illegal to import mephedrone into Guernsey.[44]
· Hungary: As of February 2010, mephedrone is legal in Hungary but legislators are considering whether to make it illegal.[45]
· Republic of Ireland: Mephedrone is currently legal[46] but possession and supply of the drug will become illegal in June 2010.[47]
· Isle of Man:The Medicines Act 2003 was changed in February 2010 in the Isle of Man so that the import and sale of mephedrone is now illegal.[48]
· Israel: In December 2007, 4-methylmethcathinone was added to Israel's list of controlled substances, making it illegal to buy, sell, or possess.[1]
· Jersey: Classified as a Class C drug in 2009.[49]
· Netherlands: In March, 2010, the Dutch Ministry of Health and the Medicines Authority IGZ informed the Ministry of Justice that they now consider Mephedrone an unregulated medicine and sales and distribution of it are now prohibited.[1][47]
· New Zealand: Classified as a Class C drug under the Misuse of Drugs Act 1975. [50]
· Norway: The "Derivatbestemmelsen" is an Analog Act-type law in Norway that controls 4-methylmethcathinone, Bk-MBDB, Bromo-DragonFLY, 1,4-butanediol, GBL, and MBDB. See legemiddelverket.no. (last updated April 29, 2009)[1]
· Poland: Mephedrone is still legal in Poland (27.02.2010), but it can be mistakenly regarded as amphetamine by police since it comes out as amphetamine in standard police tests.[51]
· Romania On February 10, 2010 Romania revised its drug policy including 4-mmc and all cathinone related products to Table I considering it a high risk narcotic. Possession, sale, manufacture or distribution are punishable by 10 to 20 years in prison.[52]
· Singapore As of February 2010 mephedrone is legal in Singapore, 'CNN Go' reported that it is ordered over the internet and exported from the UK.[53]
· Sweden: Classified as a "health hazard" or "hazardous substance" ("hälsofarlig vara") pending further legislation, a ban on 4-methylmethcathinone went into effect on December 15, 2008, making its sale illegal. On June 15, 2009 it was classified as a narcotic.[1][54]
· United Kingdom: Mephedrone/4MMC is currently not covered by the Misuse of Drugs Act 1971; psychiatrists have lobbied for it to be banned.[19] It is, however, an offence under the Medicines Act to sell it for human consumption, so it is often sold as "plant food".[26][1] The Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs (ACMD) are investigating mephedrone as a priority along with other legal highs and will report their findings in 2010.[32] The chair of the ACMD indicated strongly in March 2010 that the drug would become illegal and hinted that it could be classified as a Class B drug.[25] The European Monitoring Centre for Drugs and Drug Addiction are also reviewing the situation and will report their findings in July 2010.[55]
· United States: 4-Methylmethcathinone is unscheduled in the United States[56] but has been made illegal in North Dakota. [57] Those selling the drug for human consumption may however, be prosecuted under the Federal Analog Act due to its similarity to MDMA.
Mephedrone Prevention in Schools
Author, public speaker and former club-drug user, Shaun Attwood, tells students across the UK, "When you take mephedrone, you're opening yourself up to a range of negative things to happen. It could be death. You might lose your mind. Why play Russian roullette with your lives?"
Shaun Attwood served almost 6 years in Arizona for crimes committed when he was part of an ecstasy ring. Two years after his release, his talks are being praised by teachers as having a major impact on deterring young people from drugs such as mephedrone.
"Shaun's presentation was truthful, honest and really well received by our students. He was able to talk openly and in detail about the effects drugs have had on his life. Our students really engaged with Shaun's honest and frank approach, and when offered the opportunity to question him, we couldn’t stop them!" Katie Royle – Lead Teacher in Citizenship, PHSE and RE – The John Madejski Academy in Reading
As mephedrone claims more teenagers' lives, Shaun Attwood said he is getting asked more questions about the drug from students and worried teachers. "When it comes to drugs such as mephedrone, young people tend to think they're invincible. They don't see what's coming at them down the road. I make them think twice by describing the horrific jail conditions I experienced as a consequence of my drug taking. I generally get bombarded with questions at the end of each session, and the students often email me for further advice."
"A particular boy in my year who has been meddling with drugs in the past spoke to me after Shaun's talk. He said what Shaun had told us had been like a slap in the face, and that he is revolted by what can happen from messing with substances. Since the assembly he has been completely clean and he plans to stay that way. I am sure that he is not the only student that was influenced enough to stay away from drugs, and I know that these people have only Shaun to thank." Year 11 Student - Weydon School, Farnham
Shaun Attwood said, "I just got back from talks in Northern Ireland. A teacher there told me that mephedrone is such a problem that the locals are lynching the sellers out of head shops, and one was even shot dead. He also said that teachers can talk to students about drugs until they're blue in the face, but they won't listen, yet my story had connected with the hardest to reach students. He'd never seen them sitting so attentively for an hour."
Shaun is available for interview and comment on the debate over what to do about mephedrone. Email writeinside@hotmail.com
Author, public speaker and former club-drug user, Shaun Attwood, tells students across the UK, "When you take mephedrone, you're opening yourself up to a range of negative things to happen. It could be death. You might lose your mind. Why play Russian roullette with your lives?"
Shaun Attwood served almost 6 years in Arizona for crimes committed when he was part of an ecstasy ring. Two years after his release, his talks are being praised by teachers as having a major impact on deterring young people from drugs such as mephedrone.
"Shaun's presentation was truthful, honest and really well received by our students. He was able to talk openly and in detail about the effects drugs have had on his life. Our students really engaged with Shaun's honest and frank approach, and when offered the opportunity to question him, we couldn’t stop them!" Katie Royle – Lead Teacher in Citizenship, PHSE and RE – The John Madejski Academy in Reading
As mephedrone claims more teenagers' lives, Shaun Attwood said he is getting asked more questions about the drug from students and worried teachers. "When it comes to drugs such as mephedrone, young people tend to think they're invincible. They don't see what's coming at them down the road. I make them think twice by describing the horrific jail conditions I experienced as a consequence of my drug taking. I generally get bombarded with questions at the end of each session, and the students often email me for further advice."
"A particular boy in my year who has been meddling with drugs in the past spoke to me after Shaun's talk. He said what Shaun had told us had been like a slap in the face, and that he is revolted by what can happen from messing with substances. Since the assembly he has been completely clean and he plans to stay that way. I am sure that he is not the only student that was influenced enough to stay away from drugs, and I know that these people have only Shaun to thank." Year 11 Student - Weydon School, Farnham
Shaun Attwood said, "I just got back from talks in Northern Ireland. A teacher there told me that mephedrone is such a problem that the locals are lynching the sellers out of head shops, and one was even shot dead. He also said that teachers can talk to students about drugs until they're blue in the face, but they won't listen, yet my story had connected with the hardest to reach students. He'd never seen them sitting so attentively for an hour."
Shaun is available for interview and comment on the debate over what to do about mephedrone. Email writeinside@hotmail.com
Matt (Part 2 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.
This story is a continuation of Warrior’s previous blog that you can read by clicking here.
“What the hell you doin’ here?” Matt exclaimed.
“What the hell you doin’ here?” I replied.
“Ah, man. Long story. Domestic violence. In fact, it happened around when you stopped comin’ around. What happened to ya anyway?” I kept callin’ ya cell, leavin’ messages. You jus’ vanished on me.”
“Yeah, I got caught up. Now here I am,” I lied, telling Matt I was arrested earlier than I was.
“How much time you got?”
“Fourteen.”
Matt’s eyes opened wide as he let out a whistle. “For doin’ business?”
“Nah, an assault. Long story.”
“Wow, Gilbert!”
“Oh, by the way, name’s not Gilbert. It’s Alex.
Matt rasped out a chuckle. “I ain’t good wit’ names, so I’ll stick wit Gilbert.”
We spent the next forty minutes catching up. His family was well. He ended getting into a fight with the boyfriend of one of his daughter’s. The police came, and both were arrested for domestic violence. Matt was put on probation, but unfortunately couldn’t stay clean, so he had to do a year in prison.
Crack! The door opened, and a short prune-faced officer with glasses and a cap squinted at a clipboard and read some names. He called out for Mike and Bill, who both stood up, and exited the holding cell. Bill was heading back to the yard, Mike to see the dentist. The door slammed closed.
“How long you been down?” I asked Matt.
“Jus’ a coupla months.”
“How you blending in?” I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t doing too well.
“Awww, I’m hangin’.”
“What’s the matter? Some drama? You’re not fuckin’ with the dope are you? That shit’s serious in here, Matt.”
“Nah, nah. I know better. I’m too old to deal with that shit here. I’m trying to stay clean, and get to my family. I ain’t cut out for this life no more.”
“Well, maybe comin’ to prison is a good thing. You can clean up. You got a good family, Matt, you just needed to get off that shit, and get some clarity. Your old lady loves the shit out of you, man.”
“I know,” Matt said, his head hanging low.
“Is someone fuckin’ with you?” I felt the need to find out what was eating at Matt. I guess because all I’d done in the past, especially with him, I was looking to right my wrongs. After all the shit I’ve done, I often tell myself, I’ll be happy just to break even and end up in purgatory.
“There’s jus’ sorry motherfuckers round here. Ya know. No class.”
“I agree. So who is it?”
“Ah, jus’ some piece of shit named Midget I ain’t getting’ along with. It ain’t no thing though.”
Midget was some junkie deadbeat always borrowing and running up debts he never paid back. He was the excuse king, and life’s victim. Ask him, and he’d make you think he was someone life happens to, life never happened for him. He was quick to prey on those less fortunate or fearful enough to let him get away with it. And if you saw through him, he’d look for some vindictive way to get one on over on you. I couldn’t stand him. I wasn’t surprised to hear that Matt was having problems with Midget.
“Don’t sweat it, Matt. I’ll send word over there about him. A few boys owe me a few favors.”
“Nah, it’s cool, man. I ain’t no coward. I can handle my own problems.”
I had to give it to Matt, he still had his prison pride from the convict code.
“Look, man, don’t worry. I’ll deal with it for you. No one will know or ever speak of it to you or anyone else. It won’t be anything too serious, just an ass kicking, so he’ll relocate. You just promise me you’ll keep your nose clean, and get back to that beautiful family. If I hear of you fuckin’ with drugs or anything else in here, that’s your ass. Deal?”
Looking at me hesitatingly, Matt nibbled his lower lip. It looked as if he were listening to a devil and angel on either shoulder battling it out. “Alright, Alex.” Matt put out his hand and we shook.
