PELICAN BAY RIOT, page 12
Bat looked extremely focused and you could feel the energy coming off him from a life on the edge as a gangster. He walked with his hands free with his towel folded and wrapped around his waist over his boxers like a championship belt. His dark brown eyes were void of compassion, laser like and penetrating, he focused on Rodriguez's cell and was on his way past our cell.
Damon said, "Straight killer."
Bat's chest rippled with a tattoo in Old English across it, SURENO. His back was just as shredded and a tattoo on his lower back said, CLANTON, a notorious east LA gang. The middle of his back had another tattoo, a depiction of a black hand, the signature of a Mexican Mobster.
I said, "No one's going to be able to kill him without a gun. It looks like he’s on a mission right now, watch closely."
He got to Rodriguez's cell and looked at him for a second, then turned so his back was against the wall on the side of the cell not looking at Rodriguez, his stare was a glare right at Hernandez in the tower.
Rodriguez had his mouth at the corner of his cell inches away from Bat's ear. He whispered in fast Spanish and I couldn't hear the words.
After a few sentences Bat nodded his head once and said one word loud enough to hear, "Alrato."
He turned on a dime with his back to the gun tower and while walking, his hands carefully pulled the towel from his waist and his pace picked up straight to the stairs. Before he passed our cell I saw the outline of an ice pick the size of a pen inside the seam of his boxers. On his way up the stairs he gripped his towel and waistband in his right hand and jogged the stairs 2 at a time and the SURENO on his chest bounced and flexed, bounced and flexed. At the top of the stairs he walked the length of the tier to the showers, and then stepped in.
It was too quiet in the cell block. Everyone's thoughts magnified the death tension all the way up the ladder. Rodriguez noticed it as a problem and started a conversation with another southern Mexican in the shower on the bottom tier next to his cell.
"HEY CHEETO! YOU HAVE ANY TOP RAMENS AND BEANS YOU CAN SHOOT ME AND SANO?"
"YEAH...MY CELLIE AND I WILL SHOOT YOU SOME."
"GRACIAS HOMMIE!"
"GRACIAS ATTI!"
Other southern Mexicans caught the hint and more voices added casual conversation to pierce the tension.
Damon said, "You're right, it's going down. The southern Mexicans are going to rush Bat."
I said, "I don't think so..."
Rodriguez yelled out of his cell door. "HERNANDEZ IN THE GUN TOWER LOOKS LIKE A HUNCHBACK WITH NO DICK!"
Another southern Mexican yelled, "FUCKIN PORCUPINE NEVER GETS ANY PUSSY ANYWAY!"
Bat came out of the shower. This time, his left hand had a fist full of towel clamping the front of his boxers. He walked 2 cells down and stopped. With his right hand he grabbed the cell door like he was ready to get locked back in his cell, then yelled, "TOWER!"
The Nortenos were standing at the cell door in shock, then realization, then they scattered around the cell for weapons...
The cell door popped open and Bat used his right hand to yank the door open and was met by both Nortenos.
Bat jabbed a barrage of explosive left handed straight jabs to clear enough room, then rushed inside and closed the cell door. The sounds of heavy punches and bodies bouncing against metal thundered. I saw Bat's right hand flashing downward in a stabbing motion repeatedly and heard a scream of shock from the puncture victim. More thunderous thumping and Bat's left hand was at it again firing jabs and controlling the direction of the battle, then the right hand flashing again followed by more screams. Then the alarm siren started wailing a high pitch that rose and fell and I heard the vestibule door rattle under the noise of the battle. The building guards were already running up the stairs and the vestibule opened enough and the heavy sound of prison guards running entered the building, some holding block guns pointed skyward and others Billy clubs and tear gas grenades. Up above, a scream from one of the Norteno's, "HELP! HELP!" The thumping continued to thunder, Bat wasn't done, but the guards were closing in on the cell, then yelling in front of it, "GET DOWN! GET DOWN!" Two of the guards tossed tear gas grenades into the cell and it immediately filled with smoke. "GET DOWN! GET DOWN!" One of the guards yelled, "TOWER POP THE CELL!"
The guards started by hosing pepper spray from fire extinguisher sized canisters. The pepper spray mixed with the tear gas blinded the occupants inside the cell. One by one the inmates were dragged out and handcuffed. The 2 Nortenos were covered in blood and were placed on the ground and Bat was shuffled down the stairs with a mixture of their blood and pepper spray covering his body. On the walk toward our cell Bat with a focused grimace from the adrenal war waged said, "I thought that was my cell."
The medics rushed through the vestibule and ran up the stairs. The first Norteno was lifted to his feet and was leaking blood from puncture wounds all over his body, his neck was bubbling, an artery shot. A couple of medics wrapped gauze and tape in circles around his stomach and chest and the Norteno's knees wobbled and he fainted to the ground. He was placed on a gurney sled and rushed down the stairs. He passed our cell and I saw the medic walking along side holding a cloth tight on the neck wound. The other Norteno was lifted to his feet and wrapped everywhere a puncture wound leaked. He waved off the gurney and walked himself down with an army of prison guards.
