FRP: Confusion and Lies

A couple of months ago I reported that after some unnecessarily convulted discussions with the SCU (death row) “case manager” I had managed to negotiate an understanding and agreement that would get me off of “FRP refuse” status so I could spend more than $25 a month on commissary. Well, it seems that there never was any agreement, or understanding, as far as the “case manager” was concerned.

The agreement that I thought we were clear about was that I would pay $25 out of the money that a friend sent me as a gift (so I can buy things like stamps, coffee, hygiene items, and maybe a little candy once in a while, but mostly to pay for phone calls, which cost $3.20 for 15 minutes) into the FRP fund (which I asked several times for information about what this 'fund' is used for but never received an answer except, “it is part of your court ordered financial obligation”, which is as much a non-answer to my question as you can get). I had agreed to pay the $25 even though according to B.O.P. Policies --- which I read carefully --- I should have been “FRP exempt” because I received less than $450 in the previous six month period. I tend to not argue with how staff here choose to “interpret” the policies, since they have already established their ability to ignore policies when they choose by simply replying nonsensically to any written requestion for compliance (see: What's Justice Got To Do With It?). 

So, after I asked my friend to send some money to pay my “court ordered fine”, I sent an e-mail (I'm allowed to send e-mails to staff, but not to my lawyers or anyone outside of the prison because I am a “sex offender”) to the “case manager” to let him know the money had been posted on my account so he could arrange for the $25 FRP withdrawal per our agreement.

I even attempted to accept responsibility for the misunderstanding we had prior to our agreement, figuring as I usually do that it takes two people for a misunderstanding to happen. I had genuinely hoped the issue was finally going to be resolved by my paying the $25 FRP fine.

But, Mr. Shepherd, the “case manager” had other ideas. He replied, rather harshly, that no agreement had been reached, and in fact I had “refused to sign any new agreement”. Of course no “new agreement” was ever presented for me to sign when I spoke with him at my cell door for the “Unit Team” hearing. He was plainly lying in order to cover up the fact that no new “FRP contract” had been drafted or offered. If one had been drafted, which the computer system can do automatically, then I would have been assigned “FRP exempt” status because of my low funds, which were clearly shown to be well below the “FRP participation” level (i.e. below $450 for six months). So, according to Mr. Shepherd, I “refused to sign” an agreement that would have made me “FRP exempt” and I wouldn't have had to pay the $25, which I had verbally agreed to pay, as I clearly indicated in this first e-mail to Shepherd concerning the matter.

 

It was instantly clear to me what was happening, but I didn't want to believe it. I thought Shepherd was the one “Unit Team” staff on death row that had any integrity at all about doing his job. I thought he might condone the lies and manipulative behavior of other staff (which is a defacto prerequisite of prison employment), but I never thought he'd do it himself. So, I reasoned that maybe he just mistakenly got me confused with another prisoner or something. To find out I sent him another e-mail, that very planly and explicitly spelled out the verbal agreement and understanding that we had come to at the “Unit Team” hearing (at my cell door a couple of weeks prior), and specifically asserted that I had not refused to sign anything.

And, I again attempted to accept my part of the responsibility for our misunderstanding in this e-mail as well, hoping beyond hope that Shepherd would realize that I was not trying to “get one over on him”, so he would be more willing to admit and accept responsibility for his error (something I knew almost never happens amongst any prison staff because it's simpler and more prudent to push their mistakes off onto the prisoners).

Shepherd again denied that any agreement was reached, this time in a lengthy reply that was clearly to me meant to distract from his primary lie (i.e. that he offered me a new contract at the celldor “Unit Team” and that I had refused to sign it) by providing a lot of superfluous and irrelevant information, including a lot of direct and implied accusations of wrong doing on my part (standard, “blame the inmate” rhetoric), and misrepresentations of B.O.P. Policies (he claims that I must be “indigent” in order to be “FRP exempt”, but that's not what the policy says at all).

I was sadly disappointed in Mr. Shepherd. He just proved once more that prison staff, even the most benign staff, are no more than a bunch of criminals themselves. I knew there was no point in trying to argue (or request an “Administrative Remedy” since “Unit Team” control that entire process also). So I just sent him one last e-mail in order to express my disappointment and hopefully “guilt him” a little into thinking about the broader consequences of his deceit (i.e. undermining all prisoner “respect for authority” to start with).

