Monthly Archives: December 2009

I Must Have Done Something Really Bad In A Past Life…

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I was sitting in my backyard with a broken foot, when I had the idea to write this. I’ve had this building up inside for a long time. As gay as it sounds, it feels cathartic to finally just write and and exorcise these demons. Much of this I have been unable to talk about because of the powers-that-be and some I have just been afaid to.

If you are on the outside looking in, you might think that I’ve got it made. While I do have a good life — things are not as easy as they seem. For the last 14 years, I have had some kind of fucked up shit holding me down in one form or another. As soon as I think one hurdle out of the way, another comes to replace it.

For better or worse, here it goes…

It all started, 9/11/1997.

I was driving outside of Atlanta, to join the band The Spoits to tour the East Coast. I had a quarter of weed and 2 hits of acid on me. All clearly for personal use.


On a barren stretch of I16 (town of Soperton, Treutlen County, GA), I get pulled over by this redneck cop. I crotched the drugs, but this faggot cop actually put his hand down my pants to retrieve the drugs because (as he would later admit in court) “I had an obvious budge in my parts.”

They take me to jail, charge me with felony possession of LSD, possession on marijuana, speeding, and DUI (?).

The sheriff introduces me to his bondsman buddy (Wesley Wadley), who is more than happy to get me out of jail if I would raise the cash ($4000 on a $6000 bail – the max allowed by law is 10% of bail). I called a buddy in Atlanta and he brought the money down. I spent the night in jail, they confiscate my truck, took the 4k, gave me no paperwork, and let me out the next day. At the time, I only wanted to get the fuck out of there, so I paid the bond and left the truck.

1997 goes by and I never heard anything from them. Almost another year goes by and still nothing. I start thinking: Was this just a payoff and I’ll never hear from them again? I so, I’m fine with that.

Wrong!

Late at night in March 1998, I get a call from Wesley Wadley asking if I would be in court the next day. I tell him this is the first I’ve heard of this in 2 years, he says he’ll check on it, and then calls me back 10 minutes later to say it was a mistake. I needed to come in to sign some “continuance forms” in the next few days! Keep in mind, they had my correct address. If they had sent a summons, I would have gotten it.

So I went down a few days later to sign the “continuance forms”, I stepped behind the counter, they locked me up for failure to appear, took my 4k bail money, and took my truck.I would spend the next month in the county jail.

I hire some lawyer down there from jail, he goes to the post office and finds the letters they supposedly sent summoning me to court and they were stamped “not deliverable to this address” even though they HAD THE CORRECT ADDRESS ON IT! That was the scam the Sherriff Wayne Hooks had running down there for years: They would arrest people, charge outrageous bail bonds, their cousin at the post office would tamper with the letters, you’d miss court, they’d keep the money, and THEN run you through their meat grinder justice system! My lawyer showed the envelope to the judge and the let me free on bail till my trail.

The DA offered me a plea “bargain” of 10 years probation and 7000 dollars in fines just for the LSD. My lawyer advised me to plea “not guilty” because so much fucked up shit had happened, that I might be able to get off on a technicality.

While I was awaiting my next court date, my lawyer sends a letter to the bondsman reminding him of what the maximum GA state bond fee are. My truck and my money (less the 10%) are returned not long after.

After some legal wrangling, it’s time to go back to court and I’ve realized that there is no way to do anything to defend yourself in Soperton’s “Good Ole Boy Network”, so I ought to accept the 10 year plea.

Strangely enough, in the wake of getting our money back, all of a sudden the prosecutor has changed and (according to them) the plea deal next existed. The new prosecutor wants to “give me 5 years” – I wind up taking a new deal, that is 10 years of probation, $8,000 in fines, and 6 months in prison.

I plea guilty. I am now a felon.

In February 1999 I went in to begin my 6-month stint in the joint. During that time I broke my foot while working on the chain gang, was almost sentenced to 5 more years for an arson attempt, and generally had come to realize that prison life wasn’t for me.

In July of 1999, I got out of prison and was picked up by my fiancée. I returned to ATL life as normal, selling drugs, playing with my band, only now under the looming threat of probation – which meant: no drinking, no drugs, no leaving the state, no arrests, no fights, no bars, keep a normal job, and show up every month – none of which I was willing to do. So that made life pretty complicated.

