Letters and a Blog

 

Jason's book PrisonLife InsideOUT - Letters from Prison has just been released.  It is available for preview and purchase by clicking HERE. 

 

May 10, 2010

“That night it was cold and I had to sleep 

without sheets or a blanket.”

9:59 p.m.

Sweet lady, you have been such a friend to me, so patient, so understanding! Really, I don’t know how to thank you.

Oh, where do I even begin? How are you? I hope you’re over that nagging cold. You sounded pretty miserable. Thanks again for keeping me in your thoughts. Your words and your husband’s photographs are my escape from this place more often than you know. 

As of late, my life has been far too eventful! Jeeze, it’s been awful. First there was my wall outlet catching fire one night about a month ago. Yup, I plugged my fan in and the blue flames started shooting from the socket. What made it ten times worse, I was trapped in the cell with no way to dodge the flames. I fought it with a wet towel which only seemed to infuriate the flames and shock the hell out of me. This went on for about three minutes, then a friend of mine told me to press against the far wall while he dashed the outlet from the cell bars with a cut of water. Dangerous! But, it stopped the flames (mostly). The completely melted receptacle spit and sputtered sparks all night, then I had no power for two days until they fixed it.

Things settled down for a few weeks, then at 9:00 p.m. on a Saturday night, an officer came to my cell, cuffed me and took me to lockup. Talk about misery! I had no clue what I could have done, and worried more because I didn’t know. That night it was cold and I had to sleep without sheets or a blanket. Sleeping on that naked mat caused an allergic reaction which broke me out all over my body.

All of my clothes were thrown away, my cell sprayed down, my body bathed in some sort of lotion…quite an ordeal. I wanted to cry, and I’ve not cried in years. Even the officers cried (women) because they couldn’t understand why I was going through so much crap. Neither could I. One lady said that God was making me strong. Perhaps.

Later that day, I found out that I was being charged with extortion. What? I freaked out! That could get me more time! Turns out, my old celly got caught with a knife and to get the heat off himself, he made up a story that another Hispanic guy and myself had held him down and beat him up, AND that’s why he had the knife. Got your rubber boots on? It’s thick!

Well, fortunately, my character speaks volumes, and the case was overturned. Still, I stayed in lockup for a week without so much as a toothbrush. 

Coming out, I nearly got stabbed not even four hours later, just a bystander standing too close. The following Monday, I received my property only to find most of it missing, most importantly my fan and my food.

Now, these people are supposed to replace my stuff in the meantime, I’m hot and starving. My mom has been worried sick and upset that she may have to replace stuff that the prison is responsible for losing. They froze my account and put me in a cell with a militant….I feel like I’m falling to pieces. I just want to give up…but I know I can’t. Still…

Don’t think I’m ignoring you, I’m just going through it right now, okay? Hopefully my next letter will be joyous and full of answers to your questions. Right now, I’m in an unhealthy mind state. Gotta shake it off.

You get well and know how special a friend you are.

Thank you much,

May 27, 2010  6:22 p.m.

Hello, dear lady!  How are you?  Of course I sound more cheerful than I really am.  No, unfortunately things have not improved for me, if anything, they are worse.

So, while I was escaping into your most recent letter, a thought came to me, inspired by need and desperation, but an idea none the less.

And do forgive me for nearly ignoring all of the interesting activities that your letters tell of, but try to understand that under the current circumstances, my mind is in an alien state.  I want to be my old self with you, joyful and optimistic.  Oh, and I did get the images you printed.  Thank you very much.  (:

Of course I sound more cheerful

than I really am.

Okay, about this idea…I think you can help me get things set back straight.  You see, on the inside, I am just a number, powerless, at the whim of the prison staff and officers.  See how easily they wrong us, and have no one within to answer to?  Sure, there is a grievance office but they are allies with the state and back them up.  I filed a step one grievance about my fan and they responded with lies on top of lies, protecting their officers and leaving me without my fan, my hot pot, my $60 in commissary and $70 worth of photographs for a total of $170.  With my migraines and asthma, I’ll never make it through the summer, which is basically “murder,” hence proving my point.  They do it because they feel they can get away with it, and if it’s left up to those inside these walls, they can.  So, they are getting away with murder.  Maybe they don’t intend for me to die in this heat without my fan, but they don’t care enough to have it investigated.  All this time I’ve been waiting, no once came and spoke to me, checked on me or anything.

Even now, as I lay still writing you, I’m dripping sweat, trying to restrict my movements and conserve my energy.  I know what you’re thinking, “What, oh what are they doing down in Texas?”  Playing cowboys.

