Back to Prison
Apr 27
Home for a Week
By Pat Hawks [CC BY 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
Home for a Week
Once I received the news that I was approved to go home for a full week in April, I couldn’t wipe the smile off of my face. It was hard to contain the excitement.
Feeling like I wanted to tell everyone was my first reaction, but I didn’t want to rub salt in the wounds of other Trustees that had been denied a trip home. So, I tried to keep it to myself. There were a few that I shared the news with, because not telling anyone at all would have made me explode.
Spending the next month waiting would be very hard. Not counting down the days was the biggest challenge. If I could stay busy then it would be a little easier on me. That became my focus until the date arrived.
Before leaving, I had to be briefed on the protocol regarding Temporary Home Parole. There was a lot of talk about staying out of trouble, refraining from drugs and alcohol and various other common sense topics. I was also given an emergency contact number in the event of any situations.
The thing that was stressed the most was, “Make sure you come back on your return date.” Because I was a military inmate who was trained to kill, I would be considered armed and dangerous if I did not return. U.S. Marshals would immediately be dispatched to find, apprehend and return me to the Disciplinary Barracks.
There would be a Court-Martial for attempted escape. A guilty verdict would be imminent. My current sentence would stop, I would serve out my new one and then my current sentence would resume. All good time would be forfeited, custody would be reduced all the way back to Maximum, and the chance of ever getting parole would be slim to none. My next trip would be a very long stay in the hole or solitary confinement.
It crossed my mind that because I had gone AWOL twice, this might have been specific to me. However, it’s possible they told everyone the same thing. They asked me if I was crystal clear on this topic. Of course I said, “Yes.” There was no way that I planned on extending my stay.
The next month went by quicker than I thought. Before I knew it, April 14 1992 arrived and my family was on their way. After eating breakfast, I headed to the administration building to wait for them to arrive. When I saw them pull into the parking lot, I jumped up to meet them. Trustees were not allowed to walk through the front door without authorization or an escort so I stayed inside.
My parents, sister and youngest brother were all headed towards the building. They brought a set of my clothes with them. I had to change before I could leave. The Army didn’t want me going home in my prison uniform and neither did I. After I signed out, the desk Sergeant told me I was free to go.
Making my way to my parent’s car, I couldn’t move fast enough. After buckling myself into the back seat, I said, “Quick, get out of here, before they realize I’m gone.” My siblings looked worried for a second and then everyone laughed. However, as we pulled away from the LPU, I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. A feeling that I was not supposed to leave. It felt like I was doing something wrong and that they were going to come after me.
On the way out, we passed by The Castle. I could feel the darkness from that building and I was glad to be moving further away from it with each second. As we left post and got on the interstate, I had the same panic as before from moving so fast. For some reason, driving seemed so out of control. Everything blurred as we sped along and I hung on tight to my shoulder belt like my life depended on it. The trip was going to take about three hours and so it took a little while but I was finally able to adjust to the speed.
Somewhere between Leavenworth and Omaha, we decided to stop for lunch. They asked me what I was hungry for. Without hesitation I said, “Arby’s.” It had been awhile since I’d eaten any fast food and I planned on Arby’s being the first place. Walking into the restaurant, it felt like we entered a circus. There were so many bright colors, the screens behind the registers were all lit up and there were so many choices that it was overwhelming.
Getting to pick what I wanted was a bit of a challenge so I just went with a roast beef sandwich. It tasted so good. I’m not complaining, the food we ate in prison was very good. However, this was just different. Another strange feeling I had was that there was no one there to do a pat down. I half expected to assume the position and have someone check me for silverware.
After we ate, we got back on the road and headed the rest of the way to Omaha. Arriving in Bellevue, which is a suburb where Offut Air Force Base is located. My family lived in military housing. Once we got inside they showed me where I would be sleeping. They also showed me where all of my personal belongings were. My sister, Dana, had called some of her friends over to see me. A couple of them I had already met when they traveled to LPU to visit. A guy named Mick, who I had not met before, said that if there was anything I needed, to let him know. We ended up becoming very good friends.
Dana said that if I wanted to drive, I could borrow her car. It was almost the same car that I used to own, so it felt very familiar. It had been about two and a half years since I had driven and so I was a little rusty. It was a little scary at first, but everything came back pretty quickly. There may have been a few curb checks in the beginning. It seemed as if the lack of control feeling that I kept getting was not as strong if I were behind the wheel instead of being a passenger.
Dana, Daniel and Mick came with me and gave me a tour of Bellevue. It was surreal, the freedom that I had. It was hard to process that I had just left prison just a few hours prior. Being able to go anywhere and do anything was strange. Not sure what I wanted to do, I just listened to everyone’s recommendation. The structure of Army prison seemed to reduce my ability to make decisions. It was hard to function outside of a routine.
The next few days consisted of day trips around Omaha, seeing all the sights and the favorite spots to hang out. We saw some movies, but I don’t remember which ones. We ate at Arby’s a few times and I tried some other places like Spaghetti Works. It had a massive salad bar and you could order unlimited refills on whatever pasta you wanted as well as sauce choice. This place was awesome. It was located downtown in the Old Market along with a bunch of shops.
There were a couple music shops that I checked out, Homer’s and Drastic Plastic. Both were well known for their extensive selections of older and obscure bands. Many of the Omaha youth culture hung out until late in the evening sitting outside on the steps of these establishments. It was where my brother Daniel liked to hang out and for some reason it seemed as if everyone knew him.
As each day passed, I felt less like an inmate and more like a regular person. Someone who was able to come and go as I pleased without having to ask anyone or sign in or out of anywhere. The week was a blur. Knowing that I only had seven days to stay, the time flew by very quickly and my return date moved closer and closer.
