STOP! This material is NOT edited for content. It is not fiction. It contains explicit language and descriptions of real situations. It is not suitable for minors, and may not be suitable for people who easily disturbed…
So prison can be really ultra-violent. I can see why some guys aren’t really worried about it though, because it is like bullies. They pick and choose who they will mess with, and usually they will not mess with guys who have their shit together, or gang members, etc. You see a lot of young men join the extremist Muslim groups that preaches kill all white skinned people and become extremists themselves. You see white boys join white supremacy groups or go the other way and become a Muslim, because the Muslims will protect them from anything that comes their way. I’m talking about Sunni or Shiite Muslims, not the extremists or the 5 percenters. They probably sat in a cell at some point and told themselves, “Well, I have to go one way or the other,” made the decision and were okay. Once you belong to a gang or religion you’re untouchable without permission.
I did not belong to any gang, but I would say the way I did my time is rare. I took a lot of chances at first by refusing people and affiliations, but I had also already done time several years prior, and so I knew the way things are, and I knew some pretty influential people. I also did not break any prison rules, IE: I did no drugs, alcohol, gambling or messing with homosexuals (They just call them Homos in prison, or if they are an item, the guy will introduce the other guy/girl as his wife). And I was not a gang member. And so that kept me out of ninety-nine percent of the conflicts. The rest I dealt with as it came.
For a year or so I worked doing computer programming for the prison. Hey, if you have talent they use it. They paid me well, and they set me up with a good job in the prison wood shop.
So I’m there a few days and a guy that works there, a very talented artist, gives me some crap all at once. He’s a big guy, kind of weird too, but I don’t know who he is and there is a C.O. right there when he does it so I really don’t know what to do. When he leaves, the C.O. Says “If you let him start that shit he’ll talk any way he wants to you.”
So I say, “No problem, as long as it is not going to piss you off, (because the guy works for him) I’ll put him in his place.” Another inmate there speaks up and says, ”Well, you know he’s a serial killer, right?”
“Ha ha,” I say.
“No, he really is,” the C.O. Says.
Fuck, I think.
Turns out he was a serial killer, he had killed something like thirty people that he had confessed to, and they thought the real number might be much higher.
So later in the day I wait for him to come back. I’m thinking, there is no way I’m letting this guy talk to me that way. I’ll just be cool about it.
He comes in and I say, “Yo. We need to talk.” in my best prison guy voice. So we step outside of the office area, and I say “Listen, I don’t give a fuck how many people you killed, if you ever fuckin’ talk to me like that again I’m gonna kick your fuckin’ ass, got it?” I mean, I went the total tough guy route. And you know what? He started crying. I didn’t know what to say. I just waked away. The C.O., smart ass that he was says, “Oh, you made the serial killer cry.” I was like, what now?
He never spoke to me nasty again, but after that he wanted to be my friend. I mean he would cook on his radiator in the winter, we all did, we would make pretty complicated stuff too, but after that he would always send me food. I was always afraid to eat it though, I mean, some people he killed he might have killed by poison, right? It was weird. I bring the guy up because he had no remorse at all. He did not care that he had killed a bunch of people, nothing. It was a lesson to me, there are some people in the world that will use you, and they will not care. It was where I had been in my addictions, if I were to be honest with myself, and where I was sinking deeper into before I came to prison, I may have never understood a thing about myself if I had kept on that path. I certainly would never have begun to work on myself. It really was kind of freaky, scary too that he attached himself to me after that. I would go the yard maybe once a year, he would find me and hang out with me every time and so people would get a little freaked out by that.