ROLL CALL ~ A Prison List (True Prison Story)

by Glenn Langohr

  “A-section! Cells 101 to 106, stand by…” The cells started popping open in a row.

  “You’re being released for chow. Single file line and don’t forget your cups and spoons, you can’t go back for them!” Inmates started stepping out of their cells and stood side by side just in front of their cells awaiting instructions to proceed. Damaged wondered, were their adversaries going to turn and rush as one right now, or were they going to wait and get seated with all three sections out at the same time? Damaged knew that taking the initiative in this situation would be the key. He schooled Josh on what to do and when.

  The guards on the floor pointed at cell 101 and instructed them to walk the 15 feet to the food trays. Damaged felt the tension in the air get so thick you could cut it with a knife. That’s exactly what he planned to do. All of his senses were vibrating and from his vantage point he could see all of the Fresno clan in front of him with their necks clinched up wanting to turn he and Josh’s way to get a look. Some did and a guard picked up on it.

  Instead of letting them coordinate, Damaged took measures. The two next to him began walking to get their trays and, with the opportunity there, Damaged jumped on it. He literally jumped in the air far enough to throw his left arm securely around the bigger ones neck while simultaneously yanking backward and throwing a knee through his adversaries lower body. The action caused the inmate to lose his balance completely with his upper body getting yanked backward and his lower body forced forward. Now with his leverage gone, Damaged was able to run-drag him backwards in a choke hold.

  With Damaged pumping his legs away from Josh, Josh shoved the other inmate off balance to clog up all of the others rushing their way. Josh did everything he could to cause a pile up. He punched while he had the distance until the mass of rushing bodies only allowed elbows and knees and grappling tactics. Enough of the inmates lost their balance and gave Damaged room to work.

  Damaged was still maintaining his hold with his left arm while his right hand swiped with a makeshift razor sticking out of an empty pen across the forehead. After successfully slicing open a line of scalp Damaged lost the grip on his choke hold to ditch the weapon under a still occupied cell in B-section. With so much pandemonium it worked.

  Now free of the choke hold, the Fresno Mexican fought back like a soldier. He fired heavy punches at Damaged that were nowhere near the mark due to all the blood pouring into his eyes from the gash above them.

  The sound of block guns booming filled the building as over twenty guard flooded in blasting away indiscriminately. Inmates that didn’t get down on the floor, face down, got to feel the blocks slam into them, along with Billy club and pepper spray until every inmate was lying in the prone position. The Fresno Mexican Damaged cut was the last to go down. He continued to fight and took it to the guards. He took two of them down until a guard blasted him in the chest with a block gun from four feet away. Drenched in blood and lying on the floor with the wind knocked out of him, a few guards pounded on him with their Billy clubs until a couple other guards edged them out of the way to drench pepper spray on the battered inmate. Damaged watched and thought, these prison guards are used to this kind of level four mentality and aren’t intimidated in the least with all of their experience and fire power. They made quick work of pinning all of the inmates and zip tying them up.

  Damaged came out of the war zone and realized he’d been hearing the guard’s yell “GET DOWN!! GET DOWN!!” Over and over and a dozen booms from the block guns being fired in the last few minutes. He looked around for Josh and found him painted orange, from all of the pepper spray, in zip ties getting yanked away from the Fresno Mexicans. Damaged looked around the building and saw two faces trying to squeeze into every cell window to see the action provided. Under heavy escort out of the building Damaged heard Italy yell out his door from upstairs, “THAT’S WHITE!!”

  CHAPTER 15

  I asked screwball, “How did you find out about that in that kind of detail from another building?” Screwball stood at the side of my cell door communicating and I couldn’t see him until he stepped in front of my window. He had to talk through the side of the cell door so other inmates in nearby cells couldn’t hear our conversation.

  Screwball said, “I didn’t find all of it out at first. Italy and all of the whites left in that building got moved out of it that day to another yard so it was hard for them to leave word that a race war had begun. Italy did his duty though. On the way off the yard he got word to our yard janitor who sweeps up the walkway in front of the program office. You might have seen him when you got escorted into D-yard.”

  I said, “Older tattooed down biker looking dude?”

  Screwball stepped in front of my window and nodded his head I was right. He came back to the crack on the side of the cell door and continued. “That dude’s name is whitey. He’s from I.E. somewhere. The dude’s a burnt out dope fiend. He lived in the same block as I did, building one, and ran down all kinds of drag that Italy only had time to virtually tell him nothing. All he told me was that our race and the Fresno Mexicans bumped heads. Everyone knew that already so I grilled him for more. I asked all of the important questions like who rushed who? He didn’t know… What started it? He didn’t know… I found out later that he knew about the on-site green light they put out on our race. Unfortunately I didn’t find out about it until after they mounted an attack. Before I tell you about it, I want to show you how the prison administration gets down here.”

  CHAPTER 16

  The prison administration gathered in their office to discuss the options. Mr. Gonzalez, the associate warden, sat at the head of the table and asked Lieutenant Gomez a question. “Do you want to keep the whites segregated from the Fresno Mexicans in all of the buildings?”

