Tag: doing time

Groundhog Day

On By In Holidays, In This World2 Comments

My day today started at 4:45am with the arrival of Kyzer, a German Shepherd I’m currently training. It’s foggy outside, real foggy. I now understand why they call this London, Ohio. It looks like I won’t be able to get any training outside this morning, as this place will count us over and over again until the fog vanishes, and even then they sometimes keep counting. The whole morning is shot.

I just remembered that today is a holiday. It’s no surprise, really, that I’d forget such a thing, as everyday here is like the previous one. Groundhog Day to the extreme. I’m not complaining, mind you; routine is a good thing in This World. Most of the time I pay no attention to the holidays, as I’ve long since stopped paying attention to time. But for what it’s worth, two of my favorite holidays are New Year’s and the Fourth of July. New Year’s because it’s a holiday of renewal and optimism, and partly because all kinds of crazy stuff usually happens here; the Fourth of July, because I grew up in a very patriotic family, and love of country was instilled in us kids at an early age. The 4th was always a special event. I miss the cookouts with family and the fun times…I wonder what the Fourth of July meal will be today?

I just got back from lunch; bland macaroni (no cheese), cold shredded cabbage with vinegar, an orange, and a processed chicken patty. I’m pretty sure the patty is all butts, innards, feet, and beaks. I once watched a special on how no part of a chicken is wasted, and how these parts become processed “patties”, or find their way into dog food…. Whatever happened to hotdogs and burgers?

The fog finally rolled away, and we were allowed movement. I tried training Kyzer, but he wasn’t having any of it. He lasted all of 10 minutes in the 92F heat. Damn the fog; a day wasted. I feel annoyed now.

I’m back on my bunk sweating my ass off. My clock reads 95F. Kyzer has gone for the day. I’m sitting in front of my 8″ fan, praying for relief. I think I’m gonna lay here for the rest of the afternoon and sweat. If I weren’t so hot I’d get up and go take a cold shower, but that involves standing in a long line in a hot and steamy bathroom. I’m gonna make a go at a cat nap first. Someone just told me that the guard is calling for me for some reason. What could he possibly want?

Wow. Someone just dropped off their dog for two weeks of boarding and left no instructions, other than to say they’ll be on vacation, the dog’s name is Jax, here’s some food, dog treats, and two weeks of prepaid boarding tickets (it’s how I get paid). When I asked the guard who dropped the dog off, he simply said, “I don’t know.” Well bud, do ya think you could find out? After some calling around, NO ONE seems to know whose dog this is. Someone must be dead serious about that vacation.

So, today is the Fourth of July. When I was a boy, my dad always took us kids to Washington, D.C. to the clock tower overlooking the Potomac and the mall to watch the fireworks. We lived in northern Virginia, and D.C. was just 20 minutes away. From our perch on the hill, we were close to the fireworks-VERY close, and you felt each explosion reverberate through your entire body. Each burst flash-lit the dark landscape. It was amazing, fun, and awe inspiring. When I grew older, I still went to see the fireworks, except now it was with friends and coworkers. I always staked out the same spots where Dad took us as kids. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to see the fireworks in D.C. again.

Earlier I was in the dayroom watching the world news. Two Muslim inmates were having an animated discussion amongst themselves, about how shameful it is to have a military parade today in our nation’s capital. What? I think it’s shameful that they take for granted that they can say it’s shameful to put on a parade. One of them, coincidentally, was a former cell mate of mine 17 years ago. Unbeknownst to him I had a brother in the Army pulling his first tour in Iraq, when one night after watching the news he turned to me and said, “American troops are terrorists and must die.” Needless to say, I instantly had a hands on understanding with him.

I’m looking out of my window and I can see fireworks. They’re part of the show that the city of London is putting on. Every year they put on a show, and this year is their best one yet. Man, they spent some money this time around. The economy must be good out there.