  

I didn't bother checking to see what his reply to this last e-mail was until a couple of weeks later, when it was time to “revalidate” my MP3-player. I pretty much knew exactly what he would say (I even told my attorney what his final reply would be a few days later on the phone). He replied exactly as I expected; more denials and accusations. Staff generally never let the prisoner have the last word about anything, because to do so would create the appearance that they aren't the one in control --- which is something that seems to concern them greatly (i.e. maintaining the appearance of control).

[J.D. January 7, 2015]

155 Pounds

   When I lived in Fargo, North Dakota, from the time I was released from prison in Washington state in 2000, to the time I was on my my «rampage against society» in 2005. I weighed between 180 and 185 pounds. I weighed 185 pounds precisely, at the time of my arrest in Idaho, on July 2, 2005. Today I weight 155 pounds, according to the digital scale the medical staff let me use this morning.

   For some reason I've lost eight pounds just in the last three months alone (since the last time I weighed myself). I'm not too concerned yet, since my appetite seems okay, and when I was in prison in the early 1990s I only weighed about 135 pounds at the same height (six-one). I was a skeleton then, now I'm just really skinny.

   This weight loss might be a good thing. I don't get as much exercise as I did while I was living in Fargo, where I was very active (biking, skiing, running, scuba diving, swimming, and of course lots of vigorous sex, amongst other things), so dropping weight is actually probably a healthy thing to do (not as healthy as exercising, but much healthier than gaining weight). But, I haven't been making any conscious effort to loose wieght, other than simply choosing to go hungry rather than eat food I don't like.

   More and more lately it seems I have been going hungry because the food they give me here is frequently unappetizing to put it politely. I'm just happy that we still actually do get something I like often enough that I haven't lost even more weight. Though apparently I've been put off from eating more and more lately, and the only reason I can think of is that the food quality has been getting worse overall. I'm not much of a food person to being with; eating is often a chore for me, even when I can have anything I like. But, what I like is lots of fresh vegetables, fruit, and well cooked protein. Sugar and starch is okay, but never a first choice for me (I was never a Krispy Kreeme fan). In Fargo I enjoyed (and miss) snacking on raw broccoli, caulifower, and carrots with a salad dressing dip (usuallt blue cheese or ranch). My favorite entrees at home were hamburger helper (with extra meat and beans added the way I liked) or tuna sandwiches made with Miracle Whip and sweet pickles on sourdough bread.

   Here, though, I'm lucky to get any fresh vegetables at all, and the so-called fresh fruit that we get once or twice a day is obviously stuff that could never be sold in an American supermarket. The oranges have no flavor and the apples are mushy and bruised. The fruit's not like that all the time, but often enough so that when it's not like that I get very happy and feel «lucky» for that day.

   The entrees they serve are hit or miss, more miss than hit. I don't like peppers (or anythng with capsaicin in it) or «spicy» food in general, and honestly don't understand how anyone can (it literally makes me sick). So when the cooks here get it in their mind to play chef (something you're not supposed to do as an institutional cook when you are cooking for a large group and not individual tastes) and starts spicing up the food (usually with lots of pepper and/or peppers) I get extremely frustrated. I can't tell you the number of times I'll be eagerly waiting for the fod trays to arrive only to discover that the otherwise perfectly good beans have been ruined with pepper. They sell pepper here on commissary, so if a prisoner likes destroying their tastebuds that way they can do so all they want. I myself can't eat it, and usually end up going hungry again, unless I have saved some rice or something from another meal which I do when I can.

   So, I blame the food here for my wieght loss; or, I should say, I CREDIT the food here for it, since it's not really a bad thing. If you think I'm complaining then you haven't read this correctly at all. I'm simply trying to relay my experience, as always, for whatever it might be worth.