Crack! Crack! The door racked open and my name was called. It was my turn to see the dentist. I went and had my routine, and was heading back down the hall. The fluorescent bulbs overhead were radiating an odd yellow that reflected off the linoleum tiled floor. Oddly, it made the hallway trip back seem longer than before. As I came around the bend, the escorting officer told me to wait a second as he had to drop some paperwork off. He disappeared into a door. I stood in front of the intake desk, where an officer was usually posted. With all of the staff shortages, the escorting officer was doing two jobs. Behind an old masonite desk was a dry erase board that held all of the ID’s for all of the inmates scheduled for that day. I glanced down the line, and saw Midget was scheduled, except he was in a different holding cell, for those scheduled for blood work. I immediately snatched Midget’s ID, and relocated it under the heading “Psych Line,” which was for the criminally insane and guys playing crazy. These individuals were placed in separate cells due to their propensity to act out and be violent to inmates as well as staff. By the time the officer came back, I could have rearranged every name on that board if I had wanted. We went back to the original holding cell. Matt was still there. I entered.
“You two are done. Stand by as I call transport to send you both back,” the officer said.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Post comments and questions for Warrior 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 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.
This story is a continuation of Warrior’s previous blog that you can read by clicking here.
“What the hell you doin’ here?” Matt exclaimed.
“What the hell you doin’ here?” I replied.
“Ah, man. Long story. Domestic violence. In fact, it happened around when you stopped comin’ around. What happened to ya anyway?” I kept callin’ ya cell, leavin’ messages. You jus’ vanished on me.”
“Yeah, I got caught up. Now here I am,” I lied, telling Matt I was arrested earlier than I was.
“How much time you got?”
“Fourteen.”
Matt’s eyes opened wide as he let out a whistle. “For doin’ business?”
“Nah, an assault. Long story.”
“Wow, Gilbert!”
“Oh, by the way, name’s not Gilbert. It’s Alex.
Matt rasped out a chuckle. “I ain’t good wit’ names, so I’ll stick wit Gilbert.”
We spent the next forty minutes catching up. His family was well. He ended getting into a fight with the boyfriend of one of his daughter’s. The police came, and both were arrested for domestic violence. Matt was put on probation, but unfortunately couldn’t stay clean, so he had to do a year in prison.
Crack! The door opened, and a short prune-faced officer with glasses and a cap squinted at a clipboard and read some names. He called out for Mike and Bill, who both stood up, and exited the holding cell. Bill was heading back to the yard, Mike to see the dentist. The door slammed closed.
“How long you been down?” I asked Matt.
“Jus’ a coupla months.”
“How you blending in?” I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t doing too well.
“Awww, I’m hangin’.”
“What’s the matter? Some drama? You’re not fuckin’ with the dope are you? That shit’s serious in here, Matt.”
“Nah, nah. I know better. I’m too old to deal with that shit here. I’m trying to stay clean, and get to my family. I ain’t cut out for this life no more.”
“Well, maybe comin’ to prison is a good thing. You can clean up. You got a good family, Matt, you just needed to get off that shit, and get some clarity. Your old lady loves the shit out of you, man.”
“I know,” Matt said, his head hanging low.
“Is someone fuckin’ with you?” I felt the need to find out what was eating at Matt. I guess because all I’d done in the past, especially with him, I was looking to right my wrongs. After all the shit I’ve done, I often tell myself, I’ll be happy just to break even and end up in purgatory.
“There’s jus’ sorry motherfuckers round here. Ya know. No class.”
“I agree. So who is it?”
“Ah, jus’ some piece of shit named Midget I ain’t getting’ along with. It ain’t no thing though.”
Midget was some junkie deadbeat always borrowing and running up debts he never paid back. He was the excuse king, and life’s victim. Ask him, and he’d make you think he was someone life happens to, life never happened for him. He was quick to prey on those less fortunate or fearful enough to let him get away with it. And if you saw through him, he’d look for some vindictive way to get one on over on you. I couldn’t stand him. I wasn’t surprised to hear that Matt was having problems with Midget.
“Don’t sweat it, Matt. I’ll send word over there about him. A few boys owe me a few favors.”
“Nah, it’s cool, man. I ain’t no coward. I can handle my own problems.”
I had to give it to Matt, he still had his prison pride from the convict code.
“Look, man, don’t worry. I’ll deal with it for you. No one will know or ever speak of it to you or anyone else. It won’t be anything too serious, just an ass kicking, so he’ll relocate. You just promise me you’ll keep your nose clean, and get back to that beautiful family. If I hear of you fuckin’ with drugs or anything else in here, that’s your ass. Deal?”
Looking at me hesitatingly, Matt nibbled his lower lip. It looked as if he were listening to a devil and angel on either shoulder battling it out. “Alright, Alex.” Matt put out his hand and we shook.
Crack! Crack! The door racked open and my name was called. It was my turn to see the dentist. I went and had my routine, and was heading back down the hall. The fluorescent bulbs overhead were radiating an odd yellow that reflected off the linoleum tiled floor. Oddly, it made the hallway trip back seem longer than before. As I came around the bend, the escorting officer told me to wait a second as he had to drop some paperwork off. He disappeared into a door. I stood in front of the intake desk, where an officer was usually posted. With all of the staff shortages, the escorting officer was doing two jobs. Behind an old masonite desk was a dry erase board that held all of the ID’s for all of the inmates scheduled for that day. I glanced down the line, and saw Midget was scheduled, except he was in a different holding cell, for those scheduled for blood work. I immediately snatched Midget’s ID, and relocated it under the heading “Psych Line,” which was for the criminally insane and guys playing crazy. These individuals were placed in separate cells due to their propensity to act out and be violent to inmates as well as staff. By the time the officer came back, I could have rearranged every name on that board if I had wanted. We went back to the original holding cell. Matt was still there. I entered.
“You two are done. Stand by as I call transport to send you both back,” the officer said.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Post comments and questions for Warrior 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 P. Attwood
From Two Tonys (Letter 13)
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." Diagnosed with liver cancer, and is fighting to prolong his life.
Hey English Cuz,
What can I say? “I’m sorry” has to be getting old to you, so I won’t even go there. I’ve been getting your mail, books, plus good moral-support letters.
First, allow me to write you with congratulations on your good turn of events in your literary career. This is great. No one can say that you don’t deserve this. I personally observed your hours and days working in your cage of a cell while many around you were busy whacking their puds or spreading drama with a mix of hate and envy. You were busy hunched over at your little metal slab of a desk in a heat-infested cell working your bald head off, with your eyes on the prize and the spoils that come with it. Cocktail parties. Limos. European baronesses, countesses. Dare we even dream of the ultimate? Tea with Her majesty! Yes, we do dare to. This is how railroads, tunnels, Great Walls of China are built, with one man’s dream. Yes, my friend, dream on. Don’t let it die. I’ll bet on you every time your name’s on the card. “You go, Limey boy, you go.” Please keep me posted, and I’ll start to keep up on my writing. I was just down, bro. But I’ve got some real good news at this end for me to share with you and our blog readers.
As you might be aware, I was told in December 08, I had terminal cancer and given an estimate of 3-6 months to live. This was done by a civilian oncologist who was 90 fuckin’ years old, and under an advisory position contract with the Department of Corrections. I was issued chemo, which I knew from my 9th grade education was a killer worse than cancer. Anyway, I quit the chemo, and I truly believe that’s why I’m still alive. This Dr. didn’t want me to quit, and told me if I did I had 90 days to live. Fuck it! I told him 90 days without that shit is better than a year on it. I quit, and I’m still standing. I went from 200 lbs to 140 lbs, but I’m feeling pretty good.
Now in over a year as his patient, I saw the guy once in person. That was at a hospital back in 08. The rest of my so-called exams were from a matchbox office on prison grounds staring into a 16” TV screen with a nurse next to me to poke where the good Dr. told her to. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for any help I get, and the truth is after my wicked past, any help is probably too much. But I’ll still take it. So now I’m on this morphine twice a day, and I stay pretty doped up. It’s a good pain fighter and seems to do the job (for now).
About 2 months ago, my Dr, the old man, along with St Mary’s Hospital had their contracts not renewed, and I got moved down here to Lewis Complex. You know the place we met, when I came out of the hole to a rock-star greeting, and you were mesmerized by my welcoming committee. Speaking of holes, I just got out of one. (But that’s another story. Later on I’ll write you about it.)
Getting back to the story I started. So now I have no oncologist, even though I didn’t really have one back then. The old Dr. was just pissing on my head, laddie, telling me it was drops from a soft summer rain. So I’m up here in Lewis, and early one morning they come and chain me up, put me in the back of a new Ford with two guards, and tell me I’m going to see a doctor. They drive me in style, radio playing, comfortable back seat, good scenery. I’m doing it. We pull up to a new building in Casa Grande about 100 miles from here. It’s a medical lab. 21st century, and it is modern. The 3 of us are shown a nice exam room, and after 10 minutes a real nice Asian Dr. comes and introduces himself to me, shakes my hand and examines me as best he could. Then he proceeds to explain to me that we’re all different. The old Dr. should never have told me that shit at any rate. He ordered all new blood work. Cat scans. Etc. He explained that they were now under contract with D.O.C, and he’s my oncologist. This is great. He explained that after my new tests are compete, him and the surgeons discuss the results, and they may do a treatment called T.A.C.E. It stands for Transcatheter Arterial Chemoembolization. They run a tube up through my thigh to my liver, pump chemo, then take the tube out. Bingo, lots of bad cancer cells die and perhaps I live a little longer. Time will tell. I’ll be sure to keep you posted. I’m so excited.
Love to you and your family and all good blokes and birds across the seas.
Two Tonys
Click here to read Letter 12.
Two Tonys is dying, and really appreciates your comments.
Post comments 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.
If you would like to send Two Tonys a book or a magazine subscription, then please email me for instructions on mailing literature to the prison.
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." Diagnosed with liver cancer, and is fighting to prolong his life.
Hey English Cuz,
What can I say? “I’m sorry” has to be getting old to you, so I won’t even go there. I’ve been getting your mail, books, plus good moral-support letters.
First, allow me to write you with congratulations on your good turn of events in your literary career. This is great. No one can say that you don’t deserve this. I personally observed your hours and days working in your cage of a cell while many around you were busy whacking their puds or spreading drama with a mix of hate and envy. You were busy hunched over at your little metal slab of a desk in a heat-infested cell working your bald head off, with your eyes on the prize and the spoils that come with it. Cocktail parties. Limos. European baronesses, countesses. Dare we even dream of the ultimate? Tea with Her majesty! Yes, we do dare to. This is how railroads, tunnels, Great Walls of China are built, with one man’s dream. Yes, my friend, dream on. Don’t let it die. I’ll bet on you every time your name’s on the card. “You go, Limey boy, you go.” Please keep me posted, and I’ll start to keep up on my writing. I was just down, bro. But I’ve got some real good news at this end for me to share with you and our blog readers.
As you might be aware, I was told in December 08, I had terminal cancer and given an estimate of 3-6 months to live. This was done by a civilian oncologist who was 90 fuckin’ years old, and under an advisory position contract with the Department of Corrections. I was issued chemo, which I knew from my 9th grade education was a killer worse than cancer. Anyway, I quit the chemo, and I truly believe that’s why I’m still alive. This Dr. didn’t want me to quit, and told me if I did I had 90 days to live. Fuck it! I told him 90 days without that shit is better than a year on it. I quit, and I’m still standing. I went from 200 lbs to 140 lbs, but I’m feeling pretty good.
