10/28/2014
Today, for about the 10,000th time, I heard the stories. They are heard at every table in this cell, every bunk area conversation, every whispered talk after lights out.
They are variations of the same theme, but they all boil down to one thing. Not guilty! Innocent! Everyone here, (ok, lets say ALMOST everyone) , is innocent. And they will tell you that every single day unless you find ways to escape the cloisters of conversation that endlessly abound.
There are also boundless conspiracies against everyone. If you have lost your job as a trustee, it isn't because you were stealing, it is because that guard is out to get you. (Actually, this one tickles me most of all, some of these guys actually believe that guards go home and scheme and plot against them instead of eating, having a drink, sex, and a life. I beg my peers to understand that the guards do not give a rat's piss about inmate drama when the doors close behind them at the end of the shift); if your mail ended up in the courtroom instead of distributed at mail call, it isn't because your family misaddressed the envelope, it's because they are "fuckin'" with your mail.
I would rather drive a tent peg through my balls than listen to just one more protestation of innocence when I heard you brag about the behavior 20 minutes earlier.
Unfortunately, I have been outed by a former client so I'm inundated with questions and people wanting advice. I don't mind, I like to help ease people's minds, and my advice is usually, "do what your lawyer says." But it does mean I hear the same stuff more than your average resident.
I spend more and more time hidden in my bunk behind the wall of paperbacks, because I think many of these guys forget my troubles are the same as their troubles. I have all the same fears, all the same problems with attorney communication (and he is my friend!) and all the same stress.
Only one difference: I am guilty.
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