The show is over now, and it lifted my spirit. It made me remember how much I used to like this day. I hope I can sleep tonight in this heat, because tomorrow comes quickly. I need to be up at 4:30am to receive Kyzer again. Just another Groundhog Day, but I’m not complaining.

*If you enjoyed this post, please like and share with your friends. In the meantime, I’ll keep writing for you! Also, if you know of other blogs written by inmates, please let me know because I enjoy reading what other guys write. Frankly, it helps keep me sane.

—Christopher

Cry Baby, Santa, and the Easter Bunny

On By In Holidays3 Comments

Someone once asked me what the holidays are like here. I chuckled to myself before answering. That’s actually a very good question. Well, I thought, there’s many ways I could answer this question and none of them are short and sweet. So I simply said, “If you only knew.” I was part serious and part kidding. Nothing here is normal during the holidays!

This is originally part of an entry from my journal from 2017. Before I wrote for all of you, I used to write just for myself. It’s a form of self-therapy and my way of staying focused. After some consideration, I’ve decided to share it with you in this post. So, let’s get on with it I say.

The holidays are the hardest time of the year for anyone incarcerated. Guys get depressed and irritable. They mope. They drift. This time of the year magnifies the truth of your situation; that you cannot be with the ones that you love because of your actions. For most guys, the holidays are the exclamation point behind this fact. Mercifully, the holidays become less painful as time progresses, especially if you’ve been pulling a long sentence. It has nothing to do with caring less, but everything to do with learning how to cope. You learn how to control your emotions and how to distract yourself enough from always thinking of home. You also learn how to deal with those around you better.

As I write, it’s Thanksgiving 2017. The holidays have arrived again. I always throw myself a celebration, usually centered around making something to eat. Inmates call it making a ‘break’ (which, to thoroughly confuse all of you, in This World can be meant as a verb as in “He’s breaking,” or a noun, as in “I made a break,” or even an adjective, as in “Let’s break.”). This year was no different. I made burritos and ate enough food to feed a small village, me and a couple of guys, and I’ll do it again on Christmas and New Year’s. It’s how I celebrate the holidays and it’s how I stay grounded.

It wasn’t always like this for me though. Several years passed before I stopped feeling sorry for myself during the holidays. This time of the year used to be very depressing and I loathed it. But once I took responsibility for my situation, and began viewing life through a new lens, the holidays became happy for me again. Yeah, I’ve had my bad moments over the holidays. There’s tension amongst the inmate population and it is easy to run into someone who is irritated or pissed off. As an example, using the phones during the holidays can be downright harrowing. At my institution there are six phones in every cell block, all of them situated in a tiny room that’s shaped like a gas chamber. This is better than some institutions in the country, but still crappy because there are only six phones for hundreds of inmates.

Six…phones.

On Thanksgiving, everyone wants to call home. You’re lucky to get a hold of a phone let alone one when you need to. As a result emotions run high for some guys. It’s common to hear arguments. Yet, Thanksgiving pales in comparison to one other holiday: Christmas.

Christmas is the worst! Not only does everyone use the telephone, but there’s always guys who are visibly irritated. Throw in that one idiot who is always on the phone yelling at his wife or girlfriend and you have a powder keg awaiting ignition.

Then you have those that are simply grumpy because they hate themselves and they hate life. You may not notice them at first but they’re around. I always keep an eye out for these types. These are the men that go from zero to Cry Baby in the blink of an eye over the stupidest things.

“Hey, you grabbed the phone I wanted!”

“You’re talking too loud!”

“You’re redialing!”

Wah-wah.

I can’t begin to tell you how annoying it is to hear someone cry because you’ve redialed. First off, the phone system here sucks. It’s like this at institutions the country over. Calls constantly get dropped for no apparent reason; the phone you’re on decides to work intermittently; the sound cuts you in and out; you can’t hear your caller, and the list goes on. Every offender in the country can attest to this. Redialing has become almost a recognized finger sport it’s so bad.

