Essie helped me carry all of my stuff to my two-man cell.
I was assigned a bottom
bunk, and was placed in the room with an inmate named May. She was a few years
older than me, but seemed alright. When I walked in the room, she was sitting on the
top bunk reading her bible. We greeted each other, and made our introductions.
I noticed that she didn't have a T.V., a clock or a playout radio, so I assumed that she
was a short timer. TV's are ordered from the Commissary. They charge $250 for a
13 inch color T.V. that is not name brand, and that Wal-Mart's sells for under $100 bucks.
All these prison Commissaries have a monopoly going on. You either pay the marked
up ridiculous price, or you do without. I am not a T.V. lover, but I do like falling asleep
to the 10:00pm news nightly. That was a habit that I brought from home. My roommates
always reaped the benefit of my buying a T.V. I love music. That is something that I
enjoy daily, and another habit that carried over into prison life. Marysville allowed you
to receive sundry boxes. In each box your family was allowed to enclose five CDs.
You were also allowed to order five a month from Columbia Record Club and several
other Clubs. I ordered my allotted selection of five a month also. I also paid top dollar
or double for any music that anyone else owned. I quickly stacked up the biggest and
most diverse music collection in the prison. Whenever it was a talent show or any type
of recreation or church event, the women came to me to borrow for their event.
The first week in Arn-2 appeared to be uneventful. That was in appearance only.
Many inmates are so overwhelmed with just getting through the moment, they do not
recognize the bigger picture, or the behind the scene activity of prison life. I am an
expert at it, and things are never as they appear on the surface. On the streets my
life depended on recognizing everything and all movement that was not obvious.
People that are up to something move in an unnatural way. It may be the slightest
moment that you catch them looking back and forth at the door, or watching a window
repeatedly. It is also in the body language, and a person must pay attention to keep
from being a sucker or a pawn. I am neither. My insight kept me alive and safe as
a solo female drug dealer, and it would surely keep me safe in a maximum security unit.
I watched and I learned.
Essie had 2 in-house workers she called her ducks That was the first time I'd ever
heard that term used to identify females. Phala and Lisa were her team. Phala was
a short white girl, with reddish color hair and freckles. Her nick-name was Chuckie,
because she looked exactly like the murderous Chuckie Doll that starred in the movie.
Lisa was a pretty white girl that looked like one of the brunette stars on Baywatch.
She had a southern drawl that gave her a girl-next-door aura. It was a facade, of course,
but I liked Lisa instantly.
"Sweetie, I work laundry. You don't want your clothes washed with everybody else's.
I am going to come pick up your clothes daily and wash them separate. Phala will iron
them for you. We charge $15.00 a month." Lisa said.
"That's a good price. How do I pay you, Commissary or the streets? I asked.
"Either way Sugar, I'm easy." Lisa flirted.
A few days later, Dino stormed in the unit, moving fast.
"Hey Turpin, I got a lot of raw hamburger. I beat for it and I need to get rid of it. You
want some?" She asked.
"Naw, I don't cook in the microwave, but thanks." I answered.
Dino left back out the door with a package tucked under her arm wrapped in plastic
and a bath towel. I was positive that it was a slab of hamburger that she was carrying.
She was employed at food service, and robbing them blind daily. Two minutes after
she'd went out the door, the Swat team stormed in, dressed in black. The team was
about eight officers, diverse in gender and race.
"Everybody out in the yard! Now! The lead officer yelled.
The officers watched us closely as we single filed out of the unit, passing them.
"What are they looking for?" I asked Lisa.
"Dino's roughish self has stolen the whole kitchen again, and they said somebody had
a razor last night." Lisa explained.
After 90 minutes, we were allowed to go back into the unit. Before I walked in the
door, I saw Dino being escorted across the yard from the direction of the kitchen in
handcuffs, flanked by two male officers.
Dino seemed unfazed.
She was a big girl. Standing around 6 feet, and heavily muscled, the officers were
being walked across the yard, even with her in handcuffs in front of her.
"Ray Ray! Collect my shit for me.! Dino yelled.
Commissary day was coming up, and Dino ran a two-for-one store as well as an
extortion and protection ring.
Ray Ray was a little cutie and youngster that was ruthless. I liked how she stayed to
herself in the unit, and moved in silence, never really saying much. She sat and ate
with her girl, and moved solely with her girl.
The Swat team trashed our rooms and the common areas. I saw in the middle of the
floor as we walked in that they had found hamburger and lots of other kitchen contraband.
The food was terrible in the kitchen. A few of the inmates in Arn-2 paid Dino to bring
food unprepared from the kitchen, and they prepared it themselves in the microwave.
Lisa had a cooking service also. I quickly became a good paying customer for meals.
She charged also by the month, and would tell you what was on the menu each day.
