“I went to prison for 23 and a half years for burglary and robbery. I was 15 and a couple of buddies and I robbed a guy and ran. I was the one who got caught and called myself keeping it real by taking the rap for all of us. I didn’t have a gun, and the man wasn’t touched or harmed. I was sent to the juvenile detention center, but there was a motion to try me as an adult. My older brother had a reputation for trouble and was serving a life sentence. The DA painted a picture that I was following in his footsteps. My lawyer and parents said I wasn’t my brother, and he wasn’t the one on trial. Even the guy we robbed didn’t want me tried as an adult. He came to court and spoke out about it.

I was still tried as an adult and sent to county jail. That’s when it hit me that this was real and playtime was over. I thought I was grown, but I wanted to go home with mama. I started hollering and crying.

I was young and quickly built up a reputation in prison, like I had something to prove. If I didn’t come in tough, something worse would happen to me. I made up my mind that I wasn’t going to be a punk and no one was going to run over me. It was survival.

They sent me to the William Donaldson Correctional Facility in Bessemer. It was one of the highest maximum security camps in Alabama and guys were in there on four or five lifes without parole. They were going to die in prison. I hadn’t killed, raped or touched anyone, but that was the environment they sent me to. I was so young that a TV reporter interviewed me.

My brother was also in that prison. He was well-respected and helped pave my way. I was young and got into fights, but he had my back. If they messed with me, they had double trouble with him. I used that to my advantage, but I put my brother into some bad situations. When the administration figured out what was going on, they transferred him. That’s when my problems got real.

Prison was traumatic and I still suffer from the things I saw. I was stabbed with an icepick and have a scar on my back. I stabbed some folks, too. We lived in a cage and there was no getting away from anyone or your problems. I’m a small guy who doesn’t believe in losing, so I played a role to act twice as big. There weren’t many teenagers there, but we were all strong and had each other’s backs. It was all for one and one for all.

In my early years, I wasn’t educated and didn’t have a trade. I didn’t want to do anything but get in trouble. I was on drugs and alcohol because they were available. We made prison whiskey out of corn juice, fruit, rice, and tomato puree. We soured it by putting it in a container and letting it sit for a few days. You had to get used to the taste, but it was alcohol.

There were mental health and drug issues and something could happen at any time. It was scary living like that. Some were on ice (crystal meth). ‘No show’ was synthetic marijuana that is often deadly but doesn’t show up in drug tests. You could sprinkle a little on your cigarette, or whatever, and it could take you to cloud nine. It made guys paranoid or schizophrenic and they thought somebody was out to get them. Sometimes they killed over that.

A lot of things came in illegally and sometimes drones were used for drop-offs. We were punished for having cell phones, but the corrections officers brought them in. When phones entered the prison system, money came with them. Phones were used to get on chat lines and trick people out of money or blackmail through cash apps. They ran messed-up schemes that made a lot of money.

Cell phones were also a lifeline and connection to the world. It’s how we stayed in touch with family. A man would fight to the death over his phone. I was older and more chilled when someone took my phone, but they were surprised by how much I fought to get it back.

Someone once stole my mattress. They were always scheming or trying to play up under you to get everything you have. They stole the shoes my mama bought me and my Christmas gifts from the Salvation Army. Nobody cared.

Prison was a small world, but it was like a soap opera. You’re always on somebody’s mind. I learned how to cheat because I was tired of being cheated by the manipulators and tricksters. I was addicted to gambling and ran a gambling ring. We bet on sports on TV, card games, and dice.

Murders, fights, and strip searches were a shock at first but they became the norm and I became immune. They became something to laugh at or even think he deserved it.

There was no justice in prison, so you had to take it into your own hands. It’s not the department of corrections, it’s the department of corruption. The administration was also a part of the conflict and stirred us up. When we were a young gang, officers gave us drinks, cookies, and free world food to jump somebody for them. If an officer was having a bad day, he took it out on us. They put my known enemy in a cell with me. If you reported a problem or tried to get out of a situation to avoid problems, they told you to man up and handle your own business. The only way to solve a problem was to fight.

I got older and just wanted to be free. I had a number and a chance to get out. 20 years, ten years, five years until release. The guys without a number had no hope. They were going to die in prison. At least that wasn’t me.”