Category Archives: drug dealing

The Slog

This is the third of three posts, the first and second are here. If you started reading this blog for the prison theme you may be wondering, what does any of this have to do with Vince going to prison? I don’t know if it does—you tell me.

—

And so I informed people of my decision, which I had known from the moment I’d found out I was pregnant again: I would give the baby up for adoption.

I told Judy, the Catholic Charities social worker, and her eyes lighted up. “I do have a few reservations,” I told her about what I had learned about adopted people in my Abnormal Psychology class. Judy laughed lightly and handed me a clipboard with forms. While I was signing them she said, “We have to trust that God knows what’s best for us. Even if it’s painful—especially if it’s painful, we just have to put ourselves in God’s loving hands.” I thought this was muddled but made a mental note to try to pray in my spare time.

I told my college advisor. “My due date is right before finals but I promise there won’t be any interruptions in my attendance.” She looked a little stunned and said, “We’ll understand if you need to take some time off.”

“No, no—that won’t be necessary,” I cut her off. I didn’t want them to cut me any slack. I would graduate on time. The whole point of this plan was to do what was best for all three of us, so I needed to graduate and get a job.

—

The other point of the plan was to keep it all hush-hush. I would stay away from the family, my friends, and the whole neighborhood where they all lived. If my grandma called and asked if she could visit me, I would make an excuse to keep her away. It would only be for six months, right? It wasn’t as extreme as the case of Margie, a girl I knew in high school, who went through her whole pregnancy and adoption while living in her family’s house. None of them ever talked about it. Now that was weird.

—

So there Vince and I sat, alone, on his first birthday. I had called The Creep and invited him but he had “some really important business” to take care of. In other words, a drug deal. I only saw him once again in the ensuing 36 years.

I did what you’re supposed to do for a baby’s first birthday. I made a cake with one candle and let him eat it with his fingers and smear it all over the place. And I cried…and cried.

Then I stiffened myself and plunged my feelings way down into the deep freeze and didn’t feel anything again for a year. That’s the thing about avoiding negative feelings—it makes you unable to experience positive ones, either.

—

Life went on as before. I trudged through the snow to the daycare, studied furiously, and cleaned the house as though I was in boot camp. As happened during my first pregnancy, perverts tried to pick me up at the bus stop, in stores, in the elevator of my building.

The student who had pressured me to have an abortion was disappointed when I told him I was going the adoption route. “That’s…I’m sorry, but that’s just selfish,” he said. “That poor kid,” he said, staring at my belly.

Sometimes students I didn’t know would try to strike up a conversation.

“When’s your baby due?” they would ask brightly.

“April,” I would respond flatly, giving them fair warning that proceeding with the conversation would be a mistake.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t really care, since I’m giving it up for adoption.”

This would result in sputtering and something like, “You’re so brave—good luck!” as they backed their way out of the room as fast as possible. I hated that line—“You’re so brave.”

Now that I had set my course I didn’t second guess it, but if you had asked me I might have said I was just being practical.

Au Mal Pain

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As usual, the prison news includes the good, the bad, and the disgusting.

The good: If I didn’t work in fundraising I might not have caught this item. The California Endowment has announced it will divest its assets from companies that run private prisons, jails, detention centers, and correctional facilities. This is fantastic! The California Endowment is a foundation with $3,668,459,217 in assets. That’s real money, and maybe it will start a trend. I look at foundation tax returns almost every day, so I see where they invest their money. It’s disgusting to see a foundation with a portion of its assets invested in a weapons manufacturer, for instance, and making grants for international poverty programs. In part, it’s all the small arms the U.S. peddles to warlords abroad that destabilize developing countries and keep them impoverished. That’s an extreme example but I bet it’s not that uncommon. If you have retirement investments, you too may own part of Alliant Techsystems or Prison Corporation of America, and you are probably earning fantastic rates of return.

