To Free the Truth

The most appealing part of being locked in administrative segregation, for me, was not being forced into slave labor. Texas doesn’t pay its prisoners. You either work or get punished for refusing. It used to eat at my soul working for free. Not only was I in prison for 99 years for a crime I didn’t commit, I was being yelled at by a fat redneck chewing tobacco on a horse to “stay in time with the line, Pruett!” That shit drove me crazy.

Once I learned how to deal with the rogue guards who thought it was their duty to retaliate against me, ad. seg. offered a respite from the struggles of general population. I could sleep as much as I wanted, read, write, or do whatever all day in the confines of my 10×7 cage, and most of the things I needed like food and necessities (clothes and cleaning stuff) were brought to me. It seemed like a much better alternative to working and fending off booty bandits–especially when I was promoted to level 1 status and could listen to my radio! A year without music, which is how long it took to make level 1 from the day Nagle died, felt like an eternity in the boiling pits of hell.

What I failed to realize early on is that one can’t live in sensory deprivation without stimulating your mind and body regularly. If you don’t go to recreation much and exercise, your muscles begin to atrophy and all sorts of physical ailments plague you. I didn’t exercise for a couple of years after being segregated. Then I’d go strong for a couple of months and do nothing for just as long, repeating the cycle for years. We need adversity and struggle to grow and stay healthy; that’s just how life works.

I always kept my mind sharp. I’m an avid reader; sometimes I’ll read over 700 pages a day of novels if the story is good, but when I read anything of substance I ruminate over it, taking my time. Also, I played lots of chess, wrote stories and some poetry, and had many interesting conversations with my neighbors…As you can read in my article Groundhog Day Syndrome, failure to exercise your mind often leads to completely losing it.

The threat of violence remains even in ad. seg., but it’s not as great. Being locked in single man cells, there’s not much a person can do to you. People like to make spear tips of of metal pieces and attach them to long poles, tightly made with magazines or newspaper, and shoot them at others with spear guns made from rubber bands and altered bottles. Spears can be deadly if one hits you in the right place. Besides that, people in seg are fond of throwing urine and feces or other liquid substances at their enemies. I’ve seen many TDCJ employees quit after being showered in feces or urine; I don’t blame them either! Occasionally, a crafty inmate will figure out a way to get out of handcuffs or open their door and stab someone. It’s rare but it does happen.

All of the above mentioned threats of violence aren’t enough to deter the “cell warrior.” A cell warrior is someone who enjoys cursing and threatening people–all day, every day. Typically, the cell warrior was someone else’s property in population, a rape victim, or some other type that was treated badly often. But, put them behind the protective steel doors of ad. seg., with little threat of really violence, and they feel secure enough to vent their previously secret thoughts. I’ve heard it all. Once, on the Hughes unit, there was a dude called ‘The Ultimate Cell Warrior’ (a play on the old wrestler, The Ultimate Warrior) who loved to challenge people to cell warrior contests. The first time I heard him, I was in disbelief. He ate his breakfast (around 3 a.m.) and kicked on his door for 5 minutes at least.

 Boom!

Boom!

 Boom!

The acoustics in these pods are so good that it sounded like gunshots. Then he screamed:

“I AM THE ULTIMATE CELL WARRIOR! AHHHH!! Look out 74 cell, you d*cksucking, p*ssy packing punk, bring yo b*tch @ss to the door and take this @ss whooping!”

He went on to disrespect 74 cell for over 3 hours, calling him and his family every obscene name in the book. I asked my neighbor what 74 had done to him… “Nothing,” he chuckled. “He never spoke one word to the dude, the ultimate cell warrior just went off on him like he does all of us. Welcome to ad. seg….”