ROLL CALL ~ A Prison List (True Prison Story) (9 page)

I laughed at how deep screwball’s investigation went. He continued.

“I was sick of his playing stupid, biding for time style. I told him you’re out there sweeping up the walkway in front of the program office and all you have to do is pass that kite to someone in four block whose coming or going from medical. It’s not a puzzle holmes. If you can’t handle the job well enough to pull our line together on this yard in a time of crisis then give the lieutenant my name for your job. Whitey just looked at me like a dumb ass so I spelled it out for him. I told him, If Italy passed the word to you that Fresno is starting an on-site war with us and you don’t do anything with that information our whole race is in jeopardy and in the blind. Don’t you think it looks like that’s what’s happening with that older white man that just got rushed in two block?”

Screwball went on to tell me that he was testing whitey to see if he tried to read that kite he was sending to his homeboy in four block. It had been wrapped a peculiar way in cellophane and then had a string wrapped around it a certain amount of times. If broken into improperly the recipient would know. Even if whitey dared to break into it the kite was in a code he wouldn’t know. I assumed screwball had learned these interrogation and investigation techniques at Pelican Bay and Corcoran state prisons.

Screwball went on to tell me that he had another kite for his youngster as a secondary kite that was going to get sent through a different conduit if whitey failed in delivering his. He also came back at whitey with another tactic. He told whitey the next time he went by his cell that he’d gotten Italy’s wife’s address and would be in touch with him personally soon. I could appreciate Screwball’s problem solving skills. His brain power and the tenacity he had was a powerful combination. Whitey must have felt like the walls were closing in on him and squeezing towards the truth. I asked him if whitey delivered the kite for him to his youngster in four block.

Screwball motioned to the prison guard who had let him out of his cell that he needed five more minutes and answered. “He did. I’ll give him that much. He never threw in his hand. My youngster shot me a return kite twelve hours later. I love this youngster like he’s my own brother. His name is David and I know his Mom. She’s a prostitute. David used to run in hotels in Ventura and beat up her johns because they were known to beat her up. The kid is all heart. Anyway, he shot me a kite and ran down everything in detail. He entered four block and got the same cell Italy had been in. His upstairs vent neighbor was a southern California Chicano who along with Italy had listened in on those Fresno youngsters front their declaration of war off against the whites. David ran down how well Damaged had defended the first attack and how the building’s program was… I love that youngster so much I had to get over here.”

I looked out my cell to the second tier and found David standing at his cell door watching screwball talk to me. I asked, “Tell me about your one block mission, and what happened to whitey?”

Screwball’s face wrinkled like he still had a bad taste in his mouth. He said, “I decided whitey wasn’t worth my personal time since I had bigger fish to fry so I put him on the back burner. I wrote a kite to buildings one, two and three to inform them of our situation with Fresno. I didn’t give orders on how to handle it, I just gave them the heads up. Then I got my building one ready. I don’t believe in on-site orders very often because you’re rolling the dice with circumstances beyond your control. Like which gunner is in the gun tower, does he have priors for shooting live rounds and putting inmates in body bags. Or what the numbers of your adversary are like at a particular time. It doesn’t make sense to me to force someone coming back from medical or somewhere else to take flight against twenty foes. I got at all of our kinfolk in building one and told them I was looking for a spot that suited us. I didn’t feel the need to escalate the beef any further by using weapons.”

CHAPTER 18

Screwball explained what happened and I again visualized it in my mind like a movie.

Screwball and three other whites were getting their every other day shower. He saw the tower guard acting weird and he and the other inmates dried themselves off a little faster. This was the only time other than under escort to medical or other that paths were prone to cross. About an hour ago, before the tower popped Screwball’s and the other white’s cells to shower, three heads from Fresno and a couple of south central L.A. blacks were escorted out of the building to medical. Screwball heard some noise in front of the building that signified the inmates were back. Now it was just a question of if the tower guard was going to have screwball and his crew lock it up in their cells before letting in the other inmates. Or, would the guards come into the building to escort them under armed guard, or turn around at the sally port?

