146. Earning Freedom (14.2) by Michael Santos
Earning Freedom: Conquering a 45-Year Prison Term, by Michael Santos
Chapter 14.1
Arriving at the Taft Federal Camp and settling in
Months 233-266\xa0\xa0\xa0\xa0\xa0\xa0\xa0
\xa0
Early on the morning of June 21, I learn that I\u2019m no longer designated to FCC Lompoc. Two guards from the Taft Correctional Institution arrive.\xa0 They lock six of us in chains, and then they load us into a white van. We\u2019re on our way to the Central Valley of California, leaving Lompoc behind for good.
Lompoc Camp was already a memory after 65 days locked in SHU, but I\u2019m a little sad when the van exits the main gate and turns left toward the highway. I\u2019ll miss running long distances in the shade of Lompoc\u2019s majestic eucalyptus trees, enjoying the fragrances of the pines mixed with breezes from the nearby Pacific Ocean. I\u2019ll miss my friend Lee and the nearly private space I enjoyed in the powerhouse office.
The two-lane road climbs east through low mountains, drops into the San Joaquin Valley, and it finally whips through high desert.\xa0 It\u2019s a landscape of blowing dust, sagebrush, and unsightly steel pumps sucking oil from the arid soil. I lean involuntarily as the van turns right onto the long entry road leading to the prison, bouncing over yellow speed bumps.
At the parking lot of the double-fenced, low-security prison, manicured lawns and palm trees welcome us. Blooming gardens create the illusion of a lush oasis in this desert.
After the requisite intake processing, three of us designated to minimum-security take our bedrolls and board the white van, unrestrained, for a short ride to Taft Camp\u2019s low, gray, concrete administration building. Located behind the low-security prison, the modern, single-story design features tinted windows and round pillars supporting an extended roof shading spacious walkways. The building looks more like the headquarters for a software engineering firm than a prison. Taft Camp appears to be well maintained.
In the administration building, the round schoolhouse clock in the glass-enclosed guard\u2019s station reads just past five. I cross the tile floor and push open the glass door to the camp\u2019s compound. After more than two months in Lompoc\u2019s SHU I revel in this less-stressful environment.
Wide, clean, concrete walkways cut across pristine lawns in the center of the camp compound. Decorative, knee-high light posts illuminate the walks leading to the glass-enclosed chow hall and across the lawn to the two-storied housing unit with its horizontal rows of tall, unbarred, wide windows of tinted glass. In the distance, an oval track surrounds softball and soccer fields. Men in khakis, white t-shirts, and sneakers visit outside the housing units. They appear friendly, smiling and nodding as I climb the stairs to A4D, my assigned housing unit.
The air conditioning feels good, cooling me as I step inside the high-ceilinged dorm, one of four identical housing units. Six telephones hang across from each other on the two walls immediately inside the foyer, and I don\u2019t see any guards.
Unlike the open dormitories at Lompoc, two and three-man cubicles divide the housing unit, creating a grid that provides a semblance of privacy for the 140 men in my unit. The bathroom facilities are much larger than Lompoc\u2019s.\xa0 They include 16 shower areas with doors and plenty of toilet stalls, urinals, and sinks. The unit reserves a room for four microwaves and an ice machine, rooms with six televisions and game tables, and a small study room that overlooks the lawns.
In cubicle 36, a three-man room, I meet my two roommates. \u201cI\u2019m Rick,\u201d one man offers, extending his hand.\u2028Dan, a slender, blond man in his early 50s, introduces himself as well.\u2028I set my bedroll on the top rack.\u2028\u201cLet me show you how to make up your bed,\u201d Dan offers. \u201cIt can be a little tricky to keep your sheets in place. What you want to do is\u2026.\u201d
\u201cThanks for the tip,\u201d I raise my hand to stop his instruction. \u201cI\u2019d like to say I\u2019m new, but I\u2019ve been at this awhile.\u201d
\u201cOh, I thought you were fresh off the streets. Did you come in from the county jail?\u201d
I chuckle as I tie the corners of my sheets around the mat. \u201cNot jail. I was at Lompoc Camp.\u201d
\u201cReally? Lompoc Camp! I\u2019ve heard that\u2019s the best place in the system.\u201d Dan turns to Rick. \u201cMy lawyer tried to get me sent to Lompoc, but the schmuck got me sent to this dump filled with drug dealers and criminals.\u201d
\u201cYeah,\u201d Rick agrees. \u201cI\u2019ve heard about Lompoc. Forbes runs an article each year that ranks the best prisons for white-collar offenders and Lompoc Camp always comes out on top. Is it true that they\u2019ve got a golf course?\u201d Rick simulates a golf swing.