In the weeks that passed, a strain in my relationship with my girl seemed to develop. We weren’t getting along. When one of my best friends came over to tell me that he’d fucking her the whole time I’d been locked up, I realized why.

I was absolutely livid. I couldn’t seem to get past the hatred I had for the world, Atlanta in particular. By my own admission, I had turned into a raging psychopath. Even my friends were scared of me, but I couldn’t believe my “friends” would stab me in the back. So, now here I was living in this town I now hated, but unable to move because of 10 years of probation.

I was fucked.

The only one good thing that did happen during that time is I started to get more involved with the adult Internet. When I went to jail, I had placed 2 links to porn sites on www.dickdelcious.com and had a check for $140 when I got out. I figured if you can make money when you are locked up, imagine what I could do if I applied myself!

To be honest, during this who period my chief source of income was DRUGS. If you needed weed, coke, and sometimes ecstasy – I was your man. Over time, the money from online porn started to rise, so I stopped selling coke. At one point, I even tried to quit selling weed but was talked out of it by my suppliers.

After 2 years of completing the “administrative” part of my probation I stay out of trouble, ao I’m released to “unsupervised”. Unsupervised means: no more visits, no leaving the state, no fines, or drug tests – just don’t get arrested.

That was all fine until July of 2002.

During this whole period, I had kept my story of Treutlen County posted on the Internet, hoping that maybe one day, somebody with power would read it and finally bring some heat down on these corrupt rednecks. That never happened, but someone was reading it: Sheriff Wayne Hooks himself. Now I realize, you may you have free speech, but as long as someone has power over you, you don’t really have it.

Unbeknownst to me, Sheriff Hooks had recently got Federal violation of civil rights charges and it now suited his needs to get anything off the Internet that would make his case look bad in court.

One July day in 2002, I get a summons from Treutlen County in the mail telling me I need to be down there in 3 days (it’s 300 miles away). I had no idea why they would want to fuck with me after this much time. I knew one thing I couldn’t do in 3 days: Pass A Drug Test!

I tried to see if I could postpone the meeting or even find out what it is about, to no avail. If I couldn’t get it postponed, I wanted to at least get my lawyer to accompany me, as I already know these cretins in South Georgia don’t play fair!

My South, GA attorney was in Europe and couldn’t go, so I sought the advice of an Atlanta lawyer. He told me it would be better not to show up, if the piss test would be dirty, which makes sense to me.

The day I was supposed to go down there, I gave myself a drug test, which came back clean (surprisingly) and I went on the lam. I spent the next 6 weeks sleeping in my van, stripper’s apartments, bars, and offices while I was waiting to see how this situation would sort out.

I finally hear back from my lawyer. He tells me that he spoke with the judge and that it was fine to reschedule to probation visit. I go back to my apartment for the first time in weeks. That night, I get picked up by the Atlanta police on a probation violation. The Judge had even lied to my lawyer.

They haul me off to the Dekalb County jail. The next morning, Sheriff Hooks himself picks me up to take me on the 300 mile drive back to Soperton. He was facing his own trial that next week. Needless to say, that 4-hour drive was damn near surreal. I was preparing to for him to pull the cruiser to the side of the road and beat me to death at any moment. As soon as I get to the Treutlen County jail, the probation cunt piss tests me, but by now weeks have passed and I am clean.

On August 22nd, the sheriff is convicted on federal depravation of human rights changes, gets house arrest and has to resign from law enforcement.

On October, 3rd I have to go to court for probation violation, after sitting in jail for 6 weeks. They charged me with failing a drug test, refusal to submit to a drug test, and failure to report. My lawyers ask why Treutlen probation felt compelled to call me down after all of this time. They produce a printed page containing what I had written about the corrupt sheriff and a picture of the “Bigger Than Ron Jeremy” CD (which depicts me doing a line {of sugar} off our drummers head). The dirty drug test charge gets dropped, the refusal to take a drug test gets dropped, but they stick me on the failure to report. I sentenced me to a year of supervised probation out of Atlanta.

In big city Atlanta, the probation officers have better things to do. When I first met with my new probation officer, she couldn’t believe that I had been given 10 years to start with, never mind all of the harassment of the last few weeks to coming out of Treuntlen County. I explained my position, what I had written on the Internet to pissed them off, and how the sheriff was now a felon. She seemed sympathetic and placed me on write-in probation immediately, meaning I’d only have to send in a letter once a month.

