Post by The Convicted on Oct 22, 2019 22:54:32 GMT -5
"The Walls"
Jefferson City Correctional Center
Thursday. October 11, 2019
The scene begins in the Missouri Department of Corrections to be exact "The Walls" Jefferson City. As "Homie" Aaron Ortiz has been incarcerated on a parole violation and is awaiting his release, he is forced to do manual labor. He spends most of his day preparing himself mentally for his release and his upcoming match against The Cure as he works he is followed around by a camera crew hired to film "Homie's" life story. Later in the day he would meet up and tell his story to a private reporter who would continue to question him and go over what was filmed and what "Homie" has to say.
The day goes by fairly slow as always the camera crew never left his side and never stopped recording except when forced to by law enforcement and by their boss, as everything they film gets sent straight back to the van outside for their boss to watch as its being filmed. Aaron Ortiz kept on like they were not even there as he did his work and kept his head about himself. They could hear him talking to himself about his upcoming tag team title match at the XHF Network's End of Days pay per view. This interested the camera crew more than just following a con around a dusty old prison as he gets told what to do as he does laundry for ten hours or more a day. The camera crew enjoyed the little bits of insider comments is what they called it when he would talk about "Chronic" and "The Cure" and how "The Convicted" are about to become the new tag-team champions. But most of all they were thrilled when the workday was over and they followed "Homie" back to his cell for the end of the day interview with their boss and Aaron Ortiz.
"Homie" Aaron Ortiz reached his cell and instantly stripped down to nothing more than his T-shirt and grey pants and shower shoes, he enjoyed taking off his state-issued work boots and sweaty socks. The reporter didn't waste any time showing up as she popped her head inside the cell along with a C.O. who stood right outside the cell door as the reporter and camera crew gathered inside the cell for the interview. She introduced herself and quickly began to listen to "Homie's" story of his daily events.
"Homie" Aaron Ortiz
They fixed the loudspeaker yesterday, BASTARDS!!!
My cell is luckily placed right beneath the cursed thing and it's so loud that it literally brings pain to the eardrums when it squawks or screeches. More prison music, rude awakening this morning.
First the eardrum buster and then no power in the building. No power means no warm water. Welcome to coffee, John Wayne style. Okay, I know I'm supposed to be scum in the eyes of society, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy an early morning cup of coffee before work. Damn, a good tall tumbler filled with Keefe coffee.
I try not to give credence to bad days. I like to think you can turn your day around at any time and no day is destined to be bad. Today put that philosophy to the test. Kind of like yesterday and the day before and...
A cup of cold coffee in my stomach, ears still ringing. I walk down the huge, weather-beaten hallway here at our ancient prison, it's time to go to work. It's 05:30 and I'm surrounded by exhausted bodies coming from and going to their designated holes of misery. Nobody is being sociable, least of all me to damn early homes.
I see the guard named "Smith" and he's scanning the masses, I immediately cross my fingers, but today seems destined to remain negative, C.O. Smith pulls me over. I don't know C.O. Smith's first name, but I'd bet the farm it's a double name, probably Billy Bob. He's a stereotypical good ol' boy East Missouri redneck and bully! [His family tree probably resembles a telephone pole]. Wearing the gray uniform of a Missouri correctional officer is a dream come true for C.O. Smith. Sadists love authoritative positions. "Get out of 'em, Ortiz," he tells me with his southern drawl and an obvious gleam in his eye. C.O. Smith loves to strip search, he treats it like {No Means No}. [Feel the power, Billy Bob.]
Getting strip-searched is a hassle, but after a decade of prison, I'm used to it. Though admittedly, I hate C.O.Smith's shakedowns because there are levels of a strip search, and he takes it to the extreme.
As I stand there naked in the chilly hallway, my groin shriveled from the cold, I watch all the people walk by. The female guards avoid looking in my direction, just as the inmates do. This provides me a little comfort because, in a way, these people share my humiliation. Well, most do, prison attracts its fair share of sadists and there's more than one Billy Bob in Missouri Correctional.
"Lift your arms above your head; run your fingers through your hair; open wide and lift your tongue; lift your nutsack; turn around and lift your feet; bend over; spread your cheeks; and cough." C.O, Smith shouts at me in his ever so commanding voice.
I tell myself I'm used to it, but C.O. Smith is an expert at getting beneath the skin. I swallow my anger, add it to the already massive ball of fury in my gut and move on. C.O. Smith has gone on to his next victim, not knowing, or not caring, that I wish him a thousand tortured deaths. A cup of cold coffee has that effect.
I work in the laundry, it's my next stop this fine morning. The laundry has colossal industrial clothes driers, and they put out amazing heat. A hot Missouri summer will make you loathe those driers, but after the chilly strip search this morning, I'm feeling rather fond of them. I walk up and give my favorite drier a hug. He's known as Michael Melter...
About five years ago, some gang members forced a guy named Michael into the drier...almost killed him. Imagine that.