FRP Refuse

   About six months ago the Unit Case Manager came to the door of my prison cell and asked me to sign the six month review that he printed off from his computer. The form is supposed to contain information relevant to my “rehabilitation”, which is kind of silly considering I’m on death row. It’s also full of a lot of wrong and completely untrue information, such as extremely exaggerated drug abuse (I’ve used marijuana in the past, but never let it interfere with work or school; the prison report paints me as a meth-addict, even though I’ve never used meth in my life; I’ve played with coke a few times, but I’ve only done so when I could afford to do so (an occasional weekend, but no more) and I’ve never been in trouble for using drugs of any kind). It also fails to acknowledge any of my academic accomplishments. The report claims I am in fact a high school dropout. It also says I was homeless and unemployed at the time of my arrest, which is technically true, so I guess I really can’t argue, except that prior to my “arrest” in Fargo, North Dakota (where I was technically “arrested” for molesting two boys on a playground, though I actually walked into the jail myself, and walked out a couple of hours later on bail that I posted with a check drawn on my own bank account (i.e. nobody “bailed me out” as some people claim, though I did borrow the money from a friend so I could bail myself out), and I was never cuffed or placed in a cell, only photographed and fingerprinted) I was working two jobs and attending NDSU (North Dakota State University) in my final semester to complete an B.S. degree in Computer Science. I paid all my bills every month, was never late paying rent, and generally had no problems managing my money. I worked full time as a computer programmer for an industrial automation consulting company, based in Moorhead, Minnesota, and part-time as a computer programmer/research assistant in the Computer Science department at NDSU (under Professor Bruce Slater). My employment record, up until that initial arrest, for both jobs was impeccable; I always showed up for work on time, and performed my job above expected standards (I was a well above average programmer to say the least). I’d hardly count that as “homeless and unemployed”, though I was both of these things a few weeks later after I jumped bail and set out to “punish society” for destroying me.

   Those are just some of the errors that this “official report” contains about me. I’ve tried to point them out in the past, but was basically told, “Unless you can provide proof that the report is in error it stands as is.” Since I really didn’t (and don’t) care what lies the System tells about me (since it regularly tells so many lies about everything else), I never bothered offering “proof” (though I did send a copy of the report to my attorney with all of the misinformation highlighted and explained, just in case anyone tries to use the lies in court someday, which is par for that particular course). So now when a six-month review comes up and I’m asked to sign this same report every time, uncorrected, I simply look it over to note that it is still in error, then make some note, such as “signed, though report is in error”, and then sign it to make “them” happy. If I refuse to sign it then they make a big note of the fact in my central file as a way to flag me as a “trouble maker”.

   Also, six months ago, the Case Manager at my door said, “Oh, by the way, we’re increasing your FRP (Financial Responsibility Program) payments from $25 per quarter to $25 per month.” (Not an exact quote.) And, he wanted me to sign a new “FRP Agreement” form. I protested that the only reason I had more money than usual over the previous six months was because I had asked a friend to send me money to buy an MP3-player (which cost about $75) and some music (which cost about $300). I tried to point out that the money they were taking from my account for FRP was all money given to me as a gift by people who wanted me to be able to purchase a little commissary, it was not MY money for them to take; i.e. they were indirectly but effectively taking money from my friends, not from me, since my friends will gladly send more money to pay the FRP so I can still get commissary (and pay for phone calls and stamps and such). Of course my arguments held no sway, I was after all just a “manipulating inmate” trying to “scam” the system. So, I ended up signing the agreement, because if I didn’t agree (by signing) then I would be placed on commissary restriction more severe than a disciplinary restriction! I’d only be allowed to spend $25 a month, which is barely enough to pay for coffee and toothpaste; they call it “FRP refuse”.

   But, I didn’t just decide to let my friends pay the FRP tax (the money is supposed for court fines and victim compensation, but I doubt if it goes any further than some general fund that gets used to pay salaries and other prison expenses; when I asked where the money went I was told that “they” had no idea where it went!). As soon as I could I looked up the FRP policies on the prisoner “law library” computer. I learned that if I missed a payment (by having less than the amount due in my inmate account at the time the withdraw is attempted by the system) that I’d be automatically made “FRP refuse”. And since I didn’t think it was fair for my friends to end up paying my “court fines” (per se) I decided to deliberately let my balance drop below 25$ (by asking my friends to not send money) and then live off $25 per month (which really isn’t a big step down in my standard of living these days --- if you don’t count my newly acquired MP3-player and music).

   The plan was to live off $25 for six months, and thus bring the deposits to my account to well under the $75 per month FRP exempt level (according to the policy, we are allowed $75 a month for “phone calls and postage” that is not to be considered for FRP payments). But, for some reason the monthly $25 withdraw did not happen. Instead, after the usual three months, the system attempted to withdraw $25 that I did not have. But, it did not make me “FRP refuse” until the next month, when I still did not have $25 in my account. But, now, finally I am “FRP refuse” and I’ve been managing contently for the last couple of months thusly.