  Lieutenant Gomez knew that if he answered yes It would mean a lot more work for all of the buildings and D-yard guards. They were already going through a lot of trouble segregating the Fresno Mexicans from the southern Mexicans. That meant every time one of them had to go to medical, to see their counselors, to go to a church service or anything else it took making sure those that needed to be locked in their cells were and that there were enough guards available to escort the inmates properly. It took a lot of time and was a hassle. Lieutenant Gomez considered this and that they were already getting the extra bump in their pay for hazard pay because of the ongoing escalation between Fresno and the Southerners so there wasn’t any need to get that out of this escalation between Fresno and the whites.

  Lieutenant Gomez decided. “Even though I think it would be a security risk to house the two races together considering what already happened I don’t think we have the man power or the time to segregate that many races from each other.”

  The associate warden had his mind made up also. “I agree that Fresno isn’t going to let one of their dogs getting his cap peeled slide either but like you said we don’t have the man power to escort every freaking race to medical, the psyche, their counselors, church and any other services and testing… We’ll do it on a building by building basis. We’ll keep four block where the incident happened on complete lockdown and five block on complete lockdown because that’s where all of the knuckle heads involved in batteries and riots are sent but in the other three buildings we’ll just be vigilant.”

  Lieutenant Gomez laughed to himself and said what they all were thinking. “We might as well let Fresno get their money to balance the score sheet while we’re all on standby.”

  The associate warden nodded his head. “That’s how some of us used to do it at Corcoran.”

  CHAPTER 17

  I listened to Screwball finish his deduction process on how the prison administration was playing the issue. He stepped away from the side of my cell so I could see his face to see if I was impressed with his ascertation, I was.

  He came back to the side of my cell. “Listen. I talked to some of the dogs from Fresno that have been around a while. They really aren’t with this war. All it’s doing is
keeping us from store and some time out of our cell’s. They’re trying to tell me a few things…”

  The kite Pequeno and Tico had talked about in their vent that came from their big hommie that mandated the decree to make war made it from building to building. Some of the seasoned veterans from Fresno wrinkled their foreheads over which big hommie was calling that shot. They didn’t know him. For the seasoned veterans it was time to do some homework to bona-fi that call.

  Building two didn’t have any seasoned veterans at the time the kite was getting passed around. That being the case they all wrote each other kites about how they were going to put the smash down on these spoiled white boys. The bragging got bigger and bigger until some were talking about weapons they had just made and all of the shootings, stabbings and cage fighting type work they had put in for their neighborhood. There was an empty cell on the bottom tier.

  The Fresno Mexicans in building two’s A-side all stood at their cell doors staring at the fifty five year old burnt out white man waiting for his bedroll, fish kit and cup and spoon. After getting that kite and rallying themselves into a frenzy about how high powered they were, they were like a pack of hyenas ready to pounce on the wino

  Screwball slid from the side of my cell to look at me for a second to see my expression. He came back to the side of my cell and said, “They jumped one of our older winos. The dude shouldn’t even have been in prison. He was a self medicating diabetic. He thought if he didn’t bother anyone, nobody would bother him. He got lucky he didn’t get hurt. As soon as he took one to the back of the head, he rolled under the table and avoided any real damage. He must have had some Guardian Angels watching over him.”

  I told Screwball, “You run things down like you were right there watching. How did you know about the associate warden and Lieutenants meeting?”

  “I did a chunk of time at Corcoran and knew the associate warden when he was Sergeant Gomez there. When I move you to my cell I’ll tell you a lot more about that. Let me finish running down how I got to the bottom of this issue we’re having with Fresno before the guards make me lock it back in my cell. I knew Whitey knew more about this war with Fresno then he was sharing so I stayed on him like a jack hammer. I broke out all of my lock picking tools to pick through his brain. I realized he was just what he looked like, one of those older dope fiends that forgot about integrity, honor and loyalty. At first when I asked him what Italy told him in front of the program office relating to the incident in four block where the Fresno head got his cap peeled, he had his story straight in his head. It was that Italy only had time to tell him the block erupted between the two races. The next time I came by his cell I trapped him by telling him that I’d gotten word from someone else that Italy had passed the word to him and there was a lot more to it. I watched his body language and his eyes fish right and left while he hesitated. I could literally see him thinking of how he could lie his way to safety. He was lucky there was a door in between us because I had to listen to him lie. He told me, ‘Hey holmes… There were guards right there when Italy walked by! You know how it is, holmes, the guards were all over our shit man and there wasn’t time to communicate and in fact, Italy didn’t even stop walking past me! We’re lucky we got what we got!’ This was what everyone found out about the next day anyway.”

  I realized everyone would have gotten word of the incident and the injury report from inmates who went to medical who listened and asked questions. Screwball continued the explanation.