On April 20th, the day before I had to return, the outside temperature dropped. It was unseasonably cold. That evening, many of Dana and Daniel’s friends came over to my parents to hang out with us before I had to go back. We sat around the living room talking and watching movies because it was so cold outside. As I looked out the window, I noticed that snowflakes were falling from the sky. It was April and so I didn’t think much of it.
The snow probably wouldn’t stick anyways….
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Next post: There was an April blizzard and I had to get back.
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The Fort Leavenworth Story
Apr 20
Worst Prison Job and Best News Yet
Prison
Worst Prison Job and Best News Yet
During certain holidays, the powers that be would decide what meals we would serve everyone. We never cooked typical prison food. For Thanksgiving there would be turkey and stuffing. For Christmas, usually ham was the main choice.
In January, for Martin Luther King Day someone thought it would be a good idea to have soul food. There were special items sent in for us to prepare and cook. Our supervisor sent me and another guy over to ten large industrial sized buckets that looked like the kind you would use for painting. We were informed that we would be cleaning chitterlings (pronounced chitlins).
Since I spent a lot of time in the South, I had heard of chitlins before. What they actually were was a mystery to me. I was sure that I had never eaten them even though I had tried things like; alligator tail, frog legs and rabbit. Nothing could ever prepare me for what I was about to experience. When we took the lid off the first bucket, the smell almost knocked me over. The aroma was like a backed up sewer.
What the heck was in this bucket? When I peeked in the container I saw a bunch of whitish, slimy, worm like things immersed in water. My shift leader told me, they were pig intestines that are finger-cleaned of debris and fecal matter before they are cooked and consumed. Why would anyone eat these things? Me and the other guy had to strip the inner membrane from each one and rinse them all off one by one. This meant that for several hours, I had my hands in pig guts and excrement. This was the single-most disgusting experience of my life.
Between the two of us, we cleaned five buckets each. When we were done, we realized that the smell had transferred to our hands and would not come off. Normal soap and water wasn’t doing the trick. Grabbing some lemons, we squeezed them onto our hands and rubbed them around to see if that would help. It didn’t and so the next step was pretty desperate but we chopped up some onions and rubbed them all over our hands and even that didn’t work. As a last resort, we took bleach and washed our hands with this chemical in hopes that it would kill this putrid scent that had become so attached to us. This did not work either. So we both smelled like lemon, onion, bleach and fecal matter all in one whiff.
The other menu items were pretty Southern, but innocuous including greens, black eyed peas, and cornbread. They also had pigs feet, which is another thing I would never like to look at again. Someone else worked with those since we were so busy with the chitlins.
When the mess hall opened, there was quite a commotion. Many of the guys who had converted to Islam during their incarceration were furious. They couldn’t understand why these meat items were being served on this holiday. It was pork and they couldn’t eat it for religious reasons. It made sense that they were upset. There were no non-pork items for them to eat in place of the pork choices. However, some of the guys were quite abusive to the trustees on the serving line. None of the mess hall workers had anything to do with picking the food items. Someone even said it was a conspiracy and that maybe they wanted inmates to riot. It was a pretty tense situation. Having gotten used to the serene surrounding of the LPU, the angry outburst was out of place. It was quite a nerve racking experience. Thankfully, no one wanted to lose custody over food items so it blew over. There were complaints filed through the proper channels and so no one got out of control.
Not too long after this incident, we got news some interesting news. A team was being put together to work in a different dining facility. They needed four of us to work there in February, and they offered the spots to the 20 year Air Force Chef, my work out partner, the guy from Lincoln and myself. Without hesitation, I said yes. It was one step further away from the DB and one step closer to freedom and peace.
Beyond the LPU, there was a farm colony that was run by about thirty trustees. They took care of the animals and worked the land. They also lived on premises. We would be cooking for and serving food to the farmers so they didn’t have to be transported out to the LPU.
One of the blue military vans came to pick us up pretty early in the morning. We traveled about two miles north of the Castle. When we arrived it was still dark outside which made it hard to see how big the farm colony actually was. We knew we had arrived because of the large sign that identified the facility.
Positioned at the entrance to the farm there was a small dining facility that looked like a normal building from the outside but on the inside had the feel of a little country restaurant. In the kitchen area, there were a couple stove top ovens on the right, a prep table to work on in the middle, and to the left was a room with a sink where all the cleanup work happened. Further inside, was where the dining area was located. There were several wooden tables set up in the shape of an L. The tables were covered with a red and white checkered table cloth and there were wooden chairs surrounding the tables. Very quaint, and to top it off, country music was playing on the radio. My dislike for this music did not stop me from subliminally memorizing the lyrics to every country song played in 1992.
As soon as we entered the building, we got to work. The farm Trustees got up pretty early and would need to eat. Since we were on our own for the most part, the Chef would make special items from scratch that weren’t on the menu for the day. No one complained about it. My favorite was a cinnamon crumble coffee cake. Regular items included bacon, ham, pancakes, potatoes, biscuits with gravy, omelets, and scrambled eggs.
The farmers would come in and eat and then go out to work in either the fields, the greenhouse, or with the livestock. These guys worked pretty hard. When they came back in for lunch they looked completely different, covered in mud and smelling ripe. The worst of the lot were the pig farmers. The smell that followed them in brought back the memories of cleaning the chitlins. There was really nothing they could do about the smell that attached to them, but I made sure I ate before they came in. After breakfast, we cleaned everything up and prepared for lunch, and then repeated the same thing for dinner.
The Chef was so good at what he did that the farmers raved over the food every meal. The guards who ate the food talked about how amazing it was. His reputation was discussed through other channels and it got to the point where they started bringing people out to the farm mess hall to try the food. Eventually they started setting up special dinners for high profile officers that were attending the US Army War College at Fort Leavenworth. One evening they brought a couple of Israeli Generals to eat our food. They warned us ahead of time, so that we made sure the meal was kosher. It struck me as a little funny that some of the world’s top military leaders were being served by four military inmates.
