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-January 2004
Death is Different
I am sitting here in an isolation type cell at a United States' Penitentiary in Pennsylvania. My stay here will be a short one. I was transported by the United States Marshals' service several days ago. Our trip from Terre Haute, Indiana to Williamsport, Pennsylvania was uneventful. Being aboard a small, private government jet was an experience most federal prisoners never have. Con-Air, not the movie, but rather the US Marshals' transport system, uses large planes for the most part. It seems that condemned prisoners, however, are exempt from that normal mode of transportation. I'm not complaining mind you, I'm just jotting down these thoughts as they come. My transfer (temporary in nature) is a result of pending legal matters. The court will conduct a hearing on Friday, January 16th to determine my competency to forego more legal challenges in my case and to have the sentence of death inplemented in the near future. This is more of a formality than anything else. My competency has never been an issue, but, the courts and all involved want to be assured that no mentally incompetent person is executed. If this wasn't such a serious issue I'd bust out in a fit of laughter Earlier this week, an inmate was to be executed in the state of Arkansas after being forced to take medication to make him competent enough to be executed. This practice has the seal of approval of the United States Supreme Court. I assume the execution in Arkansas went forward as scheduled. I have no access to newspapers, TV, radio, telephone or visitors while on this little court-ordered journey, so I cannot say with certainty that Charles Singleton was killed, but, I suspect the governor in Arkansas didn't intervene in the case. Numerous US Supreme Court opinions written since 1973 have announced that in regards to the punishment of convicted individuals, the punishment of "Death Is Different." I wonder if the Justices and former Justices honestly felt that way then, or if they feel that way today? The highest court of the United States will decide several cases relating to the death penalty prior to the end of the 2003-2004 term, which ends on June 30th 2004. This is a presidential election year, so any major favorable decisions on the use of Capital Punishment is doubtful. I hope this prediction is wrong! In my opinion what makes the use of the death penalty different is how it is used, when it is used and on whom. Minorities, poor people and thise who reside in certain sections of this country, those are the people who face and receive this punishment. It's arbitrary amd no amount of tinkering with the death penalty system can fix it. The worst part is that many innocent men and women have been sentenced to death. Only the science of DNA has saved these 100 plus innocent persons from the executioner. What about the majority of death penalty cases where ther is no DNA evidence available? There is little, if any dispute that innocent people have already been executed in this country. These alone are reasons enough to stop the "machinery of death" as the late Honorable Justice Blackmum wrote in his last death penalty case.The TV news programs which I viewed prior to my departure from Terre Haute were full of the major legal cases to be heard and decided during 2004. Sports figures, a "Home Maker" tycoon and others were previewed. Missing amongst the glimpse into the future news stories were those where normal everyday citizens will be on trial for their lives. Deathg is different because so few people in this country care one way or another about capital punishment. During the many debates between the Democratic candidates for President the issue of capital punishment has seldom, if ever been mentioned. Why? It's not a hot button political issue because Americans have remained strongly in favor of this punishment. In a matter of weeks my own life will be taken by the executioner's employed by the US Government. They are killing me in the name of "you, the people." My death will come with no fanfare, no media circus like that surrounding Timothy McVeigh's 2001 execution. Few of "you, the people" will even be aware of what is happening or why. To me, it seems strange that I'm being put to death for my crimes against "you, the people." No, I'm not a terrorist, or a bank robber, I took the life of a fellow inmate behind the walls of a federal prison. I am the first person convicted of such a crime, to be sentenced to death in the history of the federal death penalty. I hope I am the last. So, I bid a fond farewell to "you, the people." I hope you will say a silent prayer, or drink a cold beer or something as I'm strapped onto the gurney with drugs being pumped into my veins. Oh yes, Death IS Different, ain't it? I'm dying because "you, the people", through your elected officials have said I should. With 290 million people in this country I must be killed in your name so that others will be deterred from committing the crime of murder. There's about as much of a chance of that happening as there is of George W. Bush and his administration being honest with the American people about the wars they have declared. Even though I'm being killed in the name of you, the people, I'm still damn proud to be an American, where freedom is only one exceutioners' injection away!