Now in over a year as his patient, I saw the guy once in person. That was at a hospital back in 08. The rest of my so-called exams were from a matchbox office on prison grounds staring into a 16” TV screen with a nurse next to me to poke where the good Dr. told her to. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for any help I get, and the truth is after my wicked past, any help is probably too much. But I’ll still take it. So now I’m on this morphine twice a day, and I stay pretty doped up. It’s a good pain fighter and seems to do the job (for now).
About 2 months ago, my Dr, the old man, along with St Mary’s Hospital had their contracts not renewed, and I got moved down here to Lewis Complex. You know the place we met, when I came out of the hole to a rock-star greeting, and you were mesmerized by my welcoming committee. Speaking of holes, I just got out of one. (But that’s another story. Later on I’ll write you about it.)
Getting back to the story I started. So now I have no oncologist, even though I didn’t really have one back then. The old Dr. was just pissing on my head, laddie, telling me it was drops from a soft summer rain. So I’m up here in Lewis, and early one morning they come and chain me up, put me in the back of a new Ford with two guards, and tell me I’m going to see a doctor. They drive me in style, radio playing, comfortable back seat, good scenery. I’m doing it. We pull up to a new building in Casa Grande about 100 miles from here. It’s a medical lab. 21st century, and it is modern. The 3 of us are shown a nice exam room, and after 10 minutes a real nice Asian Dr. comes and introduces himself to me, shakes my hand and examines me as best he could. Then he proceeds to explain to me that we’re all different. The old Dr. should never have told me that shit at any rate. He ordered all new blood work. Cat scans. Etc. He explained that they were now under contract with D.O.C, and he’s my oncologist. This is great. He explained that after my new tests are compete, him and the surgeons discuss the results, and they may do a treatment called T.A.C.E. It stands for Transcatheter Arterial Chemoembolization. They run a tube up through my thigh to my liver, pump chemo, then take the tube out. Bingo, lots of bad cancer cells die and perhaps I live a little longer. Time will tell. I’ll be sure to keep you posted. I’m so excited.
Love to you and your family and all good blokes and birds across the seas.
Two Tonys
Click here to read Letter 12.
Two Tonys is dying, and really appreciates your comments.
Post comments 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.
If you would like to send Two Tonys a book or a magazine subscription, then please email me for instructions on mailing literature to the prison.
Shaun P. Attwood
Clean That Up (The Early Years Part 1 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, the accomplices can get 25-year sentences.
The year was 1994. The place was the dreaded gulag known as Cell Block Eight a.k.a. Special Management Unit I a.k.a. SMU a.k.a. Supermax Lockdown. The worst of the worst. The hole of holes. At the time, it was the highest security joint in the entire State of Arizona. And I, your humble Polish Avenger, was sent there directly from the county jail. Not for being a badass, but due to the felony murder charge. Despite my criminal misbehaviours, I’ve never really been a “tough guy.” Nevertheless, I was to begin my 25-year sentence in a baptism of fire.
Actually, it wasn’t all that melodramatic. Sure, there were a few close calls and dangerous moments (to be chronicled in future posts), but for the most part it was 100% what those places are supposed to be: sensory deprivation and solitary confinement. L-O-N-G days! Enough to drive a fellow stark raving bonkers with boredom at times.
So you can imagine how happy I was one day (about 6 months into my stay) when they came and told me, “Get ready to work.” Hell yeah! Out of 60 people in my section, only 5 of us were nominated. Ah me, what an honor, I thought, nearly skipping with glee down to the work area to be issued equipment.
The first shadow of apprehension clouded my delight when the equipment turned out to be a paper hazmat suit, three pairs of latex gloves, a spray bottle of bleach, and several scour pads. The rest of the happy vanished when they led me to one of the infamous holding cells, popped open the door, and told me, “Clean that up.”
We must take a moment here to digress upon the holding cell. The ones at SMU are a particularly unpleasant place to find yourself. Granted, it is deliberately so. In a supermax prison, when you get unruly, and need a “time out,” you go to a holding cell. For up to three days. It has a concrete slab to lay on. It has a steel sink and toilet that the guards can cut the water should you try to flood the room. It has a 12-foot ceiling, so you can’t tamper with the 24-hour lights. It has a little window in the door. It has a trap-door slot, also in the door. And that’s all.
We’ll meet these holding cells again in posts to come.
The one we’re talking about for the moment had just been the living area of one of those unruly, misbehaved malcontents. For three days. And whoever this person was, apparently he’d decided to channel his anger and malcontentedness into trying to cover every single square inch of the place in feces. Literally. There was poo on the floor. There were big pooey handprints all over the walls. There was flung poo stuck to the 12-foot ceiling. There was poo all over the window. About the only poo-free spot was the toilet. Go figure.
At the time, this was the most poo I’d ever seen. Outside of the zoo.
And yes, my new job was to clean that up. All of it. By hand.
And I did! As you might imagine, it did not smell like roses! I also discovered a rather interesting physical property of human excrement, one that I had been blissfully ignorant of up until then. That stuff is like concrete! If you squish it into a cavity, like the holes in cinderblock, and then let it dry, it’ll harden up and become nearly impossible to dislodge. Later on we had decent results using a high-power pressure washer to blast it out. Unfortunately, that also tended to atomize it into easily inhaled particulates.
Back to the story! It took me several hours, almost all the bleach, and a strong stomach, but finally the cell was fit for the next occupant. A sergeant inspected it, gave me a gruff “Good job,” and told me to be ready again for work tomorrow. I was officially a Biohazard Porter for the princely sum of 5 cents an hour. After deductions, I netted 2.5 cents. With hard work and savings, some day I’d be able to buy that bag of chips I’d always dreamed of.
My prison career had begun.
Click here for Polish Avenger’s previous blog.
Coming soon: Two Tonys’ latest letter.
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 P. 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, the accomplices can get 25-year sentences.
The year was 1994. The place was the dreaded gulag known as Cell Block Eight a.k.a. Special Management Unit I a.k.a. SMU a.k.a. Supermax Lockdown. The worst of the worst. The hole of holes. At the time, it was the highest security joint in the entire State of Arizona. And I, your humble Polish Avenger, was sent there directly from the county jail. Not for being a badass, but due to the felony murder charge. Despite my criminal misbehaviours, I’ve never really been a “tough guy.” Nevertheless, I was to begin my 25-year sentence in a baptism of fire.
Actually, it wasn’t all that melodramatic. Sure, there were a few close calls and dangerous moments (to be chronicled in future posts), but for the most part it was 100% what those places are supposed to be: sensory deprivation and solitary confinement. L-O-N-G days! Enough to drive a fellow stark raving bonkers with boredom at times.
So you can imagine how happy I was one day (about 6 months into my stay) when they came and told me, “Get ready to work.” Hell yeah! Out of 60 people in my section, only 5 of us were nominated. Ah me, what an honor, I thought, nearly skipping with glee down to the work area to be issued equipment.
The first shadow of apprehension clouded my delight when the equipment turned out to be a paper hazmat suit, three pairs of latex gloves, a spray bottle of bleach, and several scour pads. The rest of the happy vanished when they led me to one of the infamous holding cells, popped open the door, and told me, “Clean that up.”
We must take a moment here to digress upon the holding cell. The ones at SMU are a particularly unpleasant place to find yourself. Granted, it is deliberately so. In a supermax prison, when you get unruly, and need a “time out,” you go to a holding cell. For up to three days. It has a concrete slab to lay on. It has a steel sink and toilet that the guards can cut the water should you try to flood the room. It has a 12-foot ceiling, so you can’t tamper with the 24-hour lights. It has a little window in the door. It has a trap-door slot, also in the door. And that’s all.
We’ll meet these holding cells again in posts to come.
The one we’re talking about for the moment had just been the living area of one of those unruly, misbehaved malcontents. For three days. And whoever this person was, apparently he’d decided to channel his anger and malcontentedness into trying to cover every single square inch of the place in feces. Literally. There was poo on the floor. There were big pooey handprints all over the walls. There was flung poo stuck to the 12-foot ceiling. There was poo all over the window. About the only poo-free spot was the toilet. Go figure.
At the time, this was the most poo I’d ever seen. Outside of the zoo.
And yes, my new job was to clean that up. All of it. By hand.
And I did! As you might imagine, it did not smell like roses! I also discovered a rather interesting physical property of human excrement, one that I had been blissfully ignorant of up until then. That stuff is like concrete! If you squish it into a cavity, like the holes in cinderblock, and then let it dry, it’ll harden up and become nearly impossible to dislodge. Later on we had decent results using a high-power pressure washer to blast it out. Unfortunately, that also tended to atomize it into easily inhaled particulates.
Back to the story! It took me several hours, almost all the bleach, and a strong stomach, but finally the cell was fit for the next occupant. A sergeant inspected it, gave me a gruff “Good job,” and told me to be ready again for work tomorrow. I was officially a Biohazard Porter for the princely sum of 5 cents an hour. After deductions, I netted 2.5 cents. With hard work and savings, some day I’d be able to buy that bag of chips I’d always dreamed of.
My prison career had begun.
Click here for Polish Avenger’s previous blog.
Coming soon: Two Tonys’ latest letter.
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 P. Attwood
The Scary Fun of Prison (Part 2 by Guest Blogger Andrew Donegan)
Andrew Donegan's blog is Wheel of Life at piebald77.blogspot.com
MY BROTHER, Jacob Michael Junior, was recently detained for two weeks due to non-payment of fines. On his first night ever in prison he witnessed an individual storm into his shared cell and demand that my brothers pad-mate remove his trousers and pants, squat down, and ‘empty his arse’ right there on the floor. The individual was on the shameless hunt for smuggled drugs (or at least my brother hoped he was), and lay himself down to get the best possible view, threatening obscene levels of violence if he didn’t at least see a ‘turtle’s head’. My younger brother was understandably unsettled by this behaviour and opted to see a carer at the first possible opportunity. The carer, you guessed it, turned out to be none other than the individual!
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Post comments and questions for Andrew 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 P. Attwood
Andrew Donegan's blog is Wheel of Life at piebald77.blogspot.com
MY BROTHER, Jacob Michael Junior, was recently detained for two weeks due to non-payment of fines. On his first night ever in prison he witnessed an individual storm into his shared cell and demand that my brothers pad-mate remove his trousers and pants, squat down, and ‘empty his arse’ right there on the floor. The individual was on the shameless hunt for smuggled drugs (or at least my brother hoped he was), and lay himself down to get the best possible view, threatening obscene levels of violence if he didn’t at least see a ‘turtle’s head’. My younger brother was understandably unsettled by this behaviour and opted to see a carer at the first possible opportunity. The carer, you guessed it, turned out to be none other than the individual!