Chapter 14
The only noise in the cell block came from inmates coughing from the effects of the tear gas and pepper spray. Underneath that noise, every cell’s sink had water running while inmates splashed it on their faces to relieve their burning eyes. 13 Inmate Gang Investigators poured into the building and walked to the stairs without talking. The focused all business looks on their faces exposed the magnitude of the incident further. Then, one of the Gang Investigators radio chirped from his hip, “INFIRMARY…INMATE…DEAD ON ARRIVAL…INMATE…23 PUNTURE WOUNDS CRITICAL…”
The Gang Investigators surrounded the cell, a couple stepped in, then stepped out, then other investigators followed them back inside and took pictures where the other two pointed. They came back out of the cell and took pictures of blood splatter on the cell door, then the ground in a trail a few cells down. Next a couple of Investigators taped the honey comb cell door with yellow crime scene tape in the shape of an X.
Damon said, "They haven't said one word."
I watched a couple of the Investigators scribble notes on a pad for a report and said, "They’re in shock."
Chapter 15
“Homeboy, you know the top of the cell has the same lock mechanism…”
Rodriguez was crouched at the bottom of his cell door where it closed with his thin piece of steel. He found the perfect angle. “Tink, tink, tink…click.”
He stood up with a focused smile and said, “I know, I know, one down, one to go.”
Sano nodded his head, then wondered about Bat and asked, “Do you think La Eme will take Bat’s name out of the hat?”
Rodriguez shook his head no while he set up the makeshift Bunsen burner. “No they’re jealous of him.”
Sano crouched down with Rodriguez and did his part by adding another piece of steel to the contained flame. He held it on the flame for 90 seconds, until steel began to melt and drip. Then he took it out of the flame and held it while Rodriguez negotiated his piece of steel with the bent hook an inch away to accept the dripping steel to fortify it. Then Rodriguez lifted the hooked end and put it in the toilet so the water would harden the newly added steel. After a couple more times of dripping steel and fortifying the hook, Rodriguez said, “Bat will be alright…I just hope he doesn’t catch a life sentence for whacking the Norteno.”
Chapter 16
45 days later…
“Sacramento is finally gone, back to business as usual.”
Damon was talking to me while standing at the cell door watching the cells get popped for showers. I was sitting on my bunk thinking about my release date in 45 more days and the last 45 days waiting for the move to Red-Bone’s cell.
The incident with Bat brought a massive investigation. The brass for the California Department of Corrections in Sacramento had toured the facility as a show for the news. The news ran with the publicity and a representative of the Prison Union took the opportunity to again tell the public that prison guards walked the toughest beat in California. They got their mileage out of it and things were getting back to normal. We were supposed to come off lockdown tomorrow and I was going to move to Red-Bone’s cell in the afternoon.
Since the Bat incident, I studied Red-Bone for every waking hour to understand him better then he understood himself. I woke 2 hours before he did but when he got up he followed a strict regimen. He started the morning by pacing the cell to gather his thoughts, and then hit his knees to pray, and then worked out. His prayer ritual gave me solace that he might be like me, lost in this world but wrestling with his conscience. It also meant that he might keep his word and not try to use a knife for our cell fight. I wasn’t going too.
From brushing his teeth I gleaned he was a left hander, but looked ambidextrous. The way he walked told me he was pretty explosive and probably a basketball player. Just like me. I had to assume he knew how to fight, living the life of an underdog and never backing down, very similar to me in a different way. I did a lot of self encouraging and visualized the 200 plus fights and other wars I’d been in and said my own prayers. Damon broke into my reverie.
“I’ve seen you in action, you will smash that dude.”
Chapter 17
This time Hernadez started the cell count from our cell. He was back to his old tricks and even had a new rhyme to count with…
After passing our cell I got up to watch him.
“STILL”, “IN”, JAIL”,”SAME”, “OLD”, “CELL”,“BUT”,”NOTHING”,”TO”,”SELL”,”GANGS”,”AND”,”DRUGS”,”BROUGHT”,”YOU”,”TO”,”MY”,’”BLOCK”,”UNTIL”,”I”,”DO”,”THE”STATE”,”A”,”FAVOR”,”AND”,”SEND”,”YOU”,”TO”,”HELL”
Hernandez ended at Rodriguez’s cell door and the bottom of the cell looked like it was sticking out a little. I looked closer, Rodriguez and Sano were leaning against the honey comb and it popped open!
The cell door flew in an arc that hit Hernandez in the head and both inmates were on him. Sano grabbed Hernandez’s head in a choke hold and rushed his legs backward dragging a limp Hernandez. Rodriguez had an ice pick in his right hand it flashed in an arc into Hernandez’s neck. Blood squirted out but Rodriguez didn’t stop flashing his hand again and again. Each time the ice pick pierced Hernandez’s neck more blood sprayed and made a wet sound. Sano continued to run drag Hernandez backward and Rodriguez continued to stab him in the neck with the ice pick. His limp body passed our cell.
