ROLL CALL ~ A Prison List (True Prison Story) (20 page)
Read ROLL CALL ~ A Prison List (True Prison Story) Online
Authors: Glenn Langohr
Sergeant Fountain paused and continued, “That job on those child molesters wasn’t handled with any brains. Someone should have done it from the east side of sycamore.”
A couple days later during showers a note came sliding under the cell. Vince picked it up and read it to Damon.
“Bird and Pelican here, sending our utmost love, respect and honor to you both! We have been consulting with a man of honor in the cell next to ours who represents our race in this hole. He’s been doing some research on the three strike legislation that looks like it’s going to pass and affect our cases. Get this, some piece of shit rapist child molester got out of prison and raped and murdered a beautiful girl from Santa Maria. Her name was Polly Claus. Her father is a powerful official and the media is all over it talking about how criminals just go through a revolving door and don’t get enough time. So the problem for us is it looks like we are all going to catch strikes! It’s ironic we’re going to get strikes for getting a couple of child molesters and has us scratching our heads over here but just keep your heads up and we’ll all get through this strife together. I’m also to tell you that workouts are mandatory. It’s also mandatory that you fill eight hours of your day seven days a week reading, writing and playing chess to sharpen your mind and to avoid depression. Our man of honor next to us has people studying law all day and some of them want to become lawyers when they get out! That rocks! With that said, we’re proud to have you both as brothers in this.”
A week later Damon looked up from a chess game and saw a deputy stop in front of the cell with some paperwork in his hand. Damon accepted it and brought it back to the bunk to read it with Vince.
Damon scanned through it and said, “Sergeant Jenkins interviewed Sherman Covington.
Vince said, “That’s the one the other one used as a shield!”
Damon read Sherman Covington’s responses. “I deserve what I got and still feel a deep guilt for molesting my own daughter. I don’t want to prosecute and I can’t even remember what the attackers look like.”
Vince watched Damon’s face light up with hope and asked right away in an emotionless voice, “What’s the other one say.”
Damon filtered through the pages and said, “This interview is from Sergeant Dingle. Chester Goldstein said, I want all four of them prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. I’ll identify the two who used weapons were in the cell next door to ours. The other two I’ll identify and point to in court. I have a diseased mind that I can’t control. It’s not my fault I daydream about little girls’ bodies; they are just so innocent I can’t help it. At least I’m not violent like those four who tried to kill me.”
Vince watched Damon’s face turn back into a stoic mask. Vince proposed, “Let’s play another game of chess.”
A week later during showers Bird told Damon and Vince, “Mad Dog got stabbed on the west side of Sycamore for calling that shot wrong.”
Damon watched Vince stick his hands behind his back and bend over enough to push his wrists out the tray slot for the deputy on the other side of the closed cell door to place on the handcuffs.
Vince stepped out of the way for Damon to back up against the cell door to stick his wrists through the tray slot.
While the deputy placed the cuffs on he asked, “Is this the third trip for you guys to West Valley’s court in Rancho Cucamonga?”
Facing Vince with his arms through the tray slot Damon watched Vince nod his head and say, “Yes sir. Today we either take what the D.A. offers, or go to trial and face up to 20 years.”
At the bus, Vince stepped in and heard the deputy yell, “Good luck.”
In the bus Vince saw Bird and Pelican in single man enclosed steel cages and realized he and Damon were to enter the two open ones across from them. Bird held his file folder and patted it with a smile on his face.
Vince entered the courtroom and noticed their public defender. She stood there looking stocky holding some files in her hand. She was wearing a blue business suit over black nylons standing in heels at 5’2 with her brown hair pulled back in a bun.