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Post comments and questions for Andrew 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 P. Attwood
The Scary Fun of Prison (by Guest Blogger Andrew Donegan)
Andrew Donegan's blog is Wheel of Life at piebald77.blogspot.com
MY FRIEND, Stephen Farnham, once walked in on a prisoner masturbating over a sheepskin rug. The same guy was notorious for always having a hand down his pants. To top things off this jokester spread a bout of genital warts like wildfire around the iron-pumping population by leaving trails of his germs all over the bars in the gymnasium. Other users would share these bars, bite their nails, and hey presto, they had a dose of it too. On their faces! So be careful…
As this is Andrew’s first guest blog at Jon’s Jail Journal, your comments would be greatly appreciated.
Post comments and questions 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
Andrew Donegan's blog is Wheel of Life at piebald77.blogspot.com
MY FRIEND, Stephen Farnham, once walked in on a prisoner masturbating over a sheepskin rug. The same guy was notorious for always having a hand down his pants. To top things off this jokester spread a bout of genital warts like wildfire around the iron-pumping population by leaving trails of his germs all over the bars in the gymnasium. Other users would share these bars, bite their nails, and hey presto, they had a dose of it too. On their faces! So be careful…
As this is Andrew’s first guest blog at Jon’s Jail Journal, your comments would be greatly appreciated.
Post comments and questions 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
Prison Food (by Lifer Helen)
Helen’s boyfriend murdered her son. Not only did she lose her son, but she was sentenced to 20 years for the murder. 9 years into her sentence, she’s writing from a state prison in Georgia.
Monday to Thursday we get three meals a day. Breakfast is something they call creamed beef and biscuit. Lunch is either bologna, ham or a peanut butter sandwich. And dinner is always some kind of mystery meat, collard greens and beans. If you don’t go to the store, you are in trouble.
On Friday to Saturday, we get a muffin, pancakes, and French toast for breakfast. Later on, we get either spaghetti, hamburger and hotdog, or a mystery meat served yet again with greens and beans.
It is nothing to speak of. I’ve lost more weight in prison than I lost after having a baby. I don’t go to the store, but it’s OK. In here, if you ask someone for something to eat, you end up paying with some sort of sexual favor.
Click here for Helen's previous blog.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Post comments and questions for Helen 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 P. Attwood
Helen’s boyfriend murdered her son. Not only did she lose her son, but she was sentenced to 20 years for the murder. 9 years into her sentence, she’s writing from a state prison in Georgia.
Monday to Thursday we get three meals a day. Breakfast is something they call creamed beef and biscuit. Lunch is either bologna, ham or a peanut butter sandwich. And dinner is always some kind of mystery meat, collard greens and beans. If you don’t go to the store, you are in trouble.
On Friday to Saturday, we get a muffin, pancakes, and French toast for breakfast. Later on, we get either spaghetti, hamburger and hotdog, or a mystery meat served yet again with greens and beans.
It is nothing to speak of. I’ve lost more weight in prison than I lost after having a baby. I don’t go to the store, but it’s OK. In here, if you ask someone for something to eat, you end up paying with some sort of sexual favor.
Click here for Helen's previous blog.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Post comments and questions for Helen 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 P. Attwood
Question Time and Book by Prisoners
Syncopated Eyeball asked:
It looks to me as if you still have ambition but that you have changed your goals for the better. More importantly it seems that you have changed the nature of your goals so that now you work from a position of compassion and desire for justice; not just from a desire for personal wealth/glory. Would you agree with that? I'm also wondering if you think that your ambitious nature actually helped in your surviving that awful jail term?
Being in prison transformed my perspective on life. I was emotionally immature before prison, and my goals were hedonistic. In prison, I formed friendships with people, some of whom are never getting out. The time I served gave me a brief taste of their suffering, and a long-lasting desire to do what I can for them, including keeping their voices being heard on the Internet. It’s my hope that my book increases public awareness of the conditions in Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s jail system, and conditions get improved. It’s also my hope that by posting to the Internet what I'm doing in the schools and how I'm developing as an author, prisoners who read this will be inspired to achieve positive goals. I have a lot of friends in prison who are rooting for me to succeed, and looking at me as a role model.
A number of factors helped me survive the jail term, including my optimistic and ambitious nature. Also, the support of my family, friends and blog readers must not be overlooked.
Les asked:
Are things progressing with your book ? Are you still doing your thing speaking to groups of people?
My book, Hard Time, is slated for September-October publication with a division of Random House. It covers the 26 months I spent in Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s jail system, and other than the chapter on Jon’s Jail Journal, it’s all new material. I’m presently writing the prequel, which covers everything before a SWAT team smashed my door down.
I’m doing a lot more talks this year than last. Students are reacting emotionally. Some have cried, including a male student, and teachers have told me they had to fight back tears. I had quite an adventure at a school just a few days ago. It was located in the countryside, surrounded by beautiful rolling hills, equestrian crossings, and cosy pubs with names like The Half Moon, The Plough, and The Winning Post, so I was expecting an easy audience. At the reception, I was told the teacher who'd booked me was off sick, so they weren't expecting me. That the majority of the sixth formers were drunk, including the one who wasn’t supposed to be gallivanting on the roof. Then the students refused to leave the common room to go to the hall for the talk. My only option was to speak to them in the common room, so I went and set a table up with my water on. Some of the students were lounging around in couches and seemed rebellious at first, but as I spoke they became more and more interested. After the talk had ended, they asked me questions for a further 1½ hours, which was the most questions I've ever received, and I found quite incredible. They ended up a great audience, so I drove home with a big smile on my face. Afterwards, the contact teacher emailed me the following:
We’ve had some brilliant feedback about you – the first time anyone has ever managed to keep the students quiet for so long!
It would be great if you could come back in September when our students first arrive; it would be a good message to start the academic year with.
We have a challenging bunch of students here and it is a testament to you that they listened in the first place, so well done.
My creative writing teacher in the last state prison I was at, Dr. S, has published a book, Caged Writing: Prisoners Respond to Unusual Writing Assignments. Some of my writing appears in this book, as well as that of seventeen other prisoners and former classmates. If you want to check it out, the book is available by clicking on either of these two online stores:
Xlibris
Amazon
Click here for Dawn of a New Adventure Part 7
Post comments 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 P. Attwood
Syncopated Eyeball asked:
It looks to me as if you still have ambition but that you have changed your goals for the better. More importantly it seems that you have changed the nature of your goals so that now you work from a position of compassion and desire for justice; not just from a desire for personal wealth/glory. Would you agree with that? I'm also wondering if you think that your ambitious nature actually helped in your surviving that awful jail term?
Being in prison transformed my perspective on life. I was emotionally immature before prison, and my goals were hedonistic. In prison, I formed friendships with people, some of whom are never getting out. The time I served gave me a brief taste of their suffering, and a long-lasting desire to do what I can for them, including keeping their voices being heard on the Internet. It’s my hope that my book increases public awareness of the conditions in Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s jail system, and conditions get improved. It’s also my hope that by posting to the Internet what I'm doing in the schools and how I'm developing as an author, prisoners who read this will be inspired to achieve positive goals. I have a lot of friends in prison who are rooting for me to succeed, and looking at me as a role model.
A number of factors helped me survive the jail term, including my optimistic and ambitious nature. Also, the support of my family, friends and blog readers must not be overlooked.
Les asked:
Are things progressing with your book ? Are you still doing your thing speaking to groups of people?
My book, Hard Time, is slated for September-October publication with a division of Random House. It covers the 26 months I spent in Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s jail system, and other than the chapter on Jon’s Jail Journal, it’s all new material. I’m presently writing the prequel, which covers everything before a SWAT team smashed my door down.
I’m doing a lot more talks this year than last. Students are reacting emotionally. Some have cried, including a male student, and teachers have told me they had to fight back tears. I had quite an adventure at a school just a few days ago. It was located in the countryside, surrounded by beautiful rolling hills, equestrian crossings, and cosy pubs with names like The Half Moon, The Plough, and The Winning Post, so I was expecting an easy audience. At the reception, I was told the teacher who'd booked me was off sick, so they weren't expecting me. That the majority of the sixth formers were drunk, including the one who wasn’t supposed to be gallivanting on the roof. Then the students refused to leave the common room to go to the hall for the talk. My only option was to speak to them in the common room, so I went and set a table up with my water on. Some of the students were lounging around in couches and seemed rebellious at first, but as I spoke they became more and more interested. After the talk had ended, they asked me questions for a further 1½ hours, which was the most questions I've ever received, and I found quite incredible. They ended up a great audience, so I drove home with a big smile on my face. Afterwards, the contact teacher emailed me the following:
We’ve had some brilliant feedback about you – the first time anyone has ever managed to keep the students quiet for so long!
It would be great if you could come back in September when our students first arrive; it would be a good message to start the academic year with.
We have a challenging bunch of students here and it is a testament to you that they listened in the first place, so well done.
My creative writing teacher in the last state prison I was at, Dr. S, has published a book, Caged Writing: Prisoners Respond to Unusual Writing Assignments. Some of my writing appears in this book, as well as that of seventeen other prisoners and former classmates. If you want to check it out, the book is available by clicking on either of these two online stores:
Xlibris
Amazon
Click here for Dawn of a New Adventure Part 7
Post comments 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 P. Attwood
Arizona Department of Corrections Christmas 2009 (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.
Christmas this year was an eye-opening event for me and other prisoners. The conditions, atmosphere, and overall attitude of the staff were a telltale sign of ADOC’s affairs, as well as the prisoners’ and personnel’s states of mind.
In the past, Christmas was still a “special” time of the year. Prisoners got visits with their family on Christmas Day. Oftentimes, a mini-family reunion. For too many prisoners this was their only visit due to financial hardship. Prisoners were permitted to receive three 25lb food boxes from their family and friends, which would often last until the next season. The commissary would add a wide variety of seasonal items at reasonable prices. Religious services were held for all of those interested. On Christmas Day, the evening chow was a large meal with real meat, potatoes, stuffing, veggies, rolls… We’d leave the chow hall stuffed. Even guys like me who are prone to depression during the holidays could find joy.
Christmas 2009. No holiday visits. No food boxes. A small price-inflated holiday commissary list, from which certain orders weren’t filled. No religious services. No lunch. A small breakfast and slightly enhanced dinner, including “roast beef,” instant potatoes, canned veggies, a stale roll, and a small sliver of pie. I slept through breakfast and dinner.
I tried to make the most of the evening. I gave away a few bags of mixed nuts, a couple of boxes of peanut brittle, and a few other commissary items to some less fortunate prisoners. Three other prisoners and myself all pitched in, and made a meal for us to fill in for ADOC’s lack of lunch.
It was a depressing and gloomy day. While many prisoners simply sulked, slept and idly felt every minute pass by, waiting for the day to end, some chose another route. A familiar one. A numb one. A route laden with disappointment, heartache, instability, chaos, and confinement. A route that begins with a needle. All to fill the void in time, and the hearts and minds of those sitting behind bars on Christmas Day.
Click here for Shane's previous story.
Click here for my last Christmas in prison
Click here for the Xmas Spirit of Two Tonys
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.
