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Sep 17, 2006 - 03:14 PM |
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Prison Life |
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March 30, 2004 - Present
A quick note before I continue. Apparently I confused some people. The first time I did time, in jail, it was because I was held in custody while fighting my case. Which meant I was going to get out after serving a sentence I would later be convicted for, given bail, an OR (which I got), or winning my case. When, by the miraculous coincidence I explained already, I got out of jail in 2003, it didn`t mean my case was dismissed. It simply meant I now had the opportunity to fight my case from the outside world instead of jail. When I took a deal and plead guilty, I was later sentenced and not given probation but sent to prison. So now I continue from there.
So the judge, having sentenced me to a 2-5 year sentence, gave me the very minimum he could have given me for the 2-20 I plead guilty to. The max would have been an 8-20. But still, it was little consolation. The bailiff handcuffed me, and I was taken to some brand new holding area. I called Lenore and my mother from there, both were obviously crushed.
Later I was moved to a cell. The feeling was so disgusting. Even seeing old faces that obviously hadn`t made it out since the last time I had been there nine months before. When I woke up the next day, and saw those same fucking walls, it was crushing. Like a bad dream that was reality upon opening my eyes. I`m not gonna get too angsty with this shit though, so don`t worry.
On April the 9th, 2004 I was moved to High Desert State Prison. About 30 miles north of Las Vegas. Nothing but mountains and desert all around. This was a maximum security prison also used as classification. The fish tank. Unfortunately for me, it meant being put in a cell, by myself, from April 9th until May 18th. I never left that cell except for an hour every three days to make a quick phone call and shower. Because all sorts of criminals were kept in that prison during the classification process (the process that decides what prison you will be sent to) everyone was isolated this way. I was allowed nothing. Just a notepad, envelopes, stamps, and a short pencil. I couldn`t read or watch or hear anything. All I had time to do was think about what the hell I was going to do with my next two years. If ever I can look back at a time when I may have eventually gone insane, that was it. I even had to eat in that cell. To pass the time I`d keep my oranges and eventually learned to juggle up to five at a time. I couldn`t make my sundials because the windows looked at concrete walls. It was during this time that Lenore informed me about the shit Belgara was saying about me on the board. And the shit I`ve yet to find that other members supposedly said. It wasn`t the best time to hear this.
The prison, High Desert, is actually the setting for some boxing movie called Undisputed. Ving Raymes, that big black bastard from Pulp Fiction, is in it. I think.
Eventually I was moved across the street (literally) to the Southern Desert Correctional Center, a medium security prison. This is where I would stay for the greatest part of my next two years. Not a lot to recount here really. My daughter, Vanessa, was born November 19, 2004. Made her about a month and a half before I was sent to prison.
I tried to occupy my time the best way I could. Back in 1996 I dropped out of the tenth grade. That`s another story. So in September of 2004 I got my GED: After slamming through the classes offered onsite at the prison, I got my (adult) High School diploma May of 2005. Sad, really, but some inmates take up to five years to complete that shit. I even started some courses I never finished (because I was paroled) through the Community College extension. Free too, since I was under 25. I took Life SKills, Sociology 101, and Business and Marketing. Not sure what good any of this will do me in this country, but fuck it.
I ran and ran everyday. You`d think I did nothing but lift weights there, but I kept away from that. I needed something that would exhaust me enough to not think, and running did it for me. I got to the point of running five miles every other day. I also got into playing handball, which is a sport that, now that I think of it, you only seem to see in prison movies. You basically slap the shit out of a blue tennis racket ball against a wall with an opponent or with a partner against another pair.
Fuck am I talking about handball for? Anyway, that was pretty much life in prison. I only got in about three fist fights, but I`ll only describe the last one for entertainment value later on.
In April, 2005, Lenore left me. I`m not going to get into the reasons, but it was unavoidable it seems. I was crushed. She was like the anchor to my life out there. Without her I really was all alone in the horrible world I was in. The next few months were misery. But, coincidentally and thank God, about a week after she left me I got a surprise letter from Sass explaining to me the Zephyrin situation, asking if I could help get him unbanned, and generally asking about me too. I was mad with Gamingforce at the time, but I still missed you bastards. So I replied, helped Zeph out, and it turns out starting corresponding with Sass until the day I stopped doing time. Zeph wrote me too, and helped me correspond with lurker. So these distractions, aside from being pleasant, helped me deal with my loss with Lenore. Before prison and jail I, for the most part, detested Sass. But when it counted she was the one that was there for me. I`ll never forget that.
