25) I'M BACK!

They released me from the hole today...

 All charges were dropped. Bud was the first person to greet me back at the unit. He had the stupidest smile on his face. I think the kid actually missed me. 

Okay, I finally found out what happen with the jug of pruno. Here are the facts as I remember them.

1) I remember the unit officer cuffing me up and taking me and the jug of pruno from my cell on the second tier down to his cubicle on the flats.

2) I remember the unit guard placing the pruno inside his cubicle. 

3) I remember the unit guard radioing for my escort to the hole.

4) I remember two Mexicans getting into a fight.

5) I remember the unit guard yelling for everyone to, "Lock Down!"

6) I remember the unit guard radioing for back up. "Fight in K-Unit!"

7) I remember the unit guard leaving me unattended as he attempted to break up the fight.

8) I remember thinking to my self, "I'm handcuffed with my hands behind my back and no way to protect my self."

9) I remember making my way over to where my boy Randy was standing with a few other brothers.

As it turns out, during that fight, Bud crept into the guards cubicle and stole the jug of pruno while no one was watching. Bud is the last person in the world that I thought I'd be in debt to. It is what it is. I've decided to squash Bud's tab. This should make us even. 

I've moved to a new cell with a nigga named Sniper, Snipe for short. Snipe is cool people. He's short, but has this presence about him. Unfortunately he's a Crip and I am not. So I have to start looking for a new cellie soon.

I ran into Big rob in the yard this afternoon. I was mad that the nigga didn't step up and cop to the wine charge. Before I could even get a word out Rob explained that he was expecting a visit the weekend I was locked up. He promised me he would make it up to me later.

Right before chow Rob called down for me. When I went to his cell he handed me a small balloon. "I don't want to have to keep looking over my
 back for a small misunderstanding," he said.
"What's this," I asked.
"It's boy," he told me. "Enough to keep you fat in the commissary for the rest of the year." Now I understand why he couldn't miss that visit. So I called "cool" on everything. 

I showed Gold T what I was working with. He said that if i stepped on it properly I'd be looking at about two thousand dollars worth of heroine. Oh yeah! Your boy is about to bubble. The hustle don't stop.


Today they took a group of us out of our cells in the hole, also known as the shu (Secure Housing Unit) to the captain's office to officially charge us of our infractions. 

When I got down to the captain's office, officer Dully, the guard that actually found the pruno in my cell was seated in the room with him. Immediately I could tell something was wrong. The vibe just wasn't right. The Captain asked me if I knew what I was in the hole for. 

It was the way he said it... As if he wasn't sure why I was here. Fuck it, I know how to play the game. I told the Cap, "Naw, I don't know what's going on." Dully got defensive way too quickly. Something wasn't right and I knew it. Dully says, "Emanuel, did I or didn't I find a jug of wine in your cell?" 

Okay, by now I know somebody fucked up somewhere, some how. "A jug of wine in my cell? Naw...there must be some mistake," I reply. When I say this, Dully's face turns Beet red. This mother fucker is really mad because I won't cop to the jug of wine. I tell them I thought I was in the hole for the two slices of bread I smuggled back to my cell from the chow hall. Dully and the Cap share a look before they call for the guard to take me back to my cell. Two hours later the guard was telling me to roll up to go back to my unit


Three days ago I was sent to the "hole." Rob bought a batch of pruno and left it in the cell without telling me. I was grabbing a pack of smokes from my locker when a guard came in and told he was shaking my room down. Basically, what he meant was, "get the fuck out nigger." Cool, whatever... I went back next door to finish spanking Budd's ass in Risk (No Homo.) As soon as I rolled the dice I hear the guard calling my name. I walked back to my cell and the guard is holding a water jug. He wants to know who's water jug it is. If I tell him it's not mine I'm implying that it belongs to my cellie. Niggas might assume I've snitched Rob out. Not good. Now if it was mine I would go ahead and cop to it since it's in my cell. And I know Rob is going to do that as soon as he gets back from the yard, because he's a solid nigga just like me. So I do what mother fuckers on "Law & Order never do... I shut the fuck up and don't say anything. And here I sit charged with a pruno rap.