There will never come a time where I will forfeit talking to my family just because someone doesn’t like it. Not going to happen. Sometimes this becomes confrontational. Early in my incarceration I literally fought, had to hit Cry Baby with the very receiver my father was on over something like this. All the while I could hear my father wondering what was happening on my end. I could hear him calling my name!

Then, when it was over, I went back to my conversation. It may sound crazy, but I tell you this is common during the holidays. Everyone expects something to happen, that’s how bad it is. You get used to it though.

What about other guys?

Many times I’ve been the one on the phone as the man next to me fought someone over the exact same thing. This always makes talking on the phone an adventure. There’s little space in the phone room as it is. When a fight erupts, those of us on the phones engage in a type of dance, moving and weaving around the two men fighting. Every time this happens I find myself thinking that hopefully they finish soon—there’s only 15 minutes per call.

Of course, the holidays are what you make of them. Guys around here can be a joking lot, and contrary to popular thought, there is a lot of laughter that goes on.

It seems like every Christmas someone dresses up as Santa Claus, or the festiveness of the holiday sparks someone to decorate the area. During years past, my institution has even held holiday decoration contests where we are encouraged to participate in decorating the housing unit. When I was at the higher security levels, this consisted of decorating your cell door or perhaps a community area in the cell block. It is awkward to be sure, as hardened cons resolutely refuse to participate, and you are guaranteed to hear about it if you participate.

However, in minimum security it’s different. The old school inmates here are men who have earned their way down, and most of them have long since shed that type of mentality. Holiday decorating consists of decorating all the communal areas as most facilities at this level do not have cells but open dorm bunk style plans. Frankly, it’s quite a sight to behold. Convicts tattooed from head to foot, rapists, thieves, and drug addicts all together in a shared common purpose: to celebrate the holiday season. The other 51 weeks of the year half of these men wouldn’t dare talk to the other half! Let alone cut out a construction paper snowflake. I smile thinking about it.

One more story before I go. Last year at Christmas, I went outside to walk in the freshly falling snow. Most guys stay off the yard when the weather is like that, but for me it’s a moment of peace and beauty in a dark and violent world. When I returned from my walk, I had barely thawed when I noticed that there was candy on my bunk. Out of fear of perpetuating a stereotype (‘never accept the candy on your pillow!), I was immediately suspicious. Who in the world would do such a thing? I wondered. At the moment where I had convinced myself that I had to get to the bottom of such a lewd joke, I turned and noticed that ALL the bunks had candy on them! What in tarnation, I thought, is going on?

“Hey, Christopher!” someone shouted from across the way. It was my friend Miami (and yes, he’s from Miami).

“What?” I said, but didn’t look.

“Ho-ho-ho!” he replied.

I looked and to my chagrin, there was Miami, his laundry net bag in hand full of candy as he went bunk to bunk passing out the bounty. He had made a Santa beard out of what, Lord only knows, and he had a red stocking cap with a poofy white ball on top that he had obviously knitted himself. “Ho-ho-ho,” he bellowed as he faded into the far distance. I stood there marveling. Just when you think you’ve seen everything you realize you haven’t.

There’s something about the holidays that brings out the better sides of guys. It isn’t always negative. One Easter some of the old schoolers created a sign informing everyone of an Easter egg hunt on the yard. They then posted it onto the cork message board in the units and what do you know? Dozens of guys showed up on the yard ready to hunt eggs! It was hilarious. I sat alone off to the side at one of the benches, drinking from a cup of coffee as I marveled at the scene. At first I was surprised at how gullible grown men can be, but the more I thought about it the more I realized that gullibility had little to do with it. Deep down, we all remember what it’s like to be a kid. The thought of an Easter egg hunt and the subconscious desire to mentally flee from This World was enough. Nevermind that it’s ludicrous that an Easter egg could ever find its way into a prison yard!

I know I started this post talking about how the holidays are stressful for some guys, but most men are able to make light of it all. If you can’t smile and laugh during the holidays, what’s the point?

