To Free the Truth

Fighting doesn’t always save you. It only puts the odds in your favor. Some predators don’t mind a fight if they get what they want without any repercussions form the guards or inmates. If they can beat a guy badly enough and force him not to tell the guards, they will. Every situation is different…

Once, on Connally unit, a young Mexican new boot (new inmate). drove up to my pod. Generally, the Hispanic families (gangs) protect their own people. If they can’t recruit you, they’ll still support you unless you cross them. The whole “checking” process usually doesn’t apply to Hispanics. Anyhow, this Hispanic kid shows up and immediately starts talking to the black guys. The Hispanic families witnessed this and decided  he was on his own. So, there he is, Danny Boy was his name, in a deep conversation with a known booty bandit, Big Rock. Big Rock explained how everyone in here has a hustle, meaning they do things to make money. Some dudes get involved in drugs or cigarettes, others make soap, some create art–all sorts of things like that. Big Rock told Danny Boy he could wash his clothes and he’d hook him up with hygiene, stamps, and a little food. Danny Boy agreed and they both went into Big Rock’s cell when the doors rolled on the “in and out” which happens every hour. 

Once the doors close and the guards leave the section, they’re trapped in the cell for at least an hour. I noticed Big Rock put a towel over his door so no one could see inside. Moments later I heard banging around in the cell, then Danny yelling, “Hey, Stop! What are you doing?! Help!” His screams were muffled and more struggling could be heard, then silence. 

I wanted to help, but at that point there was nothing I could do. Everyone could hear that Danny Boy put up somewhat of a fight, but he also went into Big Rock’s cell, alone… The doors rolled and Danny Boy went to the shower to clean up, red marks on his face and body. After he stepped out of the shower, the leader of the TS (Texas Syndicate) approached him. I didn’t hear the conversation but later heard that they were going to help him despite how he “disrespected his race” by immediately talking with the black dudes instead of the Hispanics (as I’ve said, everything is extremely racially divided in here). Danny Boy said he’d already told Big Rock he’d move into his cell, though, so the TS backed off–you’re on your own, kid. 

Despite the fact that he fought, Danny Boy became the property of Big Rock. Big Rock broke him. It was this situation and countless others that compelled me to reach out to new boots, especially the younger ones. Most of the older convicts just don’t care about explaining how things work to new boots. Learn on your own is how it is sometimes. So, I talked to them, telling them about my experiences and trying to lace them up as to how to survive. On more than one occasion I stuck my neck out there for guys, even jumping in their fights. This caused me and the ‘woods I associated with (at first mostly non-gang members) lots of problems. I almost started a riot once for helping a kid that wouldn’t help himself. My friend pulled me to the side and said, “Dude, you got a good heart and I know you want to be Captain Save-A-Ho, but why fight for boys that ain’t fightin’ for themselves? You gonna get us all killed!”

It’s true. This is a vicious world, this penitentiary, and the weak are swallowed whole. Those that aren’t weak turn into something they come to detest…at least I did. This place breeds violence; it’s encouraged. The administration loves gang wars, dissension amongst the inmates because then there’s no warry of unified efforts against them. The guards tend to perpetuate false rumors, saying the person said this or that, to start conflict. In this world, even if you do fight, it’s survival of the strongest. And as much as I wanted to help others, I couldn’t be this sort of quasi super hero.