\u201cI didn\u2019t see a golf course,\u201d I laugh. \u201cBut Lompoc does have its bright spots.\u201d
\u201cYou\u2019re not going to like the change,\u201d Dan warns. \u201cThis place is a real prison.\u201d
\u201cNo kidding? What\u2019s not to like?\u201d I ask.
Rick and Dan exchange a knowing glance. \u201cYou\u2019ll find out soon enough,\u201d Dan says.
\u201cThe food is awful, the staff is incompetent, and 95 percent of the men here are dim bulbs, borderline imbeciles,\u201d Rick tells me.
\u201cWell, I guess I lucked out then, being assigned to this cubicle. What do you guys do for a living?\u201d
\u201cI\u2019m an accountant,\u201d Rick says.
\u201cAnd what brings you to Taft Camp?\u201d I stuff my pillow into the pillowcase.
\u201cOverzealous prosecutors,\u201d he answers. \u201cSaddled me with three years for advising clients on offshore accounts. It was totally above board. I shouldn\u2019t even be here.\u201d
\u201cDid you take the case to trial?\u201d
\u201cOh no. If I\u2019d lost at trial I would\u2019ve been facing ten years. Better to plead guilty, take the three years and move on with my life.\u201d
\u201cWhat about you?\u201d I ask Dan.
\u201cI\u2019m in investments.\u201d
\u201cOh? What kind?\u201d
\u201cAll kinds,\u201d he says. \u201cMy company purchases real estate, financial instruments, businesses. Private equity.\u201d
\u201cAnd how long are you with us?\u201d I ask.
\u201cServing 46 months,\u201d Dan says. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t make any sense at all. We\u2019ve got drug dealers and other real criminals running around here serving half the sentence I\u2019m serving.\u201d
\u201cWhat did they charge you with?\u201d I ask.
\u201cYou\u2019re not going to believe it,\u201d he says.
\u201cTry me,\u201d I smile.
\u201cFraud. Said I was running a Ponzi. I offered investors a legitimate 10 percent annual return on their money. I got a little behind the eight ball when markets started going sideways on me, and before you know it, boom, I got the FBI breathing down my neck.\u201d
\u201cHow much was the amount of loss?\u201d
\u201cA lousy four million. If the investors would\u2019ve just been patient, the deals would\u2019ve worked out. Totally legit. Now it\u2019s all gone.\u201d He waves his hand dismissively.
\u201cWhat\u2019re you, a lawyer?\u201d Rick asks as he sits on his lower rack.
\u201cNo. I\u2019m serving a 45 year sentence for selling cocaine.\u201d
Silence. Don and Rick look at each other.\u2028Then Rick explodes with laughter.
\u201cNo way! You wouldn\u2019t be in camp with a sentence like that.\u201d
\u201cI\u2019m totally serious. Of course, I\u2019ve been in a long time.\u201d
\u201cBut you said you came from Lompoc Camp. That\u2019s a spot for white-collar offenders.\u201d
\u201cNot only white-collar offenders, and I did come from Lompoc Camp. But I was in several prisons before Lompoc Camp.\u201d
\u201cLike where?\u201d Rick asks, still skeptical, unable to hide his curiosity and incredulity.
\u201cI started in USP Atlanta,\u201d I toss out, humoring myself with my new roommates.