For more than a year, I frequented the kitchen once on Christmas holiday. The food
was always some type of stew like stuff with very fancy names. They would put a little
bit of meat, some canned vegetables, and a few fresh vegetables, in a sauce. The
sauces were always different colors, but the ingredients looked the same. The safest
meal was hotdogs or cold cuts, and I loved turkey bologna. I did not eat the stews,
and they were served daily.
Although I was serving time for a white collar offense, I had been selling drugs, but
was not caught for that violation. Don't get it twisted- I understand the feds indict
for behavior not charged. I was eventually charged, and did serve time, so these words
are not law enforcement worthy. Got that?!
My connect was a good dude that does not exist in today's drug game. He made
sure that my house note was paid, that my daughters were taken care of, and that
my books were stacked.
"Let me know if you need anything. Send your daughter to pick up the money from
my company, and it will be taken care of immediately." He was true to his word.
I never allowed my money to get low, and when he sent money, it was no less than
$500 at a time. I stashed part of it each time for my release, gave anyone that was
doing anything for me some cash, and then had the balance put in my Commissary
account. Prison is very expensive. Usually, inmates depend on their families or other
loved ones to support them if they are lucky. Prison jobs do not pay. Under the
United States Constitution, and Amendment 13, if a citizen is convicted of a crime,
they do not have the right to be paid for their labor. The top paying jobs paid $24.00
a month. Most people received between $5.00 and $12.00 a month. The Commissary
items are all overpriced. $12.00 a month barely covered shampoo, soap and toothpaste.
Forget about conditioner or food items. I made sure that I gave back regularly, since
life had been good to me. I always made sure I bought extra cosmetics and gave them
to women that were struggling. I would not take anything but a thank you, and did not
want them speaking to me either. I did not give for recognition. I could not imagine
being abandoned by your family and friends, and then having to make a meager $12.00
a month last the entire month. I also live my life by universal principles. What goes
around comes back around, and because I made sure I gave, I always had everything I
needed or wanted, except for my freedom.
One of the officers yelled Ray Ray's name as she reached the door of her room.
When one of them approached her, she pulled out a razor taped to something that she
must have had on her. Things were about to get very ugly.
"Put the razor down." The officer ordered.
"Get the fuck away from me and out of my room!" Ray Ray yelled.
I watched Ray Ray slam her door in the officer's faces, locking herself in. We all stood
at our doors to watch the showdown. Although Ray Ray was small in statute, they were
not anxious to run in there on her. They were originally calling her to cart her to the
hole for whatever they found in her room. She knew it, and was not going to the SHU
without a fight.
"Go to your rooms and secure your doors!" One of the officers yelled.
We did, but remained glued to the door window to watch the action. Ray Ray held
them off for at least twenty minutes. When they finally carried her out, she was
bleeding across her stomach, and one of the officers was unsuccessfully holding his
bleeding arm. Ray Ray was laughing and still wilding out.
She reached over and punched a female officer in the head.
"I fucked ya'll up!" Ray Ray bragged.
Although she was out-numbered, she looked like the victor, and the officers seemed
afraid. Her girlfriend yelled and kicked on the door.
"You better not hurt her! I love you Ray Ray! I'll write you!"
Ray Ray heard her and smiled as the officers roughly moved her body through the
doorway of Arn 2.
As I stated previously, the life of a prisoner is a completely different set of norms
and customs from outside society. There are many spoken and unspoken rules to doing
time. Some get it, and others miss it. The ones that miss it willingly or unwillingly
becomes somebody's bitch or duck. The number one rule is to never let anyone disrespect
you or call you out without checking it. That extends to men's prisons also. Some of
the rules expand to both genders, and others do not. I have spoken to many males that
have served time. There is a major difference in the sexual climate of males. Men are
aggressive. There is a need for a king of the jungle, and the male prison setting is definitely
a jungle. The first test in a men's prison is to see if you are able to protect your manhood.
Many men that I talked to throughout the years lost the battle. Some recovered, and others
did not. A few liked their salad being tossed, and are currently down low brothers. It is
thousands of them throughout the country, living normal lives, and pretending as if they
like the opposite sex, but lusting psychologically to be controlled and sodomized. What a
farce! I can't stand that when I see it! Pick a team, and stay on it, greedy!!!
Women prisoners generally do not rape other women. There has been few blanket
parties, and even a forced penetration with a broom stick, where things got rough.
A blanket party is where you catch the person by surprise, and then as they walk by,
you throw a blanket over their head and start wailing their body with your fist. Usually, there
are at least three perpetrators punching the inmate under the blanket. In state prison,
blanket parties are used for resident snitches and child molesters. I have never seen a
child molester charged alone. There is always a man co-defendant attached to that crime.