By this time, my Internet porn selling career was really flourishing. I was making more money than I knew what to do with. The band had broken up, I wasn’t selling drugs anymore, and didn’t have a girlfriend. Other than probation; there wasn’t anything tying me to Atlanta.

I needed to go.

I don’t know what had taken me so long to realize it, but The South sucks balls and really needs to catch up with the rest of the country.

Durning those next few months, I get the offer to buy into OCCash.com, so I fly out to California in the spring. I decide to do it and fly back to pack up and leave. Now keep in mind, I still have 5 years left on probation and I’m not supposed to be leaving the state!

In my last few weeks in Atlanta, I set up a very elaborate series of fake voicemail boxes, bogus addresses, fake IDs, and phony employers — juts in case probation ever comes to call.

Spring, 2003 I am out in California fulltime. I first lived in Huntington Beach, but didn’t really like it, so I moved up to LA. I really love LA; people who talk trash about it need to get a clue.

cali

Now keep in mind, this whole time in am out in California every time I go to the DMV, get a traffic ticket, or leave the country – I am waiting for the other shoe to drop, have a warrant turn up, and get dragged back to Soperton!

Yes, I know that while on probation, you aren’t supposed to be doing things like leaving the country, drinking, or smoking pot. If a mans average lifespan is 70 years, there is no way I am giving them one out of every seven days for a stupid drug charge!!

You gotta’ live! Damnit!

In spite of everything, on Feburary 7th 2009, I actually finished 10 years of probation! I couldn’t believe it. Yes, I had beat the system, but it really sucks having to live every day knowing that this all could be taken from you and you’d wind up back in prison!

In March 2008, I had my official “Off Probation” party and I was free — finally free!

Or was I?

I admit, that I did go a bit crazy drinking and partying when the whole probation deal was done, but it was nothing I hadn’t done before.

Just a month later, in April 2009 I started to wake up late at night drenched in mysterious pools of sweat. At first, I thought it was just my nerves or maybe partying. As the weeks went on, my condition worsened.

I stared to Google “night sweats” and saw hat there were three conditions commonly associated with them: menopause, tuberculosis, and AIDS. Needless to say, I freaked out because there was no way it was menopause, nobody gets tuberculosis anymore, so that left only one thing….

I went down to the AIM clinic the next day and go checked for HIV. Fortunately, I was negative. I chalked it all up to nerves, and for a while, the symptoms seemed to fade.

By the end of May, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I was starting to feel really run down and was losing weight, but still wasn’t convinced that it was anything serious, so I went to see a doctor. He checked my breathing, my chest was badly obstructed – he thought I should go directly to the emergency room.

I was so sick that one of my lungs had actually already collapsed.

I get to the emergency room and was admitted immediately,  I still didn’t think I was that sick. They start running all kings of test on my X-rays,TB, HIV, bloodwork, immune response, and everything checked out normal, but I keep getting sicker and sicker.

X-rays show that I have a massive effusion in my pleural cavity. They drain the liquid out me by sticking some spikes in my back (I am awake for this), but the infection if still keeps coming. The doctors think it might be TB and order a second round of test that prove inconclusive.

owch

Halfway through my stay, I have to get a major operation (a trorasostamy) to remove the infection from my lungs. The operation is a success, but the infection still keeps coming. If the source of the infection can’t be identified, it will happen again.

After being in the hospital of 18 days, they diagnose me with “valley fever” and am released. The day after I get home, a blood test used to screen for TB came back positive. To find out if I actually had TB, I would have to wait 6 weeks for the results of my biopsy to come back. To be safe, I was placed on a regimen of anti-TB meds.

In July, the results of my biopsy came back:

I had tuberculosis.

I probably had contracted TB somewhere overseas in my travels or (even more ironicly) in prison. TB an airborne disease that anyone can get, one-out-of-3 persons in the world have been exposed to it, it requires something to wear you body down (in my case it was drugs/alcohol) enough to become active. I had an atypical pleural TB, which isn’t in your lungs, so I couldn’t cough and spread it. If you hung out with me in that period of time you are fine – I wasn’t contagious.

I spent the whole summer of 2009 sober. I wasn’t even smoking weed. Honestly, once the TB meds had kicked in I felt pretty much normal, aside from the pain from the surgery.