Christmas this year was an eye-opening event for me and other prisoners. The conditions, atmosphere, and overall attitude of the staff were a telltale sign of ADOC’s affairs, as well as the prisoners’ and personnel’s states of mind.
In the past, Christmas was still a “special” time of the year. Prisoners got visits with their family on Christmas Day. Oftentimes, a mini-family reunion. For too many prisoners this was their only visit due to financial hardship. Prisoners were permitted to receive three 25lb food boxes from their family and friends, which would often last until the next season. The commissary would add a wide variety of seasonal items at reasonable prices. Religious services were held for all of those interested. On Christmas Day, the evening chow was a large meal with real meat, potatoes, stuffing, veggies, rolls… We’d leave the chow hall stuffed. Even guys like me who are prone to depression during the holidays could find joy.
Christmas 2009. No holiday visits. No food boxes. A small price-inflated holiday commissary list, from which certain orders weren’t filled. No religious services. No lunch. A small breakfast and slightly enhanced dinner, including “roast beef,” instant potatoes, canned veggies, a stale roll, and a small sliver of pie. I slept through breakfast and dinner.
I tried to make the most of the evening. I gave away a few bags of mixed nuts, a couple of boxes of peanut brittle, and a few other commissary items to some less fortunate prisoners. Three other prisoners and myself all pitched in, and made a meal for us to fill in for ADOC’s lack of lunch.
It was a depressing and gloomy day. While many prisoners simply sulked, slept and idly felt every minute pass by, waiting for the day to end, some chose another route. A familiar one. A numb one. A route laden with disappointment, heartache, instability, chaos, and confinement. A route that begins with a needle. All to fill the void in time, and the hearts and minds of those sitting behind bars on Christmas Day.
Click here for Shane's previous story.
Click here for my last Christmas in prison
Click here for the Xmas Spirit of Two Tonys
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
Iron Man’s Freedom
Iron Man - A martial-arts expert and personal trainer whose crimes include smashing someone’s door down: "I didn’t hurt anyone. I just wanted my fuckin’ money." His workouts are brutal. "I’ll have you in the best shape of your life by the time you get out," he told me.
Email just received from Iron Man:
Dear Shaun,
Hello, my Brother. It is good to be breathing the Free Air once again.
I have been out for eight days now, and I feel fantastic. Some people have a hard time readjusting to Freedom after a long stretch, but I take to Freedom like an Eagle takes to the sky.
Things are progressing nicely. To borrow the words of a great man, “I believe in making success happen. I have a plan. I will work every day to implement my plan. I will not be deterred nor distracted.”
I am borrowing a friend’s e-mail address for the time being, so you can reply at the above. If I knew how to create my own e-mail account, I would, but I don’t know which company is the best one or how to set up the account.
Well Brother, I have a busy day today, so I will close for now.
By the way, have you heard from Cat Eyes? I don’t yet have her e-mail address, or I would send her a greeting. She is a cool chic. Thanks for connecting me with her. Her letters were as refreshing and rejuvenating to me as pure spring water on a hot summer day.
I have yet to even see Weird Al, so I haven’t got to look at the yoga book you sent me, or read the letter that came with it. Thank you for sending it, I will go get it as soon as I can.
Until Later, My Friend.
As Always,
Iron Man
Click here to read Iron Man’s previous letter.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments for Iron 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
Iron Man - A martial-arts expert and personal trainer whose crimes include smashing someone’s door down: "I didn’t hurt anyone. I just wanted my fuckin’ money." His workouts are brutal. "I’ll have you in the best shape of your life by the time you get out," he told me.
Email just received from Iron Man:
Dear Shaun,
Hello, my Brother. It is good to be breathing the Free Air once again.
I have been out for eight days now, and I feel fantastic. Some people have a hard time readjusting to Freedom after a long stretch, but I take to Freedom like an Eagle takes to the sky.
Things are progressing nicely. To borrow the words of a great man, “I believe in making success happen. I have a plan. I will work every day to implement my plan. I will not be deterred nor distracted.”
I am borrowing a friend’s e-mail address for the time being, so you can reply at the above. If I knew how to create my own e-mail account, I would, but I don’t know which company is the best one or how to set up the account.
Well Brother, I have a busy day today, so I will close for now.
By the way, have you heard from Cat Eyes? I don’t yet have her e-mail address, or I would send her a greeting. She is a cool chic. Thanks for connecting me with her. Her letters were as refreshing and rejuvenating to me as pure spring water on a hot summer day.
I have yet to even see Weird Al, so I haven’t got to look at the yoga book you sent me, or read the letter that came with it. Thank you for sending it, I will go get it as soon as I can.
Until Later, My Friend.
As Always,
Iron Man
Click here to read Iron Man’s previous letter.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments for Iron 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
Matt’s Story (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.
This story is a continuation of Warrior’s previous blog that you can read by clicking here.
As Mike and I were caught up in chatter, the holding cell door echoed a piercing crack! There was a time when that noise used to startle me. The escorting officer had radioed for it to be unlocked. The steel door shrieked against being opened, then suddenly finding its tracks, it opened smoothly as though it remembered what it was meant for. Then in walked Matt.
I immediately recognized Matt before he noticed me. Though I hadn’t seen him in years, he was still pale, gaunt, with blond curly hair that hadn’t been cut and was close to an Afro. Matt was 52, but his years of drug use and rotten teeth made him look 72. His square shoulders and over-sized glasses were reminiscent of the 80’s.
“Gilbert?” Matt squinted, unsure if it was me or not.
“Matt! Damn it’s a small world,” I said with a welcoming smile.
“It is you, Gilbert!” he said with an enthusiastic roll of the head. He flailed his arms as if he couldn’t believe it was me. We shook hands.
I was happy to see Matt too, although the nature of our rapport couldn’t really be labelled as friendship. I used to sell drugs to him in our old neighborhood. In prison though, a familiar face alleviates the misery of the circumstances. It’s also perhaps comforting to know someone familiar is experiencing the same misery.
Matt was one of those people I met that I could never forget. He knew me as Gilbert, one of the many aliases I’d adopted over the years. You do that a lot in the drug game. Matt had a wife, kids and a home. He was what drug users like to call a functioning addict. Although he had a $100-a-day habit, his bills were paid, kids taken care of, and wife seemingly happy. Despite this, at that time I viewed Matt as I would any other addict: no sympathy, no remorse, a sucker feeding his addiction in order to fuel mine for easy money.
There came a day when I viewed Matt in a different light. His wife, Sherry, had phoned me to meet up with her on his behalf. Matt’s sickness was getting the better of him, and I had his medicine. Sherry was a short heavy-set woman with oily blond hair, both due in part to years of work in the fast-food industry. Her aquiline nose suggested a little French in her ancestry. She wore the pants in the family. I don’t know what compelled me to ask her about Matt. Perhaps I was puzzled by how a strong opinionated woman such as her could juggle work, kids and family duties in addition to being the wife of an addict, and for some odd reason support Matt’s habit instead of rallying him to quit.
I pulled up around the back of Sherry’s workplace. She was out back smoking her usual Salem cigarette. We made our exchange while chatting.
“Do you mind if I ask you something?”
“No, go right ahead, hun.” She always had a way of throwing in hun at the end of sentences. It sounded more maternal on the back of her age, kids, and having a hard life.
“I know it’s none of my business, and if you don’t feel comfortable answering, I’m cool with that, but why do you enable Matt’s habit? You guys are not the type of people I’m used to dealing with. You’re not bottom feeders.”
Sherry inhaled the last part of her cigarette while composing her reply. She then flicked the cigarette butt with that cool unexpected speed and nonchalance that influences people into smoking. “You know, Gilbert, if he didn’t get it from you, he’d get it elsewhere,” she said, casting her head down as if shamed by the reality. She then raised her head in complete honor, and replied, “I love that man, and I don’t think you know the story about us.”
She began to tell me their story. They’d been together twenty plus years, and were high-school sweethearts. They grew distant after high school. Sherry began college and Matt found himself mixed up with the wrong crowd. Despite this, they still kept in touch. Matt followed a friend to Arizona, to escape and start new. Sherry ended up pregnant, and dropped out of college. She began to live with the child’s father. Through all this they kept in touch, and it was obvious the love was still there. The father of Sherry’s child was abusive to her, and Matt tried to persuade her to leave him, come to Arizona with the baby and start over, even possibly finish school. Then suddenly Sherry called Matt crying, hysterical, wanting him to come get her.
Sherry told me how she found her husband raping their three-year-old daughter. She was raped so bad she had to be hospitalised for months. Matt was on the first flight back to Baltimore, where they were originally from. Sherry’s husband was arrested, but released on bail. Matt got Sherry an apartment, stayed by her through the criminal and divorce proceedings, in addition to the lengthy reconstructive surgeries her daughter had to endure.
Sentencing finally came for Sherry’s ex. He received only probation. Now Matt being the man that he was back then meant that the sentence wasn’t justice in his eyes. I seriously doubt anyone could view that sentence as just. So Matt went to the local hardware store, and purchased a framing hammer. He showed up at Sherry’s ex’s house and beat his head in. The ex didn’t die, but would be severely handicapped forever. Matt was arrested, and sentenced to 10 years. He was out in 6. Sherry stood by him the whole time, but unfortunately he became hooked on drugs while in prison.
My jaw hung open in awe as I listened to the story of her and Matt. The man I viewed previously, as another despicable addict, I could no longer view the same way. Nor could I sell to this man any longer either. I’d come to respect him given what I’d learned. That was the last time I saw Matt and Sherry, until I ran into Matt in the prison medical-holding cell.
Do you think Matt was justified in bashing the rapist's head in with a framing hammer?
Warrior’s blog, Rapist on the Yard, touches on the same issue of vigilante justice/violence against sex offenders, and sparked a lot of comments.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Post comments and questions for Warrior 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 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.
This story is a continuation of Warrior’s previous blog that you can read by clicking here.
As Mike and I were caught up in chatter, the holding cell door echoed a piercing crack! There was a time when that noise used to startle me. The escorting officer had radioed for it to be unlocked. The steel door shrieked against being opened, then suddenly finding its tracks, it opened smoothly as though it remembered what it was meant for. Then in walked Matt.
I immediately recognized Matt before he noticed me. Though I hadn’t seen him in years, he was still pale, gaunt, with blond curly hair that hadn’t been cut and was close to an Afro. Matt was 52, but his years of drug use and rotten teeth made him look 72. His square shoulders and over-sized glasses were reminiscent of the 80’s.
“Gilbert?” Matt squinted, unsure if it was me or not.
“Matt! Damn it’s a small world,” I said with a welcoming smile.
“It is you, Gilbert!” he said with an enthusiastic roll of the head. He flailed his arms as if he couldn’t believe it was me. We shook hands.
I was happy to see Matt too, although the nature of our rapport couldn’t really be labelled as friendship. I used to sell drugs to him in our old neighborhood. In prison though, a familiar face alleviates the misery of the circumstances. It’s also perhaps comforting to know someone familiar is experiencing the same misery.