Damon watched Rosa come to the attorney box in their cage where Bird and Pelican greeted her. Damon thought about their last trip to this courtroom and how Rosa said she was trying to get the D.A. to come down from six years to four years. He looked at the judge’s seat of power and reflected on the division seven sign hanging there. The same division I got railroaded at in Orange County. The D.A. will probably take back the six year offer and come back with eight years! Damon lowered his head and told himself, stop thinking pessimistically! That kind of thinking only brings misery! Damon took a deep breath and told himself, Rosa is a hard worker, the D.A. is going to respect her and offer us the four years she’s asking for. Laughing at his hard to control always running mind, Damon asked Vince, “Do you think we’ll sign for four years today?” Vince said, “Sure. Rosa works really hard and the D.A. will go for it.”
Both Damon and Vince overheard Rosa laughing and telling Bird, “Just don’t use those quotes until you sign your deal! I don’t want the judge to get mad and pull your deal off the table!”
Bird and Pelican turned around smiling and Bird said, “We’re signing for four years.”
Vince watched Bird finish signing his deal as the last one to do so. He asked the judge, “Your honor. If I may I would like to address this court and ask it to be put on record.”
The judge responded, “Everything you say in this courtroom is on record as long as you see my court reporter’s fingers moving over there.”
Damon looked at the court reporter and she was indeed typing.
Bird said, “In that case I’d like to start with a couple of quotes. The first one is by Fredrick Nietze. He says, THAT WHICH DOESN’T KILL YOU MAKES YOU STRONGER. The second quote is from Benjamin Franklin. He says, THOSE WHO AREN’T WILLING TO FIGHT FOR THEIR LIBERTIES, AREN’T WORTHY OF THOSE SAME LIBERTIES. I want to give one more quote that is out of the Bible where God tells all of us how hard He plans on judging those who hurt His children and leads them astray. He says WOE TO THOSE WHO HARM MY CHILDREN! I say all of this so that maybe you as a judge might open your heart a little and think about all of the cases that come through your courtroom. A lot of young kids come to you who have been so beaten down by bad parents and bad communities that the only thing they can do to survive is run from that pain as fast as they can to avoid looking at it and asking why? As one of these kids I’ve always looked at life like that Fredrick Nietze quote, counting on getting through all that God puts in my path until one day I look around and see that I’ve made it where he wants me to be, and can finally find peace. I bring up the Benjamin Franklin quote because as those kinds of kids we feel it is our duty to fight for our women and children’s liberties when they are being preyed on by scum.”
Vince was the closest he’d ever been in his life to crying.
I got processed out of the county jail in Santa Ana and realized how alone I was. It felt like I was an insignificant little piece of sand getting blown around. I looked at the curb and pictured me as that piece of sand at the bottom of it looking up at the Grand Canyon. I walked around thinking about how the last four years had been my brother and I against the world. Now, my brother was lost to me sitting in juvenile hall. I felt so lonely for my brother that I felt like crying. Holding off the pain for the Moment, I thought about some of the things my Mom had told me. ‘God has a plan for you honey… Everything happens for a reason…God will never give you more than you can carry.’
Walking aimlessly through Santa Ana some of the streets looked familiar. My Dad used to wake us up at 1 a.m. to go to work with him at the L.A. Times. I remembered hanging off the back of the Buick throwing papers where I was directed with my brother right next to me. I remembered one night feeling my Dad’s resentments and anger and they collided with my own. I articulated something about how he didn’t have a good enough reason to be angry—we did! I had to hop out the back and run. My Dad got back in the car and drove away. I walked around aimlessly then, as I did now, and wondered how a father could hate his son like that. That time after many hours of wandering the streets I called the L.A. Times warehouse and a dude we referred to as Murdock; like that guy on the T.V. show, “The A-Team”, came and got me. He knew my dream had been to play pro baseball so he tried to inspire me to stay focused on that and stop bucking up against my Dad. That time. This time I wasn’t calling anyone. I saw the freeway.
