THEY WERE DOING THE THORAZINE SHUFFLE in the back, four or five guys with spit masks on and personal guards like me except they had this far away look on their face like they were on their way somewhere or already there, I couldn't really tell..
To be continued.
11:20 AM 6/3/2015
Register Number: 01863-055
Released On: 05/07/1998
I HAD THE SENSE that more than one of the eight or ten person crew would love for something to happen they could quickly exercise some of their extensive training taking decisive control of any incident and launching their careers and bar talk for the rest of their otherwise mundane life... I knew I was surrounded by people who would never see the light of day again, many on their way to some last ditch court appeal with everything on one roll of the dice. Others were like me out soon at the end of their sentence, many even then entangled in immigration enforcement matters. About the third time they catch you in this country illegally they body slam your ass.... Ten or fifteen years; many would rather do that here in prison than in their own countries. They all had a distinctive worried look on their face.
NO FEDERAL PRISON TRANSPORT plane, known as "ConAir," filled to near capacity would be complete without a couple real life mobsters. I felt like reporter at large for Rolling Stone, The Atlantic or Vanity Fair trying to memorize everything I seen and formulating sentences in my head day and night with bits of conversation I heard, i.e., "You slap me you better slap your flavor because your going to drink every drop of it!" I heard a black girl tell a dude onetime....
I had to hear this guy's story after he already ask me.
I couldn't resist myself and finally said, "Why would you want to do that?," incredulous. He looked around enjoying the chit chat eating granola bars like it was the first time he ever seen one.
"Why did I tell them that or why did I want to shoot the president?" He paused earnestly looking at for me for an answer.... My tongue was tied but I manged, "Either."
"Well, first of all I never said I was going to shoot the president, I said I wanted to." It's two different things. I want to fuck Pam Anderson, it doesn't mean I'm going too....." "That's fucked up", I said. "When I got booked on my last state parole violation I whispered into the fingerprinting man, "I want to shoot the president." That's all it took. A couple weeks later they came and grabbed my ass and took my ass to federal court." He paused along time and I was trying to think what all that meant and finally said, "So what happened?"
"THEY SENT MY COUNTRY ASS to Springfield for evaluation. Almost a couple of months, they feed you like a champ, call you "Mr." put you on the "Thorazine Shuffle," run every test known to man on me." He paused again waiting like he should save his story for the movies, he thought they would make a movie of his life and ask him all kinds of important questions.... Fucker made wait again too long; "So, then what happened?" I asked again.
THEY SAID I WASN'T CRAZY. Sent a big report to the judge said I was exactly what I told them I was. State raised in foster homes to juvenile homes to the county jail strait to state prison and a dab of federal time for stealing mail and now going to the same place your going. The judge asked me if I had anything to say before sentencing me to three years in federal prison. I told him I was sorry, I just wanted to get out of state custody, I like the president. I guess growing up my only role model was Donald Duck, and just like him I don't give a fuck!"
11:22 AM 6/4/2015