The sally port door opened and the Fresno crew stepped in with the blacks behind them. The guards didn’t follow. Screwball looked up at the tower guard and saw him waving good bye to the escort deputies. The oldest of the three from Fresno maintained the most composure as the group entered. The other two stared openly at the whites getting out of the showers. The blacks just stopped walking and watched, adding an even thicker element of tension. The elder from Fresno managed to walk casually to the fourth cell on the bottom tier to get instructions from who screwball knew was their leader. Screwball and the others exited the shower and headed towards the stairs. The stairs were in the same direction as the fourth cell. Screwball calmly led the way and walked calmly around the stairs like he wanted to talk. As soon as his casual demeanor took him close enough he took flight.

Screwball left the explanation like that so I asked, “What happened when you took flight?”

Screwball laughed and looked like he knew how to be humble. “We only had about a minute of fame before the guards drenched us in a sea of pepper spray. I got the first punch in right as a weapon came sliding out from under the cell. I stayed on him to keep him from getting to it but I had a lot of trouble fighting in shower shoes. I was actually glad the guards got there because I was sliding and flailing the whole time. It sucked.”

I said, “At least you guys made out alright. What happened to whitey?”

“He lost his job as janitor sweeping up in front of medical and the program office first. Then when that building got off lock-down he got smashed by five dudes from Fresno. I heard they got him pretty good on the second tier where it took longer for the guards to arrive. They split his head with state cups if the story I heard is accurate. It’s poetic justice. That dude was oblivious and only cared about himself.”

I remembered the peace treaty he’d mentioned. “Who drew up this peace treaty you mentioned?”

I was looking at it like Fresno had and visualized the worst possible scenario. What if Screwball allowed Damaged to get sent out of the building to make them happy. Then, when the program opened up and we got dayroom together… What if they okie-doked the whole move and rushed our race with weapons?

Screwball said, “The proposed peace treaty came from them. I told them it would take some time for us to go over it before we got back to them. We can’t roll with it as is because it’s not a fair trade to give up one of ours without them giving up one of theirs. It’s lopsided until then and it would look like we got our program dictated to us.”

I offered, “Pick out three of theirs for them to pick one to send out of the building with Damaged.”

Screwball said, “That’s what I’m thinking because it gives them some latitude. Why don’t you scout them out and we’ll put something together slowly and carefully.”

I nodded my head that I could do that.

Screwball continued. “I’m getting close to seeing my counselor and sent to another prison. When I leave I’m going to leave the responsibility of this building to you.”

I shook my head and stared at Screwball with a stoic mask and said, “No you’re not… I’m busy writing a book right now and don’t want this drama.” I was just kidding but played it out to see how Screwball would react. If I didn’t run the building or have enough control of it, the drama would infect me anyway. My eyes gave the first hint that I was kidding and Screwball started laughing.

Screwball walked toward his cell and stopped by another one on the way. I heard him yell, “Hey Blockhead!! Are you alright in there?”

I already know of Blockhead. He was the president of a biker gang we all knew about. He had a life sentence but everyone that knew him well loved his big heart. I heard Blockhead yell from his bunk in his cell. “What are you, a doctor?” I laughed at the fifty something year old and heard the love in his voice when he said, “I’m alright youngster, Thanks for checking!” As Screwball made his way to his cell I thought about how Screwball had been at my cell for the whole hour the guards let him out. I looked around at all the heads from Fresno standing at their cell door looking at me.

CHAPTER 19

“Hey bro, which of these samples do you want to put in the pipe? Or do you want to roll a joint before paddling out to catch some waves?”

Damon sat in his car’s driver seat. He had three plastic bags of high quality marijuana he was using as samples of the product. Sitting in the passenger seat of the Buick, Todd examined them. The first bag had three lime green popcorn shaped nodules that were spongy and sticky to the touch. Todd squeezed the bag and the nodule’s T.H.C. crystals stuck to the plastic.