—Christopher

Wrongful Convictions

On By ChristopherIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

One of the first juveniles I met during my incarceration was a 14 year old. Yes, 14 years old. At the time, he was the youngest person ever to be convicted as an adult in the United States.

His story is one of inexplicable tragedy. He came from a poor home where his father was a drug addict and his mother abusive. He has siblings, and spent the duration of his short childhood caring for them and trying to survive. For all intents and purposes his parents were parents in legal title only. He may as well have been living with strangers in a foreign land.

I’m not going to tell you the name of this offender, but I will tell you what I call him: Mouse. Mouse is a small fellow (thus the nickname I coined), and has never been much more than 150 pounds over the decades I’ve known him. He’s quiet, yet inquisitive. He’s smart, yet never talks down to anyone. If you didn’t know him it would be easy to overlook him in a crowd.

Mouse is serving a life sentence for the deaths of two elderly people. His sentence is extreme in its duration and his punishment is the worst I’ve ever seen save for the death penalty. Worse, he isn’t guilty of the crimes he’s serving time for. The murders were committed by friends (other juveniles) he was with on that fateful day; his only act of indiscretion was being in the wrong place with the wrong people at the wrong time. It was, in my opinion, just another cruel twist of fate life has dished at him since the day he was born.

In the ensuing outrage, Mouse and his friends were charged with homicide. However, sometimes there are injustices in sentencing. Innocent people go to jail and the guilty sometimes go free. Within this spectrum of erroneous sentencing, some go to jail for short periods of time, others for a lifetime. Mouse, unfortunately, is on the far end of that spectrum where his punishment of 40 years-to-life makes even hardened convicts feel for him. The last I heard, a non-profit group that works to exonerate the innocent was working on his case. I wish him luck. Unfortunately, in the United States, once you are behind bars it’s nearly impossible to reverse your circumstances even if innocent. This is especially true if you are poor.

Over the years I’ve wondered how many guys around me are in fact innocent. The number is small, to be sure, less than 1% I’d estimate based on my experience. Sometimes though, I wonder if I am wrong. In addition to Mouse, I knew two other individuals who were innocent, serving long sentences for crimes they did not commit. One was exonerated through DNA testing and released to heavy media fanfare, and the other was exonerated when facts came to light that the prosecution hid evidence of his innocence.

This type of prosecutorial misconduct isn’t isolated. I know and have known dozens of offenders who experienced similar actions to varying degrees. When I ponder why a prosecutor would go to such unethical lengths, I cannot help but conclude that it boils down to obtaining the conviction. Intentionally overcharge the defendant as a strategy to get counsel to consider plea bargains, and vigorously fight for each charge when this strategy fails. It’s a common practice throughout the United States, and is done to increase the probability of a conviction.

So this begs another question: How many people are incarcerated who were convicted of crimes that they committed, and a lesser crime that they did not commit due to such practices? In this realm I know about 200 individuals convicted in this manner.

For example, an offender I know is guilty of aggravated robbery, but was also convicted of grand theft for items stolen from the crime scene, yet he was not guilty of this. The conviction of grand theft may seem minor in comparison to the aggravated robbery charge, and one may say, “So what? What difference does it make?”

In the years after his conviction, information surfaced that the prosecution knew he was innocent and had withheld evidence from his counsel. But since he has already exhausted his appeals, he has few avenues to pursue. So in the end this offender is serving 10 years for the aggravated robbery and 2 years for the grand theft. It doesn’t sound like much, does it? Put yourself if those shoes and consider this for a moment. You will serve 10 years of your life for a crime you committed (the aggravated robbery charge), and then 2 years for a crime you didn’t commit. Doesn’t sound so insignificant now, does it? This happens frequently.

This can happen to you, too. No? You don’t need to commit robbery to be on the receiving end. The scale of prosecutorial misconduct slides in proportion to the most severe charge you face. A common example would be someone convicted of a DUI, and then being convicted of lesser traffic violations that they did not commit. Prosecutorial misconduct is prevalent enough that some media networks have made millions airing shows like 48 Hours or custom documentaries that sometimes highlight the issue.