The not-so-good news, also in California, is a report that found abuse, racism, and cover ups a physically isolated prison about 90 miles northwest of Reno. The town in which the prison is located, Susanville, has fewer than 16,000 people, and the two correctional facilities are its largest employers. “Employees form tight-knit social groups known as “cars” that can foster what the report terms “a code of silence” that makes it difficult to report wrongdoing.” They are accused of abusing physically-disabled and minority prisoners, inciting attacks against sex offenders, and conspiring to impede the investigation. The prison’s nearly 3,500 inmates won’t report abuse because they fear the nearly 1,000 employees will find out and retaliate. If this is true in this case, why wouldn’t it be true in Moose Lake, where Vince was incarcerated? Moose Lake has a population of only about 2,700 and, as you might guess from its name, it’s in the sticks.

Then there are two items that would be ridiculous if they weren’t true.

First, rapper Nicki Minaj did a December 10 interview with Billboard Magazine in which she spoke out against mass incarceration, lengthy drug sentences, and the racial bias in sentencing: “What it has become is not a war on drugs. It has become slavery. When I see how many people are in jail, I feel like, ‘Wait a minute. Our government is aware of these statistics and thinks it’s OK?’ The sentences are inhumane.”

Earlier this year, she had said about Barak Obama’s prison clemency program, “I thought it was so important when he went to prisons and spoke to people who got 20 and 30 and 40 and 50 years for drugs. There are women who are raped, people who are killed and [offenders] don’t even serve 20 years.”

I guess you could call it a case of bad timing, then when Minaj’s brother was arrested December 3 for raping a 12-year-old girl. She posted his $100,000 bail. Blood is thicker than principles, I guess, and I’m not being sarcastic. As his sister, she probably believes there’s a good explanation.

Last, in prison food news, the New York Times reports that the state’s prisons have announced they will stop serving Disciplinary Loaf—also known as NutriLoaf—to prisoners in solitary confinement. It was served with a side of cabbage.

God, sometimes I wonder if you think I make this stuff up—that’s why I provide links.

This menu change is part of a slew of reforms to solitary confinement practices. It was brought about as the result of a lawsuit by the American Civil Liberties Union, whose director said, “Food is very important to prisoners in a deprived and harsh environment; it is one of the very few things they have to look forward to.”

I’ve pasted the recipe below in case you want to serve it to your family over the holidays.

Recipe for Nutraloaf

Makes 50 loaves.

Ingredients

5 pounds whole wheat flour

20 pounds all purpose flour

1.5 gallons milk, 1 percent

8 ounces fast active dry yeast

4 pounds sugar

2 ounces salt

2.5 pounds powdered milk, nonfat

2 pounds margarine

5 pounds shredded potatoes (with skin)

2 pounds shredded carrots

Preparation

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Heat milk to 105 degrees, then add sugar, salt and yeast. Let stand for 5 minutes.
Add both flours and dry milk, then mix.
Add margarine, potatoes and carrots. Mix for 10 minutes.
Cover bowl with plastic wrap and let dough rise.
Grease and flour loaf pans and add dough.
Bake loaves for 40 to 45 minutes.

Sincerely, Barak Obama

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I wrote to the White House about a month ago to thank President Obama for his efforts to lower incarceration rates through sentencing reform, reintegration programs and other “upstream” measures. I thought I would share the response I received. Too bad the White House seal and other graphics don’t show up:

Dear Anne:

Thank you for writing, and for sharing your son’s story. Today, our criminal justice system holds approximately 2.2 million Americans behind bars, at a cost to taxpayers of $80 billion per year. Many of these individuals are violent criminals who are off the streets thanks to hard‑working police officers and prosecutors, but many others who are incarcerated are non‑violent offenders whose punishments do not always fit their crimes. We have to make sure that our justice system is fair and effective and is doing what it can to make individuals, their families, and their communities stronger.

My Administration has taken concrete steps to enhance public safety while also making our system more just. By channeling resources into early childhood education and issuing discipline guidance to our schools, we are creating pathways to success instead of pipelines to prison. Through initiatives like “My Brother’s Keeper,” we are promoting reforms to the juvenile justice system and reaching young people before they’re locked into a cycle from which they cannot recover. Additionally, the Justice Department’s “Smart on Crime” and “Justice Reinvestment” initiatives aim to address the unnecessary use of mandatory minimums in the Federal system and work with states to lower their incarceration numbers and reinvest in crime prevention services.

