Trajan
Veteran
At the United States Penitentiary in Leavenworth, Kansas, there exists a cell-block known as the Dog House. For historical purposes, the Dog House, or D Cell Block, is the only unit in Leavenworth that remains as the original architects designed; red-brick cells stacked five-tiers high with no modern-day interior makeovers, such as central heating and air conditioning. Moreover, broken windows sometimes go unfixed for months or even years at a time, creating temperature in that are brutally hot in the summer and bitterly cold in the winter.
In the mid-90′s, the Dog House was turned into a segregation unit, a lock-down unit predominately used to house protective custody inmates such as known sex offenders, informants, and assault victims. However, when the Special Housing Unit (SHU) or hole was overcrowded, it wasnt uncommon for convicts who got locked up for violating institutional rules to be temporarily placed in the Dog House pending bed-space.
On Friday, September 19, 2000, after an officer found 20 gallons of wine in my cell, I was taken to the Dog House. But that was only the beginning of my problems. For more than three months, I had been shooting dope everyday and I was about to start going through some serious withdrawals.
Inside the Dog House
In the corner of the cell, about 18-inches away from where the left side of my face was planted, a little gray mouse circled around the backside of the toilet, stopped, the zeroed on a chunk of my vomit. As he began to creep forward, neck stretched out, his beady-little eyes starred right into mine. Through mental telepathy, I promised to kill him if he didnt get the fukk out of my face.
I closed my eyes and wished him away.
It was only eight oclock in the morning and already the temperature in D Cell Block was well over a hundred degrees. As if being in the beginning stages of heroin withdrawals wasnt bad enough, I had to do it in a lockdown unit that lacked any form of air conditioning. Worse, I was in the cell from Hell. The handle on the porcelain commode was stuck on flush; water gurgled and roared as it frothed over the edge of the toilet 24/7. The sink, porcelain as well, has no buttons or nobs. If water somehow did come out of the thing, I couldnt figure it out. The metal-frame bunk-bed was just that metal. There was no mattress or pillow in the cell to be found, nor was there any light. At the center of the ceiling were an electric receptacle was previously mounted, loose wire hung freely. Length wise, the cell was eight-feet wide with open-face iron bars in the front; two red-brick walls six-feet wide was the width. And then there were the bugs- roaches, ants, and spiders all living together in harmony inside and outside of the corroding walls. All night long if the spiders werent dropping down on me, the ants were crawling on me or the roaches were flying at me yes, flying at me! In the Dog House the roaches have wings.
In spite of the extreme heat, I was laying on the floor, body shaking, drenched in cold sweat. The water that was foaming over the sides of the toilet was warm and actually felt very good. I wanted to lay right there until death took me.
Teeth chattering, I felt another wave of nausea approaching. Bile was the only thing left in my stomach, yet it kept coming out. Praying that when I opened my eyes the little mouse would be long gone, I took a peak only to find him less than a cigarette length away from my nose.
I screamed like a bytch, Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!
Startled, the little guy ran towards my balls; instinctively, my hands darted down to protect my private parts and I accidentally touched the little b*stard. Ah! screamed again. shyt!
He squealed and ran away.
Grossed out from touching the nasty little rodent, and needing to vomit at the same time, I hurried onto my knees, stuck my face in the toilet and puked.
Shower call on three, I heard a ladys voice call out. If youre taking a shower, be ready when I get to your cell.
Because I was in the first cell on the third tier, even side, I knew she would be stopping by my cell first. I had no towel, no soap, no deodorant. Just an orange jumpsuit balled up on my bunk, two pairs of wet white boxer shorts that I had on, and a pair of tennis shoes under the bed. Thats it.
I cant take a shower, I thought. Id never be able to make it there and back without getting sick.
Hey - metal keys tapped on the bars. Standing in front of the cell was the female C/O. You okay in there?
Oh, yeah, I wanted to say. Im doing just fine. Im just down here on my knees with my ass in the air because Im sucking the toilets dikk; dumb bytch. I spit, then looked over my shoulder with a snarl on my face.
Oh, she said, realizing something wasnt about me. Do you need me to call a P.A. for you?
