Walla Walla Flashback

   When I was a prisoner at the state penitentiary in Walla Walla, Washington, living as a full out queen with my “man” in the same unit where they murdered the child-killer-rapist Westley Allan Dodd by hanging him in front of an “official” audience, three guards once took me down to the area where the death-chamber was located so one of them could threaten to “fuck me up” if I ever looked at him “funny” again. The same thing just happened here in Terre Haute, on death row (SCU) on my way to “recreation”.

   I had asked to use one of the indoor exercise rooms where a “TRULINCS” computer is located so I could download some songs I bought yesterday (but they weren’t “available” until today for some strange reason) onto my MP3 player. Two guards came and cuffed me up through the “bean-slot” of my door as usual (hands behind my back) then opened the door (from a control-box at the end of the tier manned by a third guard) and proceeded to escort me to the rec-room.

   The only thing strange was that I had asked for the upstairs “big-room”, which I was told was available (i.e. no one else had asked for it), but they were taking me downstairs instead. I thought maybe someone was in the upstairs room, but when I glanced in that direction on the way to the stairs I noticed the lights were off in that rec-room. Odd, but no reason for alarm.

   The alarm came a moment later though. As we (me and two guard escorts) were half way down the stairs, on the landing between stair sets going down --- a “blindspot” hidden from all the cameras in the unit --- the guard in front of me suddenly stopped, turned to me and calmly said, “Don’t you ever come out for rec on my shift again, I don’t like you.”

   I must admit I was a little confused and taken aback at first. His tone didn’t match the words I was hearing (I suppose he had rehearsed all this in his fantasies over and over, so in his mind the deliberate calmness contrasted by his threatening words was meant to be dramatically intimidating, like in the movies --- which is usually where someone like him gets all his social cues).

   But it only took me a second or two to piece together the puzzle and realize what was going on; it wasn’t my first “rodeo” after all. Then I asked him as incredulously as I could, “Are you serious?” At which point he turned and pushed me with his fat belly (which he had to do just to get his face “in” my face) and said something like, “Damn right I’m serious! I’ll chop your fucking head off and throw it down these stairs, you fucking sick bastard, fucking with children!”

   His calm-demeanor fantasy was quickly abandoned as soon as his intended victim (me) broke from the script in his head, and he began resorting directly to the bullying tactics he no doubt grew up relying on to make his way in the world (he clearly wasn’t relying on any thing passing for intelligence).

   At this point I said what I had wanted to say right off, but had to make certain of the circumstances first (i.e. by asking if he was serious). Once I knew he was indeed serious (which made the whole thing hilarious to me, like something out of a bad B-rate movie), I just smiled and said, “Well, fuck you too then.” As if I were an actor delivering the line I was expected to deliver but with no “heart” in it.

   The guard took the theatrical bait nonetheless, and pushed me again with his belly as he got closer to my face, so now I could clearly smell his breath (not minty, but not bad either like I almost expected), and said, “I’ll fuck you up…” Then talking to the guard behind me, “…take those cuffs off right here!” (he didn’t, of course).

   Talk about flashbacks! Well, I knew --- this time at least --- not to say anything the least bit “threatening.” Instead I just smiled and quipped, “That’d be fun,” to which he responded, “Oh, you think this is funny! I’ll kill your family!” (Yes, he really said that! Can you believe it?) “I’ll rip your fucking head off” (apparently that’s something he likes saying), and then, “I’ll fuck you in the ass!” at which point I really smiled and said (honestly), “Oh, I’d really like that!” To which all he could say was, “I bet you would!”

   “Yes, I would.” I said again. I looked around during all his commotion and calmly noticed that the other guards, including the one right behind me, were willing to condone, but not participate in this idiot’s shenanigan. So I knew I wasn’t in any real danger as long as I stayed calm and didn’t give him what he wanted (like I so foolishly did last time; see “What Happened In Prison: Part IV” in the “5NConfessions” section).

   Eventually they took me the rest of the way down stairs and to the rec-room without further incident. I downloaded my music, then browsed the books on the book cart (selecting one to take back to my cell with me about Islamic eating practices) and relaxed while I listened to my new music. I figured he would tear up my cell (i.e. “cell search”) to get even with me for not taking him seriously (and probably making him look foolish in his mind, but I hope not because that’s not what I tried to do at all). I thought if I saw him again when my rec-time was over that I would say something like, “Hey, you know, if you don’t want me to come out for rec on your shift all you have to do is ask and I’d respect that.” Then maybe add something like, “You don’t have to threaten me like a three-year-old.” (But then I decided I’d leave that last part out.)

   But, I didn’t see him again, and the other, more sensible (i.e. adult) guards came and took me back to my cell (which was not “trashed” after all --- big relief), in cuffs, without comment or incident. I think they were actually a little embarrassed about the whole thing. I certainly would have been if I were them.

   (Note: One of the reasons I have avoided going to “rec” in the past was precisely to avoid confrontations like this one. I had to look at the name on this guard’s shirt because I honestly had no idea who he was, much less how obsessed he is with child molesters, or me for that matter. And though I never noticed him specifically before, I know well enough, from years and years of experience, that prisons are full of his “type”, on both sides of the locked doors. The only truly amazing thing about all this --- in my experience --- is the relative INfrequency of such encounters; both with the guards, and prisoners, here in Terre Haute. I’m still trying to figure out why that is.

   I have no good theories, yet.