Before they came and took me to the hole a fight broke out in the unit between two Mexicans. The guard left me unattended and handcuffed. If that shit would have popped off to something more severe I would have had no way to defend myself. We'll see what happens with this pruno shit soon


I haven't written it a while, since they freed us from the lock down. The lock down lasted damn near a whole month. The person they charged with killing the guard is named Roy Green. Inmates know him by the name, Haneef. Word on the yard is that he only had a couple of of years left to serve. I'm not sure if I believe that. You'd have to be crazy to commit murder as a short timer.

I think I saw Eric today. I'm not really sure but it looked liked him. I stuck Eric for half a kilo a couple years back.
It's not my fault that the nigga hid his drugs at his mother's house? It was unfortunate that she was there, but my main man told her not to move. The police report said she was pistol whipped, but that wasn't true. She was "struck" with the pistol I admit, but just enough to scare her. I'm not a violent man by nature, but the bitch could have been reaching for a gun as far as my man knew. We hit Eric for a little over a half brick, about four thousand in tens and twenties and a Glock 9mm. [NOTE: Keep your family and your business separate] I heard the nigga had a small bounty on my head before he got locked up in 94. Oh well, shit happens.

It's Eric...
 He's going by the name Scientific now. I'm not sure how I'm going to handle this yet, but I have a feeling it's about to get ugly. I'm gonna holla at Gold T later and let him know what's up.


They have started letting us out of our cells to go to the chow hall today. One unit at a time, one tier at a time. They have added metal detectors to each unit now. 

The meal today was baked fish. I overheard a guard saying that we would be let off lock down in the next few days. I hope he's right. When Rob and I got back to the cell all of our property was out of place. I guess the guards decided one more cell search was needed. We've been locked down for 26 days and I'm starting to get cabin fever. I just want to scream.I asked Budd if he had any good books in his cell. He gave me, Dean Koonz's "Hideaway."


Mathematics has weed...

The guards let one inmate out three times a day to clean up the unit. You're probably thinking, why does the unit have to be cleaned up if we are on lock-down? After the guards deliver each meal most of the inmates just throw the trash out of their cell onto the tier floor. That's a lot of trash. The person they chose today to clean up was Squally. I like Squally. He's a few years younger than me and an active member of the Crips. The person that does the clean up, which consist of sweeping up all three tiers and bagging up all the trash also has the unofficial job of delivery boy. The delivery boy usually passes items from one cell to the next while the guard is not looking. The items are almost always cigarettes, coffee, smut mags or notes. When Squally stopped at my cell he asked me for some rolling paper for Mathematics. I handed over my last six sheets. Big Rob said, "You know that nigga Math got weed, right?" Apparently Mathematics has been dabbling in the weed trade. So I called out to Mathematics and asked him if he had "reading material" that would help me get my head right. He understood the code, but he couldn't get Squally back up to his cell to send it down. "Send up a line," is what he said. A line is nothing more than bed sheets ripped into strands and tied together to form a long ass, make shift rope. So me and Rob got together and started making a line to go fishing for the weed. The fucked up thing about the situation was that Mathematics lived on the third tier and I lived on the second. Add to the fact that his cell was still 30 to 40 feet to my left. So, up and over is what we had to do. I tied a bar of soap on the end of my line to give it some weight, stuck my arm out of the small 6x12 square in the door and let it fly. A nigga wasn't even close. After 15 minutes of fishing I was about to give up, but Rob said he wanted to give it a try. Fuck it, what do I have to lose? Rob gave it one good fling and I could hear have the tier errupt in cheers. Somebody yelled out, "Get the fuck outta here!"
I don't think Rob could have made that throw again if his freedom depended on it. The line sailed directly into Mathematics 6x12 square, (Budd said that it didn't even touch the cell door. That it flew directly in, like a swoosh shot.) Mathematics called Rob the Fishing King.

I am high as fuck!! I forgot I gave Mathematics the last of my rolling paper, but Rob said not to worry. He pulled out his bible, cut out a small section from Genesis and rolled the weed up in it. I even sold Budd a pin sized joint for $20. Shit, the hustle don't stop, nigga!


