December 02, 2005

I cannot believe it's already December. Was it me or did November just fly by? I didn't give an entry yesterday, because I was too busy and a bit depressed. It comes and goes, but when I feel down I feel really down.

A little drama on the section, I was living on, happened. The warden and all of the ranking officers showed up, because one of the inmates was refusing to come out of his cell to go to the psychiatric ward. Earlier he was throwing poop at officers and flooding his toilet out onto the walk ways, so a shrink came to evaluate him and decided he needed to go to the psych ward. Well, when it was time for him to leave, he refused, causing an issue. I honestly thought they would have to get the riot team, but he came out with no struggle. Heavens knows what will happen to him next, because I've heard the rumors of that place, and their methods of helping someone are very archaic. Basically they dope you up into submission, and if you refuse the drugs, they force you take them. Then after you're nice and zombied out, they ship you back to where you came from. So much for modern medicine…

Then, at about 4:30 p.m., I was told to pack my own things and that I'd be moving. A lot of the guys were joking with me saying, "Hey Randy! They're sending you to the nut house, too!" I was like, "Oh, hell, no. They got me messed up." I wasn't moved until about 9 p.m. later that night though.

Today has been pretty peaceful. I don't mind where I'm at right now. Every one gets along. That's always a plus.

Is it me or is this weather starting to freak you out? Okay, so it doesn't really get cold-cold-, but it's December and almost 85°. This is insane. Tomorrow is supposed to be about the same. It's funny, because on the weather reports they don't talk about the cold temps, they might say a "Cold Front" is coming, but they always emphasize the front part. Nuts! And the good ol' Bush Administration says, global warming is a myth. Ha. Ha. Hey, we're not all retarded in Texas.

Right now I'm listening to "Shout Out Show". I had just come in from recreation, afraid I'd miss Mary's message, but right when I turned on the radio they were saying my name. It blew my mind. That was a very close call.

I'm a bad typist, but I swear this machine has a mind of it's own at times. :-)

Hmmm. what else… My buddy Jeff is in the next section over. That's a good guy, and he has an innocence claim, and I've read articles on him in the newspaper, that say much of the same, so I believe him. He's a Christian, but one who doesn't take religion too seriously. And he's funny as hell. This guy can tell the craziest storied. If I could tell stories half as funny as his… I always enjoy when I can talk to him. He's an ex marine and tells me stories about his own mis-adventures. He always gets me to tell him the story of this girl I went to school with, named Casey. She was in a couple of my classes, and we'd try to fart each other out. She sat right behind me, and so I'd give her a warning when I did it, like "Hey, Casey, SBD heading your way…" (SBD means: silent but deadly), and she'd cover her face. Or she'd do the same with me. So when I see Jeff, he's like, "Tell me the SBD story again." Or the story about the time I ran my eight grade class out of the room and got everyone licks all, because I farted. He loves that one, too. Ahh… the good ol' days!

Well, I'm going to do some reading now. Good night.

December 03, 2005

Saturdays are boring. Saturdays suck. I loathe Saturdays.

December 04, 2005

Sunday… A cold front is supposed to be coming, but I can't tell. It's still warm and humid. Today I listened to a really good "This American Life" on the public radio station. That's a really good program. It got me all riled up about Wal-Mart which has become my arch nemesis. If only people knew, but more importantly cared about that company and about their practices. How they have single handedly destroyed small businesses, or how they basically run sweat shops to manufacture their goods. All in the name of a good price. Why did I waste my youth? I could be out protesting! I would totally be an activist, if I was free!

I had a good work out today. (Damn, it's really noisy right now. I can hardly concentrate, because dudes are listening to football…)

You know what? I can't concentrate and so I'll just end it here for the day. I'm getting frustrated. Argh! This will be going out in the mail tonight, though. I'll be doing weekly updates now instead of every two weeks.

Well, it's quieted down a bit. Also, the cool front did come ! Woo-Hoo! It's dropped about ten degrees in the past hour and feels like it's steadily going down. Thank God for small things.

I'm sitting here kind of upset, actually. I'm listening to KDOL and hearing all of these parents calling their sons and telling them they love them. I love my parents to death and always will, but it hurts me to the core that I have no relationship with them. Nothing. Nothing for the past ten years. The last time I talked to my father was Thanksgiving weekend of 1996. I kept calling and calling and finally my dad picks up the phone to tell me the only reason he accepted the call was to tell me, they would no longer talk to me.

So I listen to these parents call in and hearing the unconditional love for their children. That no matter what they did or do they would stay by their side. I'm envious of that. I'm jealous. I wish I had that… It hurts so much that tight now as I type this, my body is shaking in grief. I'm fighting the tears. Why? Why can't I have that?