For currently incarcerated individuals, my Administration has supported critical improvements to our prison system that target overcrowding, solitary confinement, gang activity, and sexual assault. We are promoting rehabilitation programs that have been proven to decrease the likelihood of a repeat offense, and we are expanding reintegration programs—such as those supported by the Second Chance Act—that work with government agencies and non‑profit organizations to help provide access to employment, education, housing, and health care for the nearly 600,000 inmates released annually. In addition, I directed the Office of Personnel Management to “ban the box” on most Federal job applications in order to end the practice of disqualifying people simply because of a mistake they made in their past.

While my Administration remains committed to taking action to improve all phases of the criminal justice system, it is time for Congress to act. Meaningful sentencing reform and juvenile justice reform legislation would make a crucial contribution to improving public safety, reducing runaway incarceration costs, and making our criminal justice system fairer. There is strong bipartisan support in Congress to achieve these goals, and I am encouraged that the Senate and House will continue to work cooperatively to get a bill to my desk.

Thank you again for writing. Throughout my Presidency and beyond it, I will continue working to keep our communities safe and make our justice system fair. To learn more about these efforts, visit www.WhiteHouse.gov/Issues/Civil‑Rights/Justice.

Sincerely,

Barack Obama

Seeing how Vince struggles with the after effects of being imprisoned, it is comforting to know that lawmakers on both sides agree the system must change—drastically, and now—and that my president cares enough about this to take it on even after he leaves office. I believe this is the only issue Republicans and Democrats agree on and are working on together nowadays, which tells you a lot about how messed up the system is.

Jailbird Rock

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Wow! I got another enthusiastic email from JPay, whose slogan is, “Making it Easier.” I feel my blood pressure rise as I read that. Nothing—nothing—makes having a loved in in prison easier. And to the contrary, being ripped off in order to communicate with them adds financial strain on top of the shame, worry, anger, disappointment, and all the other negative emotions.

I will just repeat here what I wrote early on in this blog. When people said, “At least you know where he is, and that he’s got a roof over his head and three meals so you don’t have to worry about him,” my response was, “That’s true. There have been months and years when I didn’t know where Vince was and I worried myself sick imagining he was dead in a cornfield.

It was always that cornfield. Maybe, as a city person, it was my worst-case scenario. If I were going to be found dead, I would hope it was in my own home, fully dressed with my makeup on, after I had taken the empty wine bottles out to the recycling bins. I shudder at the image of being found dead in a cornfield, where in my imagination it is always winter and crows are circling overhead. Ugh.

All you have to do is watch the Prison Rape Elimination Act video to know that there is still plenty to worry about if your kid is in prison.

Back to JPay. Here’s what they say about video visits:

There’s nothing quite like seeing your loved one in person. Visiting them at their correctional facility, however, can often be difficult; the prison or jail may be far away, and the security procedures can be invasive. Sometimes there’s just no way to be there in person.

“When physical visits are impossible or inconvenient, JPay’s Video Visitation lets you talk face-to face with your incarcerated friend or relative from the comfort of your own home. When you can’t be there, this is the next best thing.”

Wow, it almost brings a tear to my eye, how compassionate they are and how they want to help! It’s almost like they know I was ejected from Moose Lake and banned from visiting my son for six months.

So, even though Vince is no longer incarcerated, I’ll share with you all the marvelous ways that JPay helps families stay in touch with incarcerated loved ones.

You could send them money so they can buy ramen and instant coffee—that’s only $9.95 per $100. You could buy one short email for $2.00. Or how about a first-class stamp? JPay charges 40 cents to buy a 49-cent stamp. That’s not a 9-cent discount, that’s 89 cents total for one stamp.

Finally, you could pay $9.95 for a 30-minute video visit.

This is new information to me; when I visited Vince the last time before he was released they were just rolling out this option and the rumor was that it would cost $99—not $9.95. So, my apologies to JPay—$9.95 is actually a bargain compared to taking the day off work and driving for four hours to make a physical visit.

But on this day, JPay was emailing me to say I could fund a media account with no fees for this one day. I could not figure out what a media account was; maybe it’s not available at the facility from which Vince was released. Again, they show hip, attractive, young people having a great time … listening to tunes, I guess.