There were maybe a few guards hanging around the farm but whoever was assigned to us never really bothered with us. So, in March, once it warmed up, I would leave the mess hall during down times and head up to the fence that separated the buildings from the fields. Every once in a while there would be a horse that would hang out near the entrance. Sometimes I would bring carrots and give them to the horse. It was small moments like these that almost made me forget that I was in prison.
Back at the LPU, one of the guards handed me an official Army envelope. Inside was a letter with a response to my request for Temporary Home Parole. In April, I would be going home for seven days.
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Next post: I get to go home for seven days!
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The Fort Leavenworth Story
Apr 13
Changes Were Coming
Changes
Changes Were Coming
It had been about a month and a half since I left the DB for the LPU. After the pen pal incident and completing the two weeks of extra duty, I managed to stay out of trouble. The Disciplinary Board scared me enough to keep my nose clean, as if being in prison wasn’t enough.
My family continued to come to visit me periodically and my sister Dana even brought a few friends from Omaha. It was great to meet some of the people she hung around with. I was surprised that their parents let them come to a prison to visit an inmate. They must have really trusted my sister.
However, as the season changed, the visitations became a little less frequent. When they weren’t able to come, I completely understood. The drive was about three hours and during a mid-west winter, driving conditions could be pretty treacherous.
As winter was approaching, things started to move along at a slow pace. The days were getting darker and there was a chill in the air that bit at my skin a little harder with each passing day.
The Kansas winter was brutal that year, more than I remember from the first and second. In the first year, I never really left the confines of the Castle for any reason. During the second year, I had to walk from B-6 to the Castle every day to go to work.
Walking through the courtyard in the snow was further away than it was at the LPU to get to work, but I just don’t remember it being as frigid. It got so cold, that I only left the barracks to go outside just to get to work in the mess hall, watch a movie at the recreation room or work out in the gym.
Maybe it was because there were no walls around us.
Maybe it was because the wild forest surrounded us.
Or maybe it was all in my head.
Thanksgiving and Christmas at the end of 1991 were pretty boring and uneventful. For some reason this time is all a blur. Prison had a way of doing this to your mind.
The holiday’s came and went without leaving any sort of impression. There were some menu changes to try and make it feel special. This didn’t really help that much, other than having a deviation from the normal food. Working in the mess hall meant that you didn’t get the day off.
There were a few guys besides my work out partner that I associated with. Most of them were from B-6. We would have conversations about each other’s home towns, or what we would do when we got out.
The barber who cut my hair inside the walls was at the LPU which I was glad to see. We had become pretty good friends and I loved that he was able to keep my unauthorized haircut looking authorized.
He worked in the mess hall with me as well but cut hair when people needed it. Maybe I should have paid attention to how he was cutting my hair. It’s possible that he could have given me some tips for when I got out of this place.
There was another guy at the mess hall who was originally from Lincoln, Nebraska. He filled me in on what Nebraska was like, to prepare me for when I moved there. It sounded pretty boring actually and I was more interested to learn that he only got a five year sentence for shooting a guy at point blank range.
The victim survived the shooting and testified against him. So this guy shoots someone and gets the same sentence that I did for selling drugs. One could never understand the sentences each of us received.
My surroundings were comfortable enough and I tried to stay busy with work and working out. The systems and routines worked to occupy my time and my mind.
If I didn’t make parole or count any earned good time, there was still about two and a half years left to serve before my five year sentence was up. So, I did my best to not think about it.
Watching the clock when I was locked in a cell drove me insane. If I could just make it through this season, there were good things waiting for me on the other side.
Escape from the dreary, confined days of winter into the bright and colorful spring.
The freedom to go outside again and experience the openness of the outdoors.
The hope of another year to start fresh and new.
Another chance at getting out of here and going home.
It would be around June that I would be eligible for my second shot at a parole board. In my current circumstances, chances were pretty good that I would make it this time. Anticipation was a killer in this place and so I put it in the back of my mind. Just enough to remember it, but not enough to let it drive me mad.
However, I was excited to learn about a program called Temporary Home Parole. Once an inmate made it to the LPU, he could request to go home for seven days. If it were approved, I could leave Fort Leavenworth and go home to my family for a whole week as early as April.
I submitted the request form as soon as I found out about it, which would have been around November. It stated where I would be going and that my family would be picking me up as well as bringing me back. The amount of time it would take for them to approve or reject my request was unclear.
How they decided who got to go and who didn’t, I will never know. My bunkmate had been approved and was talking about his upcoming trip. He was so excited but kind of nervous. Since he had been at the Disciplinary Barracks for 12 years and stationed at an Air Force Base before his crime, it had been awhile since he had been home.
It always helps keep things in perspective when someone else’s situation is more extreme than yours.
For me it would be different. My family came to visit me and I had only been locked up for two years.
Even though my bunkmate had been approved, I knew not everyone was. So I stayed low, followed directions and did what I was told.
As 1991 slowly began to pass away, many changes were in store for me in 1992.
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Next post: Some major events happened inside the walls, I got out of there just in time.
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The Fort Leavenworth Story
Apr 06
Relationship Trouble
Relationship
Relationship Trouble
One of the cooks on my shift was a very large guy who was looking for a workout partner. My routine had been pretty intermittent up to this point. It seemed as if what he was doing was working for him, so I told him that I would work out with him.
Since we worked shift work, most of the time the gym was pretty empty during the day. It was much easier to work out with a partner. This ended up being a good relationship. Our routine was a three day on, one day off schedule. Having access to whatever we wanted to eat was very beneficial. It was surprising how quickly I began to bulk up.
Besides the fact that I was getting bigger, I also noticed that I just felt better. Being in better shape helped with my mental health as well. It also helped that my family came to visit me fairly regularly. They could tell that things were different for me out here. They would also comment on how healthy I looked and sounded.
