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Watching people arrive was less pleasant but also interesting. I certainly felt bad for them, but my regard was tinged with a fu
“Self-surrenders” who came to the Camp were easy to spot. They were usually white and middle-class and looked totally overwhelmed and scared to death. I would ask myself, Did I look that wigged out? and then I’d go get them some of the extra shower shoes and toothpaste I now kept stashed in my locker for such occasions.
But most new arrivals had been in custody for a while, sometimes since their initial arrest if they had not been granted bail or couldn’t make the bail payment, and they were coming from county jails or from federal jails, called MCCs or MDCs-metropolitan correctional centers or metropolitan detention centers. The county jails were described to me as universally nasty, full of drunks, prostitutes, and junkies-not up to the standards of us federales. No shock then that the women arriving at Danbury from county usually looked fried. They seemed happy to get to Danbury because the conditions were better-that depressed me.
Also intriguing were the women like Morena who had “earned” their way up the hill from the high-security FCI to the minimum-security Camp-in theory, the really hardened and potentially dangerous criminals. They were always very composed in terms of physical appearance-hair done and uniforms just so, with their own name and reg number embossed on the shirt pocket. (Campers didn’t get that.) They never looked scared. But they were often freaked out because they were unaccustomed to as much “freedom” as we were afforded, and they reported that there was far less to do in the Camp in the way of programs and recreation. In fact many of them were miserable in the Camp and wanted to go back to max lockup. One woman, Coco, marched right into the counselors’ office and explained that she couldn’t handle the freedom, and would they please send her back down the hill, because she didn’t want to lose her good time due to an escape attempt. I heard that the truth was she couldn’t stand to be apart from her girlfriend, who was still down in the FCI. Coco was sent back the next day.
SPRING WAS coming slowly to the Co
The track by the field house gym was now mush, but I slogged determinedly around it, encouraged by the fact that I kept getting thi
Lio
One quiet afternoon as I was fixing lights in B Dorm, Lio
“Lio
Lio
I was taken aback. “No, Lio
“No problem.”
May was a week away. The sun was really starting to make itself known now, drying up the mud. There were leaves on the trees, migratory birds, and tons of baby bu
“Is there something wrong with you, Kerman?” shouted the CO. “It’s true what they say about blondes, huh?”
I looked past him, into the glassed-in commissary, and spotted Lio
That week the entire population of the Camp was summoned into the main hallway for an impromptu meeting with the staff-a bunch of white men looking too bored to smirk. We were told:
1. Your sanitation is wanting! We will hold more inspections!
2. No smoking under the unit manager’s window! You have been warned!
3. No sex in the Camp! No exceptions! Zero tolerance! This means you!!
We were collectively unimpressed. All of us prisoners knew that Fi
True to the staff’s charges against us, though, there had been quite an uptick in “sexin’” among the ladies since Butorsky’s departure, which led to some comical matchups. Big Mama was a cheerful leviathan who lived in A Dorm-quick with a play on words, generally benevolent, and prodigious in girth. She was slim on modesty, however, as was proven by her shameless sexin’ with a series of much younger, much ski