Tag: Mass Incarceration

April 15, 2024

Monday

10am

Well, I waited a month to call my lawyer just to find out that he’s not my lawyer. I have to fill out a public defender form, which is not provided here, and then he MIGHT be my lawyer. 

I hate my life.

He says a preliminary hearing is scheduled for 4/25/24 and he’ll send me the form. That’s just great. So I won’t have representation at the preliminary hearing.

Fuck.

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April 16, 2024

Tuesday

11am

I went to the eye doctor. When he asked me if I read a lot, I answered without thinking, “I’m a reporter. I write for a living.” He answered, “Oh, is there a little prison newspaper?”

“No,” I said, turning my whole body to face him incredulously, “In my REAL life.”

“Oh!” he spluttered, surprised. “In your REAL life!”

As if we never get out of here.

There was a long line of people ahead of me, and I kept hearing say to them, “I saw you two years ago,” and “I saw you three-and-a-half years ago…” so maybe he thinks we really never leave.

It sure feels that way. 

April 12, 2024

Friday

9:30am

Commissary day. We should be shopping soon. 

10am

Daisy’s mother is in the hospital. Daisy wants to send two of her sons to the Milton Hershey School to ease her mother’s burden. She has five of her seven children.

Burgundy is saying the word “faggot” over and over again. She won’t say “penis,” but she’ll say “faggot.”

Daisy’s ex-husband is in jail for raping their 12-year old daughter. Her situation just seems to keep getting worse. I tried to tell her about EMDR for PTSD, so her daughter could cope better, but Burgundy interrupted with her story about overcoming obstacles with God and karma and other bullshit.

Does it really make people feel better that others are going to “get theirs” from the Universe or whatever?

Do they think revenge heals?

It doesn’t.

And it doesn’t happen that way for everybody, either. Nothing bad ever happened to my step-brother, who sexually abused me and my sister for six years. 

And would it have made me feel better if something awful happened to him?

No.

2pm

I called my lawyer–no answer. I called my parents–my father answered. He says they’re not using my mental illness to punish me and they’ll call CRISIS next time. 

Oh good.

Daisy says I look sad today.

I am sad.

On the radio: 

“You don’t look a day over fast cars and freedom…”

So I ended up pleading guilty to misdemeanor child endangerment, served my weekend in the McKean County Jail, completed the months of house arrest, and began the ridiculous and harrowing process of being on probation in Potter County, Pennsylvania.

My ex-husband, Dubya, and my parents joined forces and sued me together for custody of my three children in a combined case. Of course, they both had lawyers and I did not.

They won.

Somewhere in there, I went snowmobiling with a group of friends late at night, because I had no kids and nothing better to do with my time. They stopped at a friend’s house to warm up, and everyone besides me was smoking weed. I was sitting by an open window smoking a cigarette. However, the weed smoke was going past my face on its way out the open window. 

I was drug tested the next morning, and the line for negative on the THC window was fainter than the other lines. My probation officer decided to send the sample out to a laboratory instead of letting it go. I tried to explain what had happened, but she didn’t believe me.

I tested positive for 17 nanograms of THC, which is two nanograms over the arbitrary cutoff for negative for Potter County Probation. Normally the cutoff is 50 nanograms. 

In Potter County, it’s 15.

That two nanograms of THC bought me a year at the Potter County Women’s Recovery Center.  

An entire year.

In the year that I was there, not one other resident was sentenced to that much time there.

April 11, 2024

Thursday

9am

I called my lawyer. He’s on vacation. Figures. 

10am

I called Motorcycle–no answer. He got the stents out of his nose yesterday. I hope he’s okay. 

11:30am

The news around here is that somebody named Ashley tried to kill herself by hanging.

1pm

The rumor on the street (inmate.com) says that the woman who attempted suicide is in a coma, will be a vegetable if she survives, and has a Latinx last name. Who knows if any of that is true, but that’s the word.

4:30pm

The above appears to be true. That’s the story going around. 

Super sad.

Also, OJ Simpson died.

Yesterday, I almost dumped Ms. Grumpy Crabass right out of her wheelchair by accident. “Jesus Christ! I’m sorry!” I yelled. She snapped, “I should be prepared! You do this every day!”

In my defense, I do NOT do that every day. I don’t even work every day.

6pm

The woman who attempted suicide has died. The rumor is that she was on life support and her family pulled the plug. She had asked for help and cut herself earlier in the week. Burgundy says she should have been put in POC (Psychiatric Observation Cell), but instead, she was put in a room by herself, where she hung herself.

April 10, 2024

Wednesday

So, I got a notice that I start a program on 4/23/24 called “Back on Track.”

Fun.

I also got a notice that my lawyer’s number was approved the whole fucking time–I was just dialing the wrong number. 

Ugh. 

I tried to call him at 3pm–no answer.

April 8, 2024

Monday

11:30am

The news says that people are eloping en masse because of the eclipse.

Bizarre.

People are going crazy over this freaking eclipse. We will be locked down, so we won’t see it.

We got a fundraiser paper today– “ Proceeds to benefit CPL and Griffith Pond Animal Shelter.” I feel like shit today. I called my lawyer and his number still isn’t approved. The fundraiser prices are outrageous and exploitative. Eight dollars for eight ounces of Folger’s coffee. Vo5 shampoo – $3, Axe deodorant – $8.50. 

Ludicrous. 

In all capital letters at the bottom: “THERE WILL NOT BE ANY REFUNDS TO INCLUDE RHU, ATA, PAROLED, OR TRANSFER TO SCI-CBS OR SCI-QUE. PLEASE PLAN ACCORDINGLY!

As if you can plan for the RHU, which is solitary confinement.

Ugh.

April 7, 2024

Sunday

8:15am

I survived another one of Ethan’s death anniversaries. 

9:25am

News:

Oregon reverses 2020 law and recriminalizes drugs as homelessness and overdoses skyrocket.

I’m so disappointed in America.

4:07pm

Jesus Christ. The whole Block has been screaming at each other for over half an hour. The guard said, “Either fight or shut up!” twenty minutes ago. 

April 6, 2024

Saturday

10am

I talked to Motorcycle. He’s being so lovey lately. He says it’s not the Percocet, it’s that he finally feels like he and I are “going to work out.”

Huh.

Three freaking years later lol. 

I mean, it’s fine. 

We weren’t monogamous, and I feel like I’ve spent more time in prison that out in the past three years. His friend Dopey, who’s in the hospital right now, says he’s thinking of leaving his partner, Goofy, but he’s afraid he won’t be able to find anyone else.

Motorcycle said, “Well, I found myself a good one, and it only took me 64 years.”

I can’t believe that he calls me “a good one.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.