Instead of hitch-hiking from the on ramp I tried it from the gas station right next to the freeway. I scrutinized drivers getting gas and asked for a ride where ever I thought it looked possible. For an hour straight it felt like I had a disease jumping off my skin. Few people even made eye contact. Right when I was about to give up the gas station theory I tried a Mexican Indian in a restored Chevy truck. He looked me over and asked where I was going.
He was only going to Lake Forest, about half of the way to San Clemente but it beat a blank. From Lake Forest I walked to Tower Records. I knew a few people I sold pot to who worked there. I was hoping a cute girl named Jasmine was there. She was.
She arranged herself a break and we headed to my house.
When we pulled up to my house I could see a yellow piece of paper taped to the door. Upon closer inspection it was a five day notice to vacate the residence. My face had a plastered look of shock on it ever since we’d had our door smashed in, now it just got worse. Where in the hell was I going to live!
Jasmine saw how vulnerable I must have looked and tried to offer a remedy. “You can contest that notice and stay for months… I know people who’ve done it.”
I listened to her while I read the fine print. At the bottom it said the Orange County Sheriffs would show up and seize whatever property was left behind. We went inside and the shock got even worse. The place was absolutely trashed.
The couches were cut open with the stuffing thrown everywhere, the kitchen had food, coffee, milk and other stuff dumped on the floor, the microwave was on the ground among the dumped contents with a visible crack in the tile where it landed. We walked into my bedroom and it was just as bad. The floor had soil all over the carpet from the grow room in the closet. I noticed some glass amongst the soil and saw the bedroom window was broken. I looked at my bed and saw it had been cut into like the couches had been. I walked into my brother’s room like a robot so my emotions wouldn’t spill out in front of Jasmine and saw some more mayhem. Other than the carpet yanked up in places it wasn’t so bad. My overwhelmed mind seemed to be having trouble processing all of this calamity. I did understand that we wouldn’t be getting our $2,400 security deposit back.
I finally looked at Jasmine, she was feeling my pain. “I can’t believe the Sheriffs can get away with this!”
I knew it wasn’t the Sheriffs. It was the narcotic detectives. We walked back into the living room and Jasmine pointed out the T.V. screen. It was cracked.
Jasmine took me in her arms in a comforting protective hug and said, “I don’t want to leave you like this but I have to get back to work or I’ll get fired. I’m on a short leash from being late a lot… Why don’t you come to Lance’s house with me so you won’t be all alone right now. I’ll come back when I get off work. Do you want to come?”
I felt like I’d just start crying if I stayed at my house. I had five more days facing everything all alone so I went.
Lance’s house was across the street and a couple houses down. He often came over to our house for sacks of pot and was really cool people. His Dad owned a popular bar in Dana Point, a club that had all the cool bands play there, in San Juan and an even bigger club in Anaheim.
We entered Lance’s house and the first thing I noticed was the older guy standing by the pool table. He looked irritated like he was being intruded upon. Jasmine walked up to him and introduced him as Paul. He looked about 6’4 and 220lbs. with a shifty look. Jasmine gave him a hug and whispered something to him and they walked to the bathroom. Lance saw me watching and ran interference by asking me if I wanted a beer.
Feeling as out of place as possible I said, “Sure.”
I walked over to the pool table and Lance came back with a cold Fosters beer while I racked the pool balls. Jasmine and Paul came out of the bathroom and Jasmine walked right to me twice as fast as she had been walking earlier. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and said she’d come back after work.
Paul kept his distance and used his cell phone while studying me. I could feel his paranoia and couldn’t help but stare at him. I watched Lance’s reaction to the tension and saw him come up with something.
“Paul this is Benny. He and his brother are the ones that got raided by the cops across the street.”
Paul was noticeably less sketched. He walked up to me and stuck out his hand to shake. “I’m sorry to hear about your bad luck.”
I didn’t like the reference to luck. “What did you hear?”
Paul was visibly shocked by my question, or tone, or both. He thought about it and answered. “I heard you and your brother got popped with a sizeable chunk of marijuana.”
