The Letters From Hell series written by guest poster Screedler were the most visited and read posts of the old Drupal powered TDA. Unbeknowst to me, the links to this series were broken in my switch to a WordPress platform so to make up for it I will post the whole series again one new one per day.
Welcome to Letters from Hell – Part 8. Another short letter. It seems the shorter the letter, the more unpleasant the memories they bring. This was day 32 of 76 of my incarceration and by that time, I was beginning to feel a little institutionalized like my buddy Burgette. A suspension of time and hope. Not really caring about myself, my family, or my future. Just shuffling along behind bars like some kind of zombie. Click here to read all the prior installments of the series.
June 7, 2006
Dear Dad and Sarah,
Greetings from Cell Block A Pod 9. It’s about 8:30am and I am waiting to be called for my court date. On one hand, I am anxious to find out how soon I can get out of here. On the other, I dread about how long I might have to stay.
I have been up since 4:50 am. I could not get back to sleep so I took a long shower and laid back down and read a while. I had hidden away an apple pie and an orange juice to eat before I go, but my nerves have knotted up my stomach. I will not get lunch today, so I thought a snack before we left would help. Just as well, I guess. I would hate to have to go to the bathroom with leg and wrist shackles.
Last night the guards finally broke up the gang that was headquartered in the cell next to mine. They took the leader (Peanut) and three of his henchman out of our cell block after dinner. The day before his main “captain” was taken away after instigating a fight with one of my cellmates. It all went down within a few feet of my bunk. I thought I was going to get caught in the crossfire, but luckily I did not.
Well they finally called me, wish me luck.
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I’m back and things did not go very well. I don’t even know why I had to go anyway. My attorney did not show up, so I was worried about how to proceed. All that happened was the judge said they would decide whether I have a felony or not on July 20. I don’t even have another court date.
That’s 43 more days in here, at least. I don’t know if I can handle that where I am. I am going to try and get on work block.
As you can guess the thought of calling a friend to bond me out has crossed my mind. Everyone in hear thinks I’m crazy to stay over $1000 dollars. However, I know if they up my charge to a felony they would swear out a warrant for my arrest and I would just be right back in and owe another bond.
Thoughts of Canada, Mexico, and the Caribbean cross my mind.
I can’t think of anything else to say; so I will end this letter. Sorry I don’t have anything better to write. People have stolen from me again while I was in court today, and I am in a bad mood and have a headache. I am going to leave this letter for the guards and go to bed.
Actually my bond was only $1000 and it would have only taken $100 to get me out. One hundred dollars. But I was too proud to call a friend, and I was also afraid my family would just go ahead and disown me. They wanted me to stay and get sober. I didn’t, couldn’t fight with them. And I was scared I would drink. I know I would have drank had I got out and they just washed their hands of me. Told me to deal with my mess and stay out of their lives.
That fact and the memory of what it was like to be paraded in front of society in an orange jumpsuit with leg shackles and handcuffs help me keep sober. Rewriting these letters help.
“Tough Love” – sometimes it’s best. Keep coming back and find out what happens to Ozzy and my new best celly.