If you have been reading this far, you probably realize: I like to drink. I can’t help it. I suffer from a form of social anxiety. I am a very quiet and shy person naturally, it takes some alcohol to bring be out of my shell. When I am sober, even the most mundane of social scenarios make me nervous and fidgety.  If you know me, that may seem ridiculous, but it’s true.

One of the cruel tricks TB meds play on you is they completely cure the disease (if taken properly) but destroy your liver at the same time. The state also sicks the health department on you. It’s a total pain in the balls and actually reminds me quite a bit of probation!

The last 6 months of 2009, I have been getting complete blood workups done once a month and as of December 17, 2009 I was completely cured and my liver survived.

So, I am free to live my life again, right?

Wrong!

On December 18 2009, while preparing for an Xmas Christmas party, I tripped walking on some steps in my backyard and re-broke the same foot I had broken in jail. I will be spending the next 6 weeks in a cast and on crutches.

Now I know a bum foot is not a big deal compared to felony convictions, backstabbing friends, corrupt sheriffs, and tuberculosis, but it is just a continuation of living the last 14 years one-crisis-to-another.

I accept responsibility for my own problems I’ve created, but this run of bad JuJu is ridiculous.

And it leaves me to wonder…

What’s next?!

Jay

Part III: Soperton Strikes Back

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This is part 3 of the Soperton trilogy. Here, the past comes to call again five years later

July 16th 1999 – March 2001 – Probation

Upon, being released from jail I am placed on Fulton County probation, which I complete to maximum length on supervision (2 years) and am allowed to serve the remainder of my probation on unsupervised (administrative) status out of Treutlen County. During this time, frustrated by the previous injustices, I write and publish on the internet my accounts of the events of what occurred in Treutlen County.

Meanwhile, in Soperton, on October 27th 2001: Sheriff Wayne Hooks and Deputy Ryan Grinner beat two men unconscious that were in their custody in front of a group of at least 20 people at a local Waffle House. They attempted to in influence the witness’s testimony; and are indicted by the federal government on January 9th 2001 for the crime.

July 9th 2002 – Demons from The Past

By this time it has been almost seven years after my initial arrest, five years after my conviction, and three years into my unsupervised probation status. One warm summer day I go to check my mail. There’s a letter in my mailbox address from the Soperton Probation Office. One or two times a year I receive one from them checking on my whereabouts to see if I changed employment, so I didn’t think this would be a big deal. I open it, and my heart sinks down to my feet. It’s says:

“You are hereby ordered to report to the Soperton Probation office at 11AM, Monday July 14th or a warrant will be issued for your arrest.”

My mind begins to race – “What the hell do they want with me after all of this time?” – I start to panic. I call down to Soperton to try to find out why they want to see me, but can’t get any details from them. Next, I call my attorney, Tommy Smith, from the initial case to see if he can get any information. I ask Tommy if he can accompany me to this visit. It happens, on that very day, he was leaving the country for Spain and had already filed a leave of absence with the courts. I ask him what I should do, he tells me that he would attempt to call to see if they would reschedule the appointment. He calls, they very arrogantly deny his request, so he faxes in a letter showing his attached leave of absence, and tells them that we will have to reschedule upon his return.

With no legal council available, and this hanging over my head, I decide the thing to do is to find the best lawyer that is available in the Atlanta area to see what they can do, seeing as Mr. Smith was able to do so little in the Soperton legal vacuum the first time through. I am referred through a friend to Jack Cook, an older and very well respected lawyer in the Atlanta metro area. I make an appointment with him the next morning.

July 10th 2002 – Meeting With Jackson Cook

The next morning at Mr. Cook’s office I again explain my situation to see if he can help. I explain that I have been released to unsupervised probation, have not been arrested, and stressed that fast that I had not been in trouble for anything since I the original crime on September 11th of 1997. He calls down to Soperton again and asks for a reason that I am expected to make a 400 mile round trip. Again, no explanation is given from the very arrogant attitude from Mrs. Gillis. He asks if he can speak to one of her superiors, and is referred to another person in the probation office. In his opinion, the fact that they would not give a reason for my appearance coupled with past troubles and my flawless record on probation advised me not to go down there, and said that he would write the judge to ask for a continence. That day a letter was fedexed to Treutlen County regarding this.

