X Series: Prison Outcast
The X Series blogs are written by an inmate in the Texas prison system, with the nickname X, who is in the process of being totally transformed. They are unedited takes on various aspects of life and offer opportunities for us to to be inspired by the choices we can make to grow personally, professionally and spiritually.
Transitioning from state prison to federal prison has been, uh, like a rock slide.
In Texas prisons, you don’t have rules that are set by the inmates about which chow hall table you can sit at, which cell you can live in, etc. Texas also doesn’t concern itself with whether you want to be solo or affiliated with any clique, where as the Feds shun if you are solo and don’t want you around. I guess you can say Texas prison’s administration does a decent enuff job not allowing the inmates to hold too much power. The federal administration, not so much.
“My first federal compound that I hit didn’t turn out so good with the Texas clique not wanting me around becuz I was solo and chose Jesus over any clique affiliation. I was now on my way to compound #2 and hoping for a much better outcome.”
Arriving to compound #2, I can say the scenic view was spectacular with huge rock cliffs and what had to be 75% of the world’s oxygen supply with the abundance of trees on top of these cliffs that ran for miles.
Unloading off the bus and forming a line of pairs, the buddy system you can say, we all stood there, 40+ of us, waiting to hear our name called so that we could respond with our federal registry #. We all soon find out that the compound is on lockdown and that means everyone is locked in they cell 24 hrs a day, except the days that they allow you to shower, which is 3 days a week.
We are all processed and that involves a number of things; you have to see medical, you have to see the psychologist, you have to see the gang intelligence officer (S.I.S), but you also have to sit or stand on this machine that is some type of xray that makes sure you are not swindling any drugs, shanks in thru any of your bodily orifices. This all takes some time but eventually I get my shot at speaking to the S.I.S officer.
Being that all the tables in the chow hall are claimed by various gangs, cliques I want to find out if the cats that are running solo have a table to eat on in the chow hall. If they do, it’d be a good indicator that I’d be able to walk at this compound. However, when I ask the S.I.S, his response mirrored that dumb vulture in that long-ago cartoon… “dut-da-duh-da” is all I can remember from that vulture. His response was similar “uh-uh-duh, I tink so.” Im baffled; “this is his job; how does he not know,” I think to myself. As others came out of his office, it all became clearer with everyone’s response the same “that guy doesnt know nothin.”
We soon are all housed and are taken in groups to the particular building that we’ll be living in. I grab my clothes and linen that are in a mesh bag and follow the officer that will be escorting us to our assigned cell. As I approach the two-man cell that I’ll be living in, I notice that there are two people occupying that cell, so I find the officer and relay this to him. They tell one of the guys to pack his things and that he’s moving. All the other cats that came with me are already in their cells. Im having to wait as the guy packs his things up and I feel like a fish in a fishbowl with everyone coming to their cell door to see who the new guy is.
I soon get in my cell and set my things down on the bottom bunk to which I was assigned. My cellmate is a very young cat, only 18-yrs-old, I’d find out later, small in stature with a life sentence. He’d never get out of prison. He doesn’t understand much English and I not much Spanish, so he climbs on the toilet bowl to speak thru this vent to the cell next to us since we share the same duct. He gestures to me to come talk thru the vent, so standing on the toilet bowl and with my manliest voice, I say “yeah.” He says that this cell belongs to their gang and by right, they get the bottom bunk, so I’ll have to take the top bunk. Not just fully aware of how things work, I respond saying “its not a problem.” He then begins to tell me that he speaks for his gang and that Im welcome to live in their cell as long as my paperwork is good. Im welcome… huhh? Could had fooled me.
Knowing I didnt snitch on anyone and was down for a pistol and drugs, I responded saying my paperwork is good. Later, we’d talk more as I told him I was solo, but before he got out of the vent he says, “oh yea, one more thing, you have to sit down when you piss.” WHAT?!! I respond somewhat angrigly; “this is definetly gonna be a problem,” I think to myself and now I really feel welcome. My young celly, obviously knowing this, begins gesturing to me as if to say “dont worry about that.” But Im weighing my response to this cats demand but instead say “okay,” knowing I’d never squat.