A little our of order here but I was first eligible to get out in August of 2005. Which, if you count the time credited I did in County 2002-2003, was the two year mark on my 2-5 year sentence. Unfortunately the parole board didn`t think I was ready, so I was denied. I got over it though.
This year, January, I saw the Parole board again, and this time they granted me parole. That was also the same month I reunited with Lenore... Though I`m not sure how our relationship will survive where I am now. =/
(Quick fight story. For months my last cell mate, at one time a good friend, would wake me up two hours before breakfast call because he was so noisy when making his coffee. I swear, the need for caffeine woke his ass up in the morning and I had to pay because I`d have to stay up once he started his process. MONTHS I endured this. I tried to talk to him, we`d reach compromises, but he never respected them.
Finally (funny though because it was three days before I was released to immigration custody and in my stupidity risked losing the parole I was granted) I jumped down from my top bunk (I always did prefer the top bunk) after he woke me up and stood between him and the fucking coffee pot in a confrontational stance.
Will: You got a problem?
OO: I think you know the answer.
Will: Come on man, we`ve talked about this before.
OO: I don`t want to talk about this anymore.
Will: Oh, so it`s always about what YOU want in here being done. Who cares about what I think...
OO: Nagging at me like a woman is only making me madder.
Will: Oh, so now I gotta stop talking because YOU`RE GETTING MAD!?
Bam, I charged him. I must have thrown about 20 hard, straight punches at him. I didn`t feel a thing... I wasn`t sure if I just didn`t feel because of the adrenaline or if he just didn`t get a shot in on me. Eventually he ducks down, wraps his arms around my waist, and starts rushing me back towards the cell door. Luckily as I fall I twist my body and I land on top of him. Sadly, the top of my head hits the cell door, but at the time I didn`t know. I hop up while he`s still down and start punching his fucking head. At this point I`ve lost it. As I`m throwing at him I`m hysterically yelling at him "is this what you wanted all along!?" It was nuts. He works his way up to his feet but I just throw him back down and continue. He`s lucky I was punching his head and not his face, or that I didn`t decide to just stomp on him. Finally he says some shit like "John, you`re gonna get us in trouble" like a straight woman. But it calms me down, because at this point I know that if I`m caught I lose my parole. So I tell him to get in the corner of the room and I stand by the door for a half hour until breakfast is called. I had to feed that son of a bitch with my own money so he wouldn`t have to leave the cell to eat in the chow hall and have the cops see his face. Fucking Washington State piece of shit. He was bigger than me, but had me by about fifteen years. I kind of feel bad about this incident now. About an hour later my head hurt from the bump I had after hitting the door. Also, my chin hurt slightly, he must have gotten a good shot in on it at some point.
Anyhow! On March 13, 2006, I was released from prison into the custody of immigration. This time, as a felon, I was not eligible for bail like the last time they had me. I was fucked. It was basically fight for your right to stay in this country (and some were fighting for up to eight years in that jail) or sign papers and be deported. And I did fight, for two months, until it became clear it was never going to happen. I was a felon. And to top it off, I had NEVER had any legal papers because, although I myself should have done something once I was an adult, my mother stayed away from legalizing us out of fear of getting us deported. So my 22 years in the States didn`t matter, nor the fact that I had two children.
I believe it was May the 10th I signed. On the 23rd I spoke to the Guatemalan consulate and they confirmed I was a citizen of this country. On the 24th I was moved to Florence, Arizona. Some sort of Federal Facility there for illegals being flown around the world. On May 31st I was dropped off in the Guatemalan capital, where my father picked me up. And here I am now. You all pretty much know the rest of the story.
All in all I served 1032 days. 240 the first time, and 792 this last time. 34 months. Two years, ten months. However the hell you want to look at it.
Oftentimes you think of prison, jail, whatever as a place that you stay at... Simply a loss of freedom, of liberty. But I saw it as something a little different. I saw it was a place that simultaneously kept me from all the people and things I loved, while keeping me around some of the worst people this world has to offer. I appreciate being out of prison, but I`m still without the family I created, my friends, my country. In many ways, I`ve yet to completely feel free.
If there`s anything you guys want me to go into greater detail about, or think I missed, let me know. But for now I think I`m done.
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