So intoxicating,
Addictive and contagious,
I have tested positive,
My newborn is responsible,
He has infected me.

© Michael C. Emanuel


Got out the cell for about ten minutes today... 

The goon squad started cell shakedowns early this morning. When Rob and I returned to our cell it had been turned upside down. It seems as if the guards decided to open our lockers and dump all of the contents out onto the floor. They also confiscated 15 books of stamps from Rob. Apparently we are only allowed a max of five books per person. I know Rob is pissed because he had just won a major sports bet. Oh well, shit happens.

I got mail today. My people sent me three hundred dollars. Perfect timing, because these Gilligan's Island type sneakers they give us are not working. Trust me, bobos and flat feet do not go together.

I'm depressed. I feel as if my life is over. I'm angry, because the world is going on without me. How am I going to do ten years without going crazy?

My niece sent me a drawing in the mail. I think I'll hang it up. Every time I look at it I have to smile. It makes me happy.


My cell door opened too early this morning...

Rob and I were up immediately. Rob walked to the cell door and said that only our cell was open. The guards called my name loudly, before they even made it to my cell. I'm thinking it's about the guard that got killed. Hell, they have cameras all over the prison. I'm sure those camera caught me witnessing the whole incident. Two guards came to my cell and told me to cuff up. I asked them, "What is this about?" but they just told me to cuff up. As I got dressed I got my story straight in my head... "I ain't see shit!" No matter what they say, "I ain't seen shit!"
As the guards cuffed me in the doorway I could see faces peeking out of every cell. The god, Supreme Mathematics was yelling out from the top tier. "Yo Hype, tell'em you want to take a witness with you." That made a lot of sense. The last thing I want is to be perceived as a snitch. So, I put on my Johnny The Homicidal Maniac face and told the guard, " If ya'll not taking me to the hole, I ain't leaving the unit without a witness." The guard was cool about it and told me to, "Pick somebody quick." I chose the god Mathematics. The guards opened Mathematics cell and told him to cuff up. 

We left Killer-K and made our way towards the wardens office. (I assumed this is where I would be questioned at.)  I slowed down as we approached the office, but the guards told me to, "keep it moving Emanuel." Mathematics said that if they take us to the chapel someone in my family has probably died. I don't know why the nigga would say something like that, but at that moment I became scared. My Grandmother is the bond that holds my family together. She's pretty old and this ten year bid ain't help her health none.
"Yep, going to see the chappy,nigga." That's just how Mathematics said it. My stomach is doing cartwheels at this time and I'm feeling a lil light headed. The guards walked us right up the stairs to the chaplain's office. The chaplain was seated at his desk and told us to take a seat. I didn't even have a chance to ask the Chaplain what was up when the phone rang. The chaplain put the phone on speaker and I heard a voice ask for Michael Emanuel. I was too nervous to answer. Mathematics gave me a lil nudge and I found my voice. As it turns out it was a hospital. The woman that I had been with prior to getting locked up had just given birth to a baby boy... I was a father.

As soon as we got back to the unit Mathematics told the whole unit, "Hype's a father, Yo!" Talk about putting a nigga on front street. He even sent me a cigar. I ain't talking 'bout one them Black & Mild joints either. I'm talking 'bout a real deal $4 cigar. 

I still can't believe I'm a father.


I woke up screaming tonight. I think I scared the shit outta Rob. I can't remember the dream exactly, but it was about officer Williams. He had come back from the dead and he was inside my cell. He was eating what was left of Rob's mutilated body. He then stop, pointed to me and said, "You're next Emanuel. You're next to die."  I can't get that image out of my mind.
Decided to start another book today. I've read twelve books already and I've only been here at Lompoc for 16 days. The only books left in my cell are 3 graphic novels called, "Johnny the Homicidal Maniac."