And at the very bottom are Apple AppStore and Google Play buttons—are these corporate giants getting in on the easy cash to made off of prison families?

Prison News Roundup, Suspicious Pork Story Edition

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ANNE

Now, having written in my last post about how my guiding principle in life is the pursuit of justice, I have to confess that I have no desire to do anything on prison issues beyond writing the occasional blog post about them. I thought I would take up the prison-industrial complex’s exploitation of prisoners for near-slave labor, or their milking of families with outrageous phone charges, but I don’t want to even think about these things anymore. I no longer want to carry around clippings about prison abuses in my diary for future blog posts. I want to be free. I want to have fun. I want to go to a trampoline park, or race my Mini on a real track, or bake French macaroons, or just hunker down with a good 800-page novel for the winter.

—

However, there have been some big developments recently on the prison front that I can’t not note.

In case you have been at a silent retreat in Nova Scotia for the last month, you don’t know that the U.S. Justice Department has begun releasing 6,000 federal prisoners. This is the largest one-time release in history. It’s part of a bipartisan effort led by President Obama to reduce crowding in prisons and free nonviolent offenders who were given harsh sentences in the 80s and 90s. Maximum sentences were reduced in 2014 and the changes were retroactive.

About 2,000 of those released are undocumented individuals who will be deported immediately.

The others will have their challenges, as recently featured on John Oliver Last Week Tonight. Thank you, John.

—

In the “I can’t believe I’m reading this” department, the nation’s pork producers are in an uproar after the feds abruptly removed all pork products from the menu for federal prisoners.

I have not eaten pork since I converted to Judaism nearly 40 years ago. I don’t keep kosher; I eat plenty of shrimp. The pork thing is just symbolic. But everyone around me seems obsessed with bacon, so I was very suspicious to read that this pork ban is based on surveys of prisoners which found that they didn’t like pork. Really? When I asked Vince, who loves all forms of pig meat, he said it could actually be true because the “pork” that is served in prison is of such poor quality that it’s nauseating.

Of course there are those who suspect that the Obama Administration is kow-towing to Muslim prisoners (he’s a Muslim, you know).

The story mentions that pork has been getting more expensive, but why ban it completely?

My personal suspicion is that there is some corporate interest at work here, such as the American turkey industry, who took a huge hit this year due to Avian influenza and may be looking to make up for lost profits.

A note: There are 206,000 federal prisoners—er, I guess 200,000 after the aforementioned prisoner release, which still leaves about 2.2 million non-federal prisoners who will be able to pig out on pork.

It’s Been A Good Run

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VINCE

For personal reasons, I have made the decision to move on from this blog and start out on my own. I have no idea where or when I will start back up, but I do promise to make it soon. I just need to figure out how to start a blog, and then start it. I think first I will write in my journal for a while, then begin again independently. Obviously I will keep everybody posted (pun intended) on when and where you can find my new blog. And in the mean time, you can follow me on Facebook. Vincent Maertz is my name if you don’t already know.

Thank you for all of your support over the last 17 months. It has meant a lot to me that people actually like reading what I write. Your comments have not gone unnoticed. You can look forward to reading more about the next phase of my life as soon as I find a new format, and build up a little material. Until then, be good.

Vincent Maertz

2 Out of 17 Isn’t Bad?

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VINCE

I learned early this morning from a guy that went through boot camp and graduated a month earlier than I, that two of my squad-mates aren’t doing very well. One of them I’ve known has been on the wanted fugitive list for a few days now, but the other is now in jail. For what, I can’t be certain. But I know that I’m not in jail, and I’ve been following the rules. I can’t think of anything that would make me want to do something that would send me back. But there were many times in my life where I wish I would have followed the right path.