July 14th – Pins and Needles

On that advice of jack cook I did not show up for my probation appointment. I decided that I’d would get some insurance, just in case they were going to try to say that my reason for not showing up was some kind of attempt to elude a drug test, so I went to Any Lab Test (a private screening clinic, whose test are approved my the Atlanta probation office), submitted to a drug screen, and tested negative. Mr. Cook advised me not to be at my residence on the 14th, just in case they sent a deputy directly up to get me.

July 14th – 21st – On the Lamb?

Not knowing weather or not a warrant had been issued for my arrest – I spent much of the next week sleeping at my office and trying to avoid my house while I waited for a decision from the judge. On the morning of the 21st I called Mr. Cook and he indicated to me that the judge had called him back and told him that it would be fine to wait until Mr. Smith was back in the country to do the probation visit. Awesome, the pressure’s off…maybe everything will be ok? Until…

August 11th – Visit from the Dekalb County goon squad

About 5 in the morning I hear a rap, rap, rap at my back door. It’s the Dekalb county police and the have a warrant for my arrest signed from the good folks over in Treutlen County for my arrest. I try to explain, in vain, that it all had to be a mistake and that my lawyers had handled this. They state “Yeah man – sure – we hear that kind of shit all the time.”

I am taken to a holding cell where I stay till early afternoon what I am picked u by my arch nemesis himself, sheriff Wallace Wayne hooks and am transferred down to the Treutlen county jail.

AUGUST 11TH TILL SEPTEMBER 5TH – INCARCERATION

August 12th – Attack of the urine Nazi

Immediately fir the thing the next morning Mrs. Thalia Gillis comes up to my cell requesting a urine screen – which I turn up negative for, with the exception of benzodipines – which is a metabolite on xanax which I have prescription for and I explain that.

August 18th – 21st – Nero Play’s His Fiddle While Soperton Burns

While incarcerated in the Treutlen Count jail the trial of Wayne hooks and Deputy Ryan griner begins for three federal felony changes of deprivation of civil rights while in custody. Ironically, I am locked up in the jail above the sheriff’s office as this all happens. There is a lot of speculation that he will win the trial seeing as of the twenty or so witnesses to the incident – only one waitress could make it to court to testify. While this whore circus is going on – the whole town is shut down and there is no court, leaving me hanging.

August 22nd – Ever Dog Has His Day

On the Friday morning the jury gets back with its verdict, finding the good sheriff guiltily on both counts of felony civil rights violations. He is forced to vacate his job of 18 years, which is promptly filled by his cousin and becomes a hero for some reason.

August 23rd – 4th Delays, delays, delays…

The exodus of the sheriff apparently makes it so the whole town ceases functioning. Court is put off for two weeks while the changes take place.

September 5th – Finally, May Day in Court

On the morning of Friday the 5th, I am finally given a court date. My lawyer (very expensively) comes down from Atlanta and meets my attorney in Vidalia for the hearing. Mrs. Gillis (my probation officer), however decides that she can’t make it to the hearing. My lawyers ask the judge that I be released on my own recognizance, which he agrees to, and I am free to go. An October 3rd date is set for my hearing.

October 3rd – Finally, finally my day in court…

On the morning of Friday July 3rd both of my lawyers and me show up for court. The prosecutor, an abject dickhead, offers us a deal of “probation starting out with house arrest” – we decline the offer and the hearing proceeds.

First my probation officer gets on the stand as a witness. The prosecutor asks why she asked my to come down to Soperton after so many years on unsupervised probation. The prosecution had printed out several pages from the Dick Delicious website – one of which depicts me doing a line of (coke) sugar off of our drummers head.It was also on this same site where I had written the tales of what I’d been through in Rruetlen County.

Up to this time there was always some question in my mind as to weather the judge was in collusion with the powers that be in Soperton – as the hearing went on – the answer to that question became obvious – he was. The legal wrangling in court become quite intense, with the DA getting up and objecting to everything, and the judge agreeing to 90% of his objections.

I finally show the drug test I had taken from the same day I was supposed to be there for the drug test and attempt to argue a few more points in vain. The judge gives me a not guilty on the dirty piss test, no guilty for refusing to submit to a drug text, but guilty for failure to appear.

He places back on supervised probation in Atlanta.

