what’s the difference?” I knew the Aryans hated me. Everybody knew that. I’d run with the Bloods my whole life and all my friends were black. Those bigots weren’t gonna just shake hands and play nice ’cause I was in a cell with one of them.
Next up to make their case was the Mexican Mafia. They wanted to make sure I knew exactly what would happen if I chose the Bloods over the Aryans. If an Aryan or Nazi tried to kill me, then the Bloods, the Crips, and the Bay Areas would have to jump in. If that happened, the Southern Mexicans would have to jump in on the Aryan side, and then the Northern Mexicans would have to back the Bloods. It would be a full-scale war. Politics in Washington had nothing on this shit. I still wouldn’t budge.
A prison gang conference was called, and all the gang leaders sat down to discuss my fate. I wasn’t invited. Afterward, a guy I used to run with, Chris Thornton, came to my cell to let me know what went down. He was older than me, an O.G.,and the guards hoped he could talk some sense into my thick skull. Chris asked me, “Why did you come here?” I yelled, “It’s not like I signed up on a list to come to this shithole!” Chris just shook his head. “Shorty, the whole prison is in an uproar over you.” I couldn’t get it. “I ain’t nobody!” Chris smiled and said, “This week, you are.” He came straight out and told me that the Aryans said if I got placed with them, they would kill me. Gang leaders from other prisons had even weighed in on it. By the end of our conversation, Chris agreed with me. I had to stick with the Bloods. He told me, “If you come with us, there’s a more than likely chance you’re gonna get stabbed.” I’d just have to take my chances.
Right before they were gonna move me, Lieutenant Cinturino came to have a final word. He was the lieutenant of Four Building. He asked me, “Are you still gonna go through with this asinine crazy-ass idea? You are about to start a war.” I told him, “The gangs have agreed. Everything’s been said. There’s nothing we can do.” Cinturino went for the Hail Mary pass. He postponed my move one more time, and tried to ship me to another prison. I secretly hoped they’d reconsider my request for CMF or Avenal, but word came back from the director of CDC that basically said, “What are we supposed to do … just bounce him around everywhere? He picked his fate. He can deal with it.” Lieutenant Cinturino just wasn’t willing to watch me die. He came up with an idea. “I’m bringing you over to Four Building.” Four Building was fine with me. The Four Building gates were open most of the time since it was considered a Level Two facility and it was a calmer buildingwith a lot less violence. But then Cinturino went one step too far. “We’re gonna put you into a cell for the first week by yourself.” Being alone in my cell was bad news. If I was asleep, and the cell opened up, someone could just slide in there and take me out. I insisted they put me in a cell with somebody I knew. The gang leaders decided my first cellie would be a young kid named J.D., the son of a guy I knew from the projects. Out of five thousand inmates, I’d be the only inmate in an interracial cell. Even the old guards, who’d been there for over twenty years, had never seen anyone do what I did. They thought I was crazy.
The day of my move, I felt fairly certain I was gonna die. If not, I’d at least be shanked, and I imagined it would be painful, but there was nothing I could do to protect myself. I’d never felt more powerless. Who knew whether the guards were really gonna guard me? They could have been Nazi sympathizers for all I knew. When they came to get me, I just took a deep breath and tried to look calm. I felt like I was walking to the chair. We made it out of Three Building with no problems, but once I set foot in Four Building, the Aryan Brotherhood made their move. A big-ass white motherfucker came charging
Next up to make their case was the Mexican Mafia. They wanted to make sure I knew exactly what would happen if I chose the Bloods over the Aryans. If an Aryan or Nazi tried to kill me, then the Bloods, the Crips, and the Bay Areas would have to jump in. If that happened, the Southern Mexicans would have to jump in on the Aryan side, and then the Northern Mexicans would have to back the Bloods. It would be a full-scale war. Politics in Washington had nothing on this shit. I still wouldn’t budge.
A prison gang conference was called, and all the gang leaders sat down to discuss my fate. I wasn’t invited. Afterward, a guy I used to run with, Chris Thornton, came to my cell to let me know what went down. He was older than me, an O.G.,and the guards hoped he could talk some sense into my thick skull. Chris asked me, “Why did you come here?” I yelled, “It’s not like I signed up on a list to come to this shithole!” Chris just shook his head. “Shorty, the whole prison is in an uproar over you.” I couldn’t get it. “I ain’t nobody!” Chris smiled and said, “This week, you are.” He came straight out and told me that the Aryans said if I got placed with them, they would kill me. Gang leaders from other prisons had even weighed in on it. By the end of our conversation, Chris agreed with me. I had to stick with the Bloods. He told me, “If you come with us, there’s a more than likely chance you’re gonna get stabbed.” I’d just have to take my chances.
Right before they were gonna move me, Lieutenant Cinturino came to have a final word. He was the lieutenant of Four Building. He asked me, “Are you still gonna go through with this asinine crazy-ass idea? You are about to start a war.” I told him, “The gangs have agreed. Everything’s been said. There’s nothing we can do.” Cinturino went for the Hail Mary pass. He postponed my move one more time, and tried to ship me to another prison. I secretly hoped they’d reconsider my request for CMF or Avenal, but word came back from the director of CDC that basically said, “What are we supposed to do … just bounce him around everywhere? He picked his fate. He can deal with it.” Lieutenant Cinturino just wasn’t willing to watch me die. He came up with an idea. “I’m bringing you over to Four Building.” Four Building was fine with me. The Four Building gates were open most of the time since it was considered a Level Two facility and it was a calmer buildingwith a lot less violence. But then Cinturino went one step too far. “We’re gonna put you into a cell for the first week by yourself.” Being alone in my cell was bad news. If I was asleep, and the cell opened up, someone could just slide in there and take me out. I insisted they put me in a cell with somebody I knew. The gang leaders decided my first cellie would be a young kid named J.D., the son of a guy I knew from the projects. Out of five thousand inmates, I’d be the only inmate in an interracial cell. Even the old guards, who’d been there for over twenty years, had never seen anyone do what I did. They thought I was crazy.
The day of my move, I felt fairly certain I was gonna die. If not, I’d at least be shanked, and I imagined it would be painful, but there was nothing I could do to protect myself. I’d never felt more powerless. Who knew whether the guards were really gonna guard me? They could have been Nazi sympathizers for all I knew. When they came to get me, I just took a deep breath and tried to look calm. I felt like I was walking to the chair. We made it out of Three Building with no problems, but once I set foot in Four Building, the Aryan Brotherhood made their move. A big-ass white motherfucker came charging
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