Bamboozled (7 page)

It is, at moments like these, a time to question how much rehabilitation is expected to occur in this institution, how responsibly public money is being spent, and to what end. When prisoners kill each other, it is merely held up as an opportunity to ask for more funding. Who is that helping?

Joey was scheduled for a parole board hearing in 1982 and he expected to go home,
wherever that might be. Joey started working out hard and got down to 165 pounds. His knee was feeling better from the weights and his daily runs alongside the “onion field murderer” from Bakersfield. Once a week, Joey invited someone to his cell or the shower to box.

The next few weeks were the craziest. Joey was met in the big yard by a couple of La Emes who escorted him to their shot caller—“some fool from the Venice gang” that Joey had met when he lived with JoJo. The shot caller was cool and respectful to Joey but supposedly wanted 18
^th
St. to pay La Eme. If they didn't pay, a green light would be issued, meaning that any La Eme could kill an 18
^th
St. member without ramifications. Joey explained that he was neither Mexican nor about to pay anyone.

In the eyes of any gang from La Cosa Nostra Joey was neither white nor Mexican, but Joey's lack of racial identity was of little concern to any gang's bottom line.

A few days before his parole board hearing, Joey says he started to carry a knife, the tip pricking his knee every time he took a step. He says it made him alert and never complacent. The night before the hearing, Joey stayed up all night with his legal folder, letters of support, and new marriage certificate to Maria. Joey had no family left—Luigi was in prison, the Gambinos, Genoveses, and Bonannos were dying or snitching each other out. His relationships mostly existed in the postal system.

Knowing the parole board could release him on the spot, Joey was eager to stand out. The morning as his name was
called on the loud speaker to report, many lifers wished him good luck.

When Joey entered the parole board room there were three board members. He remembers them as: an older Latino man who smiled at him, an older white man who “looked like he wanted to be fishing,” and a woman with a sour look who waved him to sit down and state his name. Joey claims the men saw his fight at the Sacramento Auditorium. Then the woman went ballistic, “I have read your file and, I too, am from Compton and know all about 18
^th
St. thugs. Just because you are an athlete, do not think you will get treated any different on your incorrigible butt.”

Joey says he laughed nervously, realizing he was not likely to be paroled, and was asked if he thought she was funny. “No, but there is no need to talk to me with such vile.” He claims the white man wrote down “Dolphins −3, Rams +7, Bears −10.”

The female paroler continued, “The new law that has taken affect this year is applicable to you, and under 1170.D and C, an inmate who is found to be incorrigible will be found unsuitable for the Youth Authority and returned to court for sentencing. You, Mr. T-O-R-R-EEEE are incorrigible!”

The Latino man informed Joey that he could appeal the decision and asked if he had anything to say. Joey responded that he understood he had a plea bargain and was told that the longest he would be in prison was when he turned 25. They asked for his Youth Authority ID card as a parting gift, as Joey was being transported back to LA County Jail for re-sentencing.

Joey woke up on the morning of his court date for his modification of sentence. He thought the worst that could happen was 3 more years in prison. Ten people arrived at the Norwalk Superior Court House early on Nov 6, 1982. Joey was appointed another public attorney named James Boedecker, who came to visit him in the holding tank. Boedecker informed Joey that he was in front of a different judge this time. Judge Stevens was not a fan of Joey Torrey and was not going to allow him to withdraw his plea or re-sentence him to three years. The judge was going to allow a plea of second degree murder for 7-10 years with credit for time served.

Joey told Boedecker, “Hell no, buddy. I have a plea agreement and now they want to re-sentence me and I will not
plea again!” Joey says Mr. Boedecker assured him he would fight for time served in the appeals court until the end and that was the last time they saw each other before the sentencing.

Joey sat in the holding cell for hours until he was summoned into Judge Steven's court, where the following was recorded by the court:

“Mr. Torrey, I am not going to allow you to withdraw your plea agreement and burden the tax payers of this state with a long drawn out trial. You plead guilty to 187, murder, and in about five minutes, that's what you will be sentenced to. Numerous fights in YA and trying to purchase a gun while in custody. Bad places are for bad people, Mr Torrey, and you're, without a doubt, bad people. Incorrigible is right. Your sentence is just the beginning as the Brigg's initiative just passed on November of 1982, which protects minors, not adults or gangsters like you. You should not have been sentenced to the YA, and I am going to correct that wrong. You could not handle a 3-5 year deal and now you are back.”

The judge banged the gavel and asked Joey to stand back as he continued, “I hereby sentence you to 25 years to life in the California Department of Corrections. I will give you credit for 822 days that you served in the Youth Authority.”

Judge: Do you have further arraignment for judgment?

Boedecker: Yes

Judge: All right. Is there any legal cause why sentence should not be pronounced?

Boedecker: The legal cause has already been stated, as much as the court will allow him to state it.

Judge: All right. Stand up, Mr Torrey. (Defendant complies) For the offense of murder in the first degree, to which the defendant entered a plea of guilty as of January 9, 1980 the defendant is sentenced to the state prison for the term of 25 years to life, with the provision that the defendant is entitled to credit as follows: For a total of 822 days time served in state institutions, including the California Youth Authority, plus 224 days under the provisions of Section 2900.5 of the Penal Code, and an additional 112 days, under the provisions of Section 4019 of the Penal Code. He is remanded to the
Sheriff of Los Angeles County for delivery to the Department of Corrections.

Do you understand that punishment—that penalty?

Torrey: Yes, sir.

