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Entries from 1997

Monday
3.24.97

Freedom -- to come and go as I please -- is exactly what I don't have, what I'll probably never have again. I know I'll never get out of this fucking wheelchair, beyond hoisting myself into bed or onto the toilet, and I don't think I'll make it out of prison. I won't even be eligible for parole until 2015; that's another eighteen years. Will I still be alive then? I doubt it, though you know, it's funny, being paralyzed is probably the best insurance policy I could have. In Oz, it's all about power, who controls who and who controls what -- drugs, sex, whatever -- and when the hacks or the inmates (don't matter which) look down on me, stuck in this chair, it's almost like they don't see me at all, like I'm no threat to them. Even guys who knew me when I was on the street dealing drugs, guys who know I'm in for life for killing a cop, often don't bother me. Don't bother with me, either.

Do I want to keep living like this, long enough to make it to my parole hearing? Shit, by the time that day arrives, I'll be pushing fifty, still paralyzed from the hips down. The doctors said that I won't get any worse, but I don't trust those prison doctors any more than I trust the cop who cuffed my hands behind my back and threw me off the roof.

Lucky to have survived, people said. Maybe so, but they don't know what it's like to be living in two prisons at the same time -- Oz and this wheelchair. If I am lucky, it's because of a few people on the outside who haven't turned their backs on me: Annabella, who still loves me; my mom; and Burr Redding. If it wasn't for Burr maybe I wouldn't be here at all; after all, he's the one who got me into dealing drugs, convinced me there weren't any other options in the projects. He was my dad's pal, they went to Nam together, in the same unit, and when my dad didn't make it back, Burr stepped in as guardian angel for my mom and me. But for Burr, life was a struggle for survival, and survival, to Burr, meant dealing. And using.

A minute ago I wrote that Annabella still loves me, and I believe she does, but I know the odds are those feelings won't last until I get out of here, if I ever do. She has stuck by me through the surgery, the rehab, my trial, and the almost two years I've done so far. She's always gotten along with my mom, who, since I got sent toOz, has really kept an eye on her. But my wife's a foxy woman, young, and one day she's going to wake up and realize that there's more to life than a phone call once a week and an overnight conjugal every few months.

I don't want to turn bitter and blame everybody but myself for my problems. I can't afford to; I need the few folks I can depend on, inside Oz and on the outside, too much. Even Burr, who damn sure made himself scarce after I got busted -- 'course, that was to make sure he didn't follow me into prison. Since then, he hasn't contacted me, not directly, but I know he helps Mom out with money -- one of the many things I can't do now.

I've got to deal with not being in control. Other guys in Oz can't accept not being able to pick up the phone or knock on somebody's door and take care of business. So if something happens to a guy's family or friends, he goes ballistic. And since he can't do anything about it, he shanks another inmate -- somebody who's got nothing to do with his problems -- or he provokes a fight and gets himself killed. Some guys just lose hope and give up. Like I said earlier, in here people don't see me as a player in the struggle for power, so as long as I don't provoke them, they don't confront me. But I don't want to give up on myself, start acting like I'm as invisible as they think I am.

At least I don't have to worry too much about whether my family's okay -- paying their bills, making the rent, shit like that. Moms has always worked, insisted on keeping her job even when I tried to get her to quit, told her I'd take care of her. Said she liked having her independence, didn't want to interfere too much with Annabella and me, and working in the church office gave her the chance to be with her friends and feel like she was being useful. Annabella's got a job now, too, at one of the big department stores in the city. She's always loved clothes, and when I was still on the outside she'd sometimes talk about going to the Fashion Institute to become a designer. With me in Oz, she says she can't do that, but she's got plans to work her way up, get into management.

It's a good thing we didn't have kids before I got arrested. We'd been talking about it, and Moms wanted a grandchild worse than anything. I'd like children, too, but now it's too late. Besides, even with Burr's help, I'm not sure Annabella and Moms could manage ...