               

The plan is simple, outside influence.  Yup, that’s it.  I just want you to make some calls.  Not to this unit, not to this worthless warden, but to his employer.  I want you to call the director over all the prisons in the state, maybe a congressman, a senator. Someone in the governor’s office, maybe you or your husband knows some powerful or influential people that wouldn’t mind making a phone call.  I mean, it’s not like I’ve done anything wrong, I was never at fault. I’m not looking for anybody to get fired; I just want my property back and for these people to leave me alone.

But outside help is the one thing that

these people fear and respect.

Honestly, I’ll understand if you don’t want to get involved.  I’m trying to rally the troops.  My mom has not come to my rescue and I’m panicking.  But outside help is the one thing that these people fear and respect.  It’s not like they can do anything to you for fighting against injustice and criminal acts.  They are ordinary people outside these walls.  The only people they have control of are us.  I assure you, if the director of the Texas prison system calls this

warden and asks why people in another state are calling about an inmate who’s property has not beenreturned to him, the warden is going to make sure that my stuff gets replaced and that I get anything else I need, because he doesn’t want any more of these phone calls.  Especially about an inmate that has not been in any trouble.  Honestly, I’ve had one case in five years, back in September of 2007 and it was another instance when the officer was in the wrong, but they covered for him.  This is the corrupt world I live in.  I’m a dead man walking without people to fight for me on the outside.

               

It’s already apparent that you despise the way they treat me.  Here’s your chance to change that.  No pressure, but I sure could use the help.  (:  and, the sooner you can make a call or two, the sooner they’ll give my property back or replace it.  Because they know that the officer was in the wrong to let another inmate pack my stuff (that’s against policy), but they assume I don’t have a voice, so screw me.

               

Anyhow, however you can help, I’ll be grateful!  I just want to get back to the Jason you’ve come to know and care for, not this angry, bitter, frustrated time bomb.

               

Sorry about the return name on the letter.  I’m scared that they are holding my mail, so I’m taking precautions.  You still send yours to me though.  Umm, the contact info for the director should be available on line.  As a matter of fact, you can find out a lot on the website…a lot about me, too (just statistics) you know what counts about me.

               

Please keep in touch.  Hopefully my next letter to you will be one of thanks and joy.  Once can always be hopeful.  Thank you for the big hug!  They are always welcome. (:

Fondly,

Please keep in touch. 

Hopefully my next letter to you will

be one of thanks and joy.

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A Letter to Love

Some say that I have the gift of words, I’m not always sure.  For so long, I’ve been trying to find the words, the right words…and I’m still at a loss.  What do you say to an old friend, a lover, a soul mate who you’ve hurt time and time again.  How do you tell her that the love never died?

With age and maturity, I’m learning that the punishments we impose upon ourselves are often the worst ones, and self inflicted wounds never heal.  For my sins, for my crimes, I’ve asked forgiveness of my God, my family and myself, and moved forward.  Yes, I beat myself up, as if the conditions of my living aren’t torture enough.  But some things…some things won’t allow me to let go.

And I know…I know all too well that there are mistakes in this life that just cannot be made right.  Even still, in an effort of insanity, I refuse to throw in the towel; I’ll be standing until the final bell—win, lose or draw.  I didn’t fight for you then, but I’ll fight for you now until forever.

Love, you know who you are.  You are as much a part of me as the hands with which I write, the legs with which I stand, the heart that still races when I think of you.  For the life of me, I’ve tried to flush you from my system, tried to make you think that you didn’t have the power to destroy or rebuild me.  It’s all been a lie, Love, one that I can’t keep living.

You are the one.  Lord knows I want to be over you.  When people bring you up, I get defensive to keep from revealing how weak I am behind you.  Hope and prayer are my only allies in this battle.  This is a war which I wage every day of my existence, torturing myself with the “what ifs?” and the illusional “what will be?”  School work, reading, working out…nothing can keep you from my thoughts.  It seems as though you have conquered my mind as thoroughly as you’ve conquered my heart.  And yet, I continue to hope, knowing that hope is hopeless.

You were more than love, you were salvation.  You believed in me when I didn’t, and through all the drama I dragged you through, you never stopped believing in me.  My “thank yous” would only be insulting and insufficient in the stead of the debt I really owe, but what do I have beyond words?

For what it’s worth, if I could go back and do things differently…oh, but the mantra of a dreamer.  A dreamer indeed, you gracefully haunt my thoughts day and night where I need not close mine to see your twinkling eyes, your dazzling smile, the what was, and what I pray will be.  Despite my actions, I never stopped loving you and I’m deathly afraid that I never will.

I won’t ask you to forgive me, or to befriend me, or to love me—for you don’t owe it and I don’t deserve it.  If I can ask you one question though, a question you asked me a lifetime ago…Do you still believe in destiny?  I do, how could I not?  You inspire belief in the impossible.

I still love you, now and always.