I have been transferred from one prison to another. This is the reason why I have been out of touch. The transition has been somewhat of an eye opening experience. I had been in the last place for over 4 years and did not have any intentions on leaving. When I was up for parole I transitioned out mentally. One of the things that I was looking forward to, had I made parole, was never putting on another pair of shackles or handcuffs. This was in my head and I would tell myself this everyday. To me those handcuffs and shackles symbolize everything that I want to be free of.
Being in transit is one of the worst experiences that one can suffer while incarcerated. You are stripped of all of your property. You are given paper pants, a t shirt and those karate shoes to wear. In the winter, as in my case, it is the worse. We were given 10 packs of crackers, the kind that has two crackers in them, to eat. That was to last us for a 6 hour ride. We were not given breakfast.
Luckily, I was transferred from general population and knew the routine so I ate a piece of fruit before I went to R&D. I knew not to eat heavy or drink a lot of fluids, because it is almost impossible to use the toilet in chains and shackles, the also belly chain us.
One of the most humiliating aspects of this is to use the toilet and splash urine all over yourself, due to the motion of the bus. There is no water to wash/rinse your hands, so you have to ride with urine on your hands. Bear in mind that you have to also eat those crackers with those same hands. The best thing to do is not eat. That leaves you feeling sick and tired but it beats the other alternative.
If you are lucky you will get a good guy to ride with. Usually, I am not in my best mood and want to be left alone. I don’t want to talk or chat. I just sit, endure the pain of tight handcuffs and watch the scenery.
One of the things that I noticed was all off of the paths that were cut into the mountains. I like to ski so when I see something that resembles a slope I try to see if people are skiing it. As we were riding I kept seeing these paths that looked like ski slopes. I kept asking myself,” why are people skiing one trail mountains.” What I came to realize was that they were not slopes but paths that were cut in order to put up telephone towers. It was the towers and the wires that made it look like a ski lift and a slope. It made me think how much people, even in mountain rural areas, depend on cell phones.
I also noticed that all of the cars looked the same. I had a hard time distinguishing between some of the newer model cars. They all looked boxed and bulky. Not like the cars of the early 90’s, the cars that I remember. Another interesting thing is that as we rode and passed other vehicles nobody even noticed the prison bus. It was as if we did not exist in the minds and worlds of other people. When you see a prison bus you know that it is a prison bus, but people seemed to not even care.
Depending on where you are going you may have to pass through a transit center. I had to pass through USP Canaan. An officer was recently killed there so they run that place real tight. They treated us as if we had something to do with it. The operation hours were so that we were out from 6 to 3. After 3 we were locked in the cells for the rest of the night. On the weekends were were locked in all day. I was fortunate that I got in on a Thursday and left that Monday. I spent the weekend locked down. I read four 400 page novels in that time. I was alone so I read. One of the things that I noticed was that I did not utter one word while I was in that cell alone. Not one word. I read and slept. I had no concept of time or anything else.
Funny how humans can adapt and adjust to almost anything. I had spent time in the hole before and being there resembled that time spent in the hole. The thing is that I have not been in the hole in years so to be able to just accept the situation and adapt to it without thought was somewhat scary. It is scary to be able to accept that time of segregation as something that is normal.
When we left there we had to go to the airport. There are some prisoners that have to fly to other destinations, while others get on a bus at the airfield. I took a bus but had to get on it at the airport.
They had two planes there. One was a federal plane and the other was a deportation plane. The deportation plane was the saddest thing that I have ever saw. I counted about 400 men and women that were being deported back to their respected countries. Most here of Hispanic origin. They had them with all of their worlds possessions in one bag. They were shackled and handcuffed as they were lead onto the plane.
I felt the sorriest for the women. I know that many of them were leaving behind young kids and families that they may never see again. The journey to this country is not an easy one. It is easier for the men but quite dangerous for the women. They stand to be raped and held against their will. So to see them leaving behind this place that has been home to them broke my heart. Another broken family. I can think of many alternatives to what is being used now. Alternatives to deal with this issue. This issue is one of the issues that drives my love for the Spanish language. It is my intent to work with that community when I am released.
Well after sitting on the bus for 6 hours waiting. We left and 3 hours later we arrived at the new place that I am in. It is not that bad here. To me it is another prison. After so many years they all look the same. The biggest thing here is that I am 2 hours from DC, home, and it is easier for my family to come see me. I in fact got a visit this weekend from them.
Being able to see my family was worth the trouble that it took to get here. Hopefully something gives with my case and I get out sooner than later. If not this is where I will be until my next parole hearing, 2018.
I hope that some good things happen here. We will see and I will keep you all posted!