No, what I need is a fix, I thought. At the very least a drink. Better yet, what I really need is to get the hell out of Dog House and over to the SHU where I belong over to SHU where theres plenty of booze and drugs. Determined to do just that, I stood up.
Go get the lieutenant, I demanded, walking towards the bars. I need to talk to him.
Its Saturday, the female officer said. No lieutenant is going to come up here today. Whats the problem?
The problem is that Im over here in this hell-hole! I snapped. I dont belong in this unit with all of these pieces of shyt! As I said before, most of the inmates in the Dog House are snitches, sex offenders, and other less desirables. A guy like me didnt belong in a unit with such scum.
She put her hands on her hips. Calm down. Youre soak and wet and pale as a ghost. Didnt Officer Churchill inform you last night that the SHU is overcrowded? Thats the only reason youre in here.
I knew all about the overcrowding problem in the SHU, but I wasnt trying to hear it. As far as I was concerned they could make room for me.
Look, I said with a death-grip on the bars. Its hot in here, okay? And cant you see that Im shaking? I think Ive got alcohol poisoning. Yeah, yeah, so I lied. Alcohol poisoning, heroin withdrawals. Whats the difference?
She started to say something but I cut her off.
And look at this fukking cell, I complained. The toilet wont stop flushing its driving me fukking mad! And bugs theres flying bugs in here swarming down on me!
This time she threw her hands up. What do you want me to do? I didnt put you in here and I didnt pour alcohol down your throat. The only thing I can do is call medical for you, because Im not moving you. So face it, youre stuck in here until Monday.
fukking bytch, I thought. This isnt working. I need to come up with a new plan. Fine, I said. Okay take me to the shower, then. But I need everything; I dont have a towel, soap, shower shoes or anything.
No problem, she said ready to accommodate. And while Im at it Ill get you a couple of new pairs of boxers. She pointed down at my penis. The ones you have on have pee stains on them.
I looked down and sure enough there were yellow stains on my shorts. I had no idea it was from the floor, if I pissed myself or what. And had I not felt like death, I probably would have been embarrassed.
She winked at me and smiled. Dont worry about it, she said. Things happen when you have too much to drink. Trust me, Ive been there.
Nasty bytch, I thought. You look like the kind of girl who runs around with pee-stained panties. You dont want to help me get out of here? Fine. Ive got something for your ass.
A plan, I had.
In the mid-90′s, the Dog House was turned into a segregation unit, a lock-down unit predominately used to house protective custody inmates such as known sex offenders, informants, and assault victims. However, when the Special Housing Unit (SHU) or hole was overcrowded, it wasnt uncommon for convicts who got locked up for violating institutional rules to be temporarily placed in the Dog House pending bed-space.
On Friday, September 19, 2000, after an officer found 20 gallons of wine in my cell, I was taken to the Dog House. But that was only the beginning of my problems. For more than three months, I had been shooting dope everyday and I was about to start going through some serious withdrawals.
Inside the Dog House
In the corner of the cell, about 18-inches away from where the left side of my face was planted, a little gray mouse circled around the backside of the toilet, stopped, the zeroed on a chunk of my vomit. As he began to creep forward, neck stretched out, his beady-little eyes starred right into mine. Through mental telepathy, I promised to kill him if he didnt get the fukk out of my face.
I closed my eyes and wished him away.
It was only eight oclock in the morning and already the temperature in D Cell Block was well over a hundred degrees. As if being in the beginning stages of heroin withdrawals wasnt bad enough, I had to do it in a lockdown unit that lacked any form of air conditioning. Worse, I was in the cell from Hell. The handle on the porcelain commode was stuck on flush; water gurgled and roared as it frothed over the edge of the toilet 24/7. The sink, porcelain as well, has no buttons or nobs. If water somehow did come out of the thing, I couldnt figure it out. The metal-frame bunk-bed was just that metal. There was no mattress or pillow in the cell to be found, nor was there any light. At the center of the ceiling were an electric receptacle was previously mounted, loose wire hung freely. Length wise, the cell was eight-feet wide with open-face iron bars in the front; two red-brick walls six-feet wide was the width. And then there were the bugs- roaches, ants, and spiders all living together in harmony inside and outside of the corroding walls. All night long if the spiders werent dropping down on me, the ants were crawling on me or the roaches were flying at me yes, flying at me! In the Dog House the roaches have wings.