Matt was one of those people I met that I could never forget. He knew me as Gilbert, one of the many aliases I’d adopted over the years. You do that a lot in the drug game. Matt had a wife, kids and a home. He was what drug users like to call a functioning addict. Although he had a $100-a-day habit, his bills were paid, kids taken care of, and wife seemingly happy. Despite this, at that time I viewed Matt as I would any other addict: no sympathy, no remorse, a sucker feeding his addiction in order to fuel mine for easy money.
There came a day when I viewed Matt in a different light. His wife, Sherry, had phoned me to meet up with her on his behalf. Matt’s sickness was getting the better of him, and I had his medicine. Sherry was a short heavy-set woman with oily blond hair, both due in part to years of work in the fast-food industry. Her aquiline nose suggested a little French in her ancestry. She wore the pants in the family. I don’t know what compelled me to ask her about Matt. Perhaps I was puzzled by how a strong opinionated woman such as her could juggle work, kids and family duties in addition to being the wife of an addict, and for some odd reason support Matt’s habit instead of rallying him to quit.
I pulled up around the back of Sherry’s workplace. She was out back smoking her usual Salem cigarette. We made our exchange while chatting.
“Do you mind if I ask you something?”
“No, go right ahead, hun.” She always had a way of throwing in hun at the end of sentences. It sounded more maternal on the back of her age, kids, and having a hard life.
“I know it’s none of my business, and if you don’t feel comfortable answering, I’m cool with that, but why do you enable Matt’s habit? You guys are not the type of people I’m used to dealing with. You’re not bottom feeders.”
Sherry inhaled the last part of her cigarette while composing her reply. She then flicked the cigarette butt with that cool unexpected speed and nonchalance that influences people into smoking. “You know, Gilbert, if he didn’t get it from you, he’d get it elsewhere,” she said, casting her head down as if shamed by the reality. She then raised her head in complete honor, and replied, “I love that man, and I don’t think you know the story about us.”
She began to tell me their story. They’d been together twenty plus years, and were high-school sweethearts. They grew distant after high school. Sherry began college and Matt found himself mixed up with the wrong crowd. Despite this, they still kept in touch. Matt followed a friend to Arizona, to escape and start new. Sherry ended up pregnant, and dropped out of college. She began to live with the child’s father. Through all this they kept in touch, and it was obvious the love was still there. The father of Sherry’s child was abusive to her, and Matt tried to persuade her to leave him, come to Arizona with the baby and start over, even possibly finish school. Then suddenly Sherry called Matt crying, hysterical, wanting him to come get her.
Sherry told me how she found her husband raping their three-year-old daughter. She was raped so bad she had to be hospitalised for months. Matt was on the first flight back to Baltimore, where they were originally from. Sherry’s husband was arrested, but released on bail. Matt got Sherry an apartment, stayed by her through the criminal and divorce proceedings, in addition to the lengthy reconstructive surgeries her daughter had to endure.
Sentencing finally came for Sherry’s ex. He received only probation. Now Matt being the man that he was back then meant that the sentence wasn’t justice in his eyes. I seriously doubt anyone could view that sentence as just. So Matt went to the local hardware store, and purchased a framing hammer. He showed up at Sherry’s ex’s house and beat his head in. The ex didn’t die, but would be severely handicapped forever. Matt was arrested, and sentenced to 10 years. He was out in 6. Sherry stood by him the whole time, but unfortunately he became hooked on drugs while in prison.
My jaw hung open in awe as I listened to the story of her and Matt. The man I viewed previously, as another despicable addict, I could no longer view the same way. Nor could I sell to this man any longer either. I’d come to respect him given what I’d learned. That was the last time I saw Matt and Sherry, until I ran into Matt in the prison medical-holding cell.
Do you think Matt was justified in bashing the rapist's head in with a framing hammer?
Warrior’s blog, Rapist on the Yard, touches on the same issue of vigilante justice/violence against sex offenders, and sparked a lot of comments.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Post comments and questions for Warrior 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 P. Attwood
Click here for the nominating post at Anne Mini's excellent blog, Author!Author! which contains some of the most comprehensive advice on the Internet for writers.
Click here for the guest piece I wrote for Author!Author! about the challenges I faced blogging from prison.
Interview For Not Shut Up Magazine
I was interviewed by Hugh Stoddart of Not Shut Up magazine, which features writing from people in secure settings.
Click here to read the interview
I was interviewed by Hugh Stoddart of Not Shut Up magazine, which features writing from people in secure settings.
Click here to read the interview
Talk at HMP Holloway
I just did my first talk at a prison. I was invited to HMP Holloway, a women’s prison, by the library manager after she heard me talk at an Arts Alliance conference in London. Ben from the Koestler Trust talked for an hour before me, about how Koestler helps prisoners pursue various arts. I told the women my story, and credited the Koestler Trust for launching me as an author by way of their mentor scheme and the professional help provided by my mentor, Sally Hinchcliffe.
The room I spoke in was so packed that some women had to be turned away. Hearing about the conditions in Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s jail system really shocked them. Excerpts from my book and blog about the cockroaches, gang violence, going on the toilet in front of strangers, and food provoked many disturbed looks, groans, and further questions. An officer later said that the women went back to their cells relieved that their conditions weren’t as bad as what they’d just heard about.
At the end, I said one of the most useful things I learned while in prison was to be able to replace negative addictions with positive ones. I’m still a risk-taking personality type who likes to get his adrenalin pumping, but these days, instead of wild partying for thrills, I do stuff like go to the gym for BodyCombat and karate, which put me on a natural high. It’s just a matter of directing your energy away from drugs and into things that won’t get you in trouble.
There was an aspiring writer in the audience who is about to be released from prison. I chatted with her at the end. She’s in the process of applying to be on Koestler’s mentor scheme, and it’s my hope that she’ll soon be sharing some of her stories with us here at Jon’s Jail Journal.
The library manager sent me an email after the talk:
Shaun - what can I say? There has been a real buzz about the talk this morning and everyone found you totally engaging. Thank you so much for making the effort to come and share your story with us. It was actually worse than I imagined! I think it was incredibly powerful what you said at the end about how you really feel that there's still that part of you that wants to take risks and this could so easily take you in the wrong direction. But that’s its possible to channel your energies into more positive ways. Huge thanks again - it was a great morning.
Click here for my previous mentor session.
Post comments 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 P. Attwood
I just did my first talk at a prison. I was invited to HMP Holloway, a women’s prison, by the library manager after she heard me talk at an Arts Alliance conference in London. Ben from the Koestler Trust talked for an hour before me, about how Koestler helps prisoners pursue various arts. I told the women my story, and credited the Koestler Trust for launching me as an author by way of their mentor scheme and the professional help provided by my mentor, Sally Hinchcliffe.
The room I spoke in was so packed that some women had to be turned away. Hearing about the conditions in Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s jail system really shocked them. Excerpts from my book and blog about the cockroaches, gang violence, going on the toilet in front of strangers, and food provoked many disturbed looks, groans, and further questions. An officer later said that the women went back to their cells relieved that their conditions weren’t as bad as what they’d just heard about.
At the end, I said one of the most useful things I learned while in prison was to be able to replace negative addictions with positive ones. I’m still a risk-taking personality type who likes to get his adrenalin pumping, but these days, instead of wild partying for thrills, I do stuff like go to the gym for BodyCombat and karate, which put me on a natural high. It’s just a matter of directing your energy away from drugs and into things that won’t get you in trouble.
There was an aspiring writer in the audience who is about to be released from prison. I chatted with her at the end. She’s in the process of applying to be on Koestler’s mentor scheme, and it’s my hope that she’ll soon be sharing some of her stories with us here at Jon’s Jail Journal.
The library manager sent me an email after the talk:
Shaun - what can I say? There has been a real buzz about the talk this morning and everyone found you totally engaging. Thank you so much for making the effort to come and share your story with us. It was actually worse than I imagined! I think it was incredibly powerful what you said at the end about how you really feel that there's still that part of you that wants to take risks and this could so easily take you in the wrong direction. But that’s its possible to channel your energies into more positive ways. Huge thanks again - it was a great morning.
Click here for my previous mentor session.
Post comments 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 P. Attwood
Madejski Students Hear Real Jail Tales (by Laura Herbert at Get Reading)
A former stockbroker who served time in one of America’s toughest jails spoke to John Madejski Academy students about his life.
Shaun Attwood was arrested in 2002 for money laundering and drug offences after emigrating to Arizona where he threw raves and became heavily involved in drugs.
While serving 26 months on remand he started one of the first prison blogs, Jon’s Jail Journal.
Last Wednesday he visited students at the Whitley school to talk to them about drugs and crime.
Of the visit, Mr Attwood, 41, said: “The students were slow to ask questions, but once they got going there was no stopping them, and a group of boys stayed behind to ask me extra questions.
“It feels good to have this opportunity to influence the lives of young people, and to get such reactions and feedback from the audience.”
During his 26 months on remand, Mr Attwood was imprisoned at Maricopa County jail in Phoenix, Arizona, run by Sheriff Joe Arpaio.
His journal detailed the conditions of the jail that sparked outrage among human rights campaigners.
In 2004 he was sentenced to nine-and-a-half years for money laundering and drug offences and served almost six years.
The Hartland Road school’s lead teacher in anthropology Katie Royle added: “The presentation was truthful, honest and really well received by our students.
“Shaun was able to talk openly and in detail about the effect drugs had on his life and his experiences as a consequence.
“Our students really engaged with his honest and frank approach, and when offered the opportunity to question him we couldn’t stop them.
“Students were so affected by Shaun’s talk they even stayed behind to talk to him more and many have gone on to read his blog and email him.
“Shaun’s approachable nature has meant students really listened and took in his message.
“We will definitely be having him back very soon.”
Click here for the article.
Click here for Dawn of a New Adventure Part 7
Click here for info about my talk to schools
Post comments 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 P. Attwood
A former stockbroker who served time in one of America’s toughest jails spoke to John Madejski Academy students about his life.
Shaun Attwood was arrested in 2002 for money laundering and drug offences after emigrating to Arizona where he threw raves and became heavily involved in drugs.
While serving 26 months on remand he started one of the first prison blogs, Jon’s Jail Journal.
Last Wednesday he visited students at the Whitley school to talk to them about drugs and crime.
Of the visit, Mr Attwood, 41, said: “The students were slow to ask questions, but once they got going there was no stopping them, and a group of boys stayed behind to ask me extra questions.
“It feels good to have this opportunity to influence the lives of young people, and to get such reactions and feedback from the audience.”
During his 26 months on remand, Mr Attwood was imprisoned at Maricopa County jail in Phoenix, Arizona, run by Sheriff Joe Arpaio.
His journal detailed the conditions of the jail that sparked outrage among human rights campaigners.
In 2004 he was sentenced to nine-and-a-half years for money laundering and drug offences and served almost six years.
The Hartland Road school’s lead teacher in anthropology Katie Royle added: “The presentation was truthful, honest and really well received by our students.
