Saturday, December 2, 1995 – Awaken to the sounds of prison life—chains on belts with keys rattling. Doors slamming—slots opened and closed—doors being kicked for the CO (corrections officer) to come—inmates hollering—chains rattling. The sunrise over the compound and breakfast. We ate—I don’t remember what. Eggs and cereal, I think—it was OK. Passed through the slot in trays and back again. That was the routine all weekend and Monday—never to be allowed to leave the room. Lockdown.
Reny—an interesting type. Said almost nothing, considering we spent 72 hours together. I know very little about him. He’s probably in his late 20s early 30s. From Jamaica until he was nine years old. His parents moved to Queens, NY, where he lives. He was transferred from Ft. Dix, where he supposedly threatened an officer. In for six years, he’s now short seven months. He never told me why—I can only assume drug-related.
I forgot to mention the man I met in R+D—name?—from Philly—a transfer from D.C. (Phila.), no offense—awaiting sentencing—drug dealer. He only said he was glad to be back in. At least he wouldn’t be dealing on the streets. I found that an interesting (for lack of a better word) mindset.
All I did today was read, eat, pray, stare out the window, exercise and try to stay “up.” I finally was able to busy myself to use this curious looking item called a toilet.
As I lay in bed, I focused on things that I so often took for granted. The blue sky—seagulls—jet streaks—tall pines—of course, there was that circling white pickup truck (two of them) at about three-minute intervals. Driving around the exterior of the compound, monitoring the perimeter. Where there are no towers.
Outside my window, I could see cages that had basketball hoops inside. On Monday I would see it firsthand.
In the interior, I read Chesapeake (about 360 pages) slept, ate, prayed and looked out the window (hall and outside). It was like an animal house.
The CO came by and told me I’d get a phone call Thursday. I didn’t try to argue or discuss my circumstances. I only waited until Monday.
Steve Adams from 90 Days on the Inside | A Short-Timers Journey of Brokenness, Surrender, & Healing