Damn,
what a roller coaster ride it’s been these past few months! I’m not
exactly certain where to start as I attempt to write these words . Obviously
being alive and able to communicate here is far more than I expected at
this time last month. I was in the process of living out my final days
and preparing to be executed on June 8th. I will explain later how I
received word of my stay of execution which was issued by a three-judge
panel of the United States Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit
sitting in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on June 3, 2004. For
now I will skip ahead and provide some facts and details about my
current situation. As I write these words, I do so in a solitary
isolation cell at the United States Penitentiary in Lewisburg,
Pennsylvania. I have only a two-inch pencil with which to write. No desk
or heard surface to use, so I improvised. (My desk consists of a rolled
up wool blanket with a book on top for a writing place.) On
Friday, June 25, 2004, I was taken by bus from death row to the local
airport. The trip is a short one of approximately twenty miles. By 8:00
AM the bus with me and eighteen other inmates aboard arrived safely at
the airport. We waited there until 11:05 AM for the U.S. Marshals’
transport plane (con-air). After a lengthy shakedown (pat down search)
and boarding process, we departed Terre-Haute, Indiana at 12:00 noon.
The plane made additional stops in Michigan, Illinois and Minnesota
before reaching our final destination . . . the Federal (Bureau of
Prisons’) Transfer Center in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. I was escorted
by a team of Deputy Marshals and BOP guards from the plane. The
restraints were removed, a strip search conducted, and a medical
examination including x-rays was mandatory. Having been issued clothing
and instructed to dress, I promptly followed each and every order. An
additional round of security precautions involving a hand held metal
detector and a chair called “THE BOSS” (you sit in the hard, high
back chair which resembles an electric chair) took place. These finely
tuned devices are designed to detect any metal items one may have
concealed in his mouth, nose, ears, ass or penis. Oh yeah, “’ole’
Boss Chair,” he’s quite an invention. Once the strip search, x-rays
and metal detectors pronounced me clear of any secreted contraband, the
restraints were reapplied and at 6:45 PM a quartet of BOP’s finest
assisted (and I use that term loosely) me to the 7th floor hold (lock-up)
where I was unceremoniously lodged for my stay there. “Welcome home
David, to the state of your birth and the city of your youth!” Yeah
right . . . when considering that only days ago the plan was for my
physical remains to be shipped back to Oklahoma for a funeral and burial,
I suppose I can’t complain too much about this trip. At least I’m
aware of the glass being half filled as opposed to it being completely
empty. I
spent two uneventful days and three nights confined to a segregation
cell at the FTC. Phone calls and visits were not allowed there. The food
was okay, and I made the best of the situation. The worst part of my
brief stay in Oklahoma City was the unrelenting noise created by some
mentally disturbed inmate two cells away from me. He screamed, cursed,
hollered, banged, kicked the door, sang songs, and fought invisible foes
for hours and hours at a time. His behavior caused other inmates on the
unit to express their anger and aggravation by yelling and cursing at
him. If the guy had any comprehension of the havoc and turmoil he
created, there was no sign of it. Bright
and early on Monday morning, June 28, 2004, I was taken back to the
R&D (Receiving and Discharge) area, strip-searched, issued clean
clothing and shoes, placed in restraints, and told to wait. Thirty
minutes later someone from the medical staff arrived and gave me two
morning injections of insulin. I
boarded the plane at 8:10 AM, and we departed shortly thereafter. The
plane was a 727, and full to capacity (inmates, Deputy U.S. Marshals and
pilots). The flight from Oklahoma City to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania took
approximately three hours. Other than some turbulence, the flight was
non-eventful. At
Harrisburg I was transferred over to two Deputy U.S. Marshals from
Williamsport, Pennsylvania. They also had three prisoners who were
already in the van when I arrived. From the airport we traveled to the
Dauphin County Prison in Harrisburg where the other inmates were
surrendered to the authorities there. I remained in the van with one
Marshal. This stop was brief; lasting approximately fifteen minutes. Our
next stop was at a Burger King restaurant drive through window. I was
treated to a double cheeseburger, french fries, and a coke. The food was
mighty tasty and greatly appreciated. By
5:00 PM I was sitting in a holding cell in the R&D area at
USP-Lewisburg. Processing was quick and painless. From R&D I was
escorted here to the Special Housing Unit (SHU) and placed in a newly
constructed isolation cell where I now reside. (More to come soon.)
