This is the fifth in a series of stories about my
friend Sam, former owner of the Premium Fireworks Company. He is currently in minimum-security
prison (unjustly) for selling fireworks for which he did not have a valid license
to sell. If you want to start from the beginning:
Over
the weekend I made one of my last visits to see my friend Sam in prison. Sam is
in for approximately 100 more days. In the end he will have served around 13
months of an 18-month sentence. He will then serve two months in home
incarceration (or a halfway house) and spend three years on probation. His debt
to society will then be paid in full.
Sam is not one to be down, even in his
present circumstances. Still, he was more of his old self during our visit than
I’d ever seen him. There was a palpable change to his demeanor—mentally he is
on the other side of this experience. Only a little over three months to go!
Our conversation veered much more toward his plans after getting out than what
an unpleasant experience prison is. Still, prison is no picnic. There aren’t as
many episodes of violence in minimum-security prison as there are in maximum
security. Still, there are some. Sam told me two stories. The first was about an
unhappy convict who wanted to read the New
York Times. In the prison library, convicts put their names down for
periodicals and when one person is finished, he passes it along to the next in
line. One man didn’t want to wait for the NYT. He demanded his “mother*******
NYT now!” When the librarian wouldn’t
produce it, he left, found a piece of pipe, and was on his way back to the
library to pound someone when the guards caught up with him. He was quickly
shipped off to maximum security.
The other story happened to Sam himself. He
has had trouble for months with his next-door cubicle neighbor, we’ll call him
Mr. Young. Mr. Young is a bit anti-social, and has tried to pick fights with
several other prisoners. Recently, as Sam sat on his bed and read a magazine,
Mr. Young marched into his cubicle and slapped him in the face with no
provocation. Sam stood up to defend himself and other nearby convicts broke
them up. Guards descended on them, and for once other convicts were happy to
report Sam did nothing and Mr. Young attacked him for no reason. Put in segregation
with another prisoner, Mr. Young then tore the other man’s bed apart and threw
all of his belongings on the floor. Mr. Young was then removed to another
facility, presumably for mental evaluation and assistance.
As we were in the
visitation area talking, Sam pointed out a nearby convict in his 20s visiting
with his mother. Sam said he was a drug dealer from London. “How thick is his
accent?” I asked. Sam said it was thick and did an imitation of what was the
worst British accent I’ve ever heard. Worse than Kevin Costner in that Robin
Hood movie. Later we struck up a conversation with the man and he had a thick US
Southern accent. “I thought you said he was from London?” I asked. “Yeah,” Sam
said. “London KENTUCKY, moron!” Oh. In my defense, I have been reading a lot of
British history lately. Explains why his mother was there though.
Sam did point
out a few of the acquaintances he had made who were currently in the visiting
area; a well educated inside trader, some friendly drug dealers, and the
marijuana-growing farmer he had mentioned before. He talked about the long
sentences for some minor, non-violent felons, and the unfairness of some harassing
prosecutions. We reflected on his own case; a lying prosecutor and an unjust
system that has destroyed a business that had 99% legitimate merchandise. There
is no reason a fine wouldn’t have been just punishment. It’s not as if he had
military grade explosives; most of the “illegal” merchandise is perfectly legal
in most countries. The federal government did not want Premium Fireworks to be
in business anymore, so they destroyed it. Sad.
As I said, Sam’s attitude was
better than it had been since he was sentenced to prison. He went over his
options of what to do next; he still hasn’t fully decided. We went over the
first restaurant where he wants to eat when he gets out (steak, natch) and how
he’ll spend time during his home incarceration. At least we hope it is home
incarceration—he could be forced to go to a government halfway house. I’m not
sure how they decide such things, and apparently neither is anyone else in the
prison system. He’s close to getting out and can’t get a straight answer about where
he will go. We’ll see.
Sam usually puts away a few pounds of food from the
prison vending machines during our visits, but he had just had lunch. Today he had
only a honey bun, two cinnamon rolls and three coffees. Yet he’s still thin as
a rail.
As usual, the guards kicked everyone out promptly at 3:00pm. As I
headed to the door, I told Sam the last 100 days will fly by. I hope it’s true.
It will be good to have my friend back home and on to the next phase of his
life.
Not everybody who finds themselves in trouble with the law ever even thought any crime was being committed - UNTIL the time comes when an arrest warrant is served. At that point, the only thing to concentrate on is getting out of jail through being bailed out. The next step is retaining an attorney. Unfortunately, there are no magic solutions to legal troubles.
ReplyDeleteEliseo Weinstein @ JR's Bail Bonds
You're totally correct, Eliseo. The closest thing to a magic solution is money. As my friend crime writer J.T. Townsend said, "No rich men are convicted of murder." Or anything else.
ReplyDelete