   Today the Case Manager returned to my cell door with the usual six-month fictitious report. I made it a point to ask if the fact that I have less than the $75 per month sent in over the last six month will cayse my FRP status to be re-evaluated. I was told, no. I must request to make an FRP payment ($25), then at the next “cycle” when this payment is received my status would automatically change to “FRP participating”. When I protested that this procedure was not indicated in the official B.O.P. policies, I was told that was too bad, and that I should expect “consequences” for refusing to fulfill my agreement. I tried to point out that I was doing everything I could to “play” by the rules”; but, if I didn’t know what the rules are (a problem I have a lot, since “official policy” frequently conflicts with “official procedures” around here, and getting someone to explain “official procedures” is worse than pulling teeth) then how can I be expected to follow them?

   The Case Manager kept accusing me of trying to “work the system”, which I found rather insulting; especially since I felt I was doing everything I could to obligate the “system” and keep getting “worked” myself as a result. I tried to explain this to him a couple of times but quickly realized that he could hear no reason, only “inmate manipulation”. So, I quickly gave up, asked him to confirm the “new rules” he had just given me (alas, a tooth finally pulled after much effort to get the same one out in the past!) and then apologized for my own “misunderstanding” (in hopes of mending his fixed impression that I was only out to get something for myself).

   I wish I could let him (the Case Manager) see how he appears to me, but I can’t. The best I can do, the best anyone can do, is try to honestly see how I appear to him, and then do my best to adjust that image; towards something a bit closer to reality.

Release Day Update

   Well, it has been about six years since I was sentenced to death, three times, in Federal court. And, though I did not appeal --- and even informed the courts that I had no desire to appeal --- the lawyers (for the government and the “defense”) are still “litigating” (i.e. arguing) over whether or not an appeal should be “allowed” anyway (regardless of my wishes). The “defense” attorney’s claim that I was not legally competent to waive my appeal, so the “notice of appeal” that they filed (in 2008) on my behalf and against my consent (even though I was officially a “pro se” defendant, or “representing myself” at the time) should be accepted and the formal appeal should be allowed to proceed.

   Six years! And “they” still haven’t decided if there will even be an appeal! It’s no wonder no one on Federal death row has been executed since… (Actually, I don’t know the last time the Federal government officially killed an American citizen, but it’s been many years methinks.) At least two other prisoners here on this death row have told me (privately) that they too have tried to waive their appeals, but their attorneys also have prevented them from doing so. I suspect there are many more such cases than anyone wants to admit. (What good is “capital punishment” if most of the people who get sentenced to death either want to die or simply don’t care if they do?)

   My appeal attorney thinks the court will rule to allow the appeal, if for no reason other than the fact that in 2010 I signed a formal statement that essentially reversed my position on resisting the attorney’s efforts to appeal on my behalf, even though I continue to disagree, with any appeal, on principle. My attorney says the appellate court should consider this signed affidavit as consent, if not a desire, for an appeal. But, the government (prosecutor) is claiming that since the “consent” was not received within the appeal time limit that it is not valid. My attorney says this argument is weak from a legal standpoint because the courts don’t want to stop a death sentence appeal on a mere technicality.

   So that’s where my case stands to date. The appeals court should rule on whether or not to allow the formal appeal sometime next year. If they rule that my waiver was valid, and the time to appeal has expired, then I could be executed within another year after that. But, unfortunately for me, that is not very likely. (I still consider my so-called “execution” to be a “release date” and look forward to it with sincere anticipation.) If they decide to allow the appeal then it could be another ten to twenty years before I get an execution date, assuming I eventually “lose” the appeal. And then there is the very small chance that the appellate court will rule against the district court by deciding that I was incompetent after all. In that case there would have to be a whole new trial, and the outcome would be heavily slanted by the incompetence ruling, so much so that the prosecutor could be inclined to offer a plea agreement for life without parole --- an agreement that I’d never sign, of course, but I doubt if that’d change anything.