I’ve
been here at USP-Lewisburg for just over one week now. I miss my friends
and associates on the row at Terre Haute. I especially worry about Jeff
because of his mental/emotional state. He wasn’t doing very well when
I left on June 25th. My
conditions of confinement here are far less than satisfying, but I’m
dealing with this situation as best as I can. Nothing worthwhile ever
happens quickly in a prison environment. As I’ve written many times
over the years, the motto I associate with a prison existence is
“Hurry up and wait.” I
am being housed on the Special Housing Unit (SHU); a recently renovated
unit designed to hold inmates on administrative and/or disciplinary
segregation status. There are two specially designed cells designated as
high/max cells. I currently occupy one of them. The other is empty. I am
held here not because of any disciplinary problems I’ve caused, but
rather because I am under a sentence of death. The staff have all
treated me very professionally, but with a higher degree of security
measures than any place I have ever been incarcerated previously.
Overkill is the term which comes to mind. The
cell furnishings consist of a concrete slab with a two-inch mattress, a
stainless steel shower, toilet/sink combination, and a small mirror
attached to the wall. There is no desk, stool, chair or storage space.
My clothing (all prison issued community clothing previously worn by
countless other, this includes underwear and socks) is folded neatly and
stacked on the floor at the end of the concrete slab. Other items of
personal property such as two books and my legal materials are stacked
at the opposite end of the bed on the floor. In order to write, I roll
up my mattress and place it against the back wall, using that as a chair.
I then use the edge of the concrete slab as a writing surface. In prison
one learns to improvise and make do with what is available. I
have requested that I be allowed to receive visits and make telephone
calls. So far these request have not been answered, and at present
visits and phone calls are not allowed. I
am not allowed any outdoor exercise at all. I am not allowed access to a
law library, and I am held in total isolation with absolutely no contact
with other inmates. The video camera mounted in the corner of the cell
provides the staff with twenty-four hour surveillance of my every move
and action. So
far I have yet to be provided with any explanation for the harsh
environment other than “You’re from death row.” Bear in mind that
I was not transferred here due to any misconduct or disciplinary
problems. I am here solely because I decided to fight in court against
the United States government’s attempts to kill me. These strict
prisoner-of-war-like conditions are ordinarily used as a form of
punishment for having violated prison rules within the federal bureau of
prisons. Even the ADX super-max federal prison in Florence, Colorado has
prison conditions which are less stringent than those which I am
currently under. The
bottom line is this . . . certain people within the United States
Department of Justice and its agencies are pissed that they were not
allowed to execute me on June 8th as planned. In a press release the DOJ
stated that . . . “Hammer is just manipulating the system.” This in
response to the stay of execution issued by the Federal Appeal’s Court
on June 3, 2004. Yeah right, like I have/had some personal control over
three United States Circuit Court Judges. So
now the government, through its agents and employees, will attempt to
get their revenge by punishing me for exercising my constitutional
rights to fight in court to live. Only in America under an Attorney
General like John D. Ashcroft is such a punishment not only authorized,
but encouraged or demanded. Thanks John. I
am determined to withstand whatever comes my way because I am a survivor.