  “I had to listen and watch that scumbag get comfortable in his lie so I split and went back to my cell to figure out how to take my investigation to the next level. Since I had insinuated to whitey that Italy told someone else, possibly in receiving I left that open. I wanted Whitey to stew that I was going to get the 411 from him anyway and I ran with that further. I knew I had a homeboy that just pulled up in four block. I found out he was here and in four block from people coming and going to medical so I wrote him a kite to get some intelligence and let whitey wonder about it. The next day I went by whitey’s cell and dropped a cellophane wrapped kite under his door. When he picked it up and asked what it was I told him it was his last chance. His last chance to elaborate on what else Italy told him because I was about to find out anyway. He had that same hesitant look like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar with his eyes fishing around for a way out. He finally stammered, ‘How am I supposed to get this kite to four block?’”

  I laughed at how deep screwball’s investigation went. He continued.

  “I was sick of his playing stupid, biding for time style. I told him you’re out there sweeping up the walkway in front of the program office and all you have to do is pass that kite to someone in four block whose coming or going from medical. It’s not a puzzle holmes. If you can’t handle the job well enough to pull our line together on this yard in a time of crisis then give the lieutenant my name for your job. Whitey just looked at me like a dumb ass so I spelled it out for him. I told him, If Italy passed the word to you that Fresno is starting an on-site war with us and you don’t do anything with that information our whole race is in jeopardy and in the blind. Don’t you think it looks like that’s what’s happening with that older white man that just got rushed in two block?”

  Screwball went on to tell me that he was testing whitey to see if he tried to read that kite he was sending to his homeboy in four block. It had been wrapped a peculiar way in cellophane and then had a string wrapped around it a certain amount of times. If broken into improperly the recipient would know. Even if whitey dared to break into it the kite was in a code he wouldn’t know. I assumed screwball had learned these interrogation and investigation techniques at Pelican Bay and Corcoran state prisons.

  Screwball went on to tell me that he had another kite for his youngster as a secondary kite that was going to get sent through a different conduit if whitey failed in delivering his. He also came back at whitey with another tactic. He told whitey the next time he went by his cell that he’d gotten Italy’s wife’s address and would be in touch with him personally soon. I could appreciate Screwball’s problem solving skills. His brain power and the tenacity he had was a powerful combination. Whitey must have felt like the walls were closing in on him and squeezing towards the truth. I asked him if whitey delivered the kite for him to his youngster in four block.

  Screwball motioned to the prison guard who had let him out of his cell that he needed five more minutes and answered. “He did. I’ll give him that much. He never threw in his hand. My youngster shot me a return kite twelve hours later. I love this youngster like he’s my own brother. His name is David and I know his Mom. She’s a prostitute. David used to run in hotels in Ventura and beat up her johns because they were known to beat her up. The kid is all heart. Anyway, he shot me a kite and ran down everything in detail. He entered four block and got the same cell Italy had been in. His upstairs vent neighbor was a southern California Chicano who along with Italy had listened in on those Fresno youngsters front their declaration of war off against the whites. David ran down how well Damaged had defended the first attack and how the building’s program was… I love that youngster so much I had to get over here.”

  I looked out my cell to the second tier and found David standing at his cell door watching screwball talk to me. I asked, “Tell me about your one block mission, and what happened to whitey?”

  Screwball’s face wrinkled like he still had a bad taste in his mouth. He said, “I decided whitey wasn’t worth my personal time since I had bigger fish to fry so I put him on the back burner. I wrote a kite to buildings one, two and three to inform them of our situation with Fresno. I didn’t give orders on how to handle it, I just gave them the heads up. Then I got my building one ready. I don’t believe in on-site orders very often because you’re rolling the dice with circumstances beyond your control. Like which gunner is in the gun tower, does he have priors for shooting live rounds and putting inmates in body bags. Or what the numbers of your adversary
are like at a particular time. It doesn’t make sense to me to force someone coming back from medical or somewhere else to take flight against twenty foes. I got at all of our kinfolk in building one and told them I was looking for a spot that suited us. I didn’t feel the need to escalate the beef any further by using weapons.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Screwball explained what happened and I again visualized it in my mind like a movie.

  Screwball and three other whites were getting their every other day shower. He saw the tower guard acting weird and he and the other inmates dried themselves off a little faster. This was the only time other than under escort to medical or other that paths were prone to cross. About an hour ago, before the tower popped Screwball’s and the other white’s cells to shower, three heads from Fresno and a couple of south central L.A. blacks were escorted out of the building to medical. Screwball heard some noise in front of the building that signified the inmates were back. Now it was just a question of if the tower guard was going to have screwball and his crew lock it up in their cells before letting in the other inmates. Or, would the guards come into the building to escort them under armed guard, or turn around at the sally port?

  The sally port door opened and the Fresno crew stepped in with the blacks behind them. The guards didn’t follow. Screwball looked up at the tower guard and saw him waving good bye to the escort deputies. The oldest of the three from Fresno maintained the most composure as the group entered. The other two stared openly at the whites getting out of the showers. The blacks just stopped walking and watched, adding an even thicker element of tension. The elder from Fresno managed to walk casually to the fourth cell on the bottom tier to get instructions from who screwball knew was their leader. Screwball and the others exited the shower and headed towards the stairs. The stairs were in the same direction as the fourth cell. Screwball calmly led the way and walked calmly around the stairs like he wanted to talk. As soon as his casual demeanor took him close enough he took flight.