Me and my celly talk some and he does try to help me out with a bar of soap, deodorant and some other things as well. I’d find out later that his own dad was killed by his gang but yet he was still proud to be known as a member. The power that gangs have on a young life is enormous.
I climb on my bunk with so much on my mind weighing so heavily on me. I’d given my life to Jesus 3 yrs. ago but oh man, I didnt know how much more I could take. Sad, deep despair, all alone-all those I felt strongly right then.
“I cried out with my heart heavy, ‘Lord, I dont feel chosen, I dont feel precious in your sight.’ I just wanted to get past this moment even tho’ I knew so many more unknowns lie ahead, and I did get past this moment as sleep found me.”
The next day, Im able to talk to my celly and I ask him if he was a Bible in English. He says he doesnt know but begins checking and after awhile he finds one in English and Spanish and hands it to me. Soon Im called back to the vent and the same cat tells me he doesnt think I’ll be able to stay at this compound becuz solos dont have a place to sit in the chow hall. “Great news,” I think to myself. But he says I may can sit with the Christians but that’ll be up to the Texas clique if they allow it.
Ten days on lockdown have rolled by and me and my celly get along well. We work out, share some good laughs and have both adapted to each others ways. However, when the 10th day comes around the administration puts us on a modified lockdown where half of us can mingle in the dayroom or shower for about 3 hrs.
So, the first row of 60+ inmates are let out first and its at this time when my celly points out to me the cat that I need to talk to. Its after the first half is put back in their cells that the second half is let out and my plan is to shower then go talk to this cat.
Knocking on his cell door, he comes to the door. I begin telling him that I did at one time, many years ago, used to be affiliated with them but now was no longer and had given my life over to Jesus. That I just came from a previous compound and the same clique wouldn’t let me be there if I wasn’t gonna be with any clique.
He then made it simple-no threat of harm issued, just simply “its the same way here; you cant be here as well.” There was no need to ask any why’s so I simply said, “how soon do you want me to go?” “As soon as we are able to go to the chow hall, you go to the lieutenant.”
With that established, I position myself in the open area just to be extra cautious. I then meet the cat that was talkin’ to me in the vent and as I shake his hand, I notice the weak handshake that he gave. “Somethin’ was amiss, but what?” I thought. He then says, “I thought your paperwork was good?” “It is,” I respond. He then says that I couldn’t walk at the previous compound, so you checked-in, as they call it. Checking in is where, if you cant walk that compound, you go to a form of protective custody til they transfer you.
I tell him, “man, I didnt know what paperwork really even meant.” “My people cant live with anyone thats checked in before, so you need to keep this thing between me and you and try to leave as soon as you can so I dont get in trouble with my gang,” he responds. A look of disappointment crosses his face. He says that he has one homeboy that said to him that he’s going Christian and we all respect that and he sits with the Christians as well, but he’s still one of us and will be there when we need him.
“Why cant I do the same thing?” he asks. “Becuz we have two different understandings of the word; I understand it to say we must go all in with the Lord, so therefore, Im all in.” He stayed “silent.” I again position myself in the open area by the sports tv. Everyone is talking to each other and as I stood by myself, a total sense of rejection came upon me. It was almost overpowering, and I thought, “what did Jesus go thru?”
Eventually, I tell the officer that I cant be here and two other officers come to escort me to the segregated housing unit. After 2-3 weeks, Im interviewed by the S.I.S; he wants a name, like the cat gave an introduction when he approached me. “Hi, my name is Joe Schmo and you cant be here.” I dont know any names, I just got here. He then says, “if we cant confirm your story and the threat of physical harm, then you’ll be here in this isolated cell for 6 months, 24 hrs. a day with the officers passing you your food trays thru a slot in the door.
Im now on my 5th month, or close to it. My faith has been severely tested during this time and its been very difficult. But, Im going thru the fire and fire is meant to scorch, scald and burn. Im all in with Jesus-no turning back and I know He is able, and in his own wisdom and time, I will be delivered. That pushes me past this most difficult time.
- X
“...Im going thru the fire and fire is meant to scorch, scald and burn. Im all in with Jesus-no turning back and I know He is able, and in his own wisdom and time, I will be delivered.”