I get depressed at times, and I feel hopeless and ready to give up . . .
but deep within each of us there lies that spark of life which calls out
“Don’t surrender to death.” I won’t! Many
of you reading these words have written to me in recent weeks. Please
know that I am grateful for each card and letter. In the coming days and
weeks I will attempt to respond to each of you. Receiving words of
support and encouragement from y’all has been a lifeline for me. Now
that I have an opportunity, I will be in touch by mail. I
keep reminding myself that no matter how many obstacles I have to face,
at least I am still alive to do so. My new mailing address is listed
below. Feel free to write to me at:
My
stay here in fabulous Lewisburg, Pennsylvania is eerily similar to my
time at the Federal Super-max (ADX) prison in Colorado. Unfortunately,
this facility’s version of a super-max cell has neither the basics or
the amenities offered/provided at the ADX. A multi-million dollar
renovation project on this lock up unit (officially named the Special
Housing Unit) was dedicated in May, 2004, and opened for business on
Thursday, June 24, 2004. “Congratulations David” you lucky dog . . .
for being the first occupant in this bastardized version of a super-max
cell. All
bullshit aside, let me share with you a couple of features my cement
isolation cell possesses. The shower is made of stainless steel with a
push button for activating the water. There are no knobs with which to
control the water temperature – there is only really hot water.
That’s not a bad thing if you don’t mind a slight burn with your
shower. The newest correctional center design and technology was used by
the contractors. The water supply to the shower is set on a timer. Water
is available between 2:00 PM and 6:00 PM in intervals of five minutes
for a total shower time of fifteen minutes (which includes shaving as
well). Afterwards a computer chip prevents any more water for a
twenty-four hour period. Ain’t modern imprisonment grand? Now
let’s talk about my combination stainless steel sink/commode. The
toilet is controlled by a computer chip and timer. It will only flush
one time per hour. Any attempts to flush more often causes the toilet to
not flush at all for an additional period to time. Since I am not
allowed to possess a clock or watch, I can’t say exactly how long that
is. Having waste in one’s bathroom toilet and being unable to flush it
is unsanitary and most unappealing. Imagine
if you can, being unable to flush your toilet, and having your meal
delivered to you while you wait on some damn computer chip to decide
it’s time to allow you to flush the _ _ _ _ _ _. Anyway, living in
such conditions does one thing. It teaches you real quick not to use the
facilities anywhere close to meal time The
powers that be who make untold sums of cash for their brilliant ideas
decided that the light switches for the cells in this unit would be
placed on the outside of the cell doors and controlled by the staff and
officers. As a result, my cell lights remain on from 5:00 AM until 12:00
AM. During the five hour period when they are turned off . . . they
aren’t really. Each time the officers come by to conduct a count the
lights are switched on briefly, and if asleep, I’m instantly awake.
This occurs several times each night. Obviously, such conditions are not
conducive to sleeping. Covering the light in any way is prohibited, and
doing so will result in disciplinary charges being filed and sanctions
being imposed. At this point I have very little that they can take from
me, but would rather not risk it. Talk about control freaks! In
the fifteen days I’ve been here I’ve gone through more strip
searches than in the past year. It matters not that I’ve not had any
contraband found on me or in my cell or anywhere around me. My visits
with my attorneys have all taken place in a non-contact room. The only
people I come into contact with are officers. Nevertheless, I’m strip
searched when leaving the unit, again in the visiting room, and a third
time upon returning to the unit. Each search consists of disrobing in
front of a least four officers and as many as eight. I am required to
open my mouth, pull down my bottom lip, stick out my tongue, and turn my
head from side to side so my ears can be peered into. Then I hold out my
hands in front of my body, palms down, then palms up, spread my fingers
on each hand and raise my arms and have my armpits examined. Then I am
required to separate my penis from my testicles, lift up my testicles,
and then pull the skin back on my penis. I’m then told to turn around
and raise one foot at a time so the bottoms can be checked. Then I’m
instructed to bend over and take my hands and spread my buttocks to
allow for an observation of my anus. Only afterwards am I allowed to
dress. All of that three times in a row just to talk with lawyers in a
non-contact room. No
folks – it ain’t nice, but it is all a part of being in prison. In
the past twenty-seven years I’ve undergone thousands of these searches,
and each one continues to be a humiliating experience. I comply and do
my best to maintain a sense of dignity. It’s not always easy. Some
staff take a perverse pleasure in conducting these strip searches. For
most it’s just a part of the job. I
keep reminding myself it’s all mind over matter. If you don’t mind
then it doesn’t matter. Dorothy this sure ain’t Kansas! Having
spent an hour writing about some of the trials and tribulations of my
current predicament, I am reminded of why I am here and the journey
it’s been. When one considers the alternatives of death or a lifetime
of such treatment or conditions, it becomes very difficult to ascertain
which punishment is worse. I know from personal experiences that life
without the possibility of parole ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.
