To Free the Truth

In my opinion, sexual deviants, as a general rule, have repressed sexual desires and/or memories. It’s no wonder to me why some priests, after years of suppressing their natural sexual urges, molests choir boys. Surely you’ve heard stories of men stuck out at sea for months…how some who wouldn’t normally turn to a man for release, do. Well, prison’s the same way. On more than one occasion, I’ve heard men who engage in homosexual behavior say they’re tired of their hands or they haven’t been with a woman in decades, rationalizing their behavior. As many know, homosexuality is common in penal institutions worldwide. 

Now, take someone who’s a natural or even conditioned predator. Someone who bullied kids at school, exploited the weak their whole life–toss him in a prison and repress his sexuality and you just might get what we here call a ‘booty bandit.”

During the mid-to-late 90s, when I was in general population, booty bandits typically stalked their prey for months before making a move. They’d hone in on a young guy (typically white or a light skinned black guy from what I’ve seen) and watch how he carries himself. Lots of young people in here try to impress upon people that they’re ‘hardcore,’ not to be messed with. Unless one has proven himself time and again, even this doesn’t deter a booty bandit. He’ll observe and search for any sign of weakness. Once weakness is detected, the game begins. 

In the old days booty bandits were more aggressive. They took what they wanted from whoever they thought they could. But, the administration put lots of pressure on sexual predators after the 1980s, charging them with aggravated sexual assault and putting them in administrative segregation, so they changed their tactics. These days they try to talk guys out of sexual favors. You’d be surprised how well some of these bandits use empty threats and fast talk to get a guy in their cell for a few hours of ‘romance.”

Maybe 3 months into my stay at Connally I become the target of a booty bandit we called ‘Head.” He was tall, muscle bound, and had spent the previous 20 years in prison preying on the weak. I was walking back from chow with the ‘woods (Peckerwoods or white guys) when one said to me, “Damn! Did you see the way that toad (black guy) was staring at you?! Like you was a double meat cheeseburger!” Everyone laughed as I turned to see who he was talking about, barely catching the back of him before he cut into the chow hall. 

Several days later, I felt someone’s eyes on me while in the hallway again. It was Head. So, I cut out of the line I was in and approached him. I asked him if he knew me or if there was some reason he stared at me. “Oh yeah, I think I seen you on the transfer unit I came from. What’s your name again?” he asked. I was firm when I told him he didn’t know me and I didn’t like the way he stared at me, made me feel uncomfortable. He laughed it off and tried to talk to me like we were old time friends.

Well, I got transferred to McConnell unit in January of 1998 for college academics and a couple months later, Head showed up as well. Word was he was playing his head games with another guy on Connally and that dude beat him in the head with a pitcher in the chow hall, so they shipped head to McConnell. Head, apparently, didn’t learn his lesson–he continued to star at me with lust in his eyes. So, I jam him up again and tell him I’m not the one to play with. Again, he laughed and said, “An understanding beats the world. You got a lot of time, I got a lot of time, no reason why we can’t do this time together.” I told him to just stop staring at me, that I didn’t play that way. 

A week or so later he was up to his old tricks. I knew there was only one way to handle him. I told him I wasn’t accepting his advances. he got loud with me and threatened to take me in the vegetable room (in the kitchen where we worked) and take my ass. Literally. So, I hit him with everything I had. We fought hard for a few minutes before the guards broke us up and sent us both to lock-up. Over the next 3 days we cursed each other in lock-up. He told me I’d ‘catch out’ which means I’d ask the guards to put me in protective custody, and if I didn’t I’d be his bitch when we got out of lock-up. I told him I’d kill him first. On and on it went until I was released (after disciplinary court) to population. 

I thought he’d make good on his threats so I asked an older ‘wood for a shank. He told me no. He said the dude was merely checking me. I fought him and showed him I wouldn’t break, and he would leave me alone, just watch. He told me to wait and see if Head so much as looked at me again when we crossed paths. “If he does, I’ll hand you a shank to handle your business.”

Head never once looked my way again. In fact, he avoided me when our paths crossed, but I watched how he targeted other young guys, and it disgusted me. Predators of his caliber stalk those they think they can talk out of their pants until proven otherwise.