To Free the Truth

The way I was raised in prison was you don’t ever back down from anyone, no matter how big and bad they are. If you feel disrespected you immediately address the issue. To let anything slide without doing so will inevitably draw the interest of those who want something from you you’re probably not willing to give. Remember that any sign of weakness is exploited.

Once, I was outside playing basketball with a  little dude we called Critter. As we volleyed the ball, a huge black guy, about 6′7″ and well over 350 lbs, ran right through the court. He was running laps around the yard to lose weight, I guess. What concerned me was him running through the handball court while we were playing a game–a huge violation of the convict code.

“Hey, dude, ” I called. “Don’t you see we’re playing a game here?”

No response. He kept running laps.

I told Critter that it was disrespectful of him, that it’s not acceptable. He agreed. We thought maybe he’d go around the court next lap, or so we hoped. The dude weighed more than both of us combined.

As he got close to the court on his return lap, I saw that he was going to run through our court again. We were in the middle of a game, for crying out loud! I snatched the ball up and dropped it on the ground with my left hand and power served it with my fist as hard as I could right into him as he passed through the court, no doubt leaving a welp under his shirt. He cried out and turned after me.

There was no way I stood a chance with the dude head on, so I ran around him, danced around him sort of… I talked bad to him as I ducked aroudn his advances, hoping to tire him out some. After some name calling, he was pretty furious, but he couldn’t catch me.

Finally, after 2-3 minutes, he stopped running and merely walked fast after me. He told me, “I’m gonna get some of that pretty white butt when I catch you, white boy!” I took a deep breath, thinking it was now or never as the fence was crowded with observers,and lunged forward, connecting square in his face and busting his nose. By then I’d developed a pretty solid fight game, or so I thought. My punches were quick and solid, and I bobbed and weaved away from all of his. At first. I was damaging his face, cutting him up, and briefly, I thought I might win this fight. Then he finally landed one of his powerful overhands and I dropped to the ground instantly, dazed out of my mind.

Had he kicked me, jumped down on me and punched me a few more times, I would’ve been hurting pretty badly, but I would’ve been okay with it. Instead, he simply pointed down at  me and shouted, “I drop you ho-ass white boys!” That’s what we call clowning someone after a fight, adding insult to injury. I’ve lost many fights, and I’m okay with that. Disrespecting me further and calling me out like that in front of everyone can’t go unchecked. I ran to the metal trash can and yanked the lid off, then darted towards him and swung, hitting him in the arm. I tried to swing again, but he caught it and tossed it to the side before barrelling down on me. Just then the yard filled with rank led by the captain who stopped the fight and locked me up..the next time I ran into him he apologized to me and shook my hand, saying he hopes it’s over. In my book that made it over. Thankfully!

That incident is one of the disciplinary offenses I was convicted of…the report simply states that I fought with a weapon. In my trial, to show that I was a future danger to society, that report was included with all the other s in my ‘prison file’ for the jury to deliberate over in the penalty phase. This is one of my key issues on appeal. I wasn’t allowed to defend myself against that prison file. I didn’t get to tell the jury that I picked that lid up and fought with the guy because I had to. To do otherwise opens the door to robbery, rape, and all sorts of degrading repercussion. There is no running in here. You either “fight, f*ck, or bust a $60.” The guards don’t protect you. If you read those reports and don’t hear the entire story, of course I look like an aggressive person, a ‘future danger to society.’ They don’t tell the full story though. That’s one of the reason’s I’m writing this post. Yes, I hit him with that trash can lid. Yes, I was in possession of prison shanks. Who didn’t have a shank? That’s the question. We all did. Very few of us ever wanted to use them, but everyone kept one close just in case. I’m thankful I never had to use one. Fighting back was all I ever had to do besides the trash can incident. Some weren’t so lucky. Imagine living in a 9×7 cage with a guy the size of the one I hit with that lid. How do you defend yourself when he gets horny and looks at you? My jury never got to consider that scenario when sifting through my prison file nor did they get to consider the reasons I received the disciplinary cases I did. I didn’t have a fighting chance at any stage of my trial.