The change in custody was such a good thing for me, and it showed. From an outsiders view, it seemed as if I had everything going for me. Just like right before I got arrested. It seemed as if everything was fine but I was hiding the mess that was my life.
Even though I was doing better since the move, there still was something missing from my life. There was an emptiness inside that couldn’t be filled.
Conversations with other Trustees were fine, but I wasn’t planning on maintaining these relationships when I got out.
Visits from my family were nice, but they always had to leave.
Workouts were good for me, but I didn’t love them.
Letters seemed to be the one thing that elevated my spirits. The problem was that they were becoming less frequent and intermittent. Most of us were lonely and wanted to connect with people on the outside. Especially people that were more like who we were before we came to prison.
As humans we all need community, to feel understood, to be noticed and mostly loved. So it was relationship that I was craving. If we seek it out, we will find it. If we are desperate, we will also find it, but it is usually not the relationship we really need.
This drove me to seek out conversations with others.
It was against prison rules to solicit pen pals. It probably had to do with the predatory nature of some inmates. However, it seemed as if I found a way around this rule. On some occasions I would write poetry, if you wanted to call it that. Then I would submit it to some independent press magazines or zines. By independent press, this could mean that it was a sheet of paper Xeroxed off and mailed out to whoever would send a self-addressed, stamped envelope.
If someone published my stuff or commented back to me about it, then I would write them a letter thanking them. After that the communication would continue. The mail room still looked through all our mail, so I had to be careful what I said in the letters and just hope that the recipient would not mention that we had never met or that this was our first communication. It seemed as if I had about six or seven new friends through this method.
Unfortunately, one of the letters that I received had some small unauthorized trinket enclosed. Once the mail room investigated further, it was clear that this was not someone I knew. The next thing I knew, I was being charged with breaking this policy and was summoned to a Disciplinary and Action Board. This was not good.
What was going through my mind was a statement I heard on my first day at the LPU. The Desk Sergeant told me that, “if I screwed up, I would be going back inside the walls to start all over again from the bottom up.” My intention wasn’t to push the boundaries that had been set for me. It was just a desire to feel like myself again. To be able to share parts of me with people that would understand. Thoughts and emotions that I didn’t feel safe sharing with inmates.
All the hard work I put into getting out here was at stake now. All for a connection to the outside world. Desperately chasing after relationship.
Man, did I feel so stupid.
After I reported to the Commander of the LPU, I was asked a few questions by him and the Non Commissioned Officer in Charge. They asked me if I knew the policy on soliciting pen pals. After I answered, “Yes, Sir,” they asked me to explain why I was having this disciplinary board.
Telling them about the poetry and the subscriptions to the zines, I explained that I replied back to people if they contacted me first and that seemed to satisfy the Board. They felt that it was not a complete disregard for the rule. But they also thought that I still deserved some disciplinary action. They told me I could stay at the LPU but that I would have to serve fourteen days of extra duty to begin immediately.
What a relief it was to hear that I didn’t have to go back inside the walls.
Thanking them, I left the office and reported to the Desk Sergeant for my extra duty shift. For the following two weeks, right after my shift at the mess hall, I had to report in to receive my daily assignment. For around four hours, I would clean the administrative offices. The tasks were, sweeping, mopping, dusting, and vacuuming. This was not fun, however the alternative would have been devastatingly worse.
I had earned an escape from the confines of the Disciplinary Barracks and was moving towards a healthy and successful exit from inmate life. Returning back would have been like jumping into the hole that I just climbed out of. This new version of myself may have been completely lost to the darkness that accompanies living in there.
From that day forward, I made a decision to pay closer attention to the rules and regulations.
It seems that even though we know the difference between right and wrong, we often choose to bend or break the rules.
Even the rules themselves tend to lead to bad choices.
We tend to seek out temporary, feel good things instead of everlasting love.
Because we are broken messed up people, we take our eyes off Him, we become selfish.
Thank God, we know with Jesus it’s not about the rules and regulations. It’s about a relationship with Him.
Romans 10:4 NLT For Christ has already accomplished the purpose for which the law was given. As a result, all who believe in him are made right with God.
Romans 6:14 NLT Sin is no longer your master, for you no longer live under the requirements of the law. Instead, you live under the freedom of God’s grace.
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Next post: Some major events happened inside the walls, I got out of there just in time.
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The Fort Leavenworth Story
Mar 30
Peace
Peace
Peace
Everything was different at the Local Parole Unit (LPU). The only thing that resembled being in prison were the head counts. We still needed to be accounted for twice a day.
The guards would come through the barracks once in the morning and once in the evening to verify that we were all still present. Otherwise it felt like I was back in the Army, except with a sense of peace.
My bunkmate liked to sleep on the top bunk. With my being new, I thought for sure I would get stuck with the top. But luckily for me he told me to take the bottom one. He seemed pretty easy going, but he had this one strange daily custom. When ironing his uniform every morning, he would place an adult magazine and at the end of the ironing board and talk to it like it was his girlfriend or wife. When he finished ironing, he would kiss the magazine and say: “I’ll see you when I get back from work.” He had been at the DB for twelve years.
He told me that he used to be an Air Force cop but that he was an alcoholic. One night after drinking heavily and blacking out, he woke up in jail. Someone else was talking about the night before and that they heard two people had been shot. He wondered who they were talking about and found out it was him. He had shot and killed his Commander and his Flight Sergeant while drunk and couldn’t recall anything. There was no way to know for sure if he was telling the truth about not remembering, but he was serving time for a double homicide. He was so calm though and you never would have known that he had been a murderer.