When I was 18, I was arrested for my first felony. I walked into the Schwinn bicycle shop off of Snelling and University avenues in St. Paul with the intention of stealing a bike that I could sell for cash, and eventually weed. Something I did fairly regularly back in the 1900’s. Unfortunately, when I took the bike that I wanted down from the display and rode out the door, I had some troubles with the gear shifter and I barely made it across the street before being tackled down by a store employee, and humiliatingly taken back into the store to await the police. I’ve written about this incident before, so I’ll skip ahead to the part where I was sentenced to one year of Project Remand. It is an opportunity for first time felons to basically be good for a year to have the felony knocked down to a misdemeanor. Sounds easy right?

Well, the first directive I was given was to enter an in-patient treatment center in St. Paul called Twin Town. At some point during the arrest, I made a remark about me using marijuana recreationally. So I packed a bag and entered my first of 4 treatment centers. I knew I didn’t want to be there. Oh if only I could have seen the future.

I got my first taste of group therapy. They were all real addicts, not like me, because all I did was smoked weed (and did acid and mushrooms, but only once in a while!) and I didn’t get into trouble for using, right? Well, these people did all sorts of things that I hadn’t done (yet). And in three or four short days I was asked to leave the facility, which I did.

When I got back home I called my probation officer and told her that I had been kicked out. She actually said it wasn’t a big deal, and that I could simply continue to follow the rest of the rules and still be okay. Can you believe that? So I stayed drug free for a few weeks until one of my friends told me that they didn’t test for alcohol. Minutes later I opened my first of many beers to come in my lifetime. I successfully passed all of my drug tests for a couple months, but the urge to get high was powerful and I started smoking weed for a couple weeks after every U.A., but eventually I went back to full time. I stopped showing up for my probation meetings, and stopped taking the drug tests, and of course shortly after that the warrant came out, another first of many.

I was arrested up north in Crow Wing County for my first D.U.I. and they held me there for a week until St. Paul came and got me. When I saw the judge about the felony, he was very kind in staying the adjudication but put me on regular probation for three years. And because I clearly had troubles staying clean, he ordered me to outpatient treatment. I never showed up. I just kept using. They gave me so many chances but I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t know it then, but I had become powerless over my addictions. My life had become unmanageable. And I was just warming up. In the end I was on some form of probation for that charge for almost a decade, but they actually did move it down to a misdemeanor. Win!

I don’t think I would have listened to my future self had I been able to go back to try to save me, I was going to do whatever I wanted to do. It may have taken a lot longer than it should have, but I am finally on the right road again. I’ve wasted away many years, but I can redeem myself by sticking to the script, listening to my agents, going to meetings, and making forward progress. I’m starting to enjoy life again, and there’s plenty of time left for me.

Good Boy

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VINCE

After having written nothing by hand since my release from prison, I’m back to it with this journal I received for my birthday from Ms. Toaster. I think it will help because I can write a little here and there and maybe not feel so rushed sitting in front of the computer screen trying to think of something to write. It was a very thoughtful gift from a very thoughtful woman.

Today, my friends Curt, Sara, Seth, And Seth’s daughter Audrey came for a visit from down in Fillmore County. They brought my dog Willie who I had not seen in two years. I was so excited when I saw him and all my friends. Unfortunately, only four out of the five recognized me. Willie didn’t seem to have a clue who I was. It was the exact opposite of what I pictured our reunion being. I felt terrible. I knew it was my fault because I had left him so long ago. I pet him, and scratched him, and hugged him. But he didn’t show any sign of affection that I thought he would have. I had him for about 10 years before I left for drugs, and I hoped he would pick up on a scent or the familiar face, but nothing. I was heartbroken, but I didn’t want to admit that so we continued on with the plan for the day.

We packed in the car and drove to Woodbury which will be his home until I can move out on my own. My aunt has a nice back yard and a playful dog for him to hang out with. He moped around and peed and pooped. Good boy. I will be able to visit him once a week for now as my restrictions allow, and as transportation is available. I am going to have to start from scratch with him. Get to know each other all over again. I’m sure there’s something inside his little dog brain that will be triggered at some point that will make him know who I am again. And if that doesn’t happen, at least I will know who he is, and I will love him for as long as he lives. And that will make me feel better about it all.

