Authors: Glenn Langohr
Rodriguez said, "Rest in peace...There's 2 of the fuckers that jumped Pericho."
One of the 2 Nortenos saw a black inmate he knew and formed the fingers in his right hand to throw his gang sign with an N and then an F.
Rodriguez said loud enough for them to hear, "Northern Familia, do you remember me?"
One of the northern mobsters looked at Rodriguez just as he lowered his bald head displaying the number 13 next to SURENO with some Aztec art. The northerner said, "Yeah I remember you and Pericho...It was nothing personal."
As he finished the sentence he lifted his shoulders as if to say, no big deal then turned his head and continued to swagger past the cell.
The 2 inmates walked up the stairs and went into the second to last empty one.
Chapter 6
When the door to the cell closed with a grinding clanking thud, 2 more Security Escorts walked through the vestibule, then the White crip.
He looked Irish and crazy. Red hair shot straight up like a burning afro over a freckled face with deep blue eyes that looked like they never stopped trying to gang bang and antagonize. Like the northern Mexicans, his pants sagged and he swagger stepped with a limp all the way up the stairs into the last empty cell no more.
I stood crouched at the cell door so Damon could watch the 2 cells swallow up the occupants.
Damon said, "Fuck shit piss, here comes world war 3 in the cell block."
After a few minutes Damon shook his head and got on his rack. I stayed at the cell door for 2 more hours. The White crip answered to the name Red-Bone and he yelled out his cell to Devil in his cell. "HEY DEVIL! WHAT'S UP CRIZZIP?"
Devil answered in a subdued tone but loud, "OH YOU KNOW, JUST HOLDIN IT DOWN FOR DA CRIPS ALL DAY EVERY DAY LIKE ALWAYS. WHAT'S UP WID YOU? I BEEN HEARIN BOUT YOU BOY."
Red-Bone answered back, "I BEEN A SOLDIER BOY. THEM ARYANS BIN TRYIN TO STAB ME BUT I'M TOO QUICK FOR EM...THE GUN TOWER GUARD SHOT ME WITH A BLOCK GUN ON DA LAST GO AROUND."
Popeye yelled out of his cell, "HEY RED-BONE KEEP THE WORD ARYAN OUT OF YOUR MOUTH...THANK YOU."
Devil yelled next, "HERE WE GO. IT'S ON AND CRACKIN ALREADY! RED-BONE DON'T TRIP WE GOT YOUR BACK BUT NO MORE INCITING WITH THEIR RACE. THE GUN TOWER OVER HERE DON'T SHOOT WITH BLOCKS HE SHOOT WITH 50 MILLIMETER BULLETS!"
Popeye answered with, "THANK YOU DEVIL."
Devil said, "DON'T TRIP, WE DON'T NEED ANY DISRESPECT OVER HERE."
Chapter 7
Hernandez came out of the gun tower like he did everyday at 9 PM to deliver the mail one hour before he counted the inmates and went home.
I watched him start on the top tier with a stack of letters hoping and praying I’d get one from my wife. It looked like there was a big stack of mail, and 2 books.
I knew better then to stand at the cell door like I was desperate for communication with the outside world and loved ones. Hernandez was cruel. He took his time and loped from cell to cell all hunched over looking at the letters. Inmates who didn’t know better already, stood at their cell door hoping. I watched Hernandez stop at a cell with both occupants ready. For 30 seconds Hernandez fidgeted with a couple of letters, then bent down to slide them under the cell door and stopped halfway through the motion and stood back up and asked, “Are you inmate Abadaca?”
The inmate at the cell door said in a dejected voice, “No.”
Hernandez loped forward to the next cell. He showed he knew what he was doing by sliding mail under cells more efficiently when the inmates weren’t at the cell doors but every time they were, he paused like they might have something even when they didn’t. I sat down on my bunk and waited and heard him come down the stairs.
I heard him stop in front of the cell and 2 letters slid inside our cell. I got up and found 1 for Damon and 1 for me.
I handed Damon his letter to him sitting on his top bunk.
My letter was from my brother. I sat down on my bunk and opened it.