Part 2: March 1999 – July 1999 – Prison Boot Camp

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You might remember my last article “The Good Ole’ Boy Network” before you read this one – where I went through an unbelievable amount of bullshit in a Truetlen County (a crooked corrupt county in South Georgia). Where I left you last I had just been sentenced to 6 months in a prison boot camp for a 1/4 oz. of when and 2 hits of LSD – first offense…

On February 15, 1999 I was sentenced to 120-180 days in a Probation Detention Center (a PDC – Emanuel Probation Detention Center in Twin City, GA- near Swainsboro). I was allowed to stay free until I had to turn myself in to the Sheriffs Office at 8:30 AM in Soperton, GA. I stayed awake all night the night before and my friend Johny “Cold Beer” and my girlfriend started the 3.5 hour drive to South Georgia at 4AM.

I arrived at the Sheriffs Office at 8AM and sat saying my last goodbyes to my girlfriend until 8:30 when this inbred Deputy Sheriff told me it was time to go and put me in the back of a cop car. I wasn’t handcuffed and I rode in the front seat of the deputy’s car with a police dog in the back. On the way he stopped at a county garage and went inside to get oil and left me in the car with it running, upon arrival to the center this moron left me outside (again with the car running) for another 20 minutes. Either time I could have just gotten behind the wheel and driver the fuck out of there – this is the kind of idiots we are dealing with here.

When he came back he drove the car around to the intake area, where I was greeted by a Department of Corrections Sargent who looked like he was the mutated offspring of the banjo boy from “Deliverance”. Before I even stepped out of the car the verbal abuse began – he began insulting me, degrading me, threatening me, and giving me orders military style (“sir yes sir” and all that BS) that was just the beginning of a hazing process that would make a drunken frat hazing look like an etiquette class.

I was stripped searched, de-loused and went through just about every kind of physical humiliation you could imagine, then they made me stand in a room at attention for about 4 hours with several other inmates staring at a wall with a sign on it that had the 12 “General Orders” and read it over and over again. I stood at attention the whole first day as they went through the intake process, and then I was admitted to the general population. The whole first week we had to sit in a room with the other new inmates while staff member after staff member came in and explained the “program” and continued the cycle of abuse.

My only contact with the outside world consisted of letters and one 10 minute phone call on Monday night once a week. Summer was coming, it was South Georgia, there was no air conditioning, and we had to spend all day dressed in hot jumpsuits at all times. The staff was on your ass 24/7 over one thing or another – punishment was swift and severe. You had to shave every whisker off your face each morning with a shitty disposable razor that was only replaced once a week. Every day at 6AM, 8AM, 10AM, 11:30AM, 2PM, 5PM, 6:30 PM, and 9:30PM the entire inmate population would have to stand at attention silently by their bunks while the staff took about 20 minutes to walk around the center and do a count of the inmates. Each Friday there was major inspections – sometimes you would have to stand at attention for 2-3 hours.

After the first week I began work on the “chain gang” – doing various shitty jobs no slack jawed yokel would do around there even for money (Twin Cities is not exactly an employment mecca) – cleaning up around the dump, dumpster diving, and clearing land. The inmate labor is contracted out to the surrounding counties for less money then they would have to pay than if they actually gave some redneck a job. Then, at the end of an 8 or nine hour shift, we would return to the center, get strip searched to make sure you didn’t bring anything back in (anyone who would take a job where you have to look up other guy’s asses every day is definently a butt pirate) , would be forced to go on a 4.5 mile forced run, endured more abuse from the staff (locker searches, inspections, drills), eat dinner (yum!! – I lost about 20 pounds), do more miliary drills, get about 30 minutes of free time – then lights out – they got you up at 5:30 AM each day.

One thing I never understood about the concept of the chaingang is how it serves the interest of public safety sending 12 pissed off felons out in the community with axes with one unarmed correction officer. At several points during my incarceration I thought about just cutting his head off and going home.

On my fourth week there I broke my right foot while jogging on Sunday night. The pain was so serious I could barley walk and other inmates helped carry me inside. I reported my injury to medical first thing the next morning. After a very brief examination of my injury the nurse told me that “I was faking it and if I was getting paid 10 dollars and hour to go out and work that I wouldn’t be coming to her with this crap” and sent me off to work on the chaingang again that day.