   Just for the record here, my position in all of this hasn’t changed. I made a mistake by interfering with the attorney’s attempt to appeal against my wishes. I should have said nothing, but my pride got in the way. I didn’t want people to think that I agreed to an appeal. So, I wrote the judge and told him that the attorneys had filed the notice of appeal against my wishes. The judge then tried to stop the appeal, but the attorneys claimed it was no longer his jurisdiction; the appellate court now had to decide whether or not to all0ow the appeal. And thus the madness continues.

   My position has always been, and still remains, that I want nothing to do with the process of deciding what should be done in the name of the false god we call “Justice”. Since my arrest I have striven to provide only the open and honest truth to anyone interested in knowing the truth (which generally excludes all marketed media, such as commercial news agencies, and T.V. talk shows, etc…). But, I have never attempted to sway or suggest what should be done in response to my crimes (with some exceptions, such as when I wrote the judge and told him about the unwanted appeal). I believe with all my heart that I should be killed, but NOT judged. The process of judging a criminal is a distraction that prevents us from seeing the simple truth of the matter; WE raped and killed those children together, and WE must take responsibility for it together, not push it all onto one man, a human scapegoat/sacrifice in the name of our false gods (ideas) of justice.

   I could go on and on, but if the reader doesn’t already understand what I am saying (which is essentially no different than what men like me have been saying since the rise of civilization itself!) then it’s not likely that any words I use here will enlighten them. So my words are for posterity, and perhaps some comfort and reassurance for those who already understand.

The Divide and Conquer Phenomenon

   The System will always find ways to propagate itself, usually by playing on the fears and ignorance of those who buy into its deception. Case in point, today I found out from another prisoner (whom I will not name in order to protect him from repercussions) that one of the guards involved in the phone privilege incident several weeks ago (whom I also will not name, to protect the same prisoner from repercussions) told several prisoners in no uncertain terms that if they continue to “fuck with Duncan” (a direct quote that in this case means talk to, or otherwise associate with, contrary to its apparent meaning) that they themselves would be put on “status” (i.e. treated with the same overt disrespect that the guards use to treat “cho-moes”, “or “child molesters”). When I asked what that meant specifically the prisoner told me that the guard said, “no more passing shit between cells, or getting the phone when you ask for it”, as just an example.

   I guess I’ve been on “status” since I’ve been here, but never realized it until recently when some of the guards elevated my “status” a couple of notches in order to teach me a lesson (presumably for calling counselor Edwards a “cretin”, which apparently was an indication to these guards that I “didn’t know [my] place”).

   It seems the guards who refused to pass me the phone last month (see “Phone Privileges?” and “Counselor Edwards” expositions) didn’t expect the other prisoners to treat me with any respect at all (by insisting that the guards pass me the phone, for example) when they decided to arbitrarily punish me for “disrespecting” the badge (or so I assume that’s what the “punishment” was for, but since it was all done according to the rules of some unspoken and decidedly childish game, I can only be sure that it had something to do with someone’s precious “pride” being offended). So they solved the “problem” by reminded the other prisoners that if they want to keep receiving “favors” from the guards then they themselves will have to “respect” the guards when they decide to “disrespect” Duncan (me) for being a cho-moe.

   I think this is a pretty good example of how the System propagates the very violence and prejudice that it pretends to protect us all from. This kind of prisoner agitation is common. The guards do it in order to “maintain control” of the prison population. Of course all they are really doing is instigating the very behavior and attitudes that they need evidence of in order to justify their abusive authority measures. It’s the same tactic that “authorities” have been using forever. It even has a name, “divide and conquer”. It can be as obvious as this situation (explained above), or far more subtle and hard to detect at all, as when the police, FBI, and other government authorities in the real world do it. And it’s not a conspiracy; it’s something far more sinister than that. It’s a phenomenon; presently beyond all direct human control (i.e. the guards have no idea that they are creating the violence that it is their job to control, they are only responding out of their fear and ignorance). And it will only stop being a phenomenon when we become aware of it in general terms (philosophers and many other serious thinkers, including some statesmen, have been aware of this phenomenon for thousands of years; but the general public remains oblivious to it, and that’s the only reason it continues to be a phenomenon).