Greetings brother: First and foremost, I send my love. I have some bad news and wrestled with if I should tell you this now. I decided if the situation was reversed I would want to know in your shoes. An employee of mine whose character I trust completely told me your wife got evicted. Worse than that, she is now living with her ex boyfriend. The cops have been to their house many times and the ex was arrested for being under the influence of meth. He got out and they are still living together. My employee lives next door. Sorry to send this news. I will be here for you when you get out. Brian Johnson.
I felt the tears stream down my face and my chest tightened. It felt like I was having a heart attack.
Damon heard me and hopped off the top bunk and looked at me trying not to cry unsuccessfully.
He said, “What happened?”
I couldn’t talk so I threw the letter on the floor. Then I got off my bunk and grabbed my bedspread. I didn’t want my cell mate to see me hurting so I draped the spread under his mattress on the top bunk so it hung over my bunk and climbed in. Fortified in my little cave my mind tortured me.
I couldn’t stop the thoughts. I imagined my wife on meth having sex the way we did when we were in our disease. Every act flashed at me and my teeth clamped down trying to reject the mental assault. It wouldn’t stop. More sex acts flashed vividly of my wife and another man. The pain was so deep and intimate it consumed me to the point I didn’t want to live, I wanted to die, anything to make it go away.
Still visualizing our marriage vows getting nakedly violated, I heard Hernandez start his count. My pain was starting to bubble into hate so I got up rather than feel sorry for myself another second and stood at the cell door.
Hernandez was a good place for me to direct that hate. He shuffled on the second tier stopping at each cell. He used his finger to point at each inmate in a cell and instead of counting to himself said, “STILL” for 1 inmate, then pointed at the second inmate and said, “IN”, the next cell, “JAIL” the next inmate, “SAME”, “OLD”, “CELL”, “ALL”, “OF”, “THE”, “INMATES”, “WHO”, “DIDN’T”, “MAKE”, “BAIL”, “CAME”, “TO”, “MY”, “BLOCK”, “WHERE”, “I”, “SEND”, “THEM”,“TO”, “HELL!” Hernandez ended the count in front of our cell.
Chapter 8
The next morning after breakfast I heard Rodriguez yell to the southern Mexican I knew was in big trouble with the Mexican Mafia. He was in their hat with a hit out on him. At 6 feet and 220 lbs of chiseled armor, he carried a bullet proof daring-death nature; Bat was an enemy nobody wanted.
"BAT! HEY BIG HOMMIE I GOT A WILA FOR YOU!"
I heard the noise from inmates jumping off bunks and scattering to their cell doors and followed suit. Every cell with a southern Mexican was watching, so was Popeye. We all knew about Bat.
I watched Rodriguez get down on his hands and knees. The honey comb cell doors were the lowest to the ground in the state of California with less than 1 inch of space. An envelope appeared flying out from under Rodriguez's cell weighted down with a bar of soap that had been flattened enough. A dental floss thin string held the envelope and it unraveled as it slid 7 cells down and came to a stop 3 cells’ from Bat’s.
Bat got on the ground and slung his weighted down envelope from under his cell door and the angle was perfect. His envelope ran over Rodriguez's envelope and passed it. He pulled in his line slowly and his envelope dragged and bounced. There was a metal staple fashioned into Bat’s envelope that hooked Rodriguez's line under it and dragged it along. Once it was hooked, Bat pulled it faster and both envelopes rushed under his door. I thought about what I knew about the gangster Bat.
He was larger than life...Born in Tijuana, at the age of 9 he crawled through a sewer to get across the border into California and started his criminal career in east LA. He was a smart criminal who took to violence. The Mexican Mafia quickly put him to work as their lethal collector and message sender. It was said that all of his victims were mobster gang members and cartel figures, no civilians. In the 80's he became a notorious killer and police tape and chalked bodies were left in his wake all over California, Arizona and Texas. In the 90's he set his guns down and refined his business by killing victims with ice picks. Somewhere along the line he stopped working for the Mexican Mafia and decided on his own challenges. Never caught, until now, his problem was an issue of not paying taxes from his profits. The Mexican Mafia family wanted their issue.
Chapter 9
Alone in his cell, Bat pulled the 2 envelopes inside. He pulled the written message from Rodriguez's envelope...CON RESPECTO SENOR BAT-NO PALABRAS...