I don't want anything from my parents other than to be able to write or talk to them. To tell them that I still love them. that I don't hate them and forgive them – if only they could forgive me. I don't want help on my appeals. I don't want money, I don't want anything from them other than their love and support. To know that I'm still their son… and yet. I will probably never get that from them. I don't think you can realize how that makes me feel inside. I was never that bad of a son. I never physically or verbally threaten them. I wasn't some horrible son – and even if I was, does a parent abandon them? Maybe I'll write them an open letter to them, too. Maybe, just maybe they secretly read this site and will know that I do love them and I'm sorry for letting them down. Sigh… I just don't know.

December 05, 2005

It's 7:30 p.m. and I'm sitting here listening to some show called "Wife Swap". It's hilarious. I guess the premise is, two families swap out mothers for a week or whatever and they get to make changes to the new home they go to. I have to say, I think I might be hooked.

My day is winding down now. I looked out my window and there is a sliver of the moon. It's really pretty. I wish I could see the stars. I love the stars and the heavens. I used to know all of the major constellations and could point them out. As a kid I was obsessed with outer space. I wanted to be an astronaut. I had all of the space posters and mission patches. Sigh… I can't see the stars anymore because of light pollution. The prison compound is bathed in artificial light at night.

Today was our commissary day and I was finally able to get some correction ribbon – see, no, you can't cause, I just corrected it. Ha. Ha.

When we go to commissary we have to fill out some forms, and then the next day they bring these carts with bags of the stuff we've ordered. I never really get a lot. I have a few items that I get every single time like Ice Cream. Today they brought me some new flavor called "Chocolate Covered Cherries". Pure bliss. I loved it. And then I always have to get dial soap and other hygiene items because I'm a neat freak. Also, usually my writing supplies. Those are my necessities. Though, today I treated myself to these 25c  holiday pies. I got a couple of them. Ate one and it was very yummy.

I went outside this morning to play some basketball. I hate wearing jackets for some reason. I have ever since I was a kid and so I thought well, it's not that cold, and I'll be running around, so I don't need to take my jacket. I go outside in shorts and a t-shirt and end up freezing my butt off. I was frozen stiff. I didn't know it was only 38°! I figured it'd be 50° at the least. I still won, though. Oh yeah.

I was talking to my neighbor (the guy in the cell next to me), and we were sharing our experiences of the first day we arrived on Death Row and I thought to myself, why not share that in my journal. So here is what happened…

I was sentenced to death on June 12^th, 2003. It was a Thursday, I believe. The day before, the state rested their case and the Jury went into deliberation around lunch time. I was put into a small holding cell that was very cold. All I could do was pace back and forth. A sheriff's deputy brought me a lunch tray and it was loaded with food. Really good stuff, but I was too nervous to eat. The minutes passed and I honestly thought that the jury wouldn't waste any time to send me to Death Row, but the minutes turned into hours. I would pick at the food and then pace. Pick at the food and pace. As each hour passed, it seemed to colder in the holding cell. Around 6 p.m. on the 11th the jailers started shutting off the lights to other parts of the jail.

I heard a loud popping sound and a door was opened and then the door to the holding cell, I was in, popped open and my attorney was allowed in to talk to me. He put his hand on my shoulder and told me that the jury couldn't decide and that the judge was going to sequester them until the morning. He went on to explain that while he didn't know what they – the jury – was thinking the longer it took to decide the more the cards were in my favor.

My attorneys and I were escorted back to the court room and I stood as the jury entered the room. The judge gave a speech about them being sent to a motel etc. The jury left, I went back to the main jail to the cell I had been staying in.

I didn't sleep much that night, but maybe I had a small bit of hope for the day that was coming.

Then next day I cleaned up, put on another suit and was lead to the same holding cell. I paced and paced for several hours until it was about 11:00 a.m. My attorney told me the jury had come to a decision. The court room was packed. All police officers on one side with mixture of the press and spectators on the other. My lawyer tapped my shoulder and told me that Cheif Bill Wayburn was sitting amongst the officers. Cheif Wayburn was a close friend of my family and had taught me karate as a kid. I had a lot of respect for him growing up, but now it was plain to see that he was against me. I turned and looked at him for a brief second, sadness in my eyes. Our eyes met and quickly turned away.

The jury entered the room and the judge told everyone to rise. "Have you reached a decision?" the judge asked. "Yes, sir", the jury foreman replied and then went on to read that I was to be sentenced to death by lethal injection.

I can't describe what I felt at that moment as the words poured out of the man's mouth. I was shocked, stunned, yet oddly relieved that it was all over. I could hear my soon to be wife crying behind me, it broke my heart and so I began to cry. I don't think for myself. No, It wasn't for myself; more so at the pain I'd caused so many people in my life. It finally came rushing out of me. Eight years of everything pouring from me like a gaping wound.