Okay, this is some sick shit! This is one of the most twisted and sick pieces of literature I have ever read. I love it! It's all about this crazy kid who tortures and kills people in some of the most sadistic ways imaginable. He's definitely delusional and paranoid, but I think there is a little bit of Johnny in all of us. 
Johnny the Homicidal Maniac Director's Cut HC


A shower never felt so good. Me and Rob were the only ones in the shower, because they are only letting one cell out at a time. There is a shower on each floor. Each shower consist of four stalls. I chose the first stall, Rob took the forth. Trust and believe a nigga wants that buffer zone.
In every prison movie they always show a mother fucker drop the soap. My clumsy ass didn't just drop the soap, I dropped the soap twice. Big Rob thought that was the funniest shit in the world.
On the way back to my cell Budd asked for more cigarettes. Budd is one smoking mother fucker. I sent him the cigarettes and less than ten minutes later he realized he was low on matches. 
Too bad for him, because I only had one book left. Rob told me you can split the matches down the middle and they would still work. It really does work. I sent Budd ten matches.

I think the water here is making me sick. It taste... really weird. Rob said "they" purposely don't change the water filters, so that you have to buy bottled water from the commissary.



We are getting showers today... 

The guards are starting on the first tier and making their way up to the third. At this rate they will probably get to me around 1pm. This lock down shit sucks! Big Rob is working out this morning. He's doing dips, push-ups and crunches. The cell is starting to smell funky. I wish there was a way to get frozen for ten years and then wake up on my release date. I can't see me doing ten straight. A whole decade! Damn!
Sometime I just imagine I am in the crazy house and I am the only sane nigga here.


Rob has got to be the dumbest nigga in the world. I've been giving him my cereal for breakfast because it's made with some type of pork by-product. He assumed I was a Muslim. I told him I am a Hebrew. After explaining the definition of a Hebrew, Rob simplified it to being "Jewish." (Obviously I am not from Judea.)  I asked him why he thought it so improbable. His answer was, "Because you black, nigga! Ain't no black Jews."  Usually I'd school a nigga, but ignorants never allows an open mind. I let it go.

------------------ Big Rob is 34 years old. 8 years older than me. He has been in for 11 years and has 13 more to go. I haven't asked him what he's in for and he hasn't asked me. My guess is drugs. 

Ten years is not looking so bad after all.

The Truth About Black Biblical Hebrew-Israelites (Jews: the Worlds Best Kept Secret)


I told Big Rob about the Nia Long, Anti-Christ, Wu-Tang dream. He said, "If Nia Long offered you some of that coochie, your young ass couldn't handle it." I wanted to say, "That's not what your momma said!" What I actually said was, "Whatever nigga!" 

How is a mother fucker gonna hate on the next man's dreams. We talking a mother fucking dream! Damn, that's all a nigga got up in this shit hole.

"The Stand" was a fucking amazing book. I'm giving it my highest ratings 4 out of 4 stars. I told big Rob that the book would make a good movie, but when I asked if he wanted to read he said it was too many pages.
Me and Rob got into a little argument this morning. He doesn't smoke, I do. He wants me to smoke standing by the door so that I can blow the smoke out on to the tier. Fuck that! That nigga ain't running nothing up in here. As far as I'm concerned this nigga is living in my cell, not the other way around. And I didn't like the tone he used asking. 

Bud has been calling my name for the last 15 minutes. I know that mother fucker ran out of cigarettes. I've got two packs of BUGLER tobacco left. I gave Bud one of the packs. He knows the deal, I get two back for every one he borrows. I'm into Bud's pocket pretty good at this point. I figure by the time this lock down is over I won't have to spend any of my own money at commissary. And that's just how I like it. Other peoples money.


