Entry One
NO LIGHT
My name is Michael…
I’ve been referred to as Mike, Mike Hype, Mike Vegas, and at times King Mike Hype.
In the year of 1996, I was sentenced by a jury of “my peers” to ten years in a high-security federal penitentiary. After being charged with the distribution of cocaine my life came to a screeching halt. A decade is such a huge chunk of a person’s life I literally couldn’t phantom completing my sentence.
Soon after my arrival to the pen, I began writing a journal of the events I experienced during my incarceration. I’ve met some of the most interesting, charismatic, and intelligent individuals one could ever hope to meet in a lifetime.
An 18-year-old with a forty-year sentence, a 36-year-old with 15 years in, and 44 more to go. This is what we mean in the pen when we say, “He ain’t never gonna see no light.”
No Light: A sentence so harsh and long that sunlight will never shine upon said inmate as a free man. Usually, while they are in the prime of their life.
During the course of my sentence, I’ve written several thousand entries. Some entries are several pages long, while others are just a few sentences scribbled upon a brown paper bag or a napkin. Last week as I was going through some boxes I came across this journal. After reading a few pages I decided to trash it. The feelings and emotions it brought back are hard to explain, but I knew I didn’t want to relive them all over again…
That is until my girlfriend at the time found them in the trash. She convinced me that my words could be a cautionary tale to those who may stray off the path of the righteous.
So, here I will share with you all my thoughts, my dreams, and my fears. I will bear my soul to you and pray that you and anyone you know will never have to go through this type of ordeal.
Ten years is quite a long time, but I’ve met men who will never see the light of day as free men again.
Michael,
Entry Two
CASTLE GRAYSKULL
The plane ride to California depressed the shit out of me…
I realized then that it would be ten years before I flew in a plane again. Shit, it would be ten years before I’d do anything I’d truly enjoyed again
After the plane landed we were hustled onto a fortified bus. With chains attached to my wrist, waist, and ankles I couldn’t help but think about the mini-series, “ROOTS”. There were so many black and brown faces on the bus I was embarrassed for my race. What the fuck are we doing to ourselves black people?
As we pulled up to Lompoc Federal Penitentiary the sun made a retreat behind a cluster of clouds. As I looked at my new home I noticed that a hush had come upon the bus. The building intimidates you immediately. So vast and cold I swear that if it had a drawbridge attached to it you would expect Skeletor to greet you.
I am scared, but I have promised myself I will not let it show.
Entry Three
BUDD
His name is Robert Budd…
He told me to just call him Bud. This has got to be the nerdiest dude I’ve ever seen in my life. He’s biracial, Chinese, and White but lacks the most identifiable Asian feature. He has broken out blotchy skin with hair in desperate need of a wash.
While we were in the holding cell waiting to get processed in, I sat with my back to the wall as Bud paced the floor nervously. He kept asking me if I thought he would need a shank. How the hell should I know? All this shank talk was making me antsy.
Finally, they called my name and processed me in. The Guard asked me if I felt suicidal, I told him no, but in the back of my mind, I imagined Bud slitting his wrist right in front of him.