He began reading to himself aloud...With respect Mr. Bat- No problems with you personally as we all know you're a gladiator. My cell mate and I personally tip our hat to you as a courageous honorable warrior. The problem we are all put in as southern Mexicans is that the powers that be have dropped your name in the hat as hard candy. You know this means death. There is one way out. If you wire 100,000 dollars to the house, communication can start back up to get your name removed from the hat. If you don't want this avenue out of this mess consider taking out our northern Mexican enemies that just came in yesterday. They were 2 of the 4 that rushed Pericho at Corcoran when Hernandez shot his head off. Rest in peace Pericho. Nothing personal Mr. Bat- Rodriguez/Sano
Chapter 10
I watched Bat. His face never showed an emotion; rarely did his body show any language. Every day, he followed the same program. He worked out like a navy seal for 2 hours in the morning, stood at the cell for 2 hours and the rest of the time he spent reading or drawing. After receiving the message from Rodriguez he changed up the program completely by pacing the cell back and forth, back and forth, faster and faster...
2 hours of pacing like a freight train later, he came to his cell door like a decision had been made, and then yelled out his cell.
"ESE RODRIGUEZ MANDA SU LINEA! YO SOY CORA Y TRABAJO! PROGRAMMA B!"
I understood a little prison Spanish and made out…Mexican Rodriguez shoot your line! I have the heart of a champion and I always put in work so plan B...I tried to discern what Rodriguez's message must have said. Maybe, Bat was choosing to put in work with plan B.
Rodriguez came to his cell door and out flew the envelope toward Bat's cell. Bat sent his envelope out from under the cell door and again, perfect angle, one try, pulled in both envelopes.
Chapter 11
Bat pulled in the envelopes and read the message from Rodriguez. MR. BAT AS YOU KNOW HERNANDEZ HAS A LOT OF PRIDE IN KILLING OUR PEOPLE. WITH THAT SAID I THINK WE CAN PLAY OFF THAT PRIDE...DURING SHOWERS IF YOU STAND AT THE NORTENOS CELL AS IF IT IS YOUR'S HE MIGHT POP THE CELL. THEN YOU JUST HAVE TO GET INSIDE TO HANDLE BUSINESS TO NOT GET SHOT...IF YOU LIKE THIS PLAN LET ME KNOW.
Chapter 12
I watched Bat send both envelopes out from under his cell. They slid and bounced on the floor all the way back under Rodriguez’s cell door. With that done, Bat paced his cell back and forth, back and forth, in motion for 2 more hours until Hernandez tapped on his microphone to announce showers.
“ATTENTION IN THE CELL BLOCK! SHOWER TIME! 10 MINUTES!”
Bat grabbed his towel and held it with his hand in a fist concealing something.
Every other cell in the building began to line up at cell doors with towels draped over shoulders, or arms, waiting…
Hernandez started with the Black inmates. Devil’s cell popped open first. Then 2 more inmates came out 4 cells’ down from Devil’s.
Then, below, 2 cells across from our cell on the bottom tier popped open and 4 more Black inmates walked out.
Devil walked down the stairs and came to our cell. He stood in front of the honey comb cell door eye to eye with me. Damon was right next to me.
Devil said, “B.J…We comin off lockdown…What u proposing we do with this Red-Bone issue?”
I already had our position worked out with Popeye but didn’t want Devil to think it was my call. Once you fronted yourself off as the shot caller you became the one to go after, so I said, “Why aren’t you asking Popeye?”
Devil gave me a look that said he didn’t believe I wasn’t the shot caller for the White race. Then said, “Popeye shaved his eyebrows last night and I know what that means so I aint fuckin with him. You want to work sumpin out? Last chance.”
I answered fast, “Why don’t we keep the problem from affecting all the White and Black inmates…”
Devil said, “I’m listenin.”
I said, “We move me to Red-Bone’s cell so it’s a one on one and it’s kept in the cell so the gun tower can’t shoot us.”
Devil’s face displayed the emotion that he liked the idea, then changed while he thought it out deeper, then said, “I like that but I have to get at Red-Bone first.”