What makes a woman want to be a duck or somebody's's bitch? Stay tuned for next week,
and I will show how it goes down......
bunk, and was placed in the room with an inmate named May. She was a few years
older than me, but seemed alright. When I walked in the room, she was sitting on the
top bunk reading her bible. We greeted each other, and made our introductions.
I noticed that she didn't have a T.V., a clock or a playout radio, so I assumed that she
was a short timer. TV's are ordered from the Commissary. They charge $250 for a
13 inch color T.V. that is not name brand, and that Wal-Mart's sells for under $100 bucks.
All these prison Commissaries have a monopoly going on. You either pay the marked
up ridiculous price, or you do without. I am not a T.V. lover, but I do like falling asleep
to the 10:00pm news nightly. That was a habit that I brought from home. My roommates
always reaped the benefit of my buying a T.V. I love music. That is something that I
enjoy daily, and another habit that carried over into prison life. Marysville allowed you
to receive sundry boxes. In each box your family was allowed to enclose five CDs.
You were also allowed to order five a month from Columbia Record Club and several
other Clubs. I ordered my allotted selection of five a month also. I also paid top dollar
or double for any music that anyone else owned. I quickly stacked up the biggest and
most diverse music collection in the prison. Whenever it was a talent show or any type
of recreation or church event, the women came to me to borrow for their event.
The first week in Arn-2 appeared to be uneventful. That was in appearance only.
Many inmates are so overwhelmed with just getting through the moment, they do not
recognize the bigger picture, or the behind the scene activity of prison life. I am an
expert at it, and things are never as they appear on the surface. On the streets my
life depended on recognizing everything and all movement that was not obvious.
People that are up to something move in an unnatural way. It may be the slightest
moment that you catch them looking back and forth at the door, or watching a window
repeatedly. It is also in the body language, and a person must pay attention to keep
from being a sucker or a pawn. I am neither. My insight kept me alive and safe as
a solo female drug dealer, and it would surely keep me safe in a maximum security unit.
I watched and I learned.
Essie had 2 in-house workers she called her ducks That was the first time I'd ever
heard that term used to identify females. Phala and Lisa were her team. Phala was
a short white girl, with reddish color hair and freckles. Her nick-name was Chuckie,
because she looked exactly like the murderous Chuckie Doll that starred in the movie.
Lisa was a pretty white girl that looked like one of the brunette stars on Baywatch.
She had a southern drawl that gave her a girl-next-door aura. It was a facade, of course,
but I liked Lisa instantly.
"Sweetie, I work laundry. You don't want your clothes washed with everybody else's.
I am going to come pick up your clothes daily and wash them separate. Phala will iron
them for you. We charge $15.00 a month." Lisa said.
"That's a good price. How do I pay you, Commissary or the streets? I asked.
"Either way Sugar, I'm easy." Lisa flirted.
A few days later, Dino stormed in the unit, moving fast.
"Hey Turpin, I got a lot of raw hamburger. I beat for it and I need to get rid of it. You
want some?" She asked.
"Naw, I don't cook in the microwave, but thanks." I answered.
Dino left back out the door with a package tucked under her arm wrapped in plastic
and a bath towel. I was positive that it was a slab of hamburger that she was carrying.
She was employed at food service, and robbing them blind daily. Two minutes after
she'd went out the door, the Swat team stormed in, dressed in black. The team was
about eight officers, diverse in gender and race.
"Everybody out in the yard! Now! The lead officer yelled.
The officers watched us closely as we single filed out of the unit, passing them.
"What are they looking for?" I asked Lisa.
"Dino's roughish self has stolen the whole kitchen again, and they said somebody had
a razor last night." Lisa explained.
After 90 minutes, we were allowed to go back into the unit. Before I walked in the
door, I saw Dino being escorted across the yard from the direction of the kitchen in
handcuffs, flanked by two male officers.
Dino seemed unfazed.
She was a big girl. Standing around 6 feet, and heavily muscled, the officers were
being walked across the yard, even with her in handcuffs in front of her.
"Ray Ray! Collect my shit for me.! Dino yelled.
Commissary day was coming up, and Dino ran a two-for-one store as well as an
extortion and protection ring.
Ray Ray was a little cutie and youngster that was ruthless. I liked how she stayed to
herself in the unit, and moved in silence, never really saying much. She sat and ate
with her girl, and moved solely with her girl.
The Swat team trashed our rooms and the common areas. I saw in the middle of the
floor as we walked in that they had found hamburger and lots of other kitchen contraband.
The food was terrible in the kitchen. A few of the inmates in Arn-2 paid Dino to bring
food unprepared from the kitchen, and they prepared it themselves in the microwave.
Lisa had a cooking service also. I quickly became a good paying customer for meals.
She charged also by the month, and would tell you what was on the menu each day.