After that the police officer's mother was allowed to give a victims impact statement. I listened as she cut me down word after word telling me how she would be there to watch me executed, that I should be shot, that I should have my legs broken, my arms. I took this all in the best I could understanding that it was her pain pouring from her. I wish I could have said more than "I'm sorry." But that's all I could get out.

Everything after that happened so fast.

I was rushed out of the court room. Papers were forced in my face to sign. My clothes were taken away from me and I was put in a bright orange jump suit. I was chained up, shackled up, and armed deputies rushed me to a parking garage were a police car waited. The media was there shoving cameras and microphones in my face.

As we drove out of the garage, other police cars blocked traffic and even fire trucks, so that the police car I was in would not be affected by other traffic and media vehicles. And so we drove to were I would processed back into the correction system. I was completely numb the entire drive.

From Dallas to Huntsville Texas it's about a three hours drive. The police car I was in was driving so fast we made it in an hour and a half.

At Huntsville my clothes were once again taken from me. I was stripped, searched, and my hair was shaven off. I was finger printed and had mug shots taken, then I was given a new identification number. One of the guards escorting me asked "Are you going to kill yourself?" I thought this was a stupid question, so I replied, "No. I'll just let you guys do it for me." He looked hurt by the comment and said, "Ah man, you didn't have to take it there…"

After all of that was done and I was processed, I was shackled up again and thrown into the back of a van. As I was waiting to leave, the back door opened and a red faced, pot bellied corrections sergeant asked me, "Where you goin', inmate?" I didn't answer him at first knowing, damn, well he knew where I was going. He asked me again, this time a little more forcefully, "I said, where you going INMATE!" I looked at him and said, "The Polunsky Unit". We stared at each other directly in the eyes, hate in his, pity in mine. And then he chortled, "Good fuckin' place for your ass", and slammed the door to the van.

I got to Polunsky about 45 minutes later and entered the bowels of Death Row.

And that's what happened the day I was sentenced to die.

I'm still waiting for mail to come. I hope to have a letter from my wife. I need something to take my mind off of that crap now. I suppose I will end today's entry here. Good night and watch the stars for me. Don't ever take that for granted.

December 10, 2005

No, you didn't skip any pages or dates. I just haven't added anything new to my journal because it's just been plain boring. The weather has been nice and cold – which I love, but they've got the heat turned up full blast and it's drying me out! It's not that cold. Sheesh.

Right now as I write this I'm listening to "It's a Wonderful Life" the Christmas movie. It's a classic, and while I'm Jewish and don't personally celebrate Christmas, I love the season and the movies, the music and the general cheery feeling. The decorations (I miss looking at the beautiful lights and decorative lawns.) I love the holidays and don't feel anyone has to be exclusive. Besides, it's transcended the religious reasons behind it now and could be – maybe should be – celebrated as a season for good will towards humanity in general. Of course, I could be on a sugar high from eating too many cookies and holiday pies. Smiles.

Tonight I will listen to "Saturday Night Live" to get my chuckles. Sometimes I wish I could be a writer for some comedy show like SNL. I've got some good sketches in my head and I find funny things in life period. I see the world in a weird way. I remember I had my wife rolling when we were at visitation and one of the snack machines was completely empty, I said, "Sheesh, that thing is so empty you can see tumbleweeds rolling by." She couldn't stop laughing. And I have a (bad) habit of seeing people as cartoon characters. Maybe it's all of the acid I used to do. Or I could just be certifiable loony. Haven't quite figured that one out yet.

But getting back to listening to "It's a Wonderful Life"… I almost auditioned for the theatrical version at my school. I was really gung ho about it, but as always I chickened out at the end. I remembered walking to the chapel to try out and I got to the side walk and then… said, awww screw it. And walked away. My friend Jason asked me why and I said, I could do it. I quit. I was a quitter. (Which reminds me of the graphic novel I read – me and Harvey Pekar have a lot in common…)

I'm amazed at how much I've let fear control me. It's controlled me and my decisions – the bad ones – just about every time. That's the root. Fear sucks and fear had such a hold on me. It still does in certain ways, but I've gotten good at beating it down. You know what, I think I am crazy.

Anyways, peace to all and have a good night!

December 11, 2005

Ugh. Well, today started off pretty good. I was in a real good mood and every­thing was falling into place. I went to recreation and it was quiet and I had a good exercise and I was peaceful. Then at about 4 p.m. or so it all fell to crap.