If you are poor, you face a tougher road in proving your innocence in these situations. Public defenders assigned to your case carry heavy caseloads and little time to fight ‘minor grievances.’ Most of the time public defenders advise their clients to ‘pick their battles’ or ‘mention it on appeal,’ which is another way of saying, “You are poor and we don’t have the resources to fight this for you. If you had a paid attorney, this issue simply boils down to billing hours.”

-Christopher

They’re Your Friends and Neighbors

On By In Addictions2 Comments

I was watching the news earlier and couldn’t help but notice that there were reports of 3 heroin overdoses and 2 drug related deaths. Not for the week or for the month, but for today. Ohio is ground zero for the heroin epidemic, and not a day passes without news of another heroin overdose and death. The life-saving drug Narcan is a household name amongst heroin addicts, and even institutional staff keep it at the ready. Street drugs are abundant here and heroin appears to be today’s drug addicts drug of choice.

Behind these walls it is a revolving door of offenders with drug convictions and related charges. Most of them are pulling short sentences of 6 months to a couple of years at best, and most of them will return to prison for the same things. There is a saying for this here; it is called “life on the installment plan.” This crowd can be divided into two groups. The first consists of small-time drug users convicted of crimes such as conveyance or possession. The second group consists of offenders serving time for theft crimes. It is this second group that sought to maintain their habits by stealing from others, such as family and friends, employers, local businesses—anywhere and everywhere. Once incarcerated, they steal from the institution and they steal and lie to their peers.

It goes without saying that I interact with this crowd with eyes wide open. I’ve talked to hundreds of men about their drug addictions and I’ve asked all the hard questions. Most guys are willing to talk about their addictions, and conversations are matter-of-fact like. These men know they have a terrible problem, and they talk about their drug of choice as ‘one of those things’ or ‘what’s a guy to do?’ This is true for every type of addict I’ve ever met except for one: the DUI crowd (the alcoholics). The denial exhibited from this crowd warrants a post of its own and I will discuss this group later.

When an addict is high he feels on top of the world. Some of my addict friends are quite pleasant to be around when they are high. They’re functional, alert, happy, helpful, hardworking, and a dozen other adjectives. It’s when the addict is in-between highs where everything goes to hell-in-a-hand-basket. They’re literally physically sick, some to the point of vomiting. They’re in constant mental and physical pain, and in many respects resemble someone exposed to a biological agent. They lose rational thought, and at some point, the desire to get high and flee the pain overtakes all reason.

The first overdose death I witnessed happened 21 years ago in a cell block. The individual shot heroin in a dosage similar to what he used on the street. Unfortunately, he failed to take into consideration his lowered tolerance as a result of his year of sobriety. His friends, having realized that he overdosed, placed him back into his cell to avoid punishment rather than seek help. The custody staff found him 4 hours later during the next count.

I watched as staff dragged his motionless body from the cell and made no effort to revive him. They then went on to make jokes, walking over and around his body as they awaited EMS. It was literally an ongoing procession of staff who’d come to see their first dead inmate. It’s a scene that will forever remain seared in my memory, both for its loss and the lack of empathy. I couldn’t help but think that this man’s wife would be devastated and his children traumatized to lose their father at such an early age.

The second overdose I ever witnessed happened in my living area. Thankfully times have changed, and the custody staff and medical staff here took an active role in saving him. I’ve sometimes wondered why so many years ago staff were so unconcerned. They did, after all, know exactly what had happened to the man, for the other inmates had told them. Of course, I was at a higher security level back then and the atmosphere was very different for staff and inmates. I have a lot to say about this as it relates directly to rehabilitation, but alas, that’s another post.

