Part 5 (2/2)

Some of the blacks ended up binged for life. Only too many of the mob guys ended up dead, so the blacks took over the drug trade anyway.

That was a long time ago, but I could see it was still that way. Only now, the Spanish guys had their own operation, too.

What did change was that other kind of contraband. On my first bit, if you got caught holding soft money, they'd lock you down tight. And if you got caught with a pistol-not a zip, the real thing-you'd probably never see daylight.

Only reason to have soft money was if you were planning to slip out. If you go without a dime in your pocket, you're as good as caught. Plenty of guys plan how to get out, but don't have a clue on what they're going to do once they clear the wall.

You can't make a life-without sentence longer, but you can sure make it harder. Anyone who ever got brought back after making an escape could tell you that.

A zip gun, that's for settling an individual beef, not for trying to bust out. Even a real pistol's no good for that-you can threaten to kill a guard all day and they're not going to open the gates. But it's great for taking hostages, and getting a lot of cells opened. Which means a riot.

n.o.body could mule a pistol in. But a couple of gang bosses were known to have access to one. There had had to be guards in on a deal like that. to be guards in on a deal like that.

That's the first thing that hit me. I hadn't been away that long, but now it seemed like n.o.body cared about going for the Wall anymore. The guys with real juice, they could get anything they wanted right there. They didn't care about soft money. Or even pistols. What they really wanted was cell phones.

A cell phone, that's super-bling. The ultimate. Perfect for a shot-caller who's never getting out of Ad-Seg. That's what they call the hole they dump you in for heavy violence now. Stands for ”Administrative Segregation.”

With a cell, the shot-caller can reach out anytime he wants. And touch somebody, too.

I thought that was amazing, but a guy who'd done time in Mexico told me the narco kingpins always always had cell phones there. Carried them around, n.o.body said a thing. had cell phones there. Carried them around, n.o.body said a thing.

Some of the shot-callers spent too much time in Ad-Seg. Once they snapped that it was really going to be forever, it drove them nuts. They used those cell phones all the time, texting members outside about who needed to be hit.

If you're in that that guy's crew, there's no way out. If you say out loud that he's having people hit for no reason, you'll be the next to go. And even if you keep quiet, you could end up on that same list anyway. guy's crew, there's no way out. If you say out loud that he's having people hit for no reason, you'll be the next to go. And even if you keep quiet, you could end up on that same list anyway.

Yeah, that was the real difference. Instead of scheming to get out, everyone was scheming how to make their life better right where they were. You can't even plan plan an escape without some help. My last time up, the gangs trusted each other a lot more, too. Now being crewed up didn't mean you were safe. Not even from your own guys. an escape without some help. My last time up, the gangs trusted each other a lot more, too. Now being crewed up didn't mean you were safe. Not even from your own guys.

Outside, I never went near dope. In my line of work, n.o.body trusts a junkie. You get a rep for that, you're done.

For s.e.x fiends, it's even worse. A junkie might might kick his habit. An alkie kick his habit. An alkie might might get off the booze. But no s.e.x fiend ever gets off get off the booze. But no s.e.x fiend ever gets off his his train. Everybody knows that. Except maybe the people who run those bulls.h.i.+t ”programs.” train. Everybody knows that. Except maybe the people who run those bulls.h.i.+t ”programs.”

Or maybe they do do know. It's a pretty good hustle. The State pays you to do something that can't be done, so you don't get blamed when one of them goes right back to doing what he likes to do after he's been cut loose. know. It's a pretty good hustle. The State pays you to do something that can't be done, so you don't get blamed when one of them goes right back to doing what he likes to do after he's been cut loose.

There's another part about that ”treatment” thing-it probably makes them harder to catch the next time. Those slimy f.u.c.ks may call it ”group,” but all they're doing is pa.s.sing around trade secrets. How this one slipped up with something on his computer, or this one took pictures with his phone and never deleted them. I guess you go through enough of those programs, you learn a bunch of new tricks.

So, yeah, probably it does does look like the treatment works. I mean, how are they going to ”relapse”-that's what they call it, when a s.e.x sicko gets caught the next time, ”relapse”-when they spend years learning how not to get caught the next time? look like the treatment works. I mean, how are they going to ”relapse”-that's what they call it, when a s.e.x sicko gets caught the next time, ”relapse”-when they spend years learning how not to get caught the next time?

What I did was: watch a lot of TV, read some books, work out every d.a.m.n day. I even answered some of ”Marcy's” letters, just to make sure Solly knew I was holding tight.

When I wrote Marcy that we'd pick up right where we left off, Solly'd understand that meant I'd be looking for my money.

Before I knew it, I'd already done the minimum.

The two weasels they sent up to decide what they'd ”recommend” to the whole Board came with pages of reasons to deny me. I gave them a couple more. The man asked me, ”Have you attempted to make any sort of rest.i.tution to your victim?”

”I don't have a victim,” I told him.

”You're saying you're innocent.”

”Bring in a polygraph, you'll see it for yourself.”

”It's common knowledge that sociopaths are immune to polygraph examinations,” the woman said. ”A polygraph doesn't detect lies, it measures consciousness of guilt. And it's clear from your record that you qualify.”

”Qualify as what?”

”A sociopath,” she said, real fussy-like. ”You exhibit a pervasive pattern of conduct which-”

”Sure. I get it. Look, you're not going to stamp my ticket no matter what, so just call it off, okay? I'm missing a show I always watch.”

”What show is that?” the woman asked, like she really was curious.

”This whole place,” I told her.

People on the other side of the law from me, I never tell them the truth. By now, it's more than just a habit; it's who I am. So, even when I did what they wanted wanted me to do, I kept it to myself. me to do, I kept it to myself.

Like how they were always saying I should be ”reflecting” on my crime. I actually did that.

I spent a lot lot of time thinking about the crime. of time thinking about the crime.

A lot of time hating.

Not the girl. It wasn't her fault I was in there. If she picked me, she must have believed I was the guy who did it. Or else she got pressured into it. That happens, too.

I didn't hate her-I hated the rapist. He f.u.c.ked us both He f.u.c.ked us both, I thought to myself. But I felt dirty just thinking of it like that, so I changed it. He hurt hurt us both. That was better. us both. That was better.

I'm not a killer by nature, the way some guys are. I don't go looking for it; I don't get a kick out of it, nothing like that. But, for this guy, I'd make an exception. I'd really like killing him. Specially if I could tell him why first.

It'd be extra great if the girl he raped got to watch.

I thought about that all the time. I even dreamed about the guy who did it. But I could never see his face.

I didn't think the girl had seen it, either. But maybe she knew something something. Something the cops never connected to anything. Or even asked her about.

What I couldn't figure out was, how was I I going to ask her? going to ask her?

The one good thing about maxing out is you're off paper the minute they close the gate behind you.

After that, they don't give a f.u.c.k. Why should they? Some cons are psycho mad dogs who'd tear a hole in your throat with their teeth for looking at them wrong. But the ones the guards in Ad-Seg really hated were the ga.s.sers-the ones who were so mental that they'd save up their own s.h.i.+t just so they could throw it at anyone pa.s.sing by.

Too dangerous to be in Population, but they're fine for the street. Like doing time cures people or something.

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