   To be honest, what this other prisoner told me earlier today does not surprise me at all. It is perfectly consistent with what I have come to expect from the “System”. It also helps explain why I have experienced so little (yes, little) harassment from the guards. It seems they have been harassing me in their minds all along (not all of them, just the more ignorant and fear-driven ones, but the rest condone the “harassment” lest they be labelled “sympathizers”) but I haven’t noticed simply because I never (or, at least, rarely) ask them for “favors”. I can only assume, now that I now I’ve been being “harassed” all along, that they’ve assumed I knew I was “harassed” and accepted it as “my place”. So, when I called the counselor a “cretin” they figured I needed to be reminded of “my place”. They’d be really surprised if they knew how much I have refrained from doing far more than name calling, all simply because I no longer cater to such ignorant and fear-based behavior.

Ice Cold Kindness?

   The same guard who threatened my life, if I requested to come out of my cell for “recreation” on his work shift, (because of my crimes against children) has been passing out the daily single scoop of ice to each prisoner on the tier lately. We get one scoop a day, which I genuinely appreciate since it allows me to save one of the 8 oz. skim milks we get each day for breakfast, and drink it cold either with lunch or later in the evening with some saved bran cereal. But, when I saw that “He-man” (not quite sure his real name) was passing out the ice ration I thought, “So much for the cold milk.”

   This is the same federal prison guard who told me he’d kill my family if he knew where they lived and fuck me in the ass (see “Walla Walla Flashback”). He also frequently refused to even just open the food slot for my cell during meals, making the other guards do it instead even when it was his job to open the slots while other guards passed the trays through. So I really wasn’t expecting him to open my food slot and offer me a scoop of ice; but he did! And, he has been scooping ice for me, without comment or prejudice apparent, for a couple of weeks now. Not only that, but the other day he even passed “cell phone” to me from another prisoner when all the guards from the precious shift had refused to do so (see “Phone Privileges”).

   And today, just moments ago, as I stood at my cell door with “ice bucket” (a clean wastepaper can) in hand awaiting my daily ration of frozen water, I watched as he not only scooped up my ice, but went back with the scoop and topped it off to make sure it was as full as possible! He didn’t even do that for the prisoner who got ice just before me!

   I honestly thought that the only reason I’d been getting any ice from this guard at all was because he was trying to alleviate any damage he might have done to his professional reputation with the overt threats and subsequent refusals to do his job opening my slot for meals. But, if that were the case, then why would he so nonchalantly take the extra measure of tapping off the scoop of ice for a prisoner he once refused to even feed?

   Has he changed his opinion of me for some reason? Or, has he simply grown up enough to realize that he is a “professional” after all, and his personal feelings have no place at work? That would be amazing, but not impossible. Or maybe he has just pushed me so far out of his mind, and out of his reality, that I don’t even exist for him as an individual anymore (that’s my preferred solution for people I have to be around that I really can’t stand --- it might not be mentally “healthy”, but it works great if you can do it). In that case then maybe he was just topping off the scoop absent-mindedly, and had no specific thoughts or feelings about me whatsoever.

   Of course, the most likely explanation for this guard’s apparent kindness is, “none of the above”. Whatever the answer is I’ll probably never know. I can’t just ask him; out world isn’t anywhere near being so mature that it would allow such open and honest communication between socially established adversaries. He probably couldn’t tell me the real reason if he wanted to; he mightn’t know how. Or, maybe HE doesn’t even know. Anything is possible, even ice cold kindness.

[J.D. - September 3, 2014]

Phone Privileges?

   At 11:30 this morning I hollered out on the tier to find out if anyone was using the phone so I could “get in line”. Another prisoner hollered back that a Mexican prisoner had the phone and he was presently on it, hence could not answer for himself without interrupting his call. This is the established protocol for getting access to the phone. The basic idea is that each prisoner knows who is next in line, so when a guard comes on the tier, they can tell him who to pass the phone to (it’s an old princess model touch-tone that is passed through the food slot to be used in the prisoner’s cell with the cord plugged into an outlet in the hall; this it is commonly, and jokingly, called “cell phone”).

   When the guards came by to pick up lunch trays (a prime opportunity to get the phone or anything else passed to another cell through the open food slots), I asked the guard who picked up my tray if he could get the phone for me. He said; “Sure, no problem.” And then he got the phone and passed it to another prisoner instead of me.

