I was so nervous when I moved in with Carlos that I didn't sleep the first night. After a few days, I was relieved that he wasn't asking me to do anything that would risk my parole date. Uncle Manny bought items that were luxuries in prison and delivered them when he visited me. He also contributed to their canteen accounts when they were struggling for funds. The gang appreciated the donations, and I knew I was safer when everyone heard the word that Carlos and his gang had my back. I had made a good move.
There were times when Carlos didn't want to talk, but other times when he told me stories about his family and his life before prison. One night he told me enough to make me understand why he made me the offer to be his cellmate. I reminded him of his little brother who was killed by a rival drug dealer. Carlos blamed himself for putting his brother in a bad situation, and he avenged his brother's death by killing the other drug dealer and the dealer's younger brother. His attorney worked a deal for a sentence of twenty-five years and called Carlos lucky.
I wasn't surprised that Carlos left it to me to clean our cell and run errands for him, but I contributed to the gang in many other ways. A few of our members liked to read, and I made sure that they were at the top of the list for any library books they wanted. There were also some guys in our gang, who were illiterate, and I helped them with reading and writing letters. I think I wrote more letters to people I had never met than I did to people I knew. Near the end of my first year, I began teaching some guys in our gang how to read and write.
As time went on, I saw the different sides to Carlos, and as it is with most people, he was not all good or all bad. He could be moody, and he had a temper. Sometimes it was hard to tell how much it would take to set him off on a certain day. He always demanded respect from his gang, and if he deemed that one of us was disrespectful, we paid for it.
In some ways, he was not as hard on me as he was the rest of the gang, but at the same time, he expected more from me. I began to understand that in his mind, I had taken the place of his little brother in the sense that he had another chance to take care of a young guy and teach him what he could. While he would never care for anyone as much as he did his real little brother, I had to learn to be sensitive to the fact that Carlos cared for me and expected me to be grateful.
Carlos knew that Howie Spearman and I were writing a book together, and he would often ask to read the pages that I would be giving to Howie on his next visit. I didn't want him, or anyone else, to read what I had written, but I knew better than to refuse him. There were times he would drive me crazy. After reading a few pages, he would want to know right then what happened next, and he would say, "Really? You're not making this shit up?" I would tell him whatever I thought would get him off my back.
One time, when Carlos told me to show him what I was writing, I gave him some notes about Carlee and me, and he came up with the idea that I should write a couple of pages describing intimate details about making love to Carlee. He wanted an explicit erotic story that we could pass around to the gang for their entertainment.
While I understood how badly some men in prison wanted to see that sort of thing, there was no way that I would do anything to disrespect Carlee. I was using the desktop in our cell, and I looked up at him and begged him to understand why I couldn't do it. I told him I would try to write a story about some other woman, and Carlos loudly ordered me to write what he wanted. When I flatly refused him, he slapped my face so hard he knocked me out of the chair and onto the concrete floor.
One of the difficult things about my situation was that I could not retaliate against Carlos no matter what he did to me. No one in his gang could lift a finger to him. Not unless we were ready to die. Refusing him was a dangerous thing, and I had just done it for the first time. It was the first time that I wished that I had found a way out of joining the gang because I knew that my body would not hold up well to a severe beating.
As I sat there with my face burning and swelling, I didn't want to get up from the floor, but I knew I had no choice. When I stood, I faced him and folded my hands behind my back as I had seen other guys in our gang do when they had earned punishment. I might have looked brave to an observer who didn't know that my only other choice was much worse.
I stood there waiting for the first blow while Carlos sat on his bunk and simply stared at me for a few minutes before he spoke.
"Now, how am I supposed to punish you without crippling you? You see the position you put me in?"
There was no way that I was going to say any of the smartass things I was thinking. "Yes, Carlos. I'm sorry."
"I'll have to think about this. Go back to your writing."
After an hour or so, he sprang off his bunk and stepped over to where I was still working on my book. I cringed. I wasn't sure what he was going to do. When he told me to stand up, I couldn't believe how cruel he was to mess with my head that way and then beat me anyway.
When I stood, he threw his arms around me and apologized which is something I had never heard Carlos do. He told me that I obviously loved my girl very much, and he respected me for protecting her honor and her memory the way I should. He hugged me, and then really shocked me when he asked me to forgive him for disrespecting her.
I'm still living with Carlos, and although there have been times when I thought he might push me over the edge into insanity, I have been better off with him than I would have been with another cellmate. In all my time with Carlos, no other inmate has ever bothered me. I haven't even had so much as harsh words with more than two or three guys over the years.
***
During my last few months at Rockville, Uncle Manny and Tyler were more anxious every time I saw them, and we spoke of how life would be for us when I came home. I had given a lot of thought to what I wanted to do when I left prison, and I decided that I wanted to do something with my life that would have made Papa proud of me. I wanted to honor him by continuing his work with troubled kids, and I believed that I had the experience to help them.