Joey says he had to immediately sit down. His knees were buckling. He was escorted out of the court room and met with Mr. Boedecker, who assured him that Judge Stevens sentencing him a second time for the same crime was “double jeopardy.” Joey was escorted out, put in shackles, and driven to the Southern Reception Center for the California Department of Corrections in Chino, CA.

That evening, in his cell, Joey heard the paper sliding into his cell that read, “Modification of Sentence: 25 Years to Life.” At the bottom it noted his parole eligibility, “June 13, 2002.” He says his soul began to rain and thunder as the radio blasted and the screams began. Joey says he did not eat breakfast the following morning. The boxing and cocaine has taken their toll on Joey's brain on top of the fog of events from the day before. An old timer sweeping the floor in front of Joey's cell asked if Joey remembered him from the Main St. gym. Joey did not. That night, the green light was put on the 18
^th
St. gang.

Joey was told to request protective custody from the guards before people
returned from lunch, or they were going to be ordered to move on him. Joey had no intention of requesting anything when “this fool from Clanton” stopped at his cell and said, “Lock up! Or when the bars rack, you're dead!” Instead, the lock-up bell rang because someone got stabbed, and they were locked down for the night. Joey loosened up.

Joey skipped breakfast again in the morning, and found himself staring at a long haired biker named Gypsy in front of his cell. Gypsy claimed he was from the Hell's Angels and a friend of Luigi. Joey questioned him until he mentioned 1978, Lancaster, and him beating the ass of one of his bros. Gypsy smiled and extended his hand, explaining that the club is doing business with Luigi and the family, and that he would have Joey's back in the day room. Gypsy told Joey the light was called off as a parting gesture, as someone sent him a message saying “Danny has a knife.” Joey felt he had to go to the day room or lose face.

As Joey walked into the day room, he says someone informed him the light was off but that he wasn't going to do anything if it was on. “Bullshit, you fools would have killed me!” Joey says he yelled. He turned on the TV to watch Arguello fight Ganigan as an older man changed the channel. Joey attacked him and a knife clunked to the floor. A biker announced “Let them be.” Joey beat him until his hands hurt and kicked the body until his white tennis shoes were covered in blood. Gypsy whispered, “enough,” as Joey began pissing on him. An hour later Joey was back in his cell when the guards arrived to put him in solitary confiment.

Even inside prison, Joey was able to continue using cocaine and was transferred to the mental health unit at Vacaville in 1982. After all of the damage to his brain from cocaine and boxing, he was flagged as mentally unstable.

It was a particularly low point, even for Joey. He worked as a clerk in the Captain's office with receiving and release. Joey settled in—looking forward to his appeal. Technology in medicine was improving and his knee would not need to be replaced.

Charlie Manson was living in the cell block next to Joey's. Charlie would go visiting on the weekend with different women and bring back “screaming weed.” Joey says Charlie would play guitar as they sat around and smoked, while Joey drew sports scenes and athletes. Joey figured that Charlie pretended to be crazy. When someone wanted to interview him, he'd look at the guards and declare “showtime!” and make different faces, asking which was the craziest. He would occasionally go from cell to cell, purchasing a TV for anyone who didn't have one.

On October 15 Joey was leaving work at the Captain's office when old time sergeant Richard Barajas pulled him aside and asked him to watch Adela Maria Esparza, a rookie guard being trained, who was assigned to Joey's cell block. He instructed that if she needs help, Joey should look out for her. After a fight in the gym, Joey was headed to take a shower when he heard her screaming. Joey returned to the office to find a crowd of 15-20 inmates yelling, laughing, punching her in the face, and tearing her clothes.

Joey pushed his way through and began beating on one ringleader who had been punching her in the face. Then he picked up a phone and later an old cast iron mop ringer to “baptize” the man beating her. After the man was passed out, Joey scared away the crowd, locked the room, and hit the emergency button. When security arrived, Joey claims that they began beating him after seeing the passed out Esparza. When Officer Esparza finally woke up she told them what had actually happened.

Joey had violated an unwritten rule of the prison. You don't ever side with your captors. Joey was marked—Boxer
from 18
^th
with mob ties who never helps his captors, had done exactly that.

Corrections typically keep a list of inmates and their enemies, in order to separate them, but Joey ran into Morgan, who had led the assault on Officer Esparza, the following evening. A shadowy figure attacked Joey from behind. He woke up days later in the Hospital with a plate in his head.

Joey was sent to Vacaville Medical Center and a report was filed by the officer who sent him to protect Ms. Esparza. Joey, wanting to prevent future attacks and to spite the guards, filed a lawsuit over negligence and the scars on his face. The prison system arranged his transfer to California Men's Colony.

He now lived across the hall from Larry Singleton—who had kidnapped a little girl in Riverside, raped and cut off her arms, and left her by a ditch, but was somehow currently being paroled. Joey had read that the girl's family was awarded a million dollars, and when Joey informed Singleton of this, he supposedly replied, “Yeah, but she can't count it.”

On Fridays, in his new environment, the Army boxing team would visit the prison gym to box with him. At 23, Joey felt he should have been peaking as a fighter, but his career was shot.

I began working at California Medical Facility in Vacaville, CA as a correctional officer on October 8, 1982. My duties included the supervision of inmates classified as psychotics in remission. Before working at CMF, I worked at the California Institute for Men, in Chino, for eighteen months, also as a correctional officer.

I make this statement on behalf of Joey Torres, who saved my life at CMF.