QUICK TRIP TO THE HOLE
Well... The BigBully is back at it. Once again the
State's goons have been called in to ransack my cell in an attempt to
dissuade me from fighting for my freedom. Although this time, I don't
place all of the blame on the goons. They were duped into action by a
sinister soul with fraudulent claims.
Last night at around 6pm, while I was preparing to write a new entry that will highlight proof that Michigan State Police detectives coerced and intimidated witnesses in my case, our regular Unit Officer asked me to step out of my cell so he could conduct a random cell search. Okay... nothing wrong with that. I lock on the second tier, so I went downstairs to the TV room and tackled to a couple of guys about the fundraiser we're going to have. We'll be allowed to buy chicken wings and pecan pie. Love the pecan pie.
I was in the TV room for about 20 minutes when I noticed the officer who was conducting the search of my cell, was back downstairs at his desk. I figured it was okay for me to return to my cell and get back to work. However, when I made it to my door, my bunkie was changing the sheets on his bed. I stood in front of the doorway to give him some space while he tightened up his area.
That's when I spotted three guards rush into the Unit. I thought to myself, "Damn... they're runnin' up in here deep!" I watched them bend the corner and hit the stairs. "They're comin' up here." They headed straight to the tier I was standing on. "Damn, where the fuck are they goin'... let me get outta their way." Next thing I knew, they were surrounding me, telling me to cuff-up. "Me? What the fuck, you're here for me?!"
There is no way to win an arguement with the BigBully, so I don't waste my breath. "I'm headed to The Hole... let's go." I was escorted across the compound to Punitive Segregation... The Hole. Once there, I received The Routine: Strip, Bend Over, Spread 'Em. I was also administered a urine test for drugs. Finally, I got tossed into a cell with nothing but a mattress.
I asked the guard who was working The Hole, why I was there. He replied that he didn't know. Surprisingly, he asked me if I wanted a book to read. Of course I would. I propped the end of my mattress against the wall and got comfortable with a good book. I never asked another question. No why am I here or when will I get out. In Punitive Segregation, questions are not answered. The BigBully is never wrong. You are there for a reason. I've been in The Hole and I've heard men cry out for months to no avail. It's a tomb inside of a tomb... and I was in it.
I was 70 pages into my book, when the guard showed up at my cell door and told me that I was being released. "Damn... I don't know if I'm ready to go, I'm kind of into this book."
When I returned to my Housing Unit, I was told that all of my personal property was packed up and placed in the Officers Office. I hollered at a couple of guys and they helped me carry everything back up to my cell. When I looked into the cell what I found was disturbing but to be expected. The cell was mangled. My bunkie was inside trying to put all of his belongings back in order. Then I noticed that about 30 pages of my Trial Transcripts were left inside of the cell. If I had been transferred to another facility from the hole, I would have lost key legal material.
When I finally got inside of my cell and opened my legal footlocker, it looked as though someone had clawed through all of my legal paperwork. Transcripts were shuffled. Affidavits were crumpled. But then I saw my typewriter. Awwwww nawwwww, they done manhandled my baby! They broke the shell off of my typewriter and the "Y" button isn't working now.
Why the Y? I guess sometimes it's you.
I finished straightening up my things around 1am. I never found out exactly why I had been taken to The Hole. The word is: they were looking for a cell phone because someone called the facility and said that I was on Facebook. Of course I'm on Facebook... but not because I have a cell phone. I've already been to The Hole for being caught with one of those. I don't want another one... I'm good. And, it's not like I'm secreting this information out. Everything I've posted has been right there for all to see. I don't hide from anyone. I'm on the "right" side of this fight.
Those who oppose me are not.
The people responsible for railroading me do not like being exposed. And they are also well aware of the fact that since I'm in prison, I am at the mercy of my captors. I live with the constant threat of retaliation. The BigBully is the master of tyranny. However, the more malicious their attacks get, the more galvanized my backers become. They encourage me to fight harder. I feed off of their support. Nothing can be done to silence me. I'll take all comers. Bury me in a box in the middle of the desert and I'll tie a message to the back of a scorpion that reads: I WAS FRAMED!
