by Brian A. Wilkins
This day corresponds with Saturday, September 6, 2008. Click here for the complete “55 Days In Maricopa County Jail” series.
The noise from the doors (as always) woke me up and I realized today would be the first full day of college football. Or was that last Saturday? I know there were a few games on last Saturday, but who knows. Oh well, I’ll only be around for 16 more days. I have to hide the sharpened comb in the rims of the toilet, otherwise if those steroid SRT people come and tear up the cell and find them, they’ll take them and who knows what else their chimp-out reaction will be. I “paid” Juan, my cellmate, a bag of chips to clean the toilet as well as he could. He did a pretty good job, considering shampoo was used as the disinfectant and deodorizer. Still it doesn’t matter how well you clean those toilets. They still smell like 10-year-old piss.
At “evening chow,” Steve walked by our table and gave us all somewhat of a head-ups and warning: “the Woods got some business to take care of in (cell #) 17. So don’t be rubbernecking alright.” There are a few cells I guess the cameras cannot see, so when someone is about to get beat down, for whatever reason, no matter who “lives” in those cells, they have to offer it up to let the races take care of their business. I couldn’t help but to take a quick glance, as the sound coming from there was like no movie I’ve seen or any real life fight I’ve seen. I just so happen, in my 3 second glance, to catch that Elvis-looking “white” dude snapping this guys elbow the wrong way, while two others guys held him down. I saw one vicious hook to the guy’s face before turning back around. After asking around a little bit, I found out the “woods” beat this guy because he had been trading food with “Chicanos.” I really have never felt the racism stuff in here, but now I started to understand why the “white” dude with glasses, who I played in several games of chess a few weeks ago, all of a sudden stopped playing with me or even talking to me. It seemed like the “white” dudes were the most racist of all the “groups.” This one “white” dude who Rodney and I talked to all the time (because he reminded us of just a regular guy who got caught up in some bullshit) was telling me how the “white” head told him he needed to stop talking to us because “blacks and Mexicans” are inferior and “we are the master race, in here and on the outside.” This kid also said that the woods had one of the guards working for them, which is how marijuana and cigarettes got into this place. The guards would apparently get whatever the “white” dudes needed and make someone on the outside either pay them for it, or they would have sex with the dude’s wives or some other on-call whore.
I’m so sick of looking at and smelling Juan’s funky ass feet. He sits on that top bunk with his feet hanging over the side all the time while I’m laying down here. His toenails look like Mr. Burn’s. Oh well, only 16 more days of this.