ante crackhead by the name of Tyrone Majors, a career thug named LeQuintus, and the Latino, a chop shop mechanic named Jorge Ramirez. LeQuintus, in for assault with a deadly weapon, looked like he could have taken the top three places in a Musclemania competition all by himself.
Shelly and Breem were also in for assault. They’d beaten up a black man with a chain, and it was clear that by the time I joined this happy little family, there had been more than a little friction and a few blows passed between the white boys and the black boys in this cell.
It must have been a relief for them to discover a common enemy who just happened to be me.
That night, lying on the too-thin, lumpy mattress, I fought to keep my eyes from closing. It wasn’t hard at first. Anxiety and adrenaline kept me awake, with some help from the bare light bulb in the hallway that shone in my eyes. But as the night wore on, anxiety gave way to exhaustion. My eyelids fluttered, snapped open, closed. I jerked myself awake, swung my legs over the edge of the bunk, and listened to the snores and heavy breathing of my cellmates.
Were they asleep, or faking? Some of each, I thought, but that was just an educated guess.
I must have dozed off at some point, because I awoke with a start as a musty-smelling blanket fell across my face. Rough hands hauled me out of the bunk. My head struck the metal bed frame, and a sharp wet pain pierced my scalp.
“Shit!” I jerked one arm free, and the blanket slipped enough to show a flash of orange jumpsuit before the cloth was yanked roughly across my face. “Motherfu—”
I sucked in a moldy breath, coughed and gasped at what felt like a dried leaf caught in my windpipe.
Then a painful bear hug pinned my arms to my sides. Someone else’s arms snaked around my knees and lifted, held me suspended above the floor while I bucked and flailed against a flurry of kicks and punches that rained against my belly, back, and sides.
The blanket muffled my curses, but I knew the guard could hear the ruckus. I also knew he’d take his own sweet time getting there.
I bunched my knees and kicked out with both feet. My range of motion was limited by whoever had me by the legs, but I managed to connect with something.
“Oof! Shit!” It sounded like Tyrone. With my arms clamped to my sides, I couldn’t do much in the way of self-defense, so I jerked my head back sharply, hoping to smash someone’s nose cartilage into his brain.
“Ow!” The one behind me howled and loosened his grip. My tailbone hit the concrete floor, and a jolt of pain shot through my pelvis. Somewhere down the hall, a door clanged open. At the sound, my cellmates scattered. I lay there for a moment, stunned. Then with my arms free at last, I struggled to untangle myself from the blanket.
By the time the guard got there, I had freed myself, and my cellmates were back on their cots. My lip was swollen, and blood streamed from my mouth and nose. The hair at the top of my head was tacky with it. My body ached, but nothing felt broken. Not much, anyway.
“Okay, buddy.” Officer Meacham sounded bored. “Who did this to you?”
I waved a hand to indicate my cellmates. “They threw a blanket over my head and beat the hell out of me.”
“Did you see which ones were involved?”
“How could I see that, with a blanket over my head?”
“No need to get smart with me, boy. There’s nothing I can do, if you didn’t see who did it.”
“Sure. That’s why they do it that way. Because it works.”
He shrugged and handed me a handkerchief. “Hey. You can’t do the time, don’t do the crime,” he quoted. “Baretta. Early seventies.”
When he had gone, I turned back to my cellmates.
“Okay, fellas. Have you got your meanness out, or am I gonna have to beat the shit out of you?”
The one called Fish sat up and grinned. A trickle of blood flowed from one nostril, and his crooked yellow teeth were tinged with red.
“You? Beat the shit out of
Shelly and Breem were also in for assault. They’d beaten up a black man with a chain, and it was clear that by the time I joined this happy little family, there had been more than a little friction and a few blows passed between the white boys and the black boys in this cell.
It must have been a relief for them to discover a common enemy who just happened to be me.
That night, lying on the too-thin, lumpy mattress, I fought to keep my eyes from closing. It wasn’t hard at first. Anxiety and adrenaline kept me awake, with some help from the bare light bulb in the hallway that shone in my eyes. But as the night wore on, anxiety gave way to exhaustion. My eyelids fluttered, snapped open, closed. I jerked myself awake, swung my legs over the edge of the bunk, and listened to the snores and heavy breathing of my cellmates.
Were they asleep, or faking? Some of each, I thought, but that was just an educated guess.
I must have dozed off at some point, because I awoke with a start as a musty-smelling blanket fell across my face. Rough hands hauled me out of the bunk. My head struck the metal bed frame, and a sharp wet pain pierced my scalp.
“Shit!” I jerked one arm free, and the blanket slipped enough to show a flash of orange jumpsuit before the cloth was yanked roughly across my face. “Motherfu—”
I sucked in a moldy breath, coughed and gasped at what felt like a dried leaf caught in my windpipe.
Then a painful bear hug pinned my arms to my sides. Someone else’s arms snaked around my knees and lifted, held me suspended above the floor while I bucked and flailed against a flurry of kicks and punches that rained against my belly, back, and sides.
The blanket muffled my curses, but I knew the guard could hear the ruckus. I also knew he’d take his own sweet time getting there.
I bunched my knees and kicked out with both feet. My range of motion was limited by whoever had me by the legs, but I managed to connect with something.
“Oof! Shit!” It sounded like Tyrone. With my arms clamped to my sides, I couldn’t do much in the way of self-defense, so I jerked my head back sharply, hoping to smash someone’s nose cartilage into his brain.
“Ow!” The one behind me howled and loosened his grip. My tailbone hit the concrete floor, and a jolt of pain shot through my pelvis. Somewhere down the hall, a door clanged open. At the sound, my cellmates scattered. I lay there for a moment, stunned. Then with my arms free at last, I struggled to untangle myself from the blanket.
By the time the guard got there, I had freed myself, and my cellmates were back on their cots. My lip was swollen, and blood streamed from my mouth and nose. The hair at the top of my head was tacky with it. My body ached, but nothing felt broken. Not much, anyway.
“Okay, buddy.” Officer Meacham sounded bored. “Who did this to you?”
I waved a hand to indicate my cellmates. “They threw a blanket over my head and beat the hell out of me.”
“Did you see which ones were involved?”
“How could I see that, with a blanket over my head?”
“No need to get smart with me, boy. There’s nothing I can do, if you didn’t see who did it.”
“Sure. That’s why they do it that way. Because it works.”
He shrugged and handed me a handkerchief. “Hey. You can’t do the time, don’t do the crime,” he quoted. “Baretta. Early seventies.”
When he had gone, I turned back to my cellmates.
“Okay, fellas. Have you got your meanness out, or am I gonna have to beat the shit out of you?”
The one called Fish sat up and grinned. A trickle of blood flowed from one nostril, and his crooked yellow teeth were tinged with red.
“You? Beat the shit out of
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