Damon was outraged! “Hey bra, don’t squeeze the pungies! You’re deforming my sample dude!

Todd, already grizzled from an early morning joint, smiled. “Smell that fragrance my pinch produced. I think this pot might bring peace to the Middle East… This is the Hawaii Kush isn’t it?”

Damon grabbed the bag from Todd and said, “Yup.” He tore a piece of the sticky bud off to put in the pipe and realized the inside of the car smelled like a skunk. Damon handed the pipe to Todd and wrapped up the sample and put it in his board shorts to get it out of the way.

Todd watched while he lit the pipe and wagged his finger at the same time with the lighter in it in the universal no, don’t do it sign. He choked on the expanding hit of skunk bud and coughed out, “Dude, you’re going to paddle out into the ocean with your sample again. That would be the third time this week that your prized buds got all soggy in the surf with you.”

CHAPTER 20

Detective John Maltobano, who those close to him referred to as “Gotti” because he looked like the dapper don John Gotti, walked to his undercover Crown Victoria in the parking lot behind the Laguna Niguel Sheriff’s substation. Narcotic detective Pincher Johnson watched him and knew exactly what he was going to do. He did the same thing every morning. He was going to set his coffee cup on the roof of his car, start the vehicle, step back out of the vehicle with a Bible in his hand, read it for a couple of minutes standing there, say a prayer that finished with the sign of the cross over his chest and then back in his vehicle for a couple more minutes of just sitting there. Detective Pincher wondered what in the hell the detective did in the car? Did he keep praying? If he did, it wasn’t helping him climb the ladder within the Sheriff’s department! Maybe he’s praying for me since I’m the one in the lead for making the most drug arrests in Orange County.

Detective Maltobano followed his morning ritual that started with prayer. God…Bless all of us at the Sheriff department this day. Grant us wisdom and guidance to serve and protect the citizens who pay us. In Jesus name, amen. With his prayer done, he signed the cross over his chest and thought about how he’d grown up. He remembered how his father was an abusive alcoholic who beat his mother, and then him when he got in the middle of it. He remembered how he gravitated to the streets, started to get high, and was close to joining a street gang for some identity. He remembered how his father died suddenly and then his Mom had a stroke. Instead of getting all the way caught up in the street life, he moved back to take care of Mom. Then he remembered seeing the ad to become a Sheriff and promised his worried Mom he’d become one. Working inside the jail as training, he remembered how close he was to being one of the ones behind the bars. As he did every day, he promised himself he wouldn’t forget how close.

He drove the Crown Victoria out of the parking lot and got on Crown Valley parkway. He headed toward the beach on his way to Monarch beach and Dana Point on his usual morning route. At Sea Island Drive he took a right that led him up an otherwise untarnished foothill that winded up high enough to see from Laguna Beach all the way to the San Clemente pier. Was Sarah’s car parked out in front of her parent’s house yet? It wasn’t. It hadn’t been for the past month.

Detective Maltobano thought about Sarah’s file on his desk for that month. Sarah’s girlfriend Nicole had made the call to the Sheriffs to report that Sarah had been raped by a 21 year old white male by the name of Bob Prescott. Detective Maltobano thought about how cloudy the rest of the pieces were. Sarah herself had disappeared after one phone conversation. She admitted she had been in a relationship with Bob Prescott for a little over a month. During that period she admitted she’d had consensual sex with him and then broke up with him. At that point she hung up the phone.

Detective Maltobano called her friend Nicole and learned a few things. Bob Prescott had found Sarah at a party a week after she’d broke up with him. Nicole said he slipped the date rape drug G.H.B. into her drink while she wasn’t looking and when she was passing out, gave her a ride home. The next morning Sarah called Nicole and explained how she had woken up feeling sick and violated. Her vagina and anus were sore and she found Bob’s discharge in both places along with some on her chin. Since then Sarah stopped going to the beach everyday with Nicole to lie out and watch the surfers.