“Shaun was able to talk openly and in detail about the effect drugs had on his life and his experiences as a consequence.
“Our students really engaged with his honest and frank approach, and when offered the opportunity to question him we couldn’t stop them.
“Students were so affected by Shaun’s talk they even stayed behind to talk to him more and many have gone on to read his blog and email him.
“Shaun’s approachable nature has meant students really listened and took in his message.
“We will definitely be having him back very soon.”
Click here for the article.
Click here for Dawn of a New Adventure Part 7
Click here for info about my talk to schools
Post comments 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 P. Attwood
Shopping in Prison (by the Occult Killer)
Dubbed the Occult Killer by the media, Brandon is serving 6 to 12 years in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania Department of Corrections. His crime: he killed his best friend in a drunk-driving accident. When police investigators discovered Gothic paraphernalia in his bedroom, they naturally concluded Brandon had committed a sacrificial murder for the benefit of Satan.
I’m bored, so I decided to write. I stocked up on commissary items like stationary and hygiene products. The only thing I need to figure out is contact solution. It somehow has to be bought through the infirmary. I bet that’s gonna get complicated. Perhaps if they dropped Neccos and Zagnut bars from the commissary list, they might have room for the solution. I’d love to have a typewriter, also, but: 1. Where would I put it and 2. There’s 1,000,000 weapons you could make out of its parts. All the rules and guidelines of this place, although strict, make sense except for two. At 11pm there is a standing head count. That would seem to make sense, BUT there is a standing head count when we are locked down at 10pm…yeah. The other thing that confuses me: CARNIES! (Austin Powers joke=very lame). No, actually the book thing confuses me (books can only come mailed from a bookseller). I guess they expect people sending hollowed-out Bibles with mini-chisel hammers inside. That would explain why they banned excessively large Marilyn Monroe posters. I’ll have to write TNT and tell them to stop playing The Shawshank Redemption, it is freaking out Sammy Hyder (the warden). Maybe I’ll threaten to dig through the wall with a plastic spoon, not like we actually get them anyway. Dad can explain that one, but in case he forgot: when you’re on psyche watch all you can eat with is a spoon. Now that I’m off it, one of the hardest things to come by is (you guessed it) A FRICKIN’ SPOON! I took the liberty of getting myself some coffee and cocoa. The only reason to get that stuff is to “wheel and deal” it. Everyone loves it. You could make “LCCF Espresso”: 3 coffees, 1 cocoa, 1 sugar. Wait! Something else that confuses me: sugar. You get 4-5 packets at breakfast every day. That’s 28-35 packets a week. Seems fine, except…they sell sugar on the commissary list. What’s worse is they actually keep track of the type of sugar they SELL and the type they GIVE OUT. At 4 cents a packet, why trouble themselves.
Click here to read the Occult Killer’s previous blog.
Click here to read more from the Occult Killer at Prison Mom by Sue O.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Post comments and questions for the Occult Killer 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 P. Attwood
Dubbed the Occult Killer by the media, Brandon is serving 6 to 12 years in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania Department of Corrections. His crime: he killed his best friend in a drunk-driving accident. When police investigators discovered Gothic paraphernalia in his bedroom, they naturally concluded Brandon had committed a sacrificial murder for the benefit of Satan.
I’m bored, so I decided to write. I stocked up on commissary items like stationary and hygiene products. The only thing I need to figure out is contact solution. It somehow has to be bought through the infirmary. I bet that’s gonna get complicated. Perhaps if they dropped Neccos and Zagnut bars from the commissary list, they might have room for the solution. I’d love to have a typewriter, also, but: 1. Where would I put it and 2. There’s 1,000,000 weapons you could make out of its parts. All the rules and guidelines of this place, although strict, make sense except for two. At 11pm there is a standing head count. That would seem to make sense, BUT there is a standing head count when we are locked down at 10pm…yeah. The other thing that confuses me: CARNIES! (Austin Powers joke=very lame). No, actually the book thing confuses me (books can only come mailed from a bookseller). I guess they expect people sending hollowed-out Bibles with mini-chisel hammers inside. That would explain why they banned excessively large Marilyn Monroe posters. I’ll have to write TNT and tell them to stop playing The Shawshank Redemption, it is freaking out Sammy Hyder (the warden). Maybe I’ll threaten to dig through the wall with a plastic spoon, not like we actually get them anyway. Dad can explain that one, but in case he forgot: when you’re on psyche watch all you can eat with is a spoon. Now that I’m off it, one of the hardest things to come by is (you guessed it) A FRICKIN’ SPOON! I took the liberty of getting myself some coffee and cocoa. The only reason to get that stuff is to “wheel and deal” it. Everyone loves it. You could make “LCCF Espresso”: 3 coffees, 1 cocoa, 1 sugar. Wait! Something else that confuses me: sugar. You get 4-5 packets at breakfast every day. That’s 28-35 packets a week. Seems fine, except…they sell sugar on the commissary list. What’s worse is they actually keep track of the type of sugar they SELL and the type they GIVE OUT. At 4 cents a packet, why trouble themselves.
Click here to read the Occult Killer’s previous blog.
Click here to read more from the Occult Killer at Prison Mom by Sue O.
Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Post comments and questions for the Occult Killer 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 P. Attwood
Changes at Perryville Women’s Prison (Part 3 by Lifer Renee)
Renee – As a teenager, Renee received a 60-year sentence from a judge in Pima County. 15 years into her sentence, she’s writing from Perryville prison in Goodyear, Arizona, providing a rare and unique insight into a women's prison.
An officer pulled up in a truck with the mail bin. He got out and went to the control room. He was stood there with the mail bin waiting to be let into the control room.
“Just drop it by the door,” the yard officer yelled. The mail is supposed to be a secure item.
The officer with the mail looked at the other in disbelief, and did just that: dropped the mail bin in front of the control-room door, not secured and with everyone running around on the yard.
The yard officer eventually got up, got the bin, and went into the control room with it. A few minutes late,r he walked out with the bin, set it on a bench, and proceeded to have the inmates help him sort the mail by pods [living quarters]. It was a mob scene with all the inmates swarming around him. Some complained he shouldn’t be doing the mail like that.
“Hey, if you bitch about how I’m doing it, I’ll just reroute it all!”
Ms. Smittey, who’s been here for almost 40 years, leant over to me. “He’s not supposed to be doing that.”
“I know.”
We all wanted our mail, so we couldn’t say too much because we wouldn’t have received it. Then he would have instigated the inmates “to handle” whoever was complaining.
I retrieved my mail and left the mob. I looked around the yard, and the lazy guard hadn’t even turned the sun lights on. It was dark with the exception of the track lights and the cell lights that were on.
Click here for Renee's previous blog
Renee – As a teenager, Renee received a 60-year sentence from a judge in Pima County. 15 years into her sentence, she’s writing from Perryville prison in Goodyear, Arizona, providing a rare and unique insight into a women's prison.
An officer pulled up in a truck with the mail bin. He got out and went to the control room. He was stood there with the mail bin waiting to be let into the control room.
“Just drop it by the door,” the yard officer yelled. The mail is supposed to be a secure item.
The officer with the mail looked at the other in disbelief, and did just that: dropped the mail bin in front of the control-room door, not secured and with everyone running around on the yard.
The yard officer eventually got up, got the bin, and went into the control room with it. A few minutes late,r he walked out with the bin, set it on a bench, and proceeded to have the inmates help him sort the mail by pods [living quarters]. It was a mob scene with all the inmates swarming around him. Some complained he shouldn’t be doing the mail like that.
“Hey, if you bitch about how I’m doing it, I’ll just reroute it all!”
Ms. Smittey, who’s been here for almost 40 years, leant over to me. “He’s not supposed to be doing that.”
“I know.”
We all wanted our mail, so we couldn’t say too much because we wouldn’t have received it. Then he would have instigated the inmates “to handle” whoever was complaining.
I retrieved my mail and left the mob. I looked around the yard, and the lazy guard hadn’t even turned the sun lights on. It was dark with the exception of the track lights and the cell lights that were on.
Click here for Renee's previous blog
Shaun Attwood
From Polish Avenger (Letter 2)
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, the accomplices can get 25-year sentences.
Ever have that childhood nightmare of having the toilet right up at the front of the classroom? Well, that’s what we’ve got in the prison they recently moved us to. The bathroom is six meters wide, and the only thing next to the thunderpot is a tiny wall half a meter wide – the feet and knees definitely stick out! And so we all had to adapt quickly or get severely backed up. Myself, I find it rather amusing, and just settle in with a book or a cup of joe. Might as well provide some entertainment, right? Hmm…
So I obviously survived the big move. Other than the toilet, it’s not a bad place here, really. Naturally, not everyone is as pleased about it. Particularly those who got laid off, like Jack! But, by and large, the plusses outweigh the minuses. I rather like it, myself. Better dorms, much better food, decent exercise equipment – even medicine balls and ab wheels! And I have a rather tremendous job over at the construction class making 40 cents an hour. So, as ever, I’m pleased. Plus I’ve got a little spot reserved for yoga, so what could go wrong? Hmmm…hold that thought!
Click here for Polish Avenger’s first letter.
Click here for Polish Avenger’s previous blog.
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 P. 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, the accomplices can get 25-year sentences.
Ever have that childhood nightmare of having the toilet right up at the front of the classroom? Well, that’s what we’ve got in the prison they recently moved us to. The bathroom is six meters wide, and the only thing next to the thunderpot is a tiny wall half a meter wide – the feet and knees definitely stick out! And so we all had to adapt quickly or get severely backed up. Myself, I find it rather amusing, and just settle in with a book or a cup of joe. Might as well provide some entertainment, right? Hmm…
So I obviously survived the big move. Other than the toilet, it’s not a bad place here, really. Naturally, not everyone is as pleased about it. Particularly those who got laid off, like Jack! But, by and large, the plusses outweigh the minuses. I rather like it, myself. Better dorms, much better food, decent exercise equipment – even medicine balls and ab wheels! And I have a rather tremendous job over at the construction class making 40 cents an hour. So, as ever, I’m pleased. Plus I’ve got a little spot reserved for yoga, so what could go wrong? Hmmm…hold that thought!
Click here for Polish Avenger’s first letter.
Click here for Polish Avenger’s previous blog.
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 P. Attwood
Avoidable Tensions (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.
Walking through the gate, I looked around the crowded recreation yard for a place to sit. The eight picnic tables located at each corner of the yard were full. Chicanos were sat at and loitering around the two southern tables. Whites did the same to the west, and blacks to the east. At the two tables to the north, a smaller group of convicts of mixed races idly chatted while playing spades. All appeared normal on the high-medium-custody yard.
Keeping an eye on the large crowd of Chicanos, I walked over to the northern most table. I’d heard rumors that the Chicanos had beef with the blacks. A black had arrived on the yard who’d jacked Wedo, a low-level Mafioso, for four grams of heroin. The brothers wouldn’t give him up to the Chicanos, so tensions were high between the two races.