I wanted to expand the mentoring program by including girls in activities on the farm. Knowing how much Carlee enjoyed horseback riding, hiking, and camping, I had to believe that plenty of the girls in state care would like the same things she did. I even thought of constructing separate cabins for the boys and girls so that we could have camp programs that lasted for a week or more as we did with the football boys. Uncle Manny beamed as he listened to me talk of all my plans and told me that it was good to see me so enthusiastic about life. He had been afraid ever since my arrest that prison would eat away all the good in me and leave me angry like I was after Stockwell.
***
I'm only days away from freedom, and I'm antsy. Today, when I finished my work in the library, I still had another hour to go, but I wasn't in the mood to read.
I was sitting in front of two large windows and enjoying the view from the second floor. It was such a contrast to the ugliness of the prison. The buses that delivered new fish to the reception and intake processing area, always stopped directly below the library. If I followed that driveway back past the fence, and beyond the last trees of the thick woods there was an amazing river that resembled a wide strand of sparkling sapphires in brilliant sunshine. I had only seen one river like it, and I wondered if it was the same one. I was curious enough that I found a map of the state, spread it out on the table next to me, and began searching.
I found Bergeron County and then the Blue Bergeron River that cuts across one corner of the county through Deer Lake Farm property. I followed the long wavy blue line downstate and saw that it ran close to Rockville. For four years, I had been staring out that window at my river. I'm not sure he would remember, but on one of his visits, I told Uncle Manny that if I should die before him that I wanted him to have me cremated. I wanted him to sprinkle my ashes over the Blue Bergeron where it cuts across our land. I grinned as I thought of floating all the way to Rockville and past the prison with not one single care in the world. No one could ever beat that f
or freedom.
The bus caught my attention when it rolled inside the gate and stopped at the reception doors. I had seen the same sight every week for almost four years. The bus was full of first-time fish and retreads returning to spend more time with us. As the prisoners, who were all chained together, moved slowly in their handcuffs and ankle manacles towards the entrance that led to intake, it was easy for me to tell the new guys from the old timers, who had already done time in Rockville or another prison.
The new fish were generally younger, had fewer tats, and had difficulty walking in chains. They kept their heads down, but their big eyes warily cut upwards and sideways. The ones who had been to prison before knew how to walk without tripping, and some of them had tats that could have only been done in prison by another inmate with makeshift equipment. They held their heads up and look either bored, tired, or pissed off, but not scared.
I was about to turn away from the window when I saw a ghost. Not a real one, but one that used to haunt my memories just the same. It had been many years, but I only needed one look to know for sure. He was at the rear of the line of new inmates, and even if I hadn't recognized him, it would have been easy to tell that it was not the first time he took that walk.
The sun was very bright that morning, and I was sure that no one on the ground could see anything through the sun's glare on the second floor windows, but for whatever reason, he glanced up and stared for a few seconds directly at me. He smiled, sending a chill through my body because I knew that he didn't need to see me to know where I was. He mostly likely had contacts inside the prison and knew all that he needed to know about me. Maybe even that I was working in the library on the second floor at the very moment he looked up at the window.
I had always wondered if he would come. It had been so many years since I had seen anything but his hands in my dreams, but he was finally making his move. His admission to Rockville was no coincidence and neither was the timing. He planned for his revenge to make my worst fear come true. He wanted me to know that after serving my time, I was never going home. He wanted me to picture my loved ones hearing the bad news. He wanted to hurt me as badly as he could and then kill me.
***
I was too quiet when I met Carlos for dinner. I couldn't eat, and he demanded to know what was wrong with me. After I told him, he said he would take care of it. I pleaded with him not to risk any of our guys. I didn't want the warden to hit them with more time, and I didn't want anyone to get hurt because of me. I told Carlos that I would be okay, but he planned to talk to the guy and warn him of the consequences of misbehaving. The new inmates would be through processing later in the day, and as soon as the COs assigned cells, Carlos would visit. That evening, Carlos said that he had spoken with the ghost, and I should not worry. I wanted to believe him, and I tried to be positive, but I didn't think it would be that simple.
Carlos told me about the dinner he had planned for Friday night. Two of the gang worked in the prison kitchen, and they bribed the head cook to buy real steak and fresh vegetables to cook for my parole party. Often, COs would overlook an innocent celebration that might not be by the book just to keep peace with a gang leader, and Carlos had their blessings. I told Carlos if he could continue to persuade the cook to make decent dinners that he should eat good meals more often. I promised that after my parole, I would visit him and bring him the fresh fruit he loved. I also promised to continue depositing money in his prison account. He gave me a bone-crushing hug that told me he would miss me, and I knew that I would miss him too.
Uncle Manny and Tyler would be taking me home Saturday, but I still wanted to call them. I needed to call them.
The inmate phones for my cellblock were located in the day room, only a short walk from my cell. From the angle I had at our cell door, I could see into the room to know when the line thinned. I didn't like having guys waiting right behind me while I talked. It was irritating when they coughed and did other annoying shit to remind me that they wanted to use a phone. It was better to wait until the phones were clear than to chance a fight over something so trivial.