In spite of the extreme heat, I was laying on the floor, body shaking, drenched in cold sweat. The water that was foaming over the sides of the toilet was warm and actually felt very good. I wanted to lay right there until death took me.
Teeth chattering, I felt another wave of nausea approaching. Bile was the only thing left in my stomach, yet it kept coming out. Praying that when I opened my eyes the little mouse would be long gone, I took a peak only to find him less than a cigarette length away from my nose.
I screamed like a bytch, Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!
Startled, the little guy ran towards my balls; instinctively, my hands darted down to protect my private parts and I accidentally touched the little b*stard. Ah! screamed again. shyt!
He squealed and ran away.
Grossed out from touching the nasty little rodent, and needing to vomit at the same time, I hurried onto my knees, stuck my face in the toilet and puked.
Shower call on three, I heard a ladys voice call out. If youre taking a shower, be ready when I get to your cell.
Because I was in the first cell on the third tier, even side, I knew she would be stopping by my cell first. I had no towel, no soap, no deodorant. Just an orange jumpsuit balled up on my bunk, two pairs of wet white boxer shorts that I had on, and a pair of tennis shoes under the bed. Thats it.
I cant take a shower, I thought. Id never be able to make it there and back without getting sick.
Hey - metal keys tapped on the bars. Standing in front of the cell was the female C/O. You okay in there?
Oh, yeah, I wanted to say. Im doing just fine. Im just down here on my knees with my ass in the air because Im sucking the toilets dikk; dumb bytch. I spit, then looked over my shoulder with a snarl on my face.
Oh, she said, realizing something wasnt about me. Do you need me to call a P.A. for you?
No, what I need is a fix, I thought. At the very least a drink. Better yet, what I really need is to get the hell out of Dog House and over to the SHU where I belong over to SHU where theres plenty of booze and drugs. Determined to do just that, I stood up.
Go get the lieutenant, I demanded, walking towards the bars. I need to talk to him.
Its Saturday, the female officer said. No lieutenant is going to come up here today. Whats the problem?
The problem is that Im over here in this hell-hole! I snapped. I dont belong in this unit with all of these pieces of shyt! As I said before, most of the inmates in the Dog House are snitches, sex offenders, and other less desirables. A guy like me didnt belong in a unit with such scum.
She put her hands on her hips. Calm down. Youre soak and wet and pale as a ghost. Didnt Officer Churchill inform you last night that the SHU is overcrowded? Thats the only reason youre in here.
I knew all about the overcrowding problem in the SHU, but I wasnt trying to hear it. As far as I was concerned they could make room for me.
Look, I said with a death-grip on the bars. Its hot in here, okay? And cant you see that Im shaking? I think Ive got alcohol poisoning. Yeah, yeah, so I lied. Alcohol poisoning, heroin withdrawals. Whats the difference?
She started to say something but I cut her off.
And look at this fukking cell, I complained. The toilet wont stop flushing its driving me fukking mad! And bugs theres flying bugs in here swarming down on me!
This time she threw her hands up. What do you want me to do? I didnt put you in here and I didnt pour alcohol down your throat. The only thing I can do is call medical for you, because Im not moving you. So face it, youre stuck in here until Monday.
fukking bytch, I thought. This isnt working. I need to come up with a new plan. Fine, I said. Okay take me to the shower, then. But I need everything; I dont have a towel, soap, shower shoes or anything.
No problem, she said ready to accommodate. And while Im at it Ill get you a couple of new pairs of boxers. She pointed down at my penis. The ones you have on have pee stains on them.
I looked down and sure enough there were yellow stains on my shorts. I had no idea it was from the floor, if I pissed myself or what. And had I not felt like death, I probably would have been embarrassed.
She winked at me and smiled. Dont worry about it, she said. Things happen when you have too much to drink. Trust me, Ive been there.
Nasty bytch, I thought. You look like the kind of girl who runs around with pee-stained panties. You dont want to help me get out of here? Fine. Ive got something for your ass.
A plan, I had.