   I didn’t realize I had been slighted until after the guards left the tier. The prisoner who got the phone instead of me finished using it quickly (probably just checking his account balance, which the phone system lets us do) and then asked if anyone else needed to use it. After me there was a “line” of at least two other prisoners who both knew that I was supposed to be next. So, when they heard that someone else had the phone instead of me they thought it was a mistake (which happens) and informed the prisoner with the phone that I, Duncan, was next. I didn’t say anything at the time because the necessary information was clearly established and nothing needed to be said. Everyone understood that I was next to get the phone.

   About twenty minutes later, a guard came on the tier in order to cuff up another prisoner through the door so he could be escorted to another room to use the “law library” computer (a routine practice). The prisoner who had the phone and at least two other prisoners asked this guard to pass the phone to me. But, asking a guard to pass anything while they are busy doing an escort is hit-or-miss. The guard left the tier with the prisoner in tow without passing the phone.

   A moment later one of the prisoners waiting for the phone after me came to his door and yelled, “Where the fuck is the phone? I’ve been waiting over two hours for it! Who has it?” When he found out that someone who wasn’t supposed to get it until after him, me, and one other prisoner had it then he started yelling, loud enough for the guards out in the common area to hear, “Phone exchange on C-upper!” (another common practice anytime there appears to be a hold-up on the phone exchange).

   Though he, and several other prisoners yelled similarly over the next hour or so, no guards came on the tier to pass the phone. It was now about one-thirty, close to the two-o’clock shift change. I finally spoke up and told the prisoner in the cell next to me that the guards had been refusing to pass me the phone all week, which they have, and it seemed to stem from an incident earlier in the week when I called Counselor Edwards a “cretin” because he stood on the tier for ten minutes harassing another prisoner and also refused to pass me the phone (directly to my face that time --- see “Counselor Edwards” entry). And since then Edwards has been stopping by my cell every day and essentially harassing me by telling me to do something to make my cell “compliant” with policy, such as removing the cardboard window shade that I (and many other prisoners on the tier) use to block the bright sunlight from coming into the cell while I’m sleeping in the morning. Edwards is known for this kind of behavior and seems to derive great pleasure from it.

   I might have been overstating my “victory” over Edwards when I wrote earlier that I had “won” the exchange with him by getting him to react (i.e. pushing his buttons the way he seems to enjoy pushing the prisoner’s buttons). I knew full well that a person who so flagrantly abuses their authority the way Edwards does can’t be one-upped without expecting retaliation. So hi harassments came as no real surprise; I pretty much expected it. But I was content to let him play his childish game until he got bored (because I didn’t react, I’d just get up, take down the cardboard, smile and say, “Anything else?”) and decided to go find someone else to pick on to make himself feel good (a typical bully with a badge).

   But now it seemed that because he couldn’t get a reaction from me by harassing me in my cell, he decided to try pushing the button that he thought got me to react earlier in the week by telling all of his crony guard buddies not to pass me the phone at all.

   So for several days when I asked to use the phone, even when no one else was using it and the food slots were open (on two days this happened when I asked at breast, including earlier this morning) the guards either ignored me, or said they would “check on it” and then not do it.

   When I explained this to the other prisoners waiting on the phone they agreed that it was a “typical Edwards move”, and suggested that I “write it up”. But, I asked, how can I? The “grievance” procedure requires you to only write up specific incidents, not general circumstances. So unless I could prove that Edwards was harassing me --- which he was always careful not to do anything that he could not say was “his job” to do (like telling me to comply with policy) --- I couldn’t write it up. Not to mention the fact that Edwards himself is on the Unit Team Staff that directly controls access to the grievance program, a fact that he has successfully used to block me from getting an Administrative Remedy Review in the recent past (see: “What’s Justice Got To Do With It?”).

   A bit later, just before shift change, a guard came on the tier escorting the law library prisoner back to his cell. This is normally a fairly good time to ask for a phone exchange because after the prisoner is locked up and cuffs are removed the guard is “between tasks” and has the food slot key in his hand.

   So the prisoner who had the phone asked him to pass it to me. The guard opened the slot, retrieved the phone, then carried it to the cell next to me and offered it to that prisoner (who was in line after me). My neighbor dutifully told the guard that, “Duncan is next in line”.

   At this the guard ask him, “Do you want the phone or not?” To which the prisoner said again, “Duncan is next!”

   The guard then set the phone down on the ground in the hall and left the tier.