For more than a year, I frequented the kitchen once on Christmas holiday. The food
was always some type of stew like stuff with very fancy names. They would put a little
bit of meat, some canned vegetables, and a few fresh vegetables, in a sauce. The
sauces were always different colors, but the ingredients looked the same. The safest
meal was hotdogs or cold cuts, and I loved turkey bologna. I did not eat the stews,
and they were served daily.
Although I was serving time for a white collar offense, I had been selling drugs, but
was not caught for that violation. Don't get it twisted- I understand the feds indict
for behavior not charged. I was eventually charged, and did serve time, so these words
are not law enforcement worthy. Got that?!
My connect was a good dude that does not exist in today's drug game. He made
sure that my house note was paid, that my daughters were taken care of, and that
my books were stacked.
"Let me know if you need anything. Send your daughter to pick up the money from
my company, and it will be taken care of immediately." He was true to his word.
I never allowed my money to get low, and when he sent money, it was no less than
$500 at a time. I stashed part of it each time for my release, gave anyone that was
doing anything for me some cash, and then had the balance put in my Commissary
account. Prison is very expensive. Usually, inmates depend on their families or other
loved ones to support them if they are lucky. Prison jobs do not pay. Under the
United States Constitution, and Amendment 13, if a citizen is convicted of a crime,
they do not have the right to be paid for their labor. The top paying jobs paid $24.00
a month. Most people received between $5.00 and $12.00 a month. The Commissary
items are all overpriced. $12.00 a month barely covered shampoo, soap and toothpaste.
Forget about conditioner or food items. I made sure that I gave back regularly, since
life had been good to me. I always made sure I bought extra cosmetics and gave them
to women that were struggling. I would not take anything but a thank you, and did not
want them speaking to me either. I did not give for recognition. I could not imagine
being abandoned by your family and friends, and then having to make a meager $12.00
a month last the entire month. I also live my life by universal principles. What goes
around comes back around, and because I made sure I gave, I always had everything I
needed or wanted, except for my freedom.
One of the officers yelled Ray Ray's name as she reached the door of her room.
When one of them approached her, she pulled out a razor taped to something that she
must have had on her. Things were about to get very ugly.
"Put the razor down." The officer ordered.
"Get the fuck away from me and out of my room!" Ray Ray yelled.
I watched Ray Ray slam her door in the officer's faces, locking herself in. We all stood
at our doors to watch the showdown. Although Ray Ray was small in statute, they were
not anxious to run in there on her. They were originally calling her to cart her to the
hole for whatever they found in her room. She knew it, and was not going to the SHU
without a fight.
"Go to your rooms and secure your doors!" One of the officers yelled.
We did, but remained glued to the door window to watch the action. Ray Ray held
them off for at least twenty minutes. When they finally carried her out, she was
bleeding across her stomach, and one of the officers was unsuccessfully holding his
bleeding arm. Ray Ray was laughing and still wilding out.
She reached over and punched a female officer in the head.
"I fucked ya'll up!" Ray Ray bragged.
Although she was out-numbered, she looked like the victor, and the officers seemed
afraid. Her girlfriend yelled and kicked on the door.
"You better not hurt her! I love you Ray Ray! I'll write you!"
Ray Ray heard her and smiled as the officers roughly moved her body through the
doorway of Arn 2.
As I stated previously, the life of a prisoner is a completely different set of norms
and customs from outside society. There are many spoken and unspoken rules to doing
time. Some get it, and others miss it. The ones that miss it willingly or unwillingly
becomes somebody's bitch or duck. The number one rule is to never let anyone disrespect
you or call you out without checking it. That extends to men's prisons also. Some of
the rules expand to both genders, and others do not. I have spoken to many males that
have served time. There is a major difference in the sexual climate of males. Men are
aggressive. There is a need for a king of the jungle, and the male prison setting is definitely
a jungle. The first test in a men's prison is to see if you are able to protect your manhood.
Many men that I talked to throughout the years lost the battle. Some recovered, and others
did not. A few liked their salad being tossed, and are currently down low brothers. It is
thousands of them throughout the country, living normal lives, and pretending as if they
like the opposite sex, but lusting psychologically to be controlled and sodomized. What a
farce! I can't stand that when I see it! Pick a team, and stay on it, greedy!!!
Women prisoners generally do not rape other women. There has been few blanket
parties, and even a forced penetration with a broom stick, where things got rough.
A blanket party is where you catch the person by surprise, and then as they walk by,
you throw a blanket over their head and start wailing their body with your fist. Usually, there
are at least three perpetrators punching the inmate under the blanket. In state prison,
blanket parties are used for resident snitches and child molesters. I have never seen a
child molester charged alone. There is always a man co-defendant attached to that crime.
What makes a woman want to be a duck or somebody's's bitch? Stay tuned for next week,
and I will show how it goes down......
No comments:
Post a Comment