Read Online Fish: A Memoir of a Boy in Man's Prison by T. J. Parsell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: T. J. Parsell
Tags: United States, General, Social Science, Personal Memoirs, Biography & Autobiography, Prisoners, Biography, Male Rape, Penology, Parsell; T. J, Prisons - United States, Prisoners - United States, Prison Violence, Male Rape - United States, Prison Violence - United States, Prison Psychology, Prison Psychology - United States
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a Chester, inmates made certain that other inmates knew about it.
"It's one of the greatest communication devices ever known," Rooster bragged, later that morning. "It you ever want to know what time it is about someone, or something, all you have to do is Telephone, Telegraph, or Tell an Innate."
After a while, I thought the inmates would run out of things to talk about, but that morning, there was plenty. They went on, non-stop, about the differences in classification, prisons, and how the system worked. I kept to myself and listened intently. Over my first months inside, I'd become as familiar with these workings as some of the old timers. That first day, however, I gathered as many details as I could. But no matter how much I learned, nothing would prepare me for what I was to face in the days that followed.
The longer a prison sentence, the higher the security, and the higher the security, the greater the violence. Close-custody prisons were the most dangerous, because the state had the least control over inmate behavior. In a minimum-security, where most inmates were within a few months of parole, the state held good time and early release dates as leverage, so violence was minimal. But in the higher custodies, where no one was going home for years-maybe never-convicts could give a fuck about the rules.
Inmates who weren't seeing the Parole Board for a decade or more, believed they'd have plenty of time to clean up their records, once they were transferred to a lower security prison that didn't demand as much violence. Many believed it was not a good thing to go to the Parole Board without any misconduct reports in your file. "They'll call you conwise," an inmate said, "and they'll give you a flop." (A denial of parole in six- or twelve-month increments.) "It's always better to have a few tickets," he said, "Cause otherwise, they'll think you'd been laying low and you're trying to manipulate."
As for inmates who were never seeing a parole-those inmates serving life-they had nothing to lose. What could the state do, give them another life sentence? There was no death penalty in Michigan, so there was no death row. Inmates who caused too much trouble in close-custody were sent to Marquette, the state's only maximum-security prison.
Marquette was located off the shores of Lake Superior in the upper tip of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, where legend had it security was so tight that inmates were welded into their cells. Only the most violent prisoners were shipped there, after having killed someone while at another prison. I doubt they were actually spot-welded in, but as Rooster put it, "They might as well be, 'cause unless a motherfucker's got him some snow shoes-he ain't goin' nowhere."
Convicts liked the word motherfucker a lot. They used it mostly when referring to other inmates, but These Motherfuckers or The Motherfucker usually meant The Man, Authority, The Courts, or The System. It was the function words like the or these, or the singular or plural form that indicated which motherfucker they were referring to. Some motherfucker could be either, like "Some motherfucker stole my shit" or "Some motherfucker jammed me up, sending me down for a dime" (meaning they were set up and sent to prison for a ten-year stretch).
They talked about time in terms of nickels and dimes, and serving a quarter-deuce (twenty-five years to life). Now that's a motherfucker, because with a quarter-deuce you won't see the parole board until after you've finished serving the full twenty-five. By then, it's very possible, because you've spent so much time here-you may not want to leave this motherfucker.
11
Quarantine
The largest part of Jackson Prison, called Central Complex, was home to over 6,000 inmates. Each was housed inside massive cellblocks that contained up to 600 prisoners each. Seven Block, one of the largest, was reserved for Quarantine. The very site ofwhich, made me forget my hunger, which had been haunting me since
"It's one of the greatest communication devices ever known," Rooster bragged, later that morning. "It you ever want to know what time it is about someone, or something, all you have to do is Telephone, Telegraph, or Tell an Innate."
After a while, I thought the inmates would run out of things to talk about, but that morning, there was plenty. They went on, non-stop, about the differences in classification, prisons, and how the system worked. I kept to myself and listened intently. Over my first months inside, I'd become as familiar with these workings as some of the old timers. That first day, however, I gathered as many details as I could. But no matter how much I learned, nothing would prepare me for what I was to face in the days that followed.
The longer a prison sentence, the higher the security, and the higher the security, the greater the violence. Close-custody prisons were the most dangerous, because the state had the least control over inmate behavior. In a minimum-security, where most inmates were within a few months of parole, the state held good time and early release dates as leverage, so violence was minimal. But in the higher custodies, where no one was going home for years-maybe never-convicts could give a fuck about the rules.
Inmates who weren't seeing the Parole Board for a decade or more, believed they'd have plenty of time to clean up their records, once they were transferred to a lower security prison that didn't demand as much violence. Many believed it was not a good thing to go to the Parole Board without any misconduct reports in your file. "They'll call you conwise," an inmate said, "and they'll give you a flop." (A denial of parole in six- or twelve-month increments.) "It's always better to have a few tickets," he said, "Cause otherwise, they'll think you'd been laying low and you're trying to manipulate."
As for inmates who were never seeing a parole-those inmates serving life-they had nothing to lose. What could the state do, give them another life sentence? There was no death penalty in Michigan, so there was no death row. Inmates who caused too much trouble in close-custody were sent to Marquette, the state's only maximum-security prison.
Marquette was located off the shores of Lake Superior in the upper tip of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, where legend had it security was so tight that inmates were welded into their cells. Only the most violent prisoners were shipped there, after having killed someone while at another prison. I doubt they were actually spot-welded in, but as Rooster put it, "They might as well be, 'cause unless a motherfucker's got him some snow shoes-he ain't goin' nowhere."
Convicts liked the word motherfucker a lot. They used it mostly when referring to other inmates, but These Motherfuckers or The Motherfucker usually meant The Man, Authority, The Courts, or The System. It was the function words like the or these, or the singular or plural form that indicated which motherfucker they were referring to. Some motherfucker could be either, like "Some motherfucker stole my shit" or "Some motherfucker jammed me up, sending me down for a dime" (meaning they were set up and sent to prison for a ten-year stretch).
They talked about time in terms of nickels and dimes, and serving a quarter-deuce (twenty-five years to life). Now that's a motherfucker, because with a quarter-deuce you won't see the parole board until after you've finished serving the full twenty-five. By then, it's very possible, because you've spent so much time here-you may not want to leave this motherfucker.
11
Quarantine
The largest part of Jackson Prison, called Central Complex, was home to over 6,000 inmates. Each was housed inside massive cellblocks that contained up to 600 prisoners each. Seven Block, one of the largest, was reserved for Quarantine. The very site ofwhich, made me forget my hunger, which had been haunting me since
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