Love Made Me Do It (26 page)

              At camp they expected you to fight fires for a dollar a day or pick up trash on the side of the freeway.  I had a master plan though I wouldn’t be getting hella dirty. I was going to get back to my girlfriend and eat chicken, watch T.V and play cards.  I had been sending kites to the psychiatrist and telling him some truths about my emotional state.  But mostly lie’s so that they would send me back to the women’s facility to undergo a psych evaluation.  If you are undergoing a psych evaluation you are not suitable to be in a low level security facility.  That was my plan. 

              I had sent over a dozen kites to the doctor and finally I heard my back number being called over the loud speaker at camp.  We had just finished with orientation and watching a video on fighting fires and what was expected of us.  I put my head down while the video played and even when they told me to lift my head up, I didn’t.  I was exhausted and I was dirty I just wanted to rest.  But I hoped up when I heard my back number 1037156, I thought I was going to see the psychiatrist.  But I was actually being summoned to the Sergeant’s office. 

              I had no fear, my only fear was getting the shit beat out of me if I didn’t hurry up and get back. My Bunkie thought I was dumb.  But I felt like I had things under control.  I went to the Sergeant’s office with confidence and I sat down smugly in the chair in front of her desk.  She said “Ms. Johnson, we know you have a girlfriend back at the woman’s facility,” I just sat there with a smirk on my face, and played stupid.  She also asked me what did I plan on doing if they didn’t send me back…I replied “escape.”  There were no fences at camp.  So it was highly likely that anyone could just walk off.  The Sergeant did not like that answer at.  Her reply to me was “You’re going to Ad-Seg; Ms. Johnson,” I asked her “Is that the Hole?”  She said “Yes.”  “Roll my shit up then.”  I made it back to the prison in 38 hours.  I beat 11 days. 

              The hole, I left a low level security prison and went to the hole.  On the ride back to the prison in my shackles, I glared out the window at the dry terrain that made up most of Nevada, and I thought to myself…
you sure are dumb, Tamekia.

             
I came back dirty, exhausted and my Mohawk was awry.  As I was being escorted down the hallway, all of general population had to stay behind all red lines.  It was a hallway clearance and no movement was allowed.  Honestly, I felt like a celebrity, everyone knew whose girlfriend I was.  They would make sure that she knew I was back.  Every corner we came too I looked frantically to see if she was somewhere in the hallway. I wanted her to see for herself, the level of loyalty that I had towards her.  But I didn’t see her.

              I always imagined the hole being black and noisy.  It was noisy but it wasn’t dark at all.  I was put in a two man cell, with no roommate and handed papers.  I now had pending escape charges and a panel would review my case.  If I lost I would not only be doing my original sentence, but an additional year from the hole. 

              In the hole you only came out for 15 minutes and your meals were given to you thru a slit in the door. 
What have I gotten myself into?
It was too late to turn back. So I made myself comfortable.  The view from my room was a junkyard and for the first few days I just peered out the window and slept.  I came out to shower and call my mom.  But I never told her that I was in the hole.  I had caused enough damage. 

              Finally, they gave me a roommate and she told me not to worry that when my hearing came they would most likely let me out of the hole.  Her words did not stop me from worrying.  Every time I glanced at my paperwork, I thought about doing a whole year with only 15 minutes out of my cell and NO SUNLIGHT.  Then returning to general population to do an additional year…This just might make me fold.  But there wasn’t shit I could do. 

              The hole was so noisy it was like no one ever slept.  Then I noticed that every time different cells were out for their shower time, they went to a door that was adjacent to a pod in general population.  They went to this door, knocked on it and then a dozen envelopes were pushed under the gap in the door into our pod.  I asked my roommate what that was about and she told me that, if you have a girlfriend in general population that’s how you write to each other.  Wow, I wondered how come I hadn’t had any mail. 

              But if the police catch you, you’re not only going to be in trouble, but the other girls were going to be pissed at you for getting their mail confiscated.  I had watched long enough, so during my shower time I knocked a special knock and a flood of mail was pushed under the door.  I had to look if I had mail.  Plus I had to go around and deliver everyone else’s mail.

              I ran around as fast as I could, sliding mail under doors, and calling out names.  Not sure who was still in the hole and who had been let out.  It was an adrenaline rush.  Then I went back to my room and I had at least six letters from my girlfriend.  I was happy, excited and glad that she had missed me.  Behind prison doors, everybody needed someone even if it was just for that moment.  I needed those words of encouragement.  I needed guidance from the world that would be my home.  I needed to know that there was someone tangible within my reach.  That could show me affection.  She was that.

              The first few letters she was kind of mad wondering why she hadn’t heard from me.  I wanted to yell out.  “Well probably because I didn’t know shit about this inmate mail system!”  Her letters were heart-warming, romantic and filled with lists of things NOT to tell the police during my hearing.  Promises of what she would get me when I was out.  I wrote her back letters filled with appreciation and whatever else I felt was appropriate to say. 

              During that quiet time I wrote my mom, my old job, and I even wrote my lover in hopes that his mom would send the letter off for me, to wherever he was at.  The hole started to become unbearable it was too much time to think and not enough space to move.

              One roommate moved out and I was alone with my wayward thoughts until they moved another one in.  This roommate was crazy and she was from the Bay, we got along immediately.  She wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box but she was playful and she made my time go by fast.  We stayed up late singing, talking shit, and playing cards.  It wasn’t all shits and giggles though.  We had many nights when we would cry and think about the reasons we were locked up like animals and getting meals thru a metal door. 