It’s no wonder that over one hundred death sentenced prisoners have
waived their appeals and acquiesced in their own executions during the
past twenty-seven years. Gary
Gilmore was the first man to surrender to the lure of execution in the
so called modern era of the death penalty. In the time since capital
punishment was held unconstitutional as it existed prior to 1972. ON a
cold January day in 1977 Gary (Mark) Gilmore faced a team of expert
marksmen who made up his firing squad. In an old prison warehouse he was
bound and blindfolded. The state of Utah killed Gilmore with bullets
fired into his heart. Having previously been incarcerated for several
years Gilmore knew the existence ahead should his sentence of death be
commuted. He also knew how long the appeals process would last. He made
a decision to die. Who can really blame him? Not me, that’s for sure.
What I do know is this . . . all life is sacred so my own life, such as
it is, must be sacred as well. It is for that reason and others that I
will continue to fight to live. It
was five years ago today that twenty of us under a federally imposed
sentence of death were transferred to Terre Haute for the activation of
the first ever federal Death Row Unit. Of those twenty individuals three
have been executed; one was re-sentenced to death after receiving a new
sentencing hearing; one had his death sentence commuted to life without
parole by former President Bill Clinton on his last day in office; one
had his death sentence reversed and was later sentenced to life without
parole; four others have had their death sentences vacated and are
awaiting further action by the courts. (They could be re-sentenced to
death after new sentencing hearings). The total men currently under a
federal sentence of death remains at thirty, with no executions likely
to occur in the near future.
It may appear as if I’ve missed writing entries for this journal for awhile now, but that isn’t the case. I’ve actually written several only to have them taken down or not posted because of their content. It appears that I unintentionally offended a couple of my friends by writing about them. Those journal entries are now gone forever. I do offer my most sincere apology to those that I may have hurt or offended. As they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I ordinarily would not pay much attention to negative sniveling, especially when I have written honestly and from my heart. In this instance I have elected to adhere to the requests of others out of love, respect and friendship. I’ve been contemplating what to write this time around, and have concluded that it is time to talk about the issue of death row inmates and the women who come into their lives. I am not speaking of friendships, but rather of relationships where those involved fall in love. I’ve observed first hand just how powerful the emotions can be. I’ve watched grown men abandon everything they believe in in order to have such a relationship. I’ve seen how one such woman destroyed a man physically and mentally, taking away his dreams with her lies, games and manipulation. I’ve watched as another caused long time friends to turn against one another. Fortunately, these are the exceptions. Love is such a powerful emotion, it can feel heavenly, and it can create physical pain as well. Being in prison and on the row, isolated and lonely can seem intolerable. Then one day at mail call a letter arrives from some woman. The letter seems different than many others he has received – can’t actually explain it – just a feeling. The exchange of cards and letters starts off slowly, but in only a matter of weeks, they are talking on the telephone for fifteen minutes at a time. They laugh, they share. They both look forward to the next call; the next letter. Without knowing it they have become close, they feel love but are afraid to voice these