Here is one of the paintings that I made in the jail art class. The class was run by this old hippy lady who went around to prisons and taught art. Her name is Joyce. This piece is called “Culture of Fear”. It’s kind of a self-portrait.
At one point during the first few weeks I was presented with a roommate. I was not happy about this but neither could I object. He was a young guy, around 19 or 20, and seemed as out of place among the other inmates as me. Perhaps that’s why they stuck him with me. In any case he turned out to be pretty much an idiot, and I called him on his idiocy. One morning I came back from breakfast and found a note lying on my pillow. I wish that I had saved it, but it later became ‘evidence’. It was from Chris (the roomie) and it essentially said “I know what you’ve been doing, and I want you to stop. If you don’t I’ll tell the CO.” For the most part that was it. There were no specifics, only this vague accusation and a threat. So of course I asked him about it. He refused to tell me, responding that “If I didn’t know what was going on, then fine, let’s drop it.” I had to get to the bottom of it. So I showed the note to a guard, a real jerk named Gagliardi, who then spoke to Chris. The next thing I know Chris is being moved out to another cell and I once again have a single. Next the pod is called to lock down and in. So I do that along with everyone else. Then suddenly my door opens and 4 (yes 4!) guards come in, handcuff me and shackle my ankles and take me down to solitary confinement.
3 hours go by when the Captain in charge of security comes in my cell (I’ll tell you about solitary later) and asks if I have any idea why I am down here. I answer honestly “No”. It turns out that the moron is accusing me of molesting him while he slept. It turns out that one night I woke up around 2AM to take a leak and had to move his arm out of my way to get of my bunk (he was on the top bunk and his arm had fallen over the side) and then walk the 3 feet to the toilet. I guess it woke him up and he thought I was trying to feel him up. So anyway, at that point I proclaim my innocence, and promptly tell the Captain that I want to speak to my lawyer before anything else happens and I want my phone call immediately! The phone call is granted and I am able to call home and tell my mother what was going on and to get my lawyer on the scene ASAP. Needless to say I wasn’t all that brave. I was god damn scared of what was happening. Rumors in jail spread like wildfire and I was about to be branded a molester! It didn’t make anything any better that I was being railroaded by the jail. So I spent the weekend in solitary.
On Monday my lawyer shows up and says that everything has been cleared up, and the jail is very apologetic. I go for a chat with the Captain. He says that they believed my story anyway and that I didn’t have to get my lawyer involved (yeah, right!). At that point I was given my choice of pods, because I was through with D Pod. I chose F Pod, which was painted a sunny yellow color. The rumor followed me, however, and I was to have my own cell for the rest of the time that I was in jail. Not that living solo was tough, but I caught a fairly good amount of flak (all verbal) from some of the idiots while I was there. I never got into any fights, was never struck or attacked, and actually ended up having some minor friendships through my AA work while I was there. I guess it was a form of 12 Step work.
That was a very brief account of that incident. I prayed a lot over the weekend in solitary, if only to stay sane, and I was pretty terrified of the whole scenario. I could have been charged with another crime, another felony, and railroaded straight to the state prison in Cedar Junction. Thank God I had a family to call and a lawyer to take charge.
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