Rain, Rain


Rain, rain, go away. You’re fucking up my plans for the day. Today was going to be the first time I would be able to go to the ball diamond in over a week.

Last night we had another fire somewhere in the prison. They herded us into the cafeteria after taking away our flag time, yet again. They didn’t count us, which leads me to believe it was just a drill. It seems like at least twice a week they find a reason to take away the little freedoms we have. One Sunday night they locked us in because of “severe weather.” To all of us it looked like a standard light rain. To the COs it was necessary to tell us all to hide behind our mattresses. Of all the people I have spoken with, none so far have admitted to actually doing that.

Just now over the PA they said they are “conducting a B-level Switch In due to visibility.” That means they are locking us in our cells because they can’t see far outside. I can see outside. I guess I should have thought of all this before I came to prison, right?

Yay! I got my radio! I won’t complain about commercials this time. I’m grateful to my neighbor for lending me his headphones for that. Headphones aren’t engraved. I can’t believe Pearl Jam is classic rock. I’m getting old.

One thing about the second career that I have chosen, the one that landed me in here, is that I have lost some, if only a few, good friends. Many of them I may see during my stay here. Some, unfortunately, are in Sherburne County, the federal holding facility for Minnesota. I sure am glad I didn’t catch a federal case. They routinely hand out sentences of 20-30 years. And you do 90% of your time vs. 66% of MN time. Of course most of the larger sentences are from weapons charges. A lot of time is added to a sentence when a gun is used in the commission of a felony. I don’t mean discharged. Just present. Not even on your person, anywhere. Believe it or not, cops lie all the time.

A gun is supposed to be within reach of a person to be chargeable. A gun can be moved from a trunk to a glove box with relative ease by a cop. And when only a suspect questions it, they lose their lives through time served.

In my case, the police moved my wallet with $500 in it. I was in the lobby of the hotel, 60 feet away, around the corner and through a door away from where they found the meth. But they took my wallet to “ID” me. Then they took pictures of my wallet next to the meth. That way they could seize the money. I’m in prison. I’ve already been convicted and can’t be tried again. So I have no reason to lie, do I?

The fact is, police are terrible at their jobs. Not all of them. But if all police were honest and followed procedure, there would be a sharp drop in conviction rates. And we can’t have that, can we?

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