Uncle Manny and Tyler were both home and I surprised them. They didn't think that they would ever receive another call with an operator informing them that they had a collect prisoner call from Rockville. I heard Uncle Manny tell Tyler that I was on the phone, and then there was the familiar change in sound when he put me on speaker.
"River, what's wrong? You're still getting out Saturday, right?" Uncle Manny was afraid that I had bad news. I smiled because he cared so much.
"Yes, sir, I'm still leaving Saturday, but I wanted to hear your voices."
Tyler's voice. "Shit, River. You scared me, dude."
"Hey, now, little man," I teased. "That's twenty-five pushups for cursing when I get home."
"Whatever, Daddy." At nineteen years old, Tyler sounded his age when he spoke, but he still had the same laugh he did at thirteen when his voice was changing.
"Hey, Tyler, are you still dating Kristen?"
It was hard for me to keep up with Tyler's girlfriends, and Uncle Manny cracked me up when he told me that Tyler declared a major in female science. Tyler could have left home to play college football, but he decided to go to Ackers State because he was supposedly in love with a local girl. He could also commute from home and help my uncle with the farm and fitness center business. I wasn't surprised that he would want to live at home.
"Oh, yeah. I think she's the one, River. If it's okay with you, I might bring her over Sunday to meet you. I told her that if my big bro didn't like her, it was over."
I laughed loudly. Men, playing cards at a nearby table, paused to look my way. "Yeah, I believe you'd dump her just for me. Just be safe with her, okay?"
Manny's voice. "I tell him every day, and every two weeks, I replace a box of protection on his dresser."
Tyler interrupted. "River, the man threatens me with a Flores vasectomy. He says on a horse farm it's known as gelding."
I was laughing hard. Our conversation was typical, as we always tried to keep things light-hearted. It was good to laugh with them, but I suddenly sobered quicker than usual. I wanted so badly to be with them right then, right that moment, that it physically hurt my stomach. I couldn't shake the feeling that I would miss my parole date, and I was very afraid that I would never see Uncle Manny and Tyler again.
I was silent too long. Thinking there might be trouble with the phone line, Uncle Manny and Tyler had been yelling into the phone. They startled me as Carlos did sometimes when he shook me hard to wake me from one of my nightmares. I told them it was all good.
Guys were lining up again. I had to go. "Hey, guys, I have to jet. Other guys are waiting."
"I'm glad you called." Manny sounded happy. "It's going to be so good to take you home."
Tyler agreed. "For real, River. We've waited so long. I have the big room next to mine ready for you. Manny had them take down the old oak we thought might fall, and now you'll be able to look out your window and see the sun rise over the hill behind the first barn."
"Thanks for all you guys have done for me. Since I was a little kid, my biggest dream was to have a home with a good family, and I was blessed with the best family that I could've had. The two of you, Grammy, and Grandpa mean the world to me, and I guess I have to throw in Cousin Howie, the Mackeys, Miss Martin, Coach Haney, and a few more cousins there in Harper Springs. You guys are all that's really important to me, and I love you very much."
***
As I finish my "Howie" pages for the day, my mind is unusually peaceful. My phone conversation with Uncle Manny and Tyler reminded me how lucky I am to have them waiting for me at Deer Lake Farm, the most beautiful place on earth to me.
My grandparents will visit us at the farm in two weeks. Howie, The Mackeys, Miss Martin, Coach Haney, and other friends want to visit as soon as I'm settled. Uncle Manny has suggested having a homecoming party for me. I like the idea of seeing everyone as a group and thanking them for their
love and support during the past few years when their letters and visits helped me so much.
As strange as it may sound, Ant, Carlee, and Papa have helped me through Rockville as much as anyone has. During the time that I knew them, each of them became a part of me and made me stronger and better. Because of them and because of my family and friends waiting to welcome me back to Deer Lake Farm, I have been luckier than I ever deserved.
It's taken most of my life to learn that home is where people love you. No matter what happens to me, my dream will come true.
I'm going home.
EPILOGUE
By Howie Spearman
Two days before River Blue's scheduled parole from Rockville State Prison, he was attacked in the prison library by Craig Krieger and three white supremacists gang members. According to his cellmate, River had not carried a shank with him since his first months in prison, but he took two sharp shanks to work with him that day. He used them to kill Krieger and another one of his attackers, but during the fight for his life against four inmates, he sustained more than thirty stab wounds.
CO Tisdale detained two Latino gang members who had intended to keep a protective eye on River that morning. When the inmates finally walked into the library, they found River bleeding and unconscious. As River's ambulance sped across the Blue Bergeron Bridge towards the hospital, he stopped breathing, and a doctor pronounced him dead soon after his arrival at the ER. River Blue was twenty-five years old.
The two white gang members, who left River to die and ran from the library, had little chance of escaping detection with their clothes bloodied by their own wounds. Passing guards quickly apprehended the inmates and escorted them to the infirmary for treatment. Since their wounds were not life threatening, they were treated and moved to the special secure housing unit for their own safety until their trials.
My Name Is River Blue Page 51
