TRANSATORS NOTE: each individual envelope recovered from the Pontiff contained a bundle of several days worth of writings.
My Dearest Love Elizabeth,
I open my eyes, the bright white lights blurr my vision and as things slowly come into focus, my heart sinks into my gut. I'm laying in my cell with my face up against the cold cinderblock walls. I close my eyes and feel my stomach roil with emptiness and despair. I used to at first, hope that I was having a terrible dream, and that it would be gone when I reopened my eyes, but it wasn't gone, I was still there, in my cell, alone, with nothing else there but my own self-accusing thoughts to torment me.
I never know what time it is when I wake up in my cell. A small slit in the wall with an opaque solid pane only reflects the harsh lights that are always on in my cell. You do not see outside. Is the outside still there at all?
I force myself up from my bunk when I hear the call to line up for breakfast. The lock in my cell door autmatically clicks and I listen as the adjoining cells on my tier noisily clang open, one by one, sometimes the metallic sounds soothe me. I grab my plastic cup and spoon, then slowly shuffle, bleary eyed, down the steps to line up for morning chow. It's 5 am, same routine everyday. The food is terrible, yet there is a variety in the menu.
MON: french toast, and sausage/
TUE: cereal/
WED: pancakes with scranbled eggs and ham/
THU: cereal/
FRI: cereal/
SAT: bisquits and gravy/
SUN: hot oatmeal,( plain )
Fruit is served with every breakfast tray. It reminds me of being home with you, Elsie, and Sid. I sit and stare at the fruit a moment before I eat it, I nearly cry. Medications are dipensed after each meal, and like zombies the inmates form a line, I join them in much the same cast, and as the line slowly moves, I massage my sore shoulder and think how I would give the shoulder, and the arm that uselessly dangles there, to be out of this horrid place.
07.18.02
My court appearance came and went last mon, the 15th. I appeared before the Mysterious Video Judge Tatro, looking out from the monitor, I believe he is nothing more than a cardboard cutout propped up in front of the camera.
Do not despair, for even the darkest and most blackest night will surely yield to the warming rays of the morning sun, and I shall hold you again.
I'll be taking medications later, walk around in circles a bit, ( laps they call it here.) then repair to my cell for a short nap. Most of the other inmates are napping, main reason being, save sleepiness, is that the tv privileges have been revoked and there is little else to do.
We are let out into the common areas for a bit each morning and I am usually already in my cell, asleep, where present nightmares have not yet reached my dreams, when "lockdown" is announced over the PA. They do not wake you however when free time commences, there is no announcement other than door bolts scraeching open, cell by cell. Most times it does not soothe me. I am startled and disgruntled by my sleep's interruption, and normally calm myself some by brushing my teeth.
Lately I've been playing card games with some of the other inmates. They sit and regale each other with stories of mischief and mayhem. On the surface they seem to be a happy and friendly bunch, but there's no mistaking the murderous undercurrent of evil that swirls beneath their calm exteriors, threatening to erupt into a deadly malestrom of violence and bloodshed. Fights are not uncommon for the inmates, and there is always the threat of one escalating into a riot, but do not fear, there is a "Rapid Response Team" that is deployed in the event of a riot, or individual fight for that matter. They are legendary in their use of the taser, and baton.
07.19.02
Lunch is served at noon, and is usually on time everyday. Unfortunately the inmates suffer.
We have been sternly commanded to, "line up for chow". Lunch is served to the inmate while lockdown is in effect and everyone is in their cells. Upon the order, everyone stands at their cell door to wait, and wait, and wait some more for some greasy concoction that varies in greasiness from day to day, yet stays the same each agonizing week. As always the threat of individual, and complete lockdown hovers over us. Our keeper's influence is so strong that the inmates are constantly shushing each other, trying to maintain the silence that has been imposed.
07.21.02
Afternoon lockdown is currently in effect, and I am sitting here in my new cell. I didn't move far, just to the next cell down as a matter of fact. Why did I move, you may ask, and if you do, I answer you thusly. My relocation is due, in part, to the manipulations of one English Nigel Davenporte, a British citizen being held here on unspecified charges relating to fraud and deception. Do not worry my Elizabeth, he is innocent, we are all innocent. Anyway, his previous cellmate had questionable hygene habits, the man stank. So English Nigel Davenporte told "Stinky" that the rove officer had okayed the move. ( Of course this was a deception, the rove officer knows nothing.) Stinky was more than willing to switch cells with myself. And my old cellmate, alleged drug cartel member "Don Hojo" was quite agreeable, Don Hojo is apparently having problems with an unknown snitch, and Stinky has a reputation when it comes to ferreting out snitches and dealing with them. The move matters not to me because, as you know, I'm to be transported within the week back to Clark County.
Baby, there's still an outside chance that the Honorable "Asinus Cavum", will just kick me off probation, like we talked about, with a dishonorable discharge and I can board the first bus home to you babe.
I can't wait until tomorrow for your visit Liz. It makes me feel so good when I see your smiling visage, and to hear you tell me that you love me, it makes my heart soar into the heavens. I only wish they'd let us touch, hold hands and think pure thoughts, even a small kiss, my lips gently brushing upon yours. But the unfeeling, heartless, high and mighty strato-pigs would never allow such a thing, there is an abundance of contraband here already, the guards constantly tossing our cells looking for absconditus venenum.
07.22.02
The "custos " called "yard time" a little while ago, The yard is smaller, and more claustrophobic than the common area, it is basically a cement room with a grated cieling that allows in air and light. It's not really being outside at all. Once again all anyone does is walk around in circles, just like inside. At any given time, 25% of the inmates are walking the laps of a race with no finish line. Sameness of ones sanities can be peculiar my dear. They walk about as I speak. Pressure builds slowly for each inmate and sometimes spills over to the next jone. Rmember what I told you about the evil undercurrent? All those officials are doing by exposing us to their arcane and sardonic methods of incarceration and rehabilitation is creating Super Criminals. Perhaps that is the ultimate goal of this hell bent crazy system, to dominate every aspect of our lives. If they manufacture criminals, they will always have a job.
the call just went out for meds. The ibuprofen isn't worth the trouble of standing in line. My arm hurts regardless, but I shuffle over and line up anyway, I can close my eyes and pretend you are waiting there at the end.
07.23.02
My dear sweet Elizabeth, I'll be calling you this evening, I will be talking to you about many of the same things that I'm writing about, but, some of the things that I'm writing about, I won't be talking about...over the phone. I'm sending you a code key, so if you should come across any portions of my letters that are encoded, you have the means to decipher them. In turn, I would have you encode certain "private passages" sent from your end, because the incoming mail is opened and read by these evil facilities. I want you to inspect the envelopes of the letters I have sent you and tell me if they have been tampered with. Look for torn, taped, scrunched, and or partially opened areas of the envelopes and if there is anything suspicious, tell me immediately.
Lockdown has ended ahead of schedule, and we are let out onto the common floor, with certain conditions; no tv or visitations until tomorrow. However, we were allowed commissary. I purchased:
a yellow legal pad
flex pen
shampoo
soap
underarm deodorant
envelopes
and seven packets of coffee
Here is my legacy. I give you all my love baby, I miss you, Pall.