That day I mowed a field (probably 200 yards x 200 yards) with a heavy push lawn mower for 8 hours and a broken foot, all while this sadistic corrections officers sat in the shade, chewed tobacco, laughed at me, and threatened me with disciplinary action if I didn’t pick up the pace. The next day my foot had swollen up so much I couldn’t barley put on my shoe. Again I went to medical, only to be told that there was nothing wrong with me, and I was sent back into slavery for the day. This went on day after day for a week until I finally convinced them that something was wrong and I was excused from the chain gang, but for some stupid reason I still had to go on the 4.5 mile run each afternoon, stand at attention 8 times a day, and do the military drills. While the rest of the inmates went out to work they made me sit in a room facing a wall for nine hours a day in a chair – no reading, no sleeping – nothing – just sitting there.

Finally two and a half weeks later I finally convinced them to get me an X-Ray. They transported me to Riedsville Maximum Security Prison, and the x-ray confirmed what I had been saying all along – my foot was fractured. So for the last 14 days I had been marching, doing 4.5 mile runs, and standing at attention on a broken foot. My leg was put in a cast and I walked with the aid of crutches. For the next 6 weeks every day while the other inmates went out to work I sat like a vegetable in the room 9 or 10 hours a day – after a while I was looking forward to returning to life as a slave.

After six weeks they removed my cast and sent me straight back on the chain gang, no period of recovery – I still could barley walk because my foot was so stiff, but I was glad not to be sitting in that god damned room while time ebbed.

After a few more weeks I had about a month or so of my sentence to complete and disaster struck again. The inmates are housed in four dorms (60 prisoners to a dorm) and one day the trash can in the dorm caught on fire because someone left a burning cigarette in the trash (it was forbidden to smoke in the dorms). I was the first to spot it and took the cover off in an attempt to extinguish it. I put the fire out, but the room still was blue with smoke – a guard came in and asked what the hell was going on. There was no way out of it so I explained what had happened. The guard got really pissed off and made the whole dorm line up. Everyone in the dorm was to be punished, unless someone came forward and turned in the person who started the fire. Some of the other inmates tried to blame me for starting the fire because I had explained the obvious to the guard, and they said I was a “snitch”. These same inmates all made written statements saying they saw me put the cigarette in the trash, even though I don’t smoke. I was the scapegoat for the fire.

After the warden read the statements, I was sent to the hole (24 hour a day solitary lockdown) for starting the fire. While in the hole, the warden came in and explained that he was planning on revoking the remainder of my probation (10 years) and sending my to prison for destruction of state property. I was terrified…here I was with no contact with anyone who could exonerate me and a bunch of stupid happy cons happy that they aren’t the ones going down for it laying around in the dorms.

Other than the fear of going up the river for 10 years, in a kind of sick way – in liked the hole. It gave me a chance to catch up on my masturbation, I didn’t have to deal with anyone else, and the staff stayed out of your face. After about a week of being in the hole you begin to forget if it’s night or day. You are in a room with a steel bed, a toilet, a sink, and an intercom that would go to the main control room. Every once in a while I would get on the intercom, in what I thought was the middle of the night and fuck with the corrections officers, saying something like:

“Good evening and thanks for listening to W-HOLE Radio being broadcast from lovely segregation unit #2 here in scenic Twin Cities, GA…Today in news: well, we have no idea what happened. Today in sports: we have no idea who played. Today’s weather: we have no idea, we haven’t been outside. The weather in the hole is a balmy 80 degrees and will remain that way through the rest of today, next week, and next year…and now for a brief selection from Kenny G doing ‘Just the Two of Us’.”

Then a voice would blare back at me to shut the fuck up…but what the hell are they gonna do – throw me in the hole?

After a week and a half some other inmates finally came forward and signed statements that I wasn’t the one who started the fire and I was let out of the hole. I spent the last month or so of my sentence just dealing with the usual day to day bullshit and slavery until Friday, July 16th when I was released. At 8:30 AM they let me walk out the front door where I was met by my useless piece of shit ex-girlfriend (who had been fucking my even more useless piece of shit best friend the whole time I was in), and I was a free man again…YAY!! I’ll tell you one thing the Georgia Department of Corrections left me feeling anything but correct…oh well…life sucks then you die, go to hell, and get screwed again…