Rick scoots to the edge of his rack, leans in. \u201cNo way. You were in a penitentiary?\u201d
\u201cI spent six Christmases inside those walls. Then I transferred to McKean, in Pennsylvania. From there I transferred to Fairton, in New Jersey. I spent almost eight years at Fort Dix. Then I was in Florence Camp, Lompoc Camp, and now I\u2019m here.\u201d
They stare at me for a moment in silence.
\u201cHow long have you been in prison?\u201d Rick finally blurts out.
\u201cTwenty years.\u201d
\u201cTwenty years?\u201d Don whistles. \u201cI\u2019ve never met anyone who\u2019s been in longer than five. Listen, I hope I didn\u2019t offend you with anything I said. I didn\u2019t know.\u201d
\u201cAfter 20 years in prison, do you really think I could be offended by something you\u2019d say?\u201d
\xa0\u201cSo no hard feelings then?\u201d Dan puts out his hand.
\u201cThink nothing of it.\u201d We shake hands again.
*******
I meet my counselor and my case manager. Both women speak to me kindly, taken aback that I\u2019ve been in prison for so long.
\u201cWhere are all your tattoos?\u201d My counselor teases. She grants my request for a phone call to Carole and immediately approves a visiting list authorizing Carole to visit over the weekend.
\u201cYou could put a different set of clothes on and I wouldn\u2019t know you\u2019ve been in prison at all.\u201d My case manager says.
\u201cDoes that surprise you?\u201d I ask with a laugh.
\u201cTotally. I was a little girl when you came to prison. I would\u2019ve expected you to be angry and bitter. But you\u2019re all smiles, normal, like you haven\u2019t ever served time in prison.\u201d
\u201cIsn\u2019t that ironic?\u201d I ask.
\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d
\u201cThat I\u2019m unscathed after 20 years of imprisonment, with all my teeth and no tattoos, yet you wonder what went wrong. You expect two decades in prison should turn me angry and bitter. When you see that it hasn\u2019t, you wonder why.\u201d
\u201cOh! I didn\u2019t think of it that way.\u201d
*******
When Carole and I were in Fort Dix we were able to visit five days a week. Those ample visits allowed us to deepen our relationship and allowed me to play an influential role in Nichole\u2019s life. In Florence Camp, rules allowed us to visit every Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and federal holiday. At Lompoc, restrictions were tighter. Authorized visits were only Saturdays, Sundays, and holidays. Still, we appreciated the time together.
In Taft Camp, I learn, a point structure penalizes families who visit on weekends or holidays. Because Carole is in school on Fridays, we\u2019ll only be able to visit on weekends, limiting us to a maximum of two or three visits each month, depending on whether we visit on Saturdays or Sundays. The visiting restrictions will complicate our life, but we\u2019ll make it through.\xa0 Carole arrives early on Sunday for our first visit at Taft.
\u201cTell me all about it. How do you like it here?\u201d Carole smiles, eager to hear about this newest transition.
\u201cWithout a doubt, this is the easiest prison in the world.\u201d
\u201cHow are the people?\u201d
\u201cDo you mean the other prisoners or the staff?\u201d
\u201cBoth.\u201d
\u201cThe prisoners are the same as in every other camp, but the guards are different. It\u2019s only been a few days, but the staff I\u2019ve spoken to seem a much friendlier group than the standard-issue BOP brand.\u201d
\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d
\u201cRather than the BOP, a private company manages this place. I don\u2019t know why, but it\u2019s different from other prisons. The guards don\u2019t give the impression that they\u2019re out to harass me, and the unit team members, meaning the counselors and case managers, treat me like a person, not a prisoner.\u201d
\u201cMy contact at the Regional Office said Taft was the best spot for you. That\u2019s why I want you to make me a promise.\u201d
\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d I ask warily. \u201cWhat kind of promise do you want me to make?\u201d
\u201cJust listen. Thanks to Lee, we have enough in the bank to pay for everything we need until I finish nursing school. Nichole\u2019s going to graduate next June, and by then I\u2019ll have my nursing license. I don\u2019t want you to do anything that might send you to the hole or get you transferred. Don\u2019t write anything about prison, and don\u2019t tell me to make any stock trades. Nothing. I don\u2019t want any problems that might waken the beast.\u201d
\u201cI don\u2019t want problems either,\u201d I say, wanting to reassure her.
