After a seventeen and one-half hour bus drive from Chino, California to Represa California, the-Grey-goose-a term that convicts dubbed for the transportation when traveling from the reception center to your final destination. Suddenly there was a grave-yard at the foot of this winding road leading to the infamous Old Folsom one of the deadliest prisons in California. As we sputtered up this road a big structure loomed ahead of us. Picture in your mind a twenty-four year old inexperienced young guy playing like there’s nothing to worry about. know, I was scared to death! Mind you, I’m innocent! Anyway, the gigantic thirty foot doors slowly crept open. I’d heard many things about Folsom but to actually be there and spend a lot of time there until I capture my freedom was not in my plans. The Grey-goose slowly entered the pale structure. As I looked at this monstrosity it looked as if someone took some dynamite and blasted a deep pit and stared building. We sat their [sic] waiting to be received. Freddie Jackson’s Rock With Me Tonight was playing, but no one was rockin.
Finally, we were taken to this area over-looking the yard people were milling about. Suddenly, the yard when down everyone sat down. I strained to see what was going on my heart was pounding my neck was on a swivel and then I saw correctional officers running with a gurney and as I strained to see the person on the gurney was laying side-ways with what appeared to be a pole thrust through his body. That scared me terribly! I didn’t know what to think. I sat down looking at nothing seeing nothing. Just as quickly a loud speaker announced-resume program-. Now I know what those words meant, but they had to be a mistake. Being placed about the track I yelled down at someone asking them what those words meant. At that moment people were walking around like nothing happened. I’d just seen a pole rammed through this persons body and the administration just announced, resume program.
I got there on a Wednesday and all through the week people were getting stuck with knives. The following Wednesday another person was killed. From the very first day I knew I was going to keep my nose reeled to my face!
Prison life, then, was a treacherous and violent to the point were eventually a person becomes complacent in that environment. There’s been many wars fought along racial lines. Mexicans and Blacks Whites and Blacks. The cycle of violence never ended.
This is just a taste of what I went through. Until next time
In the struggle