Free Pelican Bay Riot by Glenn Langohr

shook his head no.
     
     
    I continued, "This prison we are in always has stabbings and it is business as usual. Ever since this prison opened up it has had the reputation for allowing things to work themselves out and lock downs that last 6 to 9 months. All they will do is re-house a small percentage of Mexican and Black inmates to one of the other 3 yards right here at this prison. So the drug debts will still be an issue. Even if they were going to ship all the Mexicans and Blacks to other prisons we still don't play that shit. You want fuckin dope; you pay for it and keep the rest of the race out of it."
     
     
    The memory of the problem consumed me. I needed a solution. While pacing the cell thinking about it Scott woke up with the sounds of the breakfast carts and I could see he was still thinking about it also.
     
     
    After breakfast, he went to yard and 10 minutes later Security Escort Heart came to my cell and told me to get ready for the I.C.C hearing to get cleared for mainline and yard program.
     
     
     
     

Chapter 7
    I watched from the cell door and saw the brass come into the building. There was a dark Black man over 50 years old who looked like he was the Warden, another Black man with lighter skin who looked like he was the head counselor known as the CC2 and a round table of 3 other lower level Prison Administrators. They all went into an office under the building's gun tower. Heart stripped me out for security. I knew the drill and dropped the white state boxer shorts and lifted my testicles, then turned, then squatted and coughed, then lifted each foot and waited for the metal detector wand. Heart waved it by my butt cheeks and said, “I have to handcuff you but I’ll do it with your hands in front of you.”
     
     
    I walked down the stairs and saw the usual suspects behind cell doors watching. L’il Bird was always perched. The office was a 14 foot by 14 foot room. There was a 6 foot by 3 foot wood table my criminal history was spread out on. The brass was already positioned by rank. At the end of the table the Warden sported a name plate- Jackson. Next to him was the CC2- Allen. On the other side of the table the three lower ranking prison guards. Heart stood behind me waiting for me to be seated at the end of the table where the brass could study me like an insect.
     
     
    Everyone stared at the warden waiting for him to start. He had his head bent down while he scrutinized the papers in my file. His big black bald wrinkled head finally looked up at me. He studied me through bifocals for far too long, then said, “Benny Johnson…Sit down.” I sat with my handcuffed hands resting on the table in front of me staring at the Warden, and waited…and waited…I broke the staring contest and looked at CC2- Allen’s face. A little nicer, some smile lines, some laugh lines, compassionate eyes…Warden Jackson said, “What are you doing here?” I stared back at the warden wondering if I could create any smile lines…”I’m looking for Club Med. I must have made the wrong turn.”
     
     
    The warden’s forehead creased in anger and it pulled his bifocals higher up his bulbous nose. I looked at CC2- Allen. He was trying not to laugh but his eyes were crinkled. I had to assume the warden meant, how did I get out of the last prison and make it to his so I said, “I didn’t make the arrangements, you’re going to have to talk to the travel agent.” The warden still didn’t look like he liked my answers. He said in a getting more irritated voice, “This file says you are an inch away from an indeterminate SHU.”
    That meant for the rest of my prison sentence I’d do my time in the isolated Pelican Bay SHU.
     
     
    I stayed quiet though my soul raged; I don’t have a single tattoo and have never claimed a gang! Yes, I have been involved in violence in prison but how else do you survive? The warden began with the questions…”What’s your AKA, what do they call you?” “Benny