There was a time where I was a less-than-innocentBystander.
And the judge didn't buy my username for even a moment.
So, that is how I wound up occupying a cell for 18months and 6days.
Context. In Canada, prisons are split between provincial (under 2 year sentences) and federal (over 2 years). My sentence was "Two years less a day". Not a long sentence in the big picture. But it meant I had a longer time than any of the others I met. That gained me some credit.
Because of my association with people who had repeatedly and successfully escaped custody, I was deemed a flight risk, and sent to the highest security provincial prison. There is no "Max" security in provincial prisons, so officially it was a secure medium security. With some extra medium.
This happened a long time ago, so my experience is dated. Cigarettes were still the currency when I was there.
Pre-emptive answers:
"Dude, what'd you do?"
-Maybe I'll get into that another time. It wasn't drugs or drug related. It was professional but not gang/mafia/biker/whatever. A small organised group. That's not the topic of this post though, so can we get back to talking about Rampart?
"Did prison reform you?"
-No. I changed my life for the better despite my time there, not because of it. I think giving me a time-out from society, and some punishment, was a good idea. But locking me in close quarters with unrepentant criminals, who could be excellent connections, and sources of information, while removing me from contact with all positive influences, had the opposite effect. I don't have any solutions for that, but the current method of rehabilitation fails badly.
"What's the worst thing that happened to you?"
-I got in a fight. The fight wasn't a problem, but the aftermath sucked. The guards saw something was going down, and got there quick. When they stepped into the washroom they saw me standing with my back to the corner, fists raised, and a crowd of others forming a part circle around me. They knew I had been involved in violence due to what they saw, and a fresh cut on my knuckle. But they didn't know who, or how many, I had been fighting with.
They tossed me in seg, and said they wouldn't let me out until I told them who was involved. "For my own safety", they claimed. I knew they couldn't keep me there indefinitely, so I waited. And waited. And sure enough, a month later, they let me out. That night, there was another fight in the washroom. I had nothing to do with it, but the guards got there too late to see who it was. So they assumed it was me again and put me back in seg. A month later they let me out again. It felt good to be around people again, even if they were mostly assholes. The next morning, after breakfast the guards came for me again. No explanation, back to seg. I'd kept my cool through all the previous bullshit. But that was when I broke. I earned the next two months I was about to get and the "good time" I was about to lose. Turned out, them coming for me again was a clerical error that would have been quickly resolved. If I hadn't lost my cool. I don't know how long they had planned to keep me there that time. But there was a riot in one of the ranges, and they needed to free up seg cells.
I'm not proud of all the things I have done in my life. But I am not in denial about it either.
Thank you, so you worked in the kitchen? What other jobs did they have?