\u201cYou know what I mean. No more writing until I graduate. After that, I can get a job anywhere if they decide to transfer you for publishing or for some other ridiculous reason.\u201d
\u201cI have to prepare for my release and the only way I know how to do that is by writing. We can\u2019t allow the system to keep me from working.\u201d
\u201cThe system isn\u2019t stopping you,\u201d Carole says. \u201cI\u2019m asking you to stop. It\u2019s just for one year, until I graduate.\u201d
\u201cYou want me to give up a year of work?\u201d
\u201cPlease, Michael. No writing about prison or prisoners.\u201d
I shake my head. \u201cNothing?\u201d
\u201cNothing.\u201d\u2028I pause. Writing enables me to transcend the boundaries, allowing me to connect with the society I long to join. By writing about what I\u2019ve learned from others, observed, and experienced, I take meaningful steps to reform this system, showing taxpayers what those within the prison industrial complex don\u2019t want citizens to see. As a writer, I\u2019m relevant, more than a prisoner, part of something bigger than me. But I won\u2019t deny Carole and so I agree to suspend my work until she graduates. I don\u2019t want to give prison administrators cause to uproot our lives again.
\u201cOkay. I promise.\u201d
*******
Tavo may not have much of an education, but he maneuvers his way around Taft Camp just fine, providing for himself with a hustle here and a hustle there. He\u2019s five foot-six and doesn\u2019t weigh more than130 pounds.\xa0 He wears his straight black hair parted down the middle and feathered back. His eyes are a startling green and, despite his 40 years, there\u2019s not a whisker on his face. Tavo has a trace of an accent even though he was born and reared in Los Angeles. He keeps up with who\u2019s being released from the camp, negotiating a price for each departing prisoner\u2019s sneakers, sweats, radios, and other belongings. He tacks on a markup and sells the goods to newcomers, even providing a payment plan when necessary. He has a commissary squeeze where he charges a fee for providing candy, soda, chips, or other items on days when the prisoners aren\u2019t authorized to shop. For his most lucrative gig, Tavo provides the service of doubling mattresses.
Bed frames at Taft Camp consist of metal slabs welded to four metal posts. The narrow slabs have lips that rise an inch around the edges to hold the sleeping mats in place. Tavo understands that some prisoners in camp are sensitive to the harshness of institutional living. He charges $40 to cut through the seam, stuff a second mat into the casing and sew it shut, thus converting the mat to a mattress.
\u201cYou\u2019ve got to meet Tavo,\u201d Rick, my roommate nudges. \u201cFor 40 bucks he\u2019ll hook up the mattress in a way that makes sleeping almost bearable.\u201d
\u201cAppreciate the tip. I\u2019m good,\u201d I say.
\u201cCan\u2019t pay enough for a good night\u2019s sleep,\u201d Dan seconds the suggestion. \u201cSit on mine.\u201d
\u201cI\u2019m sure it\u2019s comfortable,\u201d I shrug. \u201cBut I\u2019ve known hundreds of Tavos. The double mattress is great until guards come through on a shakedown and issue shots for destruction of government property. I don\u2019t need the headache.\u201d
\u201cThey can\u2019t do that,\u201d Rick says. \u201cI\u2019d just say the mattress was issued to me this way. Check it out. You can\u2019t even tell.\u201d
\u201cI\u2019ll be okay. Thanks.\u201d
Rick and Dan serve their time as a team. They eat meals together, walk the track together, and they partner in card tournaments. But in the afternoon, when rules require us all to stand in the cube for the daily census count, we sometimes discuss our lives and thoughts. They question me about other prisons and what it\u2019s been like to serve so many years.