One of the Trustees across from my area was a former Army Ranger Officer. They kept the former Officers separate in the DB, but not out here. In conversation I found out that he was in charge of the team that stormed Manuel Noriega’s house in Panama during Operation Just Cause. He had affair and was in prison for adultery. He knew that had screwed up, however he was frustrated with the Army for putting him in prison. The weird thing was that even in his anger towards the situation, he talked in such peaceful tones. This seemed to be a theme at the LPU.
Some of the guys I knew from 3 Wing and B-6 were in my building. The rest of the population was a mixture of guys from all the other Wings and B-5 Minimum Custody. People talked and had conversations but it was never loud. I’m not sure if it was the acoustics of the building or just that everyone enjoyed the peace and quiet. Either way, I didn’t care, I was just glad to be in a place where I finally didn’t feel like I was going to explode.
Eventually, I figured out that the average Trustee had worked very hard to earn this level of custody. There really was nothing worth going back inside the walls for. This kept everyone very calm. When doing laundry, if your clothes were dry and you weren’t there to get them out, you would usually find your clothes folded on top of the dryer. Not every time, but enough for me to remember. There just seemed to be a level of respect that was pretty rare at the Castle. Minimum Custody was similar, but only on a smaller scale.
Even working in the mess hall wasn’t that bad. There were windows around the entire building with sunlight coming in all day. It felt more open and spacious, even though it was smaller than the 3-Wing mess hall. It was such a change of scenery. Working inside the 3-Wing mess hall was working inside walls, within the wing walls, within the Castle walls, inside the big wall surrounding everything. No outside light could penetrate into the bowels of the DB.
When I opened the screen door to get inside it took me back to some of the kids summer camps I attended in my youth. Inside there were booths as well as table and chair setups. In the middle of the dining area sat a pretty nice salad bar. This was something that we didn’t have inside the walls. The whole thing had a country diner feel to it. To the left was the kitchen and serving area. Fully stocked with all the equipment needed to cook for all the Trustees at the LPU. Out here we all pitched in to help. Everyone took turns doing some of the dirty work which was nice. We all worked together as a team. Once again, much different than inside the walls.
One Trustee would generally be sort of a shift manager. This was usually based on experience. The guy who ran my shift had been a Chef in the Air Force for twenty years before he was sent to the DB. None of us knew what he had done to end up in prison, but he was well respected for his knowledge and experience. He loved cooking and always was willing to teach us how to do things. The food tasted so much better out here.
It could have been due to the shift leader.
It could have been newly acquired lease on life.
Or, it could have been just been psychological.
Once all the work was done and we had some down time, I would open the back door to the kitchen and sit on the steps. Mostly to just take in the clean air and watch the trees sway gently in the wind. Many leaves in a variety of colors, would break free and drift to the ground as the season began to change.
Ground Squirrel
I began to notice small ground squirrels with long stripes and alternating rows of dots that ran down their backs. They would scurry out of the woods and come up to the steps. If I sat still enough they would come up to me to investigate by standing on their hind legs. They would stare at me and it looked like they were begging for food. Not sure why they intrigued me so much, but I thought it was cool that they came so close. So I made sure to take some crackers or some cheese with me on break. If I held it out, they would come take it out of my hand and scamper off a bit.
Then they would turn around with a look in their eyes as if to say thanks.
These were some of my favorite moments.
It seemed as if I could lose myself into another place or time.
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Next post: More visits
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The Fort Leavenworth Story
Mar 23
Making it in Prison
USDB
Making it in Prison
Leaving the walls of the United States Disciplinary Barracks was such a relief. The minute I stepped through the West Gate exit door, it felt like a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders.
There were so many sights and sounds, that it was almost overwhelming. Across from the prison was a large parking lot filled with vehicles. There were trees, bushes and plants. Soldiers were walking along sidewalks and going in and out of buildings. Cars where whizzing by on the street. Everything was so different. Even the air smelled different. It was clean and didn’t feel like the dank, musty odor of oppression.
After I threw my belongings into the blue passenger van that was waiting for me, I stepped inside and began to buckle myself in. The belt felt strange in my hands. As the two pieces of the buckle merged together and snapped into place, I realized how familiar this simple task was but at the same time, very unfamiliar. The soldier that was escorting me to my new living arrangements, asked me “How’s it going today Trustee?” My answer was the same that I always answered in letters, “I’m doing fine.” It kind of felt like I was being chauffeured somewhere.
As the driver started to take off, I felt a little uneasy. The fastest I had moved in the last couple years was the speed of a brisk walk. We weren’t driving very fast because the Army Post speed limit was pretty low, but I felt like we were moving at the dizzying speed of a rocket. Hanging on to the seat in front of me, I couldn’t stop looking out both of the side windows. Trying to process all that was going on was pretty challenging. The driver was trying to make small talk, but I don’t remember much of the conversation.
The Local Parole Unit (LPU) was only three quarters of a mile northwest of the Disciplinary Barracks, so it was a pretty short drive. As we neared the complex, I saw three, long, two story buildings. They were set behind a smaller two story structure that seemed like it would be the administration building. To the right, on the other side of the road was a very long, one story building. The driver pointed out that it was the dining facility. This would be where I would work from now on.
We turned left into a circle and pulled into a parking stall. As I was grabbing my bag, the driver came around an opened the door for me and I stepped out. He escorted me up to the front door of the smaller building and we went in. As I approached the main desk, I reported in, “Trustee Mike reporting as ordered, Sergeant.” He replied, “Welcome to the LPU.” He gave me a quick briefing on what was expected of me, some of the main rules and code of conduct. Basically, if I screwed up or tried to escape, I would be going back inside the walls to start all over again from the bottom up.
Another Trustee was assigned to show me to my building and help me get set up in my area inside. As I walked through the admin building I noticed a one chair barber shop. One day, I would get my chance to cut hair professionally, just not in here. Behind the admin building on the left, there was a building facing east to west that could house about eighty Trustees. Straight ahead there were two north to south faced buildings that could house about one hundred and forty-four Trustees. These two were attached on the south end by a corridor. We headed to the middle building and went upstairs.