emotions at first. They throw caution to the wind and admit they have fallen in love. They are happy. He tells all of the fellas and takes the good natured ribbing about being weak for love. As with all relationships these have highs and lows. She wants to be faithful . . . he wonders if she is. On a bad day they argue. Silence for a couple of days, they make up and it’s all good as new. The cycle repeats itself until the interest wanes, and the passage of time starts to dampen the feelings. Someone else comes into her life, she’s able to have physically what she cannot share with him. He detects the subtle signs at first. Isolation – doubts creep into his mind. Is he paranoid? He calls and she is not at home. The letters and cards don’t come as often – no mail for a week. He curses her, he hates himself for needing and wanting her so. She’s back, she’s sorry, having fulfilled her physical urges she needs the security and the safety of the emotional commitment with her death row lover. It’s on again, off again. These relationships are doomed to failure after awhile in most cases, but not all. It’s all a gamble, but then isn’t real love always sort of like that? Love doesn’t come with any guarantees. It’s a mystical thing. We all need to have an opportunity to share our lives with someone special. Being locked away and having a sentence of death doesn’t alter our need for love . . . not even when the chances are that it will hurt in the long run. Even after there’s an end to the cards, letters and phone calls, one can still cherish the memories. In the dead of night when the tier is quiet and the lights are off you pull out one or more of her letters and look at her photographs. The faint scent of her perfume rises to your nostrils and the memories flood into your brain. Just for awhile you remember what it’s like to be a man in love . . . your heart feels empty knowing it’s all an illusion, but for the moment that really doesn’t even matter, for you are free – you have escaped into that magical world of love and, it’s real . . . at least for awhile. Life evolves around the snippets of our existence which mean the most to us. As the words to a song so eloquently express, “Love hurts”!
It
was two months ago today that I left the row at Terre Haute. Time passes
by so quickly. There is much to report not from my current place of
captivity, but from the row. I base my reports upon documents, first
hand accounts from those still confined there, and published reports. It
is obvious that things have changed drastically for my friends and
associates in the so-called Special Confinement Unit. What a joke! There
is absolutely nothing special about the place – that is unless you
count that it possesses the ability to warehouse those sentenced to
death. According
to a memorandum dated July 21, 2004, issued by Warden Keith E. Olson,
addressed to: All Concerned, Subject Matter: Special Confinement Unit
Recreation . . ., Keith says: “The
Federal Bureau of Prisons budgetary situation has made it necessary to
vacate correctional officer posts throughout the institution. This
includes posts in the special confinement unit. Considering this fact,
along with the number of inmates in the special confinement unit
continues to rise (what does he expect with John Ashcroft and George
Bush in office) it has become necessary to curtail recreation hours.” Yep,
that’s right – restrict the already limited hours of “out of cell
time” for death row inmates. Why? Because as chief executive officer
of USP/Terre Haute, Keith Olson can’t balance a budget without cutting
programs and eliminating corrections officers’ jobs. Now, let’s
review. In a maximum security prison with a death row unit and other
high-max inmates, Keith’s answer is to cut down on his corrections
staff. Okay, if he says so. Oh,
did I fail to mention that on Wednesday, July 15, 2004, four of Mr.
