A lot has been going on. I do my best to remain positive and stay upbeat. But I must admit, sometimes it’s super hard. Back in August I was on a softball team that was argumentive, disorganized, and dysfunctional. So I quit.
Soon after I quit, I hear a knock on my cell door. It’s the coach. “Why’d you quit?” he demands! Right away I see he’s hostile and emotional.
I tell him, “Because it’s too stressful and I’m not having any fun. Guys are arguing with each other and we’re loosing too many games.”
He says, “Well then f*ck you! I’m done f*cking with you!” Then he slammed my door.
I immediately get an adrenaline rush. I almost open my door and call him back. But I don’t. I accept it and let him walk away. Because the last time I entertained such irrationality, I ended up knocking out the dude. And that cost me my EFV’s for 5 years. (see: How I Lost My EFV’s For 5 Years)
Today I’m a changed man. I’ve learned from my past. I try my best to avoid conflict.
So what could I have done to avoid this entire situation? It’s actually quite simple. I should’ve finished out the softball season with a positive, optimistic attitude. Regardless of our record and all the negativity.
I’m getting pretty good at avoiding physical confrontations. However, I need to work on avoiding confrontational situations all together. This has proven to be very tricky. I can be minding my own business, doing my own thing, and then suddenly find myself in an undesired situation.
So shortly after this whole softball fiasco, the Sergeant calls me in his office. He tells me that my celly, Dicky, is requesting that I be moved out.
Dicky is disabled and bound to a wheelchair, therefore we are in an ADA cell. These cells are bigger and have wider doors for wheelchair access. Which means Dicky always has top priority to live in these spacious ADA cells. So if he wants a celly gone, it’s always the celly who gets the boot, never him.
I’m genuinely surprised by this news the Sergeant it telling me. Dicky and I get along fine. So I ask the sergeant, “Why?”
Basically, Dicky said I’m too clean. I clean the cell too much. And that I organize his area when it gets too messy. Which I do. But Dicky and I have had discussions about this. And he said its all good!
So as the Sergeant is telling me all this, I’m confused. None of this is making any sense. REALLY! I’m getting the boot for being too clean and organized. What’s really going on?
Well it didn’t take long to figure it out. As soon as I moved out, Dicky moved in one of his dope fiend buddies. Dicky is an addict himself. He’s a pharmaceutical junky. He goes to pill line multiple times everyday. He keeps hundreds of pills hoarded in his cell constantly. But I guess the legal drugs aren’t enough.
Since I got kicked out, Dicky has been going downhill fast. Some dude ran up on him and in front of everyone and said, “Listen you punk ass bitch, that sh*t you gave me was bunk and I’m not paying you a f*cking dime!”
Wow! In front of God and everybody. Dicky was now exposed. Shortly after that, someone must’ve went and told. Because they suspended his visits. Tore up his cell. Took apart his wheelchair (looking for drugs). And subjected him to a piss test. Dicky refused the UA because he was dirty. Refusing a UA is a Major Infraction. Dicky is now out of the dog program.
It all makes sense now. Dicky kicked me out of the cell because he wanted to get high and sell drugs. And he knows I’m not down with any of that. So he reverted back to his lying manipulative ways to get what he wants. (see: Living With A Compulsive Liar)
When the Sergeant first told me I was getting kicked out of my cell, I was upset and stressed. But now I’m very thankful. It took me over 6 years to get in The Dog Program. By living with Dicky, he jeopardized my livelihood with his sneaky manipulative misconduct.
In a piece I wrote called, Stone Catchers: I Quit!!!, I talk about overcoming these exact type of challenges.
I know what I need to do. Now it’s all about having the strength, courage, and intelligence to successfully cope with any and all situations that come my way.
“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Galatians 6:9
I quit softball. I temporarily quit Stone Catchers. And sometimes I feel like giving up and smashing out some of these fools. It’s time I quit quitting. Giving up is NOT an option. Violence Is Never The Answer.
MY PRAYER: Please God, continue to give me the strength to endure and overcome. Guide me, guard me, and protect me as I continue my journey. Amen!
I’m coming back from yard. As I enter the unit I observe three guards. They have Crazy Cuz pulled to the side.
Crazy Cuz is a 6’4″, 265 lb. bodybuilder. He’s a Crip. He’s serving 45 years for murder.