The setup was very similar to Minimum Custody. Open bay barracks with bunk beds, desks and tall wooden wardrobe style lockers. There were two lockers next to each other creating kind of an alcove for each set of bunks. My area was a quarter of the way down the long building. The best part about this spot was that there was a window that faced the wooded area behind the building. Finding myself staring out of this window, I realized that this new custody level was going to be amazing. The Trustee, who brought me up here, needed to show me around the rest of the place and so I quickly shoved my stuff into my locker.
In the corridor that attached the two buildings was a large square shower with multiple shower heads. Across from that was a latrine which was pretty big. The residents of both attached buildings shared these areas. Also in the corridor, were a bunch of washing machines and clothes dryers. We would have to take turns using them, but this was such a step up from when I washed my clothes in the toilet back in 3 Wing. My escort showed me where to find the gym, visitor area, and the room where they showed movies on a projector. Not quite as big as the gym and theater set ups in the Castle, but I wasn’t complaining.
After my orientation tour, I was taken to exchange my brown uniform for a blue one. This blue was a symbol of trust. Not only was it lighter in color, but it felt lighter on my body. Or maybe I felt lighter wearing it. There were no plans to go back to brown ever.
It had been a long journey to get to this point.
From the first night after being slapped around by cops, being locked in a urine and vomit scented jail cell, still high and scared.
To the Fort Polk Installation Detention Facility where I was berated by the guards and spent the night naked on suicide watch. Then to the disgusting conditions of the Leesville jail, with the terrible food, the sewer backups, the drunk tank and getting punched in the head by kid with no future.
From there to Fort Hood where I was expected regain my military bearing while shoveling sand into a never ending supply of burlap sandbags.
Eventually arriving at the Disciplinary Barracks, only to spend a month in Maximum Custody or solitary confinement, with way too much time to listen to the thoughts in my head.
Moving up to Medium Custody, with people who lived life, “every inmate for themselves” with an “I’ve got nothing to lose attitude”. Always watching my back because, I constantly felt like they were out to get me. And the noise, the decibel hell that only waned when everyone finally passed out in the middle of the night.
Things got better with my elevation to Minimum Custody. Freedom and a semi relaxed atmosphere. Since this was an earned level, no one wanted to lose it. It was still noisy, but I could escape with headphones.
Every step got a little better and the LPU was the last one before release. What I noticed the most though, was that everyone here seemed to be at peace. We were still prisoners. We couldn’t leave the area, but the freedom to roam around the facility did wonders for morale. There were places that you were allowed to go that were quiet. It seemed to be a common desire and so it was easy to find.
If there were such a thing as making it in prison, then being a Trustee was it.
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Next post: Settling in.
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The Fort Leavenworth Story
Mar 16
New Custody Meant New Freedom
USDB West Gate
New Custody Meant New Freedom
There wasn’t anything special about my custody hearing. It went about the same as all the other hearings I’d had up to this point. They asked me questions and I answered them with the intent of saying what I thought they wanted me to say.
In my mind, I believed that every answer I gave them was true. The hope was that they did too. After getting the negative results from my parole board, I was a little nervous. There really wasn’t any reason for the custody board to deny my request, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.
It didn’t take long to get the results from this custody hearing, maybe a week or two. The results were just what I thought they might be. The board approved my elevation to Trustee and I would be moving out to the Local Parole Unit (LPU). This was some of the best news I’d received since arriving at the Disciplinary Barracks (DB). So many things would change because of this new arrangement.
The point of this custody level was for me to prove that I was trustworthy and then earn the privilege to have so much more freedom. In turn, this was one of the last steps to prepare me for integration back into society. The sooner I moved the better my life would be. My brown prison uniform would be exchanged for a bright blue one, and I would leave the confines of the DB. No more prison walls to keep me contained. Another really important benefit of this new level of custody was that I would no longer be referred to as Inmate. Some of the other benefits, I would not realize until I actually made it out there.
Even though I wasn’t leaving just yet, I needed to do something. The amount of personal property that I owned wasn’t much, but I started going through it to purge the junk and organize the important stuff. Anything to make me feel like I was moving immediately.
The joy of knowing that I would be leaving my job at the 3 Wing mess hall was unexplainable. It had only been a year and a half since I started that job, but I wanted out of it since day one. Unfortunately, my detail would remain the same. The LPU had its own dining facility and the DB felt that it’s where I belonged. This didn’t really excite me but under the circumstances, I couldn’t complain. Even if I did, it wouldn’t change anything anyways.
There were a few people in B-6 that I respected enough to miss when I left. My friend Wally was one of them, but I would be able to see him during NA meetings. All the classes, the chapel, medical, dental, and mental hygiene appointments were still inside the walls. Coming back inside would be unavoidable, however I would not have to stay.
About a month later, when the day came for me to move, I was ready. Grabbing all of my personal belongings that were all organized and secure, I headed towards the door of building B-6 that lead out into the courtyard. As I passed the guard desk to sign out, he informed me that I needed to head to West Gate. Once I got there a guard told me so go through the door at the foot of the watch tower. Ironically this was the same door I came through when I arrived at the DB almost two years ago. When I stepped into the tower, I saw another door with a window.
This door lead to the outside but more importantly, it lead to the blue military van that was waiting to take me to the LPU.
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Next post: Adjusting to Freedom.
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The Fort Leavenworth Story
Mar 09
Another Year in Prison
Another Year in Prison
Another Year in Prison
The results of my parole board were delivered to me in a sealed, official Army envelope. As I picked it up, and began to open it, I already knew what it said inside. Maybe I was being pessimistic, but prison wasn’t a very positive environment and inmates were not positive people. Regardless, I believed what everyone said about your first parole board, “No one gets it the first time.”