   The other prisoner who hollered earlier for a phone exchange then came to his door window again (he is across the hall from me so I can see when he comes to his window) and asked me if I got the phone. I told him no, and when he asked who got, I told him the guard just set it down in the hall and left the tier.

   By now even some prisoners who weren’t even interested in getting the phone were yelling from their doors. One prisoner told me to demand to speak to “the lieutenant”, which, according to him, they have to do if I ask. I knew better than that, but decided to play dumb and started yelling and hollering demands to see the lieutenant. I knew they’d never call the Lt., (because they knew they’d get in trouble for playing their little game), which in my mind was a kind of “permission” to yell and scream for the lieutenant all I wanted. (Normally I would never demand any form of “official” assistance in such a matter, but since I knew no such assistance would come in this case I yelled and screamed and even kicked my door (spraining a small bone in my foot, but at least not breaking anything like last time) to put on a good show.

   This, of course, “woke up” everyone on the range. Several other prisoners started chipping into the protest. Even my old “pal” Gabrion put his two-cents in and started hollering also, “Do your jobs and pass the phone or go home!”

   There is a certain subtle dynamic here that I should mention. When guards change shift it is considered amongst them “bad form” to pass of the watch with a bunch of hostile inmates. It is considered a kind of dumping on problems to the next shift. One of the side effects of this is that if the inmates are riled up when shift exchange occurs, the guards that are coming on shift will make it a point to get things “quieted down” as quickly as possible, thus demonstrating their own prowess and skill at “managing” the inmates. The new shift also has a distinct advantage over the old, they can claim (for the prisoner’s sake) that they “just arrived” and could hence not be blamed for whatever the previous shift had done to get them so riled.

   And that’s exactly what happened next. The first new shift guard that came on the tier was immediately bombarded with protests from several prisoners about the phone not being passed. I remained quiet at this point, since my show was for the other prisoners, not the guards, and also because one of the prisoners who got woke up asked me to quiet down so he could ask a guard himself to pass me the phone, asserting that as long as he asked calmly and politely then they would do it (he had missed everything that had just happened).

   When the fresh guard came on the tier he denied any knowledge of why the phone had not been passed, so when the helpful prisoner asked this guard to pass the phone to me he promptly did so. He even let the prisoner use the phone first briefly to check his account balance.

   And get this! This guard, who finally did pass me the phone, was the same guard who threatened my life, and my family, if I ever came out for rec on his shift again! Try to figure that one out (I assume that perhaps impressing the other guards with his ability to “manage inmates” was more important to him than his prejudice against child rapists, but I’m only guessing; as usual).

   After I finally got the phone the prisoner who “helped” me get it, who happens to be the one prisoner who deals with me the most (though that’s not saying a lot) and the closest I have to an actual friend here (he’s just one of those real “friendly” types), started telling me how his “honey instead of vinegar” approach works best. This apparently offended at least a couple other prisoners who started yelling that the only reason the guard passed the phone was to quiet the tier down. My “friend” couldn’t even finish telling me what he wanted to say (and later the “argument” over why and how the phone gets passed continued, and I stayed completely out of it as usual, though it became very heated; they accused each other of “sucking dick” and “raping children”, but once more nobody said anything about me or my crimes, even though in this case the guards had managed to put me in the mix of it; Go figure that one out too, I’m still trying (though my attorneys have suggested that it’s because I don’t act like the typical “sex offender” in prison who walks around in a fearful disposition all the time always trying not to be noticed; I always look the other prisoners in the eye --- not intentionally, but naturally --- and though I keep a low profile I don’t hesitate to “speak up” like I did today when I need to; so, my attorneys say, they don’t know what to think of me or how to react, so they just give me “space” which I interpret as “respect” --- I could test this theory easily enough, by testing the boundaries of the “space” I am given, but I’m really not that interested in knowing such things).

    So anyway, I got the phone, and I made an overdue call to my mother, who has dementia and lives in an “assisted living” home (semi-nursing home). She was very happy to hear from me and told me all about a nurse who has been bothering her by whistling intentionally to wake her up in the mornings. Then she told me the really bad news that her older sister, my aunt Naomi, has been placed in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s disease; which made my mother cry. I did the best I could to comfort her over the phone in what remained of the 15 minute call limit before we were cut off. And then as soon as another guard came on the tier I passed the phone to my neighbor and that was that.

[J.D. August 20, 2014]