As I’m walking by I hear a guard say, “We need to take you in the back and strip search you.”
Crazy Cuz says, “Fuck that!” and takes off running. The three guards immediately chase him.
Wow! I have a front row seat to this exciting high speed chase. I don’t have to run to keep up. I just calmly walk in the direction of all the action, keeping everything in my line of vision.
Crazy Cuz runs up the stairs yelling, “Move, move, get the fuck outta my way!”
He makes his way to the bathroom and tries to enter a toilet stall, but they’re both occupied. He attempts to pull one open. By the time he gives the stall door a few jerks, the three guards catch up to him.
One guard is yelling, “It’s over! It’s over! Get down! Cuff up!”
Crazy Cuz yells, “Nothing is over! Nothing is over!” as he runs past all three guards. They could’ve grabbed him. But none of them want to tangle with this big ol monster.
As he runs out of the bathroom he turns to go down the stairs only to find that backup has arrived. Six more guards are now on the scene and they are all running up the stairs.
Crazy Cuz runs the other way. Then, about halfway down the tier, he surprises everyone by jumping off the top tier.
He lands on his feet and breaks his fall with both hands. Then springs up like a professional athlete and takes off running!
He has a huge lead on all the guards as he runs out of B-Pod and into A-Pod.
Like a good investigative journalist gathering info for a blog post, I follow.
As Crazy Cuz enters A-Pod, he once again runs to the top tier. But this time he doesn’t go to the bathroom.
The tier is like a square horseshoe. The bathrooms are located at each end. Crazy Cuz runs to the middle of the tier!
He’s trying to rip something out of the front of his pants. He’s struggling. Whatever it is…ITS STUCK!
The guards are closing in from every direction. Crazy Cuz is jogging back and forth as he frantically tries to free whatever is down his pants.
The guards are yelling a slew of directives as they get closer and closer.
Crazy Cuz panics and gets super aggressive as he violently rips free the object from his crotch area. Its a regular sock full of something! For being in prison, this dude has some serious quantity! No wonder he’s running from the cops!
With the sock in hand, he sprints towards the bathroom. In his path is two guards. This is about to get physical. At the point of impact, the guards get out of the way!
Crazy Cuz makes it to the toilet stall and easily flushes his sock full of contraband.
He calmly walks out of the stall and says, “Now its over!” as he turns around and let’s the guard cuff him up.
By now there are about 15 guards in the unit. And about 10 of them escort Crazy Cuz to the hole without further incident.
Rumor has it that Crazy Cuz was high on Spice when all this took place. Its also rumored that he flushed about 2 ounces of Spice down the toilet.
The guards wanted to strip search him because they received confidential information that he was selling Spice.
For more on Spice related incidents, please read my post called Smoking Spice In Prison.
A drug is a drug.
Addiction is addiction.
NA teaches that an addict’s whole life and thinking is centered in drugs in one form or another. Their life is controlled by drugs. The NA program also teaches that it doesn’t matter what or how much an addict uses.
If you can’t manage your life, you have a problem. If you place your use ahead of the welfare of your family, you have a problem. If you have to have drugs at all cost, you have a problem. If you go through withdrawals when you don’t use, you have a problem.
So why would prisons sell such a powerful and highly addictive drug?
Everything you just read is specifically being applied to the use of coffee.
Over the years I’ve seen atrocious misconduct due to caffeine addiction. People rob, steal, lie, cheat, strong arm, pressure, perform sexual acts, and beat a mother f*ckers ass…all for a shot of freeze dried Colombian liquid gold. AKA: Coffee
Guys keyster freeze dried coffee just so they don’t go through withdrawals as they transfer from one prison to another. (see part 1 of: Prison Store Sells Addictive Drug To Inmates)
When a new chain arrives, the first thing most guys do is try to score a shot of coffee.
I’ve watched the fellas make the laims snort big ol lines of salt/pepper, eat a bar of soap, or drink a bottle of hot sauce, just for some coffee. And some guys trade 90% of their food for coffee.
Just last week a 30 year old nephew punched his 60 year old uncle square in the eye over some coffee. They were cellmates here at Stafford Creek.
The nephew is now in the hole. And the uncle is walking around here with a huge black eye…the worst I’ve ever seen!