Olson’s corrections officers were injured as a result of an alleged
attack by one inmate upon an officer with a home made shank (sharpened
instrument)? According to a report in an Indiana newspaper dated July
16, 2004, “ . . . “The Federal prison in Terre Haute was on lock
down Thursday, one day after officials said an inmate assaulted a guard. An
inmate attached a guard with a sharpened instrument at about 8:00 PM
Wednesday, prison officials said in a news release. The
inmate and four guards were injured. The inmate received minor first aid
and was placed in a high-security unit in the prison. (In actuality the
inmate was the lest of their concerns, he was beaten and then
transferred to a prison in Illinois where he is held in solitary
confinement). The injured guards were taken to a hospital. Three were
released following treatment, but one was still hospitalized Thursday
officials said.” Now
let me get this straight. Four of the officers injured at USP-Terre
Haute, and Keith Olson responds six days later by saying he is
eliminating correctional officer posts throughout the prison. Yeah, that
makes sense. Maybe it’s because Keith is retiring in a few months and
he’s leaving his mess for the new Warden to clean up. Nope
that’s not all. The Federal Bureau of Prisons has decided that the
smoking of tobacco products will no longer be allowed. Towards that end
the Terre Haute correctional complex will become smoke free by November
15, 2004. Beginning
July 30, 2004, all smoking inside of the cells, or any indoor areas, was
stopped. Beginning July 30, 2004, until November 15, 2004, inmates are
allowed to smoke on the recreation yard only in a smoking shelter with a
cigarette lighting device provided. The sale of matches ended July 30,
2004, and the sale of smoking tobacco products will end on September 15,
2004. Since death row inmates are limited to five hours a week out of
cell time (this surely cannot be called recreation by any stretch of the
imagination) they can smoke three days a week during these periods. It
is estimated that approximately 45% of inmates within the BOP smoke, and
another 15% use smokeless tobacco products. In
an environment where tensions run high already, denying some inmates
their cigarettes will only increase the amount of disruptive behavior
exhibited. Even more important is that tobacco products will become yet
another form of contraband. In prisons where smoking has been banned in
recent years, the price of one cigarette is between $8.00 and $10.00.
Make no mistake about it, contraband tobacco will find its way into the
prisons within the Federal Bureau of Prisons. Following
Mr. Olson’s curtailment of death row inmates’ out of cell time, he
and Unit Manager Randy White issued additional memorandums further
restricting the inmates’ access to certain privileges, such as popcorn
and ice cream purchased from the prison commissary or cold drinks on hot
summer days. No reasons were provided other than these privileges would
be given to certain inmates whom the prison staff has allowed to work on
the unit. No doubt such favoritism only serves to divide the group of
inmates housed on death row in an attempt to turn one against the other.
It won’t work, they are smarter than that. All
things considered, maybe I’m better off being in Pennsylvania where I
have nothing, and I expect nothing.
The
days, weeks and months pass by and nothing in this existence changes
much. Routine rules the days and the nights. The sameness is a form of
torture as unrelenting as any known to mankind. Four walls, steel bars,
shatter proof glass on the outer door and window of my isolation cell,
are ostentatious examples of modern prison-rats attempts to bring back
the past. William
Penn’s practice of isolating prisoners in an effort to have them pay
penance for their crimes was the premise behind the penitentiary
concept. It was a failure in the 1700’s, and it is a failure today. I
mention the esteemed Mr. Penn as I couldn’t help but notice on my
arrival here at USP-Lewisburg as we traveled onto prison property, we
did so by William Penn drive! The father of penitentiaries (which is
derived from his name) has a street housing a prison named after him.
Not very original, but then most folks within the federal government
aren’t known for their creativity. Let’s
explore together my current world of routines. Each day at 5:45 AM
breakfast is brought to my cell. It always includes a pint of milk and
two packets of instant coffee (unfortunately there is no hot water in
the cell sink, so hot coffee is out of the question). Between 6:15 AM
and 6:30 AM my food trays are retrieved. On Monday, Wednesday and Friday
I turn in my laundry bag containing two shirts, underwear, socks, towel
and washcloth only (at this same time). My morning insulin
injection follows. On
Monday mornings I’m given two small (motel size) bars of soap for the
week. By mid-morning my laundry is returned. I fold and store it neatly
on the floor at the head of my bed. At
10:30 AM lunch is served. At 11:00 AM the lunch trays are picked up.