Rodriguez yelled, "RIGHT THERE SANO!"
They left his body in front of a Norteno's cell. Rodriguez dropped his ice pick on Hernandez's dead chest and both inmates ran back to their cell. On the way, they both wiped up the blood trail and got back inside their cell and closed the door. The next thing we heard was their toilet flushing.
Damon said, "They're flushing the evidence."
I said, "We aren't getting off lockdown. Sacramento is coming again."
Chapter 18
43 days later- 2 days before my release from prison...
Damon said, "I've decided to take your place and move to Red-Bone's cell so you can go home."
I shook my head and said, “No way, not going to happen.”
Damon paced the cell. He had been studying Red-Bone for 2 days, ever since he got word from Popeye. I knew what they were doing but was resisting and trying to understand why.
Damon said, “It’s not your call any more homeboy. Popeye is calling the shot. You are to go home and take care of your wife.”
My wife finally sent me a letter with an explanation. She didn’t sleep with her ex; she just needed a place to stay, stranded on the streets, without any options. She finally made a good decision and talked to my brother who was very well off and he took care of the rest. She was living at his mansion and already back at her job at Macy’s.
It wasn’t my call anymore. I was going home and the rest of my race wasn’t. The scary thing was, I didn’t want to leave them…These are the prison days of our lives.
Underdog
Chapter 1
My wife Annette and I walked into the shelter and a putrid odor assaulted us. Mr. Robinson, the current owner of The Animal House, a non-profit shelter for abandoned and abused canines, turned on the light. With the light came the noise. Over 50 dogs started barking and I listened carefully. There was a mixture of angry and violent barking, combined with some fearful and desperate howling.
The small barn the dogs were housed in was packed. It was overcapacity. There were 2 rows of cages with a 4 foot walkway down the middle for about 30 feet. The first steel cage was 6 feet long and 2 feet high and contained a group of dogs fighting for space. They were packed into the cages like sardines without an inch to spare. Poodles, Beagles, Collies and some mixed breeds bumped, jumped and jockeyed for position to get as close to us as possible. Their floor was filled with scraps of old newspapers and I realized where the odor came from. The newspapers were soiled with their excrement. Poop and piss. I looked at my wife to see if she noticed. She did. Her thick brown hair flew in an arc over her tiny face as she whipped her gaze at me. Her turquoise green eyes, shaped like almonds, focused all of her energy at me to do something.
I looked at the man trying to understand if he was a slum lord for dogs, or if he was really trying to help them. Mr. Robinson was overweight and unkempt. His posture radiated a lazy, not too interested in other people countenance. His face looked like a walrus with baggy hanging jowls covered by a peppering of brown beard that matched the hair on his head and resembled dust balls behind the refrigerator. I asked, “Why do you make them live in their own shit and piss?”
Mr. Robinson gave me a stare and then a glare. Like that was going to scare me. It pissed me off so I asked, “How would you like it if I put you in that cage to sleep in that filth?” It looked like Mr. Robinson decided that I could and would. His face changed into a defensive smirk and he quipped, “I don’t have any help around here. I can’t do it all alone!”
I looked at my wife. It was her turn. She kicked one of her legs out in an aggressive and sexy posture and exploded with a litany, “I bet you’re really good at raising money from the public as if you take care of dogs! You better hire someone or do the work yourself, or the County will shut you down.”
As usual, my wife nailed it and got to the root of the problem. A week ago we started looking for a dog or two on the internet. The Animal House didn’t look like this. Mr. Robinson must have been using someone else’s pictures from a shelter that actually groomed dogs for new homes. These dogs didn’t have any hope. We turned our attention to the rest of the confined cages. It got worse fast. We started walking slowly, now my wife and I were leading the way. There were 6 more cages in both rows housing multiple canines like the first cage, but the last one had a cage on top of a cage and I stopped. Fecal matter and strips of wet newspaper hung from the top cage in sections where the bottom opened a tiny bit. The small dogs in the cage beneath looked even meaner than the other dogs because they had the poop and piss dried up on their coats of hair. I almost lost it, but instead got into action. I picked up the cage and walked it past Mr. Robinson forcing him to jump out of the way as I walked out the barn. The barn opened up into a fenced in area and I set the cage down next to a bunch of dog leashes hanging from the fence. After all the dogs were leashed to the fence an appropriate distance from each other I walked back into the barn.
“Mr. Robinson, clean the cage and wash them while we pick out a couple of our new watch dogs.” My wife smiled at me and we walked deeper into the barn. Now, the big dogs were in the last 5 cages of single celled animals. I looked at both rows and wanted all 10 dogs.
My wife said, “I want every dog here B.J.” “I know honey, but we can only take two.” I studied my wife and saw her razor sharp brain operating. She was going to figure out a way to have them all. She had her foot down in that way that said she wasn’t budging. I helped her figure it out. “Baby, the only way to rescue all of the dogs from this fraudulent dog rescuer is to take over his operation. Until we figure that out we can only take two.”