We left Woodbury and headed to Afton State Park on recommendation from my aunt. I wanted to look for agates along the shore of the St. Croix river and hike around with my friends. We paid five dollars to get in and started the walk down. The place was beautiful. I don’t often care about the colors of leaves, but they really stood out there. As far as the eye could see in any direction were rolling hills, babbling brooks, and multiple colors of leaves of so many trees. The downward path was mostly wooden stairs. We heard many languages as we made our descent into the colorful valley. I felt quite like a tourist, and my friends probably felt like the minority for the first time in a while. When we got to the beach it took me about 12 seconds to find my first agate. It wasn’t big, but it’s always a good feeling to find the first one: you know they’re there. I found a few small keepers and proceeded to a bench where I just sat and enjoyed the view. Children were everywhere and I was happy to see that a few of them were looking for rocks too. We decided to make the journey back up because I’m on a schedule, of course, but not before Curt took a dreidel out of his pocket and suggested we do a little gambling at a picnic table. It’s a tradition with us four. We gamble for quarters, and I lost a dollar. Not a bad day.

The walk up was much more difficult than the walk down as you may have guessed. I did pretty well with my new shoes that I received for my birthday. Man did I need them. We had a very nice, small gathering for me yesterday. Overall, it has been a great weekend. There are many more to come as long as I keep doing what I have been doing. Good boy.

I Can’t Believe It’s Not Crack

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VINCE

Saturday night after leaving my A.A. meeting, I was driving down University Avenue when my brand new tooth popped out of its new home in my mouth. Only two days in, and my new smile was gone. I had waited so long to be confident with my appearance, and just like that, it was over.

I pulled up to a stop light and spat the jagged plastic remnant out of my mouth and looked it over and had the thought that just maybe, super glue might do the trick. At that moment I saw a car pull up to the light next to me. I looked over and noticed it was a St. Paul police officer and I immediately looked back in my hand and mentally said to myself, “Oh, fuck! This looks like crack!”, and quickly lowered my hand out of sight. The officer paid me no attention, and we both went on about our respective ways. It’s been a long time since I have had or done any drugs, but the paranoia still exists in me. Incidentally, all of your teeth look like crack. So, now you know that.

On another note… While I was in prison, my only goal every day was to get through the day as quickly as possible: one day closer to the door. For the first five weeks of freedom, I have carried that attitude with me until I had the realization the other day that I really want to enjoy life. I think we as Americans tend to live by this same philosophy: work, work, work, then it’s the weekend. Work, work, work, then you retire. I have wasted so much of my life doing useless things and it seems like everything I talk about now isn’t just 10 years ago anymore, it’s twenty. How do you stop the time from passing so quickly? How am I going to enjoy my life while working the American way, 40 hours a week? Well, I’m going to have as much fun as I can while I’m doing everything that I do. I have found that in sobriety, laughter has depth. Conversations have meaning. And friendships blossom quickly. I am going to enjoy every minute of every day because it’s all going to go by quickly, and I’m never going to get out alive. Twenty years from now, I’m going to be talking about things that happened twenty years ago, again.

I say all of that to remind myself that there’s no more time for me to waste. I think of all of the people I have left behind in prison, some of them never getting out. If I go back to my old ways of selling/using meth and I get caught with, for example, the same amount I had last time, I would likely get 96 months without the possibility of an early release through boot camp. I would have to sit for over five years before being eligible for parole. Then what? Move back in with Mom, again at 43? I think not.

I am restricted to three A.A. meetings per week while I am on I.S.R. If I had my way, I would have done 90 in 90 as soon as I got out. I am not planning a relapse, but these meetings give me so much more than just maintaining sobriety. It’s a place I go to get things off my chest and I don’t feel embarrassed about saying anything. Sort of what I do with this blog, but I get to hear other people and their stories that I can relate to.

So, I apologize for not writing for a few days. I needed a break. Thank you for your patience and understanding. And with that, I pass.

A Break from Breaking Free

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ANNE

Vince says he’s hit a wall with the blogging, and I need more than 10 minutes notice to come up with new material. After over a year of blogging and nearly 200 posts, I’d say we’ve earned a break.

We’ll be back. If you haven’t yet binge read the thing from the beginning, start here and click on the right-pointing arrow at the bottom of each post to proceed. Feel free to share with others, and thanks for reading.