Last night I met the Anti-Christ at a Wu-tang concert. My date was Nia Long... Yeah, the actress. We didn't even have to wait in line. She had back stage passes. (So did the Anti-Christ)
The concert was mad ill! At the after party I knocked out about four imported beers. (The ones in the green bottle) It was jive cool rubbing shoulders with all the stars that were there. Nia disappeared for about twenty minutes with one of the co-stars from her last movie. About this same time I was feeling REAL GOOD! A joint of some bomb ass weed would have been right on time. The Anti-Christ was kicking it with two fly ass dime pieces. He motioned for me to come over.
Now I ain't one to ride the next man's dick, but that mother fucker was rocking the hell out of his outfit. He had on some purple suede Wallies, with a pair of off white silk pants... The shirt was the exact same color and material as the pants and the diamond cuff-links must have been at
least 6kt. He introduced me to the two women, Kristine and Carmela. I gave a sly smile and said, "What up, I'm Michael." Something must have been funny, because they both started laughing. I was just about to bounce, but the Anti-Christ sparked up a fat ass spliff of that bubonic. He passed it to me after taking three hits. I hit it like a true champ. THE WEED WAS BANGING! I was straight after four tokes. We split a bottle of 1969 Moët & Chandon Champagne Cuvée Dom Pérignon Rosé and kicked the willy bo-bo's. (The spirits needed some time in the crystal flute to settle down and start showing it's character.) Your boy was feeling nice. Shit, Halle Berry was even flirting with me. (No bullshit!)
Nia came back and was ready to jet. I told the Anti-Christ I was about to be Swayze and we exchanged pager numbers. He said his code was triple 6. I had to laugh at that because mine is triple 7. He said we'd hook up again. We gave each other some dap and me and Nia jumped in the limo.


This book, 'The Stand' Is crazy! I'm loving it. It's about this killer virus that kills off most of the earths population. The remaining people have to fight to survive in this new world. Most of the people are having visions of an old black women or some crazy ass cracker. The black women seems to be an agent of good and the cracker seems to be pure evil. I know this would make a good movie.
The guards brought us chow today. For breakfast we had an apple, a carton of milk, a box of cereal and two hard boiled eggs. I asked Big Rob if he wanted to trade my box of Kellogg's Frosted Mini-Wheats  for one of his eggs. ( I can't believe Kellogg's still uses pork by-products in their food.) He jumped on it. 
I should be finishing up this book in a couple of hours. I really don't want it to end


I didn't get back to my cell until way after 10:pm...

Big Rob wanted to know what had cracked off. I told him everything I had witnessed. 

The goon squad escorted all the inmates back to their units, but they made us go through the emergency fire doors. I guess they didn't want us to see all the blood in the hall. I told Rob how I saw a female guard run away from the melee. He just laughed and said I should have tripped her ass so she could have got it too. I asked Rob how long he thinks this lock down will last. He estimated about a week or two.

An inmate on the top tier yelled out that he heard on the radio, that the guard had died. The whole unit erupted into cheers. I hope I never become that cold. Rob told me to, "Get used to it. Shit happens, you deal with it and keep pushing. That's the breaks, nigga." I'm going to get back to my book. It's starting to get good now.


"What up nigga?"

That's how I greeted Gold T. The smile he gave me was huge. My boy was glad to see me, even under these circumstances. We gave each other one of those "Player-Player" hugs and started talking right there in the hall. Now, even though Gold T and I were facing each other I could tell by his expression that something had jumped off behind me. I turned, looked and froze...Blood. Blood everywhere! Guards were screaming, a female guard ran, slipped and began to crawl away. My feet won't move. My mind is screaming, "Run nigga, run for your life!" My body refuses to acknowledge my brain's request. Both shanks in the inmates hands have been baptized in blood. He's coming towards me. (Is he coming for ME?) I see him tackled by a guard. Now it's a pile on game, as several more male guards jump on top of the inmate. I hear what sounds like more smaller skirmishes popping off in the chow hall, but it's the wounded guard that has me fucked up. It's officer Williams. The wound to his neck is mortal. I know it and I believe he knows it. The blood is bright red. I feel sick. 

In my heart I know he won't make it. Still, I remain frozen to the spot. Gold T was yelling for me to, "Come on nigga!" He literally had to grab me to get me moving. Guards were running from all over the prison by then.
The hallway officer Scott Williams was stabbed at.
They forced Gold T, me and everyone else that was in the hall at the time into a small corridor that leads to the gym. I watched as they carried the dying officer out of the building. For a moment.... well, more like a nano second, the guard's eyes and mine locked. How the fuck can so much blood come out of a human body? He was dead already, his mind just hadn't accepted it yet.