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So, as I’m sure you can tell by the paper and the pen, I’m in the Box again.

So, yeah, Friday the 13th.  So it was a regular day and I was supposed to take my college readiness final.  Actually, I was supposed to take it last Tuesday, but I wasn’t ready, so I pushed it back to Friday.

So, I’m up at the yard, and I see somebody who had done something he shouldn’t have the last time I’d seen him.  So I looked at him.  He saw me.  I walked over to him, and we started shaking.  (When you shake, it’s a really good fight.  If it’s just so-so, it’s just a fight.)  So,  mind you, this is right out in the middle of the gym.  He was standing 15-20 feet from a c/o, but he, the inmate, wasn’t gonna move away from the c/o, so we got it on right there.  It was bloody.  He gave me my first-ever bloody nose (those are a bitch.  It bleeds a lot.)  and I split his eye, nose and lips.  Plus, his tooth got in the way of my hand, and split my knuckle to the bone.  It took stitches to close it.  Should’ve been more, but the doctor just pulled until it closed.  His eye got ten stitches.

We got maced with the big riot-fog cans.  They are about the size of a can of tennis balls.  That was unpleasant, to say the least.  I felt like I was on fire.

So, as you can imagine, I got lugged.  Now, they’re saying I can go back to population sometime next week, but I have to be on a behavior plan.  I can’t go to the yard for 30 days, except for school or religious purposes.  I have to have a room by the c/o’s desk.

Just some juvenile bullshit.  It is  what it is, though.  I bought it, and I’ma pay for it.  It was something I felt I had to do, so I did it.  I’m not saying I’m right, but it’s over now, and time only moves in one direction.

To change the subject, I just had the MOST AMAZING conversation I’ve ever had since I’ve been up here.  The person I was talking to was X.  He is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.  I could write pages on him, but I won’t.  I’ma just give you just one point of the convo.  He asks: What is a human, and what separates us from the animals.  Me, I don’t know.  Answer:  the ability to dream.  Then we talked about the difference between dreams and ambitions.  Ambitions are something you want to do, have, and see (and get this, b/c it’s mind-boggling.)  A dream is God talking to you.

A dream is God talking to you.

As I am,



Well, something’s have been happening in the prison here.  A little while ago we all were locked down  (the entire prison was locked down) and they did what they called “inventory”.  They came through the pods and cleaned everybody out of anything extra that they were not supposed to have.  This went on from Tuesday until Thursday and they wouldn’t even let us out to shower until it was over.  We got out Thursday night.  First thing I did when they let us out was to take a shower and that felt good, too.  For a while now after we leave the chow hall we have been getting patted down and now before we leave the pods we get patted down before we go to chow and we still get patted down after we leave chow.  They have also come up with the idea for separate recs for both the close and medium units.  Guess too many fights have been breaking out for their tastes and they are trying to put a stop to it.  They said that they want us to feel “safe”, but I think that they really don’t want to make out paperwork and the ones that are trying to actually keep safe are the sex offenders and rats (most of which are probably over in medium).  Other than that, everything is just peachy keen.

Derrick Gerrish, again!

Why are females rarely even arrested for domestic abuse?

I was a victim of domestic abuse:

I woke up one morning to my girlfriend breaking my glass entertainment center and TV. I tried to get her to leave, and she wouldn’t: she started attacking me with a hot hair straightening iron, clawing and kicking me. She kicked me in my groin and bit me in the face! I called the police and reported a domestic. I went to the bathroom to look in the mirror and when I came out, she had left.

So I started walking to my dad’s, the police pulled over and started questioning me. I told them, they seen the marks and the blood on my face. They took pictures and another officer went to get her side of the story. She admitted to badgering me, but said it was self-defense, because I was choking her in a  snow bank. The officer that stayed with me let me go on account I was the victim.

I was eating breakfast at a diner with my father when they barged in and arrested me in front of a dozen people. They said I was the “perp” in the domestic. She had no marks, I had tons and I was the one who called 911.

I spent 2 months in YCJ, come to find out the officer advised her if she didn’t want to go to jail, she would have to write a statement saying exactly what he told her to say.

If that’s not a problem with our system, then what is?

Or maybe it was the DA’s negligence to hear my defense.

My defense is simple: How could I choke her in a snow bank when it happened inside my house? Also, if I did choke her why was there no marks? And how could I have so many marks and blood if it was self-defense? And how did she bite me if I was choking her? The DA didn’t want to hear it and gave me the ultimatum of taking 60 day or risk getting 6 months taking it to trial.

Wow, what a “system.”

– Derrick Gerrish

My name is Ray Munsan, aka X-Ray. My MDOC# is 1583366. I’m at YCJ.

So – Officer Gallager ‘formerly a lieutenant in  York County Jail is now the new flower nazi. Instead of busting these guys in jail with syringe’s and coke/crack, suboxone, &c, he’s stealing our flowers that my celly and I have made. Carnations and roses. They take a long time which keeps us busy for the most part. But he isn’t giving up.

They allow gambling in  York County Jail, which results in fights. Aside from the drugs and the gambling they seem to play dumb when certain things are not done the way they should be. They play favorites. It’s hard to contemplate that Gallager & the Plumber get off taking our flowers that we’ve made. Meanwhile not causing fights or arguments and keeping quietly to ourselves.

What’s wrong with this picture?

We make the flowers from fruit punch and toilet paper. Nothing from the outside world. What a jack-ass! What possesses this guy? Was he trapped in a greenhouse as a young child? Did an evil stepfather make him tend to the flower garden while forbidding him to play baseball with the neighbor kids? Perhaps he has a problem with instant carnation breakfast or Rosie O’Donnell.

Most officers here are way cool. Not Gallager & the Baconater, though. They’re flowers! Gosh!

Thank you.

– Ray Hunsan

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Political Prisoners

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