I’m usually asked at some point in the morning (Sunday through
Thursday) if I want to partake of recreation. That translates into: Do I
want to be strip searched, placed in restraints and moved from my cell
to a slightly larger indoor enclosure where I can walk in a square area
for an hour. I usually decline. At
approximately 1:00 PM, Monday through Friday excluding federal holidays,
if I have any legal mail from my attorneys it is delivered to my cell by
a staff member. Between
4:00 PM and 4:30 PM the evening meal is served. Food trays are retrieved
by 5:00 PM. Mail is delivered usually before 6:00 PM. My insulin
injection follows. Sometime
before or after the evening meal I am provided with one disposable razor,
but the showers aren’t activated until 5:00 PM until 9:00 PM Monday
through Friday. This was changed recently from the 2:00 PM to 6:00 PM
time slot. Razors are passed out three times per week, and are retrieved
at 9:00 PM on those days. The razors are checked to insure the blade
hasn’t been removed. On these same days community nail clippers are
available or use (I decline because of the sanitary issues involved). All
outgoing mail is picked up before midnight for mailing that morning.
There is no incoming or outgoing mail service on weekends or holidays. The
cell lights are turned off at 12:00 AM unless you request that they be
left on. On
most days I follow pretty much this same routine. On Tuesday mornings I
am issued my weekly roll of toilet paper. God help you if you run out or
have a case of diarrhea. On Wednesday afternoons commissary orders are
delivered. You are severely limited as to what you can purchase and how
many of each item. See the accompanying administrative detention unit
commissary list for details. On
Tuesday afternoons or Wednesday mornings the warden and other
administrative staff usually do a walk through. On Saturday mornings
I’m allowed to have my one and only prison issued jumpsuit washed; on
Sunday mornings it’s sheets and pillow case wash day. Tuesday
evenings I’m provided with cleaning supplies to use on my cell. I use
a rag, soap and water daily on my cell so usually only use the
disinfectant and toilet brush on cleanup days. The
only other interruptions in my routine are legal telephone calls and/or
legal visits, and the occasional social visit (two so far during my stay
here). I
exist in this hot, stuffy cell within a cell. You would think that the
government having spent millions of dollars refurbishing this unit would
have installed air conditioning as in most newly constructed prisons,
but that wasn’t the case. Go figure. So
those of you who haven’t fallen asleep reading this have an idea of
how boring it is here. Those of you who did sleep through it, well
y’all caught on early. I
escape the confines of these walls through books, letters and my
imagination. My faith is my main source of strength. What I learned many
years ago is “it’s all mind over matter.” I refuse to give in or
give up. I have recently started to talk out loud to myself, but so far
I’m not answering myself. Guess that’s a good sign. I’m a social
person. I don’t know how monks and those who take vows of silence do
it. In this week’s words of George W. Bush speaking about terrorism
and his war against it, “I don’t think we can win it.” Well George,
I think your are wrong, because we can do anything we are determined
enough to do, that’s how I’m surviving this place now. Determinant!
David's Update from Lewisburg, Hello
from Pennsylvania! It's been awhile since my last posting, so I
David Hammer’s Latest Update from USP Lewisburg
It appears that my evidentiary hearing which was scheduled to begin on January 10 will now be continued until April 2005. I’d much rather the hearing go forward in January, but as with most situations this is beyond my control. Under the circumstances, perhaps this delay is a blessing in disguise. Time will tell. During 2004 there were twelve federal trials where the defendants faced a possible sentence of death. Those proceedings resulted in sentences of death for all four of the white defendants, one black defendant and one biracial defendant. The other six defendants, two blacks and four Hispanics received sentences other than death. While the number of death sentences imposed is down nationally, federal death penalty prosecutions are continuing to rise as are the number of death sentences imposed upon federal defendants. With the Bush administration in power, there is little likelihood this trend will end anytime soon. A
switch in subjects is in order. During
my trips to and from the hospitals recently, I had an opportunity to
observe the magical sight of Christmas lights and displays.
This time of the year has always brought back special memories
for me. Never more so than
while observing the twinkling lights, trees, bells, Nativity scenes,
Santa Clauses, reindeer, snowmen and other decorations during these
hospital outings. I find it
all enchanting! Perhaps
that’s the child that remains within me.
It’s been many, many years since I’ve had this experience.
It was fantastic! I
received a Christmas present of sorts.
Having been in prison for the past twenty-seven years, I’ve
never seen or used a computer. Well,
that is until this past week. While
at a hospital in
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