Personnel took my report about my new neighbor and advised me that there was nothing I could do about it. I already knew that, but it had to be reported nonetheless.
That afternoon when I got home, I went to the backyard to fix Coal’s run. I pulled with all my strength on the wrought-iron shepherds hook that coal had bent over. When I did, the hook turned with shocking speed in my hand and hit me in the left temple with such force it knocked me out.
I am not entirely certain how long I was laid out in the yard. When I came to I was dizzy and had a massive welt on the side of my head. I went inside and looked in a mirror. The welt was already black and blue and was affecting my vision on that side.
I drove myself to the ER. They said I had a concussion and treated me for the headache. They sent me home and I took a couple of days off. I felt very foolish for causing myself such an injury. It was not my first concussion. I’ve had several as I’m not very wise when it comes to taking risks.
I returned to work with a bruise still visible. Of course this caused great speculation amongst the inmates. One thing I can certainly say about a men’s prison when it comes to gossip… they’re worse then women ever thought of being. Words spread like wildfire there. I could say something at one end of the camp, and in the time it took me to walk to the other end-it would already be there. Twisted like the telephone game.
There was an officer that took particular interest in my injury. He came to my class and inquired. I told him what had happened and twice he asked me if I was sure. I told him I was positive. He remarked “well if you’re sure, wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
This was particularly odd; as this officer had never spoken directly to me in 6 years. I brushed it off and went on with my work.
Working in re-entry was very different from crimebill and SAP. The life skill classes were the same but the inmates were very different. They were almost all under 30 years old, short-timers. Gang bangers, drug seeking robbers, and serial thieves.
They knew little about me and saw me as a road bump between prison and release. The entitlement among them was a burden and irreparable. I only had six weeks to work with them. What kind of radical change can you make in six weeks?
Most of these inmates saw their charges as a part of life. Just a layover between their lifestyle and another crime. Occasionally I would get an inmate that had done 20 plus years. Those inmates were extremely grateful for anything you helped them with.
I really disliked these classes. It felt more like high-school detention. The inmates were especially rude and callous. I had no hope for their success. It was just a matter of time before they returned with a new list of victims attached.
The rest of my day was spent writing a new curriculum. It was the one thing I did everyday that kept me going in a positive manner. I had tremendous hope for this new program. I was also exceedingly grateful that I had Montgomerys’ support, even though I knew that they were getting the best I had to offer for a very cheap price.
That weekend I was enjoying a few days off as it was a three day holiday with Monday off. I was out shopping when I ran into the officer that had inquired about the bruise on my head. He made small talk and then I went on, thinking nothing of it.
On my way home however, I noticed that he was in the vehicle behind me. No matter where I turned he was still there. I went to a 12 step meeting. They usually last about an hour. When I went to leave I felt certain that the officer had moved on.
Unfortunately within about a mile he was there again. I couldn’t for the life-of-me figure out why he was following me. I drove to an empty parking lot which he bypassed. Then I took off before he could turn around and lost him in a series of rapid turns.
Thank you for reading my series. Stay tuned!