See, earlier in the week I wrote my wife asking a particular albeit a stupid question, and well, I didn't think it would carry the response it did, but I got an email on KDOL that was pretty nasty and well, maybe I deserved it, but I feel pretty bad, and I wish that hadn't been sent, so that the whole world could hear it. Let's just say it got so bad that the people at the station stopped reading it in the middle and said the rest was too personal. Leave it up to good ol' Randy to screw something up again. I wonder what the rest of the email said? Now I'm really worried because it takes days on the mail and I don't know if she'll be here on Tuesday to see me or not.

I thought I was going to be able to mail this off tonight, but my stamp sit­uation is pretty bad for now. It'll probably have to wait another week.

In other news I did finally hear an email from my brother. That was really cool. It took me by surprise and I was terribly worried about him up to that point. Hopefully he'll be able to come and see me soon.

Oh, crap… You know what I just realized? Today is my five year anniversary of escaping. How wonderful. How do you forget something like that? I just looked up at my calendar (my "Get Fuzzy" Calendar my wife got me last year ;) ) and was like, "Is it… nah… Oh man, it is!" I think I'll go to bed pretty depressed tonight.

So much for a nice Sunday.

December 12, 2005

Looks like I will be able to get this out today after all. Smiles. My neigh­bor in the cell next to me was kind enough to loan me an 80c stamp so that was great.

Haven't done too much today. Wrote a letter to my wife and I'm about to type some on my novel. Maybe do a little memoir writing, too. One of those relaxed Mondays.

Today's temperature is about 70°, very cool and nice. I love these types of day. I wouldn't complain about it, if it was this temp every day! Love it.

There's a mini protest going on around here. It's non violent protest amongst some of the inmates back here. They're protesting the out of control censor ship from the mail room and the delay of our mail. Also some of the conditions here are growing worse. I haven't seen anything so bad to really rally me to their cause, but who knows… If it progresses I could… Of course it would require sacrificing my visits, because they would put me on discipline… Hmm.

You know, I had been talking to this guy they call "Big Foot". And we were talking about ways to pacify inmates in here and even in general population and really the answer was so simple. Allow inmates to purchase little T.V.'s. Now, before people start saying, "Oh no, you guys need to be punished not rewarded…", let me put it like this. Me, personally, T.V. would be a nice thing, but not very important. I'd take a CD player and a stack of CD's over a T.V. any day. I wouldn't even have to think about it. But if Texas' corrections was serious about trying to ease gang violence and fights and other problems, that plague this system, you would think they'd come up with the easiest solution possible.

Here on Death Row no one really acts out, believe it or not. But the guards have to deal with all of the hassle of taking us to recreation one at a time, hand cuffing us, having two guards escort you etc… There are 84 inmates to a pod, and at least 65% go to recreation. The guards are understaffed and are overworked. If you truly wanted to ease that problem you could allow televisions, and I guarantee you wouldn't have but about 10-15% of those 84 inmates go to rec. This would allow some breathing room for the guards. It would ease tensions amongst the inmates and guards, plus it could be used as a tool so that if an inmate acted up, cussed a guard or whatever, he would lose his T.V. for a period of time.

Now the situation in general population would be even better, because 90% of fights and gang problems happen in the dayroom/T.V. room. If T.V.'s were in the cell, no one would come out. Violence drops drastically.

It's a pipe dream of course. Texas could care less, I'm positive of that. But it would work.

That's just my opinion.

I've got a new project: I'm going to start collecting notes and letters from guys here who send their regards as I pass through on a move. I'd like to make a book out of them so that people can get a up close and personal look into the characters of Death Row inmates. I've got about 20 notes so far. Some are interesting, some mundane, but all crucial to what would become the book. I guess we'll see what happens.

I'm going to get to writing my novel. My character Chuck has just ran into a school teacher on the run. The man was framed for murder, and Chuck befriends him. The teacher will give Chuck some very important lessons, and Chuck will even end up helping to save his life. Probably the best part of my book. I'm excited about it…
Here's an excerpt:

"That's not how you steal eggs boy." The stranger said. Startled, Chuck drops an egg, the shell busting on the ground, a yellow orange yolk oozing into the dirt.
"Who…!" Chuck blurts and a hand quickly clasps over his mouth.
"Shhh! Keep it down dammit. You wanna get shot?"
Chuck looks around the hen pen, eyes darting wildly. You could practically see his heart beating through his shirt. "Now look. I ain't gonna do you no harm. I can promise you that." That stranger says. "But if you want to steal eggs you gotta do it where you ain't gonna get caught. I was sleeping over there with them pigs and it sounded like a stampeed of elephants."
"Who are you?" Chuck asks now in the quietest of whispers. "We'll worry about that later. Lets get some breakfast…"

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