Last night at around 6pm, while I was preparing to write a new entry that will highlight proof that Michigan State Police detectives coerced and intimidated witnesses in my case, our regular Unit Officer asked me to step out of my cell so he could conduct a random cell search. Okay... nothing wrong with that. I lock on the second tier, so I went downstairs to the TV room and tackled to a couple of guys about the fundraiser we're going to have. We'll be allowed to buy chicken wings and pecan pie. Love the pecan pie.
I was in the TV room for about 20 minutes when I noticed the officer who was conducting the search of my cell, was back downstairs at his desk. I figured it was okay for me to return to my cell and get back to work. However, when I made it to my door, my bunkie was changing the sheets on his bed. I stood in front of the doorway to give him some space while he tightened up his area.
That's when I spotted three guards rush into the Unit. I thought to myself, "Damn... they're runnin' up in here deep!" I watched them bend the corner and hit the stairs. "They're comin' up here." They headed straight to the tier I was standing on. "Damn, where the fuck are they goin'... let me get outta their way." Next thing I knew, they were surrounding me, telling me to cuff-up. "Me? What the fuck, you're here for me?!"
There is no way to win an arguement with the BigBully, so I don't waste my breath. "I'm headed to The Hole... let's go." I was escorted across the compound to Punitive Segregation... The Hole. Once there, I received The Routine: Strip, Bend Over, Spread 'Em. I was also administered a urine test for drugs. Finally, I got tossed into a cell with nothing but a mattress.
I asked the guard who was working The Hole, why I was there. He replied that he didn't know. Surprisingly, he asked me if I wanted a book to read. Of course I would. I propped the end of my mattress against the wall and got comfortable with a good book. I never asked another question. No why am I here or when will I get out. In Punitive Segregation, questions are not answered. The BigBully is never wrong. You are there for a reason. I've been in The Hole and I've heard men cry out for months to no avail. It's a tomb inside of a tomb... and I was in it.
I was 70 pages into my book, when the guard showed up at my cell door and told me that I was being released. "Damn... I don't know if I'm ready to go, I'm kind of into this book."
When I returned to my Housing Unit, I was told that all of my personal property was packed up and placed in the Officers Office. I hollered at a couple of guys and they helped me carry everything back up to my cell. When I looked into the cell what I found was disturbing but to be expected. The cell was mangled. My bunkie was inside trying to put all of his belongings back in order. Then I noticed that about 30 pages of my Trial Transcripts were left inside of the cell. If I had been transferred to another facility from the hole, I would have lost key legal material.
When I finally got inside of my cell and opened my legal footlocker, it looked as though someone had clawed through all of my legal paperwork. Transcripts were shuffled. Affidavits were crumpled. But then I saw my typewriter. Awwwww nawwwww, they done manhandled my baby! They broke the shell off of my typewriter and the "Y" button isn't working now.
Why the Y? I guess sometimes it's you.
I finished straightening up my things around 1am. I never found out exactly why I had been taken to The Hole. The word is: they were looking for a cell phone because someone called the facility and said that I was on Facebook. Of course I'm on Facebook... but not because I have a cell phone. I've already been to The Hole for being caught with one of those. I don't want another one... I'm good. And, it's not like I'm secreting this information out. Everything I've posted has been right there for all to see. I don't hide from anyone. I'm on the "right" side of this fight.
Those who oppose me are not.
The people responsible for railroading me do not like being exposed. And they are also well aware of the fact that since I'm in prison, I am at the mercy of my captors. I live with the constant threat of retaliation. The BigBully is the master of tyranny. However, the more malicious their attacks get, the more galvanized my backers become. They encourage me to fight harder. I feed off of their support. Nothing can be done to silence me. I'll take all comers. Bury me in a box in the middle of the desert and I'll tie a message to the back of a scorpion that reads: I WAS FRAMED!