I become aware at least once a week of someone here overdosing, but to lesser degrees than the examples I recounted. Oftentimes you hear them throwing up in the bathroom or in the showers as they attempt to hide their condition from staff. Other times you see them laying on their bunks, pale white and sickly looking as they try to get past the moment.

There is a quantifiable loss to society and to important community resources when society chooses to incarcerate these offenders. Unless drug offenders are diverted to intensive inpatient or outpatient drug treatment programs, tax dollars will continue to be wasted. The revolving door of incarceration will continue to spin onward like one of those widget finger toys. As you have noticed by now I have much to say about rehabilitation and my posts frequently center around this topic. Rehabilitation is an unpopular word with the public, but it is the only way to break the cycle of crime.

-Christopher

The Quality of Your Thoughts

On By In Pivotal Moments, Rehabilitation2 Comments

Early in my incarceration I came across this quote by Marcus Aurelius: “The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.” The more I thought about this statement, the more I realized how true it is. I didn’t know who Marcus Aurelius was at the time, but his words sparked my lifelong interest and desire to learn about the teachings of other great philosophers. In many respects, to learn its numerous variations is to learn about yourself and those around you.

The happiness of your life depends on the quality of your thoughts. Such an undeniable truth. Many years ago I believed that my problems in life were bigger than I could handle, and as a result they became so. For most of my teens and part of my early adult life, I dwelled on the negatives. I seldom noticed the beautiful or the good or that which gives you inspiration. I saw the clouds on mostly sunny days, saw what was missing in a half-empty glass, and found the cold on Spring afternoons. The first half of my life I was often unhappy, frustrated, and angry and didn’t understand why.

The second half of my life has been spent incarcerated. Yet, I am the happiest I have ever been. This may sound hard to believe, but I tell you it’s true. I now have a strong relationship with my family, something I was too self-centered to notice let alone deserve when I was first incarcerated. I see the future as immensely positive and exciting. I literally spend every day of my life pursuing projects that are meaningful to me and my future.

I constantly educate myself. I wanted to learn about the world’s major religions, so I studied them. I wanted to improve my memory because I was terribly absent-minded and so I did. I taught myself the mnemonic techniques that the world’s best use in competition and daily life, and now I member everything I tell myself I will remember. I wanted to understand global politics and the interplay between nations, so I observed and learned. I was curious about Russian history and politics, so I studied and learned. I love learning about people. Every day I seize the moment whenever it presents itself. I mentor guys that need direction and encouragement in their lives and I love it. It’s especially rewarding when I see positive change take root in their lives. I tell this to everyone that will listen to me: how we choose to see the world has everything to do with how we see the world. When we seek happiness and beauty, we find happiness and beauty. When we hate, hate finds us. It’s that simple. I don’t feel that my life is on hold; quite the opposite. I’m living my life every day.

Incarceration is what you make of it. I live in a world of angry men, of human beings stuck in their negative thoughts, addictions and self-pity. They complain about the staff, about the food, about the selection at commissary. They whine about recreation or lament their boredom. They choose to live in a hell that they have created in their minds. By actively looking for the negatives they successfully find them.

Like incarceration, life is what you make of it. If you choose to see the negatives in your spouse or significant other, you will find them. If you come home from a long day at work and all you choose to see are the things you dislike, then you will be mad and you will be miserable. Tell yourself you are unhappy and it becomes true. This is my experience in life. When I’m outside I see the birds and the beauty of the sky. I see sunsets with renewed awe every time.

Lao Tzu once said: “If you are depressed, you are living in the past. If you are anxious, you are living in the future.” And, Jesus once said: “The kingdom of heaven is within you.” They, just like Marcus Aurelius and every great sage throughout history, understood this simple truth about life, that life is what we choose it to be.

Years ago I made the decision to let go of anger and negativity. I forgave everyone I ever felt had hurt me. It has been liberating, and now I see the good things in life and in others. And you know what? It’s a wonderful feeling. You can achieve the same things, you only need to believe that you will. Won’t you take that first step? Come journey with me.

-Christopher