I’ve never been a coffee drinker. And I never will be. Its not even that good. I’d much rather drink water, eat trail mix, and blog about the stupid little things that happens in prison due to coffee.
Like the time Mike suspected his celly was stealing shots of coffee. He set a trap and his suspicion was quickly confirmed. So, Mike dried out a chunk of poop and grinded it into powder. Then he mixed it in the freeze dried coffee and offered it to his jailhouse thief celly. He took it. And drank every last drop of that special blend premium ass roast coffee.
Moral of the story: Don’t use drugs…its all bad.
PS – For clarification on words used in this post, please read: Glossary of Prison Terms.
Stafford Creek Corrections Center is located in the Great North West. I lived in this area my entire life.
I am good at two things. Running around in the woods naked. And cultivating psychedelic mushrooms.
Lucky for me, prison has only robbed me of one of these things.
Cultivating a spore comes very naturally to me. Maybe because of my extreme laziness. Or maybe because I love to grow stuff that gets me high. Either/or…growing spores is very easy.
So easy, I was able to do it in prison.
Thus begins the Great Mushroom Caper at SCCC. Quite by accident and not absolutely on purpose, I found myself in quite the little situation.
After spending two years in this sh*t hole in the woods, I began to notice a few things.
First, I was getting very fed up. Somehow I landed in this prison that somehow landed smack dab in the middle of the woods I used to roam. Naked. I live about 10 minutes from this place. I know every dear trail and logging road in this area.
Second, I realized I was working 240 hours a month out in the garden green house for $55 a month! Not to mention the prison takes 60% of that!
Combine those two revelations with the fact that I don’t give a f*ck, and well…you’re about to see what happens.
After two years of working in the green house, I developed a good working relationship with the guard in charge of that area. I would do all the work. He would sit on his ass and get fat. I didn’t bother him. He didn’t bother me.
One day after work I was out in the yard roaming around. My heart skipped a beat when I looked down and saw three Stunzie Mushrooms growing in the grass. I stood at a crossroad as I looked around.
I could eat these fully psychedelic, fully enjoyable mushrooms, or I could pick them, smuggle them to work, and watch them expand like a mother*cker! Yeah…I’ll do that!
The next day at work, I smashed bits and pieces of the mushrooms into the dirt between the cucumber and squash plants.
Within two days I had a nice patch of shrooms. I picked ‘em. Dried ‘em. And made powder. I spread the powder up and down three rows of cucumber and squash. Thirty feet long, sixteen inched wide.
That was on a Friday. Without completely understanding what I had just done, I returned to my unit for the weekend.
Monday morning rolls around and for the first time ever, I’m excited to go back to work. I go back to my area and I can’t believe my eyes.
Mushrooms were everywhere. I mean EVERYWHERE!!! All I could see was dollar signs.
I immediately devised a multi person process. Always a scary thing because you never know who might tell. But I had to. I needed help with my new-found cash crop. I had to get these things out of the green house and back to my cell.
My buddy Jason works on the trash crew. All trash cans are marked by a unit. That means all trash cans return to the unit they came from. Pretty stupid really! All this does is allow inmates, like me and Jason, to smuggle things from the Correctional Industries area back to the living units.
Back at the unit, my celly was already waiting for the trash cans to roll in. So far, so good. When the time was right, he quickly retrieved a large trash bag that was 1/3 full of psychedelic shrooms!
By the time I came home from work, he was high as a kite laying on his bed. TRIPPIN!
I was high too. I kept a little stash out in the green house just for me. We spent a good 5 minutes just laughing for no reason other than we just pulled off one of the biggest moves in DOC history!
I asked him, “Where they at?”
He gets up. He pulls his blanket back. There they are! All smashed into his sheets and the blanket. We start busting up again! This fool dumped all the shrooms on his bed and then covered them with a blanket. Genius!!
For the next several hours we dried the shrooms with more sheets and two fans. Meanwhile, we went around and collected as many Shiitake Dried Mushroom packs as we could. DOC sells those. They’re legal. We only managed to scrounge up 6 empty bags. It’s a start.
The next day at work, I had Jason comb through the facility trash. He was high as a kite and on a mission: TO GET ALL EMPLY MUSHROOM BAGS.