The letter stated that, “Due to the retributive and deterrent part of Inmate Mike’s sentence having not been served, parole is hereby denied.” What this meant was first, that they felt like the amount of time I had served up to this point wasn’t enough to pay for the crime. Second, that I had not been in prison long enough to keep me from committing the same crime again.
There was a part of me that was saddened by this response. Sad that I had not been convincing enough to the board members about my remorse. Sad that, the fact that I believed I was a changed man, wasn’t good enough for them. At the same time, maybe they knew something I didn’t. Although they did not know about my recent relapse, the fact that it happened was a reality. Maybe I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was. Maybe I needed more time as a deterrent like they said.
The other part of me was relieved. Moving to Connecticut to live with my grandfather was not my first choice. I was grateful that he was willing to do that and that the option was there for me, however I would have rather been released to my immediate family. Especially since they moved so close and had come to visit.
Parole boards were annual and so with a denial, I had to wait until the same time next year to be eligible for another hearing. This meant that I had to spend another year in prison. As the weight of that reality settled in, I was glad that I didn’t have my hopes up too high because the disappointment from that would have been too much to bear.
As the heat of the summer boiled on, the monotony of prison increased and it was dreadfully painful. This was the tail end of the second year without air conditioning and it was getting hotter. Working in the mess hall was the same every day. My routines drug on and on. Hanging out in B-6 in the evenings consisted of watching TV. You could ask anyone what the programming lineup for any day of the week was and they would be able to recite it from memory without thinking. Not much else to do. The biggest killer of spirit in the DB was boredom.
Many of the other inmates in B-6 were starting to get on my nerves. The noise levels weren’t as bad as the nights in the Castle but the fact that I could not get away made it just as hard to deal with. Most of the guys I associated with had moved up in custody. Conversations were very superficial. We had all heard each other’s stories many times over.
My escapes were still listening to music, going to the movies and writing letters. I decided to try and make it through the entire Bible from cover to cover. This was no fun task, as I felt myself get stuck in Leviticus and Numbers. Those chapters felt like a different kind of prison sentence. Not sure why I felt compelled to read through that way, except that I felt it was the thing to do being a Christian after all.
It was around August that my family came back to visit me. They had finally settled into their home in Omaha and decided to make the trip back to Kansas. It was great to see them again. It was my turn to ask questions, since the only thing I had to say about my life was that it was boring and uneventful. So, we talked more about what was going on it Omaha, school, life outside these walls. It was interesting to listen to them talk about their lives and it all seemed so foreign to me.
It seems as if my family had so many choices, options and variables in their life. It made me think about, how I was going to handle life on the outside. For the most part, all our decisions were made for us, we didn’t have to think too much about anything. Following rules and routines kept us out of trouble and so that’s really all we did. It doesn’t take long to take a person and make them follow a routine, but it takes a long time to take the routine out of the person. The word for this is institutionalization and I was beginning to feel like it was happening to me.
There were guys that had been in here for almost as long as I’d been alive and there were guys that would be here for a long time after I was gone. A five year sentence was a drop in the bucket compared to many of the other sentences. I had to keep telling myself this to keep things in perspective. Maybe I would struggle a little with transitioning back into life, but I wouldn’t be here forever. Even if it didn’t feel like that was true.
Around October, I had another custody hearing. At this point I was resigned to the fact that I would never make it into the barber shop and so I didn’t even request it. I just requested a transfer to the the Local Parole Unit. If I made the custody level of Trustee, then I would get to go there.
With this board, they just looked at my behavior file, mental hygiene, rehabilitation classes taken and my work performance. Everything was good as far as I knew. All the rules had been followed and all the buttons pushed. Everything they asked of me I had done. At this point, I felt like I would be approved. There really was no reason for them not to.
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Next post: The Local Parole Unit would be my new home.
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The Fort Leavenworth Story
Mar 02
Family Visit
Fort Leavenworth USDB Courtesy of John Stanton CC
Family Visit
While living with my family in Germany, we began to watch a lot of movies. Traveling Europe was fun but we couldn’t do it all the time. So going to the base theater or renting videos became a huge part of our life. The military would get the movies about six months after they were released but that didn’t matter to us. Between the years 1985 – 1987, I think we saw almost every movie released.
So in Leavenworth whenever the topic of movies came up, other inmates were amazed at how many I had seen. If someone would forget the name of a movie they would say, “Let’s go ask Siskel, Mike and Ebert”. It was something that I enjoyed and so I went to every movie that the DB showed. There were usually two to four movies a weekend.
After the weekend, I would do a little review of each one in my letters to home. Since it would be awhile before my family would see them, they would know which ones to skip because they were terrible. I would also let them know which ones to be sure not to miss. This also helped fill some material in the letters, because writing about daily events was becoming monotonous. Other that the occasional random event, life inside the walls was pretty boring.
Things were about to change.
In June 1991, family moved from Zweibruecken Germany to Omaha, Nebraska. My father’s new duty assignment was at Offut AFB. This meant that they would be close enough to come out to visit me. It was only about a two and a half to three hour drive to Fort Leavenworth. My brother Darren was serving in the Air Force and was stationed at different base in Germany, so I would not be seeing him for a while. My parents and my two other siblings, Dana and Daniel would be able to come.
Leaving my family for the Army
Because I left home in 1987, I had not seen my family in three and a half years. The pictures that my mom would send me in the mail were the only reference to how much everyone had changed, but I wondered what everyone would look like in person. The last time I saw my dad was during my court-martial, which was about a year and a half ago. At that time I was in pretty bad shape. The time I spent on the run took its toll on me and with just one look at me, anyone could tell that I was a mess. Things were different now, the food here was good and I had been working out off and on. My skin had cleared up and I looked more human.