              I was now on psych meds and so was my roommate.  But she was on the kind that cause severe drowsiness, mine only caused the munchies.  Fuck.  I would watch her sleep for hours.  She hardly ate so I was always able to either get seconds or at least eat her dessert.  Then she put me on.  By that I mean, she cheeked her meds and gave me half.  I would be sleep for at least two days.  They called it
getting in the car
.

              I stayed in the car on and off for the duration of my sentence to the hole.  When you’re in the car it takes a lot to wake you up.  It was a miracle that I heard the other girls screaming my name one afternoon.  My girlfriend had pulled some strings.  She was in the hole with some of her friends in the laundry department. 

              I watched with such pride as I she walked up the stairs and stood in front of my window.  She told me that I had a pair of jeans, jewelry and a pair of white patent-leather Jordan’s waiting for me when I got out.  She also reiterated that I don’t tell the police shit.  I would be out before I knew it.  She was right I did 36 days in the hole.  I was released me with no new charges.

              I had impressed my girlfriend beyond belief, by coming back to her so fast.  She showered me with everything that you could make you happy in prison.  My favorite of all the gifts was the 14k gold necklace with the Jesus piece.  It was an amazing feeling.  There was a nice little line of other women who were dying to be in my place with her.  I never imagined being so elated in a place that was so dark.  I was like her trophy.  We found happiness in the moments that we shared together.  Everyone else saw it. We were a very popular couple.  But because of her outward appearance, and our age difference… A lot of people also wondered why and how we were a couple. 

              There were still a lot of things that according to her that I needed to be taught.  When she made that statement I started thinking…this may be more than I can handle.  With nowhere to run, the only option was the Police.  That never sounds good.

CHAPTER 36

RULES

You may think that it sounds funny.  There were so many rules to being the girlfriend of an OG Stud.  At first everything was good. I was getting head on a regular basis, eating chicken (chicken cost a lot on commissary,) sleeping on her air mattress when the guards weren’t trippin’.  She put $100 extra dollars on my books every month. I had jewelry, jeans (mostly lifers were the only ones with jeans or other OG’s), and everyone respected and spoke to me.  I was like a prison celebrity by association. 

              But not everyone liked me.  My girlfriend was wanted.  Other women wanted her, they wanted to put money on her books, do her laundry, and bring her food.  Honestly, those gestures used to piss me off. But I had to learn that there were rules everywhere, especially here.  You fail to follow the rules of State Prison, it could cost you.  For the most part, others either knew me as her girlfriend, or the pretty girl with the Mohawk.  It didn’t make me a bit of difference. 

              Prison relationships in my experience often carry into life after prison.  The thought had crossed my mind.  I was in such a vulnerable state, and excessively needy. I strongly considered being with her on the outside.  Just switch it up….and then I had a taste of her violent side.  There was no way that I was going to commit to another abusive situation. 

              It started off as little statements she would say to me, or small gripes here and there.  She was very particular about her way of life in prison.  She liked powder on her sheets, when they were fresh out of the dryer.  On particular days of the week, especially when it was hot, she loved orange soda.  She liked coffee or hot chocolate to be brought to her while she played dominoes on the yard on Sunday mornings.  She liked you to sit next to her during card games and not speak unless spoken too.  But then again, she loved when I spoke.  She loved to listen to my stories about my life.  She loved the way I articulated my words. 

              Some of the rules were taught to me, and some she got really pissed when I didn’t already know.  It was frustrating.  How in the fuck was I supposed to know to put powder on her sheets?  Who was I supposed to ask?  The biggest rule that was hard for me to understand and follow was not speaking.  I was talking before I was doing anything else in life. 

              Under no circumstance, do you speak to other studs, or soft studs, out of her presence.  It was a sign of disrespect, especially if it was a popular or OG stud.  The more I tried not to speak to certain people, the more they spoke to me.  It was so nerve racking.  Those who were disrespectful and spoke to me knew what they were doing, they knew the rules.  There was a particular soft stud with a cut across her face.  She used to flirt with me from the window, when I was in the fish tank.

              She was from San Francisco, she was loud, wild and foul.  She was chocolate, thick and the cut across her face gave her a certain sex appeal.  She was forbidden for me to speak too.  But sometimes I couldn’t help it.  She was hilarious and would be so loud that if she did something I would laugh.  Even laughing was considered speaking and disrespectful.  My girlfriend always knew when there was even the slightest interaction with the soft stud.  She would cuss me out.  Sometimes it hurt my feelings. I didn’t want to fight with her.  But sometimes I just didn’t give a fuck.

              We started arguing a lot.  My circle of friends insisted that I leave her alone.  I had considered breaking it off, but I had so much fear pumped in me that it never seemed like the right time.  So the shit that I could brush off I did.  The other stuff I just held it in.  One time I didn’t pack the frozen chicken the right way in her bed side cooler. While I was out on the yard she threw the wet soggy box of chicken on my bed….everything was wet.  Nobody said shit to her about it.  Not even the Police.

              There were certain ways that you cook in there.  All the cooking is done in the microwave.  The food preparation is very important.  Somehow someone touched her food without my knowledge.  I kept on cooking and when her food was done I brought it to her.  She wouldn’t eat it.  She threw it in the garbage and told me that I owed her money.  She checked me in front of her clique…her niece and her best friend.  There were other trivial things that she blew up about.  But there wasn’t really shit I could do.

              There weren’t just rules with her, there were prison rules period.  You never ask another inmate about their case.  That may have been the number one rule.  I was nosey though.  So sometimes my girlfriend knew the scoop and sometimes she would get mad that I asked her.  I slept two or three beds down from Kelly Ryan, she appeared on the show “Snapped,” her and her husband were world known body builders.  They were convicted of kidnapping, arson, and the murder of their assistant.  There were several other high profile cases that were either housed in my pod or in the facility.