“I think there’s a meeting tonight between all of the heads of the races,” John told me as I stood next to the half-breed youngster who, like me, hadn’t clicked-up with the gangs. The shot-callers of each race on the yard would sit down and discuss their problem tonight. Probably suggested and arranged by prison staff, as they’re usually privy to such tensions and want peace and quiet.
Hours later, the heads of the Chicanos, blacks, Native Americans, and whites all met and discussed their mutual interests, and the problem. It got heated and the black leader walked out of the meeting. “Nobody touches him, or it’s on,” were his parting words.
The next morning in the chow line, I watched the guards amassing just outside the dining room. They knew something was going to happen. Instead of locking the yard down, they stupidly tried to stop the inevitable with a show of force. It failed.
After an hour of feeding uneventfully, a group of guards was escorting a mass of convicts from chow back to the housing unit. Suddenly and completely unexpectedly, the mob of prisoners exploded in violence. Chicanos instantly began punching and kicking any black nearby. Blacks fought back the best they could, but being outnumbered six to one, they were falling and fleeing within minutes.
The melee was over in ten minutes. Long before the guards could intervene. Six blacks were hospitalised, one with multiple stab wounds and head trauma. Two Chicanos refused medical care for razor cuts to their arms. One white boy was hospitalised after accidentally getting in the way of a stray punch that shattered his jaw. The black who’d caused this had rolled-up and left the yard in the middle of the night. Nobody knew this till afterwards. The guards knew, but said nothing.
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.
Walking through the gate, I looked around the crowded recreation yard for a place to sit. The eight picnic tables located at each corner of the yard were full. Chicanos were sat at and loitering around the two southern tables. Whites did the same to the west, and blacks to the east. At the two tables to the north, a smaller group of convicts of mixed races idly chatted while playing spades. All appeared normal on the high-medium-custody yard.
Keeping an eye on the large crowd of Chicanos, I walked over to the northern most table. I’d heard rumors that the Chicanos had beef with the blacks. A black had arrived on the yard who’d jacked Wedo, a low-level Mafioso, for four grams of heroin. The brothers wouldn’t give him up to the Chicanos, so tensions were high between the two races.
“I think there’s a meeting tonight between all of the heads of the races,” John told me as I stood next to the half-breed youngster who, like me, hadn’t clicked-up with the gangs. The shot-callers of each race on the yard would sit down and discuss their problem tonight. Probably suggested and arranged by prison staff, as they’re usually privy to such tensions and want peace and quiet.
Hours later, the heads of the Chicanos, blacks, Native Americans, and whites all met and discussed their mutual interests, and the problem. It got heated and the black leader walked out of the meeting. “Nobody touches him, or it’s on,” were his parting words.
The next morning in the chow line, I watched the guards amassing just outside the dining room. They knew something was going to happen. Instead of locking the yard down, they stupidly tried to stop the inevitable with a show of force. It failed.
After an hour of feeding uneventfully, a group of guards was escorting a mass of convicts from chow back to the housing unit. Suddenly and completely unexpectedly, the mob of prisoners exploded in violence. Chicanos instantly began punching and kicking any black nearby. Blacks fought back the best they could, but being outnumbered six to one, they were falling and fleeing within minutes.
The melee was over in ten minutes. Long before the guards could intervene. Six blacks were hospitalised, one with multiple stab wounds and head trauma. Two Chicanos refused medical care for razor cuts to their arms. One white boy was hospitalised after accidentally getting in the way of a stray punch that shattered his jaw. The black who’d caused this had rolled-up and left the yard in the middle of the night. Nobody knew this till afterwards. The guards knew, but said nothing.
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
Dawn of a New Adventure (Part 7)
I did 3 talks to schools last year, which led me to believe that the talks would take a long time to build. Now all of a sudden, I’m doing 2 to 3 a week. Teachers are telling other teachers about my talk, and I’m getting inundated with calls and emails. I even had an enquiry from as far away as China. Audience reactions have ranged from girls crying over the jail conditions to boys mobbing me at the end with questions. The teachers are generally inviting me back on the spot. It’s great to see the young people showing so much interest in my story, and how it’s affecting them.
Here's an email I got from a student after a talk: "Thank you so much for coming in to speak to us all today. I found it really interesting. It was a moving, yet extremely powerful story and has made me think twice about my future and staying as far away as possible from all drugs." Matt Northwood (February 2010)
Local newspapers have been reporting on my talks, and one even made a video of me with some of the pupils. Click here to see the video.
I talked to my largest audience this morning, 400 students at Weydon School in Farnham. I stayed behind for an extra 15 minutes answering questions.
Last Friday, I saw a brilliant play in London called Slaves, about prisoners and guards. Written by Rex Obano, an ex-prison employee, the dialogue and accuracy of detail were spot on. The expressions on the actors were so accurate, I actually got flashbacks to prison. It was an extremely high standard of work, and by far the best play I’ve seen since getting released.
If you wish to see Slaves, click here for more info.
Thanks for all of the book-title suggestions! They're under review by my publisher.
Click here for Dawn of a New Adventure (Part 6)
Post comments 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 P. Attwood
I did 3 talks to schools last year, which led me to believe that the talks would take a long time to build. Now all of a sudden, I’m doing 2 to 3 a week. Teachers are telling other teachers about my talk, and I’m getting inundated with calls and emails. I even had an enquiry from as far away as China. Audience reactions have ranged from girls crying over the jail conditions to boys mobbing me at the end with questions. The teachers are generally inviting me back on the spot. It’s great to see the young people showing so much interest in my story, and how it’s affecting them.
Here's an email I got from a student after a talk: "Thank you so much for coming in to speak to us all today. I found it really interesting. It was a moving, yet extremely powerful story and has made me think twice about my future and staying as far away as possible from all drugs." Matt Northwood (February 2010)
Local newspapers have been reporting on my talks, and one even made a video of me with some of the pupils. Click here to see the video.
I talked to my largest audience this morning, 400 students at Weydon School in Farnham. I stayed behind for an extra 15 minutes answering questions.
Last Friday, I saw a brilliant play in London called Slaves, about prisoners and guards. Written by Rex Obano, an ex-prison employee, the dialogue and accuracy of detail were spot on. The expressions on the actors were so accurate, I actually got flashbacks to prison. It was an extremely high standard of work, and by far the best play I’ve seen since getting released.
If you wish to see Slaves, click here for more info.
Thanks for all of the book-title suggestions! They're under review by my publisher.
Click here for Dawn of a New Adventure (Part 6)
Post comments 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 P. Attwood
Book Title Needed
My publisher and parents feel the title of my jail memoir, Green Baloney and Pink Boxers, is too difficult to understand. So now the book needs a new title. My suggestion is Surviving Sheriff Joe's Jail. If you have a better title, something so brilliant that me and my publisher and parents won't be able to resist it, please post it in the comments section below. If it's used, you'll be getting a free signed copy.
Here's the blurb to help you put your book-title thinking caps on:
This book is an account of the 26 months Shaun Attwood spent in the jail system run by the infamous Sheriff Joe Arpaio in Phoenix, Arizona. It begins with a SWAT team knocking Shaun’s door down, and his arrest for heading an organisation that threw raves and distributed club drugs. Initially, Shaun goes into shock as he’s submerged into a nightmarish world of gang violence, insect-infested cells and food unfit for animals. But with the love and support of his family and fiancée, Claudia, he slowly adapts. Other prisoners Shaun meets on his journey tell their stories. His large and fearless friend since childhood, Wild Man, pops up all over the place with his unique brand of chaos. Shaun’s situation devastates his loved ones, and his mother has a nervous breakdown. The prosecutor and Detective Reid are out to get Shaun a life sentence, and the legal developments cause many emotional ups and downs. Over time, Shaun tries to avoid getting smashed by forming various alliances, including with the Italian Mafia and the independent tough guy, Joe. Shaun increasingly uses jail time for learning and introspection. He takes up yoga, and ponders the big questions in philosophy. The letters he writes home, which make his family both laugh and cry, tell such a graphic tale that his parents encourage him to write more in order to document his incarceration. Towards the end of his stay and with the help of his family, he starts the blog, Jon’s Jail Journal, to expose the conditions and human rights violations. The book ends with his family flying over from England for a sentencing hearing that has everyone on the verge of mental collapse.
Post comments 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 P. Attwood
My publisher and parents feel the title of my jail memoir, Green Baloney and Pink Boxers, is too difficult to understand. So now the book needs a new title. My suggestion is Surviving Sheriff Joe's Jail. If you have a better title, something so brilliant that me and my publisher and parents won't be able to resist it, please post it in the comments section below. If it's used, you'll be getting a free signed copy.
Here's the blurb to help you put your book-title thinking caps on:
This book is an account of the 26 months Shaun Attwood spent in the jail system run by the infamous Sheriff Joe Arpaio in Phoenix, Arizona. It begins with a SWAT team knocking Shaun’s door down, and his arrest for heading an organisation that threw raves and distributed club drugs. Initially, Shaun goes into shock as he’s submerged into a nightmarish world of gang violence, insect-infested cells and food unfit for animals. But with the love and support of his family and fiancée, Claudia, he slowly adapts. Other prisoners Shaun meets on his journey tell their stories. His large and fearless friend since childhood, Wild Man, pops up all over the place with his unique brand of chaos. Shaun’s situation devastates his loved ones, and his mother has a nervous breakdown. The prosecutor and Detective Reid are out to get Shaun a life sentence, and the legal developments cause many emotional ups and downs. Over time, Shaun tries to avoid getting smashed by forming various alliances, including with the Italian Mafia and the independent tough guy, Joe. Shaun increasingly uses jail time for learning and introspection. He takes up yoga, and ponders the big questions in philosophy. The letters he writes home, which make his family both laugh and cry, tell such a graphic tale that his parents encourage him to write more in order to document his incarceration. Towards the end of his stay and with the help of his family, he starts the blog, Jon’s Jail Journal, to expose the conditions and human rights violations. The book ends with his family flying over from England for a sentencing hearing that has everyone on the verge of mental collapse.
Post comments 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 P. Attwood
Interview by Jon Ronson
I was recently interviewed by Jon Ronson, the writer, documentary maker, and author of The Men Who Stare at Goats. Jon is such a good interviewer, I didn't know notice when the general chitchat between us stopped and the interview began. The questions I expected, he never asked, resulting in an interview that covered new and unusual ground. Oddly enough, Jon went to the same club as me, The Thunderdome, when raving began in Manchester.
Click here to listen to the show on BBC Radio 4.
I was recently interviewed by Jon Ronson, the writer, documentary maker, and author of The Men Who Stare at Goats. Jon is such a good interviewer, I didn't know notice when the general chitchat between us stopped and the interview began. The questions I expected, he never asked, resulting in an interview that covered new and unusual ground. Oddly enough, Jon went to the same club as me, The Thunderdome, when raving began in Manchester.
Click here to listen to the show on BBC Radio 4.
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