On a Saturday morning, I got the message that I had visitors. Once again, I was headed through the courtyard to the visitor’s center at South Gate. B-6 was positioned just across on the other side and so it wasn’t very far away. As I entered the main door, I received my shake down and then walked into the visitation room. There were quite a few other inmates there with their families. More than the last time I was here. The weekends seemed to be a lot busier.
Across the room was my family, sitting at a table, awaiting my arrival. Although I recognized them right away, I also didn’t at the same time. Just a few years can really change a person. My mom and dad really looked the same but my brother and sister were so grown up. It was surreal. When they saw me come through the door, they recognized me right away and quickly stood up. As I moved towards them, they all rushed up to me and hugged me. The moment was so full of emotion and tears began to fall from everyone’s eyes. Maintaining my composure was very difficult for me but I tried to stay strong.
We all sat down and started talking. Everyone had a lot of questions and I tried to answer them all. They seemed very interested in what some of the other inmates had done to get into this place. They asked what the food was like, what kind of things did I do to keep busy. Normal stuff that people ask inmates about prison, if there is such a thing. We reminisced over funny memories from our childhood and spent the entire day talking. Even though it had been awhile since I’d seen them, this was my family. They looked a little different but they acted the same. It didn’t take long for me to feel back at home. There wasn’t a way that we couldn’t really make up for lost time, but we took a pretty good crack at it.
Eventually the guards gave us a countdown to the end of visitation. The time we spent together was great but it went by way too quickly. It would have been great to stay with them longer but visitation time was coming to an end and they had a long drive back home. We said our goodbyes and I headed back through the exit door. On the other side of the door and out of view of my family, I received another shake down. This really didn’t bother me like it normally did. Nothing was going to bring me down this day.
What I did know for sure was, that they would be coming back again and as much as possible. It wouldn’t be every weekend, but I was alright with that. Having spent this time with my family and having them living so close to me now, gave me hope for my future.
I asked my brother Daniel and my sister Dana to share their memory of their first visit with me.
Daniel 1991
Daniel:
The last time I had seen David in person was a sad day in 1987 as he was boarding a plane in Germany to go to Basic Military Training. The last thing I remember was him giving me his G.I. Joe toys and wrestling around together. A lot had happened in three and a half years and going to visit him at Leavenworth came with some mixed feelings. I was filled with excitement to see him again and I also felt sad that he was in prison.
We moved from Germany to Bellevue, NE in 1991 when I was between 8th and 9th Grade, I was fourteen years old. My mom, dad, sister and I drove to Leavenworth, KS from Bellevue, NE. It was a long drive through the country.
Arriving at Leavenworth was like any base or post. The streets were clean, the buildings old, but tidy. The entire place looked well groomed and disciplined. We drove down a long street to the Disciplinary Barracks. It was a very large brick building and there were numerous security measures. Before leaving the car, my father made sure that we didn’t bring any items that would bar us from entry, contraband, knives, etc. We were filled with anticipation of being reunited with David again after so many years.
We entered the building and received a briefing from a soldier on conduct, items that were prohibited and appropriate actions. We entered through one gate and the next gate didn’t open until the first closed. I remember that vividly because the doors were about a foot thick and very secure. I don’t think anyone could get through those gates. We entered through another series of secure doors and after going through the gates, we entered into the visitation room. Once in the room we waited for David.
When he came in it was a joyous occasion, and we all hugged and enjoyed being together again. I remembered how we all did things as a family and was happy, yet still sad that David was in this place. I was sad that my other brother Darren couldn’t be there also. I’m sure I shed a tear, but I was trying to remain “Hard” in such places like this.
After the reunion we talked for a while. We asked what everyone was in for and what the conditions were like. I remember there was a snack vending machine in the room and I would get donut sticks and coffee. I don’t know how long it was but it seemed too short and when it was time to leave, we wanted David to come with us very badly. That was probably the hardest part. Leaving, seeing him in his brown Leavenworth shirt and pants walking back through the door he came through was heart wrenching.
Dana 1991
Dana:
Some of the memories I have of visiting David at Leavenworth are a mixture of all the visits. I was sixteen at the time. I remember being so excited to finally see my big brother. I was also a little apprehensive of what he’d be like after three years and all he’d been through. The drive from our home to Leavenworth was three hours so I was well equipped with my Scorpions cassette tape and my Sony Walkman.
When we finally arrived at Leavenworth my Mom, Dad, little brother Daniel and I went inside. It was big brick building with several security checkpoints. We were told what we could and couldn’t do and low and behold, I was told I couldn’t wear the outfit I had on. I was wearing shorts and that was forbidden. So we had to leave, go to the Post Exchange and buy me a new outfit.
We went through all the security checkpoints and briefings one more time and we were finally in. We walked into a room that had tables and chairs spread out and other inmates with visitors. We picked a table and waited.
Finally my big brother walked in and we all instantly started crying and hugging.
David was in a brown button up shirt and matching brown pants and he had muscles. I couldn’t believe it he looked great and healthy. We didn’t have a lot of time left to visit, so we asked a lot of questions about how he was doing, what it was like living in prison and what all the others around us were in for.
Daniel and I got drinks and snacks from the vending machine. If I remember correctly, we ended our morning visit, left to eat lunch and came back for an afternoon visit. When it was time to leave and head home it was the hardest thing to do. We didn’t want to leave David there. Mom was having a hard time leaving and Dad was trying to keep it positive. We told David how much we loved him and how we couldn’t wait to come back and see him again.
We watched him walk away into another room and when that door closed we left. We visited several more times. Then David was moved to a minimum security facility where we had more time to visit. I was even able to bring some of my friends with me. All of my visits with David helped us to develop an awesome friendship and he became someone I looked up to.
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Next post: A new custody level on the horizon.
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The Fort Leavenworth Story
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