Michael Melter and I are close acquaintances. I unload about 3,000 pounds of clothes a day from him. You could call it a love-hate relationship. As this blessed day continued, a washer broke down. Which meant overtime for me. I work for free, so overtime is always welcome.
They fix it, but there's no movement in prison during count time, so I'm stuck in the laundry till it clears. Guess what? They can't count. Count time would actually be funny if my life wasn't so closely linked to it. I mean, how hard is it to count? Out of the eight-count times every 24 hours, an average of five will be inaccurate. No exaggeration! MDOC is desperate for employees, they send representatives to all the welfare agencies trying to recruit manpower, but where do they find so many people unable to count?
I finally get off work, no school today, thank God. I can't wait to get back to the cell so that I can relax and write, but I can't get to my cell! I'm stuck in the holding tank for three hours. The holding tank [day room] is the room you always go to when returning to the cell block. They're supposed to run an ingress every hour, but they rarely follow their policies, today being no different.
The day room is a nightmare, a very LOUD nightmare. I'm not a gang member anymore, I'm not under 25 haven't been in over a decade. the day room is the last place on earth I want to be. The hate and anger are so present in that room, it's like you're breathing it in. Most prison violence occurs in the day room.
I finally get to my cell and here I'll stay until that eardrum buster rips me from my sleep tomorrow morning, signaling the start to another wonderful day. As I think about my upcoming match against a team that could be my ticket out of here permanently. When I and "Chronic" take those tag team titles from that toxic team of "The Cure" I will finally have steady work which means no more worrying about parole violations.
The reporter sits there still in shock at just the little bit she has witnessed and heard since she started this morning, she assumed it would be nothing more than hearing a con bitch and complain about being falsely accused and why he should be released. She never imagined witnessing what she has and a lot of it she had to stop recording to protect other inmates and guards. She has found complete new respect for those behind bars but Aaron Ortiz specifically. She could tell he didn't want to go on all night and it was almost chow time so she wanted to make this session a quick and short one so she started with a couple of simple questions.
Reporter Megan White
Mr. Ortiz, that's a pretty descriptive day, and I know it's pretty accurate as I have seen the footage from today's events. So let's get today's interview started so you can spend the rest of the day relaxing, is that good with you?
"Homie" Aaron Ortiz
yeah, homes, start whenever your ready.
Reporter Megan White
So, Mr. Ortiz, today lets talk about your reason for being here. Why are you incarcerated?
"Homie" Aaron Ortiz
That's a simple one, parole violation. Next question.
The reporter smiles as she looks over at the cameraman.
Reporter Megan White
No, Mr. Ortiz, I think you misunderstood me, why are you here what crime did you do?
"Homie" Aaron Ortiz
No, no I understood what you asked and that's why I am here, I didn't have a job, because the job I had gone out of business so I was unemployed and that was a parole violation. So they locked me back up plain and simple next question!
Reporter Megan White
Okay, okay Mr. Ortiz, next question, let's talk about your upcoming tag-team match, I understand the Department of Corrections has agreed to a weekend furlough so you can compete for a championship, is that correct?
"Homie" Aaron Ortiz
Damn, right it is homes, they know when I and my Homeboy "Chronic" win that match it will bring a ton of recognition to the state of Missouri. But do you think they are doing it out of kindness Hell no, they will get something out of it, but so am I, I get freedom because when we win, I will have a fulltime job! Which means I will be able to be released no longer under a parole violation.
Reporter Megan White
So what do you think about your opponents? I understand there are more than two.
"Homie" Aaron Ortiz
Yeah, The Cure is what they call themselves, not sure what they are the cure for maybe Gonorrhea or Chlamydia who knows. But yeah they are some type of Freebird team or something that way they can hide who is going to be fighting in the match till time to step in the ring. It's a cheap tactic but who cares. I have dealt with punks my whole prison life, been jumped, stabbed in the back and it's always been by more than three guys so these little boys don't scare me.
Reporter Megan White
But Mr. Ortiz they are the tag-team champions, so that does mean something, don't you think?
"Homie" sits there looking around as his stinger heats a cup of water on his desk.
"Homie" Aaron Ortiz
I will say this for them they have one person on that team that I will say deserves to be called the tag-team champions and that's the one who calls himself Drago or something like that. I understand he is the only one who is an original member of the team and the one who won the championships everyone else on that team or fly by night add on's and probably won't make it a week or two before being replaced.
Reporter Megan White
That's a cold hard statement Mr. Ortiz, so one last question, how do you plan on winning this match?
"Homie" Aaron Ortiz
That's simple homes, I'm going to "SHANK" me someone then "Chronic" and I are going to deliver "The Prison Riot" to them for the one, two, three.
The reporter stands up and saying her goodbye's to "Homie" as her and the camera crew leaves, "Homie" grabs a package of chili flavored Ramen noodles crushing them as he adds them to the cup of hot water on the desk before laying back on his bunk closing his eyes.