That day when the trash cans came back to the unit, my celly was waiting. This time he retrieved 87 empty mushroom bags.
By the time I came home from work, he had them all bagged up. We had 76 3oz. bags of highly hallusigenic mushrooms! A street value of $36,480.
A prison value of over $250,000! Incredible!
Before I could sell one single bag I had two guards kicking in my cell.
Somebody ratted me out!
Because of the amount they found, they charged me with a felony.
Now here I sit in the hole facing another 6 years.
Damn it! I should’ve just ate those three little Stunzies growing in the grass.
(This story was written in collaboration with my pal, Pete. It is his story, which I helped him articulate into writing.)
What is spice? To be honest, I’m not exactly sure. All I know is people are smoking it & it makes them do CrAzY things.
I saw on the news that some teenager took a bong hit of spice while driving. Within seconds he crashed into a convenient store.
Some dude in here got high on spice. He then got naked and started to run around the dayroom.
This stuff is all over the prison. It’s easily smuggled in because the drug dog isn’t trained to detect it. Visitors are bringing it in ounces at a time. Unlike weed, they can simply put a bag of spice down their underwear or in their shoe.
The inmates love it because it doesn’t show up in Drug Tests. Until recently. Now that prison officials know about it, they test for it.
But that won’t stop the use of spice. From what I hear, it’s a cool high. But there’s a fine line between smoking too much, and smoking the perfect amount for an enjoyable high.
Most guys smoke it like weed. They take a big ol hit! That’s too much. It caused them to flip out, like the guy that got naked and ran around. I’ve heard of other guys getting temporarily paralyzed by it.
I say all this to raise awareness. Educate yourself on this new powerful drug (National Institute On Drug Abuse).
Make sure your kids aren’t messing with it. Show them the crazy youtube vids of people on spice. Make them so afraid of this drug, that they never wanna try it.
Knowledge is power.
Use this power to make a difference.
Drugs make people do crazy things. So why do most states sell the most addictive drug to inmates? Prison is full of misconduct. By allowing drugs, the misconduct only escalates.
On 2-25-13 Ryan Mayer #843607, an inmate at SCCC, was being promoted from a long term medium facility to a short term minimum facility. His last stop before freedom.
The transitional process means a week stay at the dreaded Receiving Units in Shelton, WA. (aka: The R-Units). All inmates filter through the R-Units before they reach their new destination. The R-Units are loud, filthy, and over crowded. Inmates are not allowed to bring anything with them. And since Ryan is addicted to coffee, he decided to smuggle some.
Anytime inmates are transferred, they are strip searched. So the only place to hide the freeze dried Keefe Coffee is up their ass.
The night before Ryan was due to leave, he got a hold of some latex gloves. (the guards use these gloves when conducting official business such as: strip searches, cell searches, etc…). Ryan uses these gloves to package coffee in and then shoves it up his ass.
Here’s How To Get Caught…
Ryan was sitting in the dayroom BS’ing with his buddies one last time before he leaves. The announcement blares over the PA system, “All inmates on the outgoing chain, report to the property room at this time.”
Instead of following the other two outgoing inmates, Ryan goes into his old cell.
But why? There’s nothing in there for him. He’s completely packed up, and his celly is at work. He has NO reason to be going back into that cell. Except to shove a few homemade keyster packs of coffee up his ass.
A guard see’s him enter the cell. The guard waits about 90 seconds before he slowly walks to Ryans cell. As he looks in, he observes Ryan bent over sliding something up his ass!
Immediately, the guard calls for back up, “Breaker, breaker. All officers be advised, I have an inmate sticking foreign objects up his anus.”
Within seconds, a swarm of officers rush to Ryans cell, put him in handcuffs, and haul him to the medical unit.
At medical, they make him sh*t in a bag. Out comes one finger of a latex glove. It’s covered in feces. They wash it off and cut it open. The big bust of the day: A few grams of freeze dried Keefe Coffee, and one set of ear plugs.
Prison officials demoted Ryan back down to medium custody. He is no longer eligible for minimum custody. He’ll spend the rest of his 60 days sitting at SCCC sipping on Keefe Coffee.
Moral of the story: No matter what the drug is, drug addiction is bad. People will do whatever it takes to get their fix.
Remedy: Don’t do drugs.