\u201cI\u2019ll tell you one thing. Serving time in other prisons has made it easy for me to appreciate Taft.\u201d
\u201cYou see, that\u2019s not normal,\u201d Dan tells me. \u201cYou\u2019ve been in too long, so long that prison doesn\u2019t bother you anymore. Truth is, this is inhumane. The lengths of the sentences don\u2019t make any sense at all.\u201d
\u201cWhat he\u2019s saying,\u201d Rick jumps in, \u201cis that some people might belong in prison. But guys like us shouldn\u2019t be in here at all.\u201d
\u201cWhat do you mean, \u2018like us\u2019? I\u2019m in here for selling cocaine. The first day I came into the cube you were saying that people who sold drugs were the real criminals who belong in prison.\u201d
\u201cNot for 20 years,\u201d Dan amends. \u201cBesides, you\u2019re different now. You\u2019ve educated yourself and you\u2019ve got things going on in the world. Prison should be for the criminal types, the guys who keep selling drugs or committing crimes.\u201d
\u201cYou mean guys like Tavo?\u201d I ask.
Rick shifts uncomfortably. \u201cWell, Tavo\u2019s a nice enough guy, but what\u2019s he going to do in the world? No one\u2019s going to hire him. He\u2019s not doing anything to change his ways. Chances are, he\u2019s probably going to leave here and hustle drugs again.\u201d
\u201cChances are,\u201d I say, \u201cthat he came from a poor family, quit school before 10th grade, can\u2019t read well, and had to hustle for survival. How about you? Where did you go to school?\u201d
\u201cCal State Northridge,\u201d Rick says.
\u201cYou went to USC right?\u201d I nod at Dan.
\u201cGo Trojans,\u201d Dan waves two fingers in the air.
\u201cShould society hold people who come from poverty to the same standard as people who come from privilege?\u201d
\u201cYou break the law, you break the law,\u201d Dan explains smugly.
\u201cWe all make our choices.\u201d
\u201cBut you guys whine in here every day about your discomfort and the living conditions. Guys like Tavo are getting by the only way they know how. This might be as good as he\u2019s ever had it.\u201d I argue.
\u201cHe\u2019s a criminal. He sold drugs,\u201d Dan counters.
\u201cI don\u2019t know what Tavo did, but he probably sold drugs to consenting adults and he probably serves at least twice as long as you. Who would the investors in your scam think is the worse criminal, Tavo or you?\u201d I ask.
\u201cYou don\u2019t know anything about my case,\u201d Dan hisses. \u201cI didn\u2019t set out to lose anyone\u2019s money. Markets just went against me. I couldn\u2019t control it. It\u2019s not my fault.\u201d
\u201cThat may be,\u201d I shrug. \u201cBut you pled guilty. That means you had to stand in court, and while under oath, admit to committing fraud.\u201d
\u201cI only pled guilty because I would\u2019ve gotten a longer sentence if I went to trial.\u201d
\u201cEither way, you\u2019re not in a position to be judging anyone else in here.\u201d
That argument serves me well, as neither Rick nor Dan speak to me again. We pass each other silently for three months before a staff member grants my request to move into a two-man cube further back in the housing unit with David Muniz, a married father of two. Since I\u2019m keeping my promise to Carole that I won\u2019t write, I devote my time to exercising and spending several hours each week tutoring and coaching David on steps he can take to prepare for release.
We laugh as guards wheel a cart through the unit one day, confiscating all double mattresses. When one of the guards threatens Dan with a shot, Dan doesn\u2019t hesitate to snitch on Tavo.
Rick, however, argues with the guard \u201cYou can\u2019t take my mattress! I\u2019ve got a bad back.\u201d
\u201cThis mattress isn\u2019t standard issue, it\u2019s been altered. It\u2019s contraband.\u201d The guard doesn\u2019t have any concern about the condition of Rick\u2019s back.
\u201cIf you don\u2019t provide me with a double mattress, my lawyer will slap a lawsuit on this prison so fast it\u2019ll make the warden\u2019s head spin.\u201d
\u201cReally,\u201d the guard says in a voice dripping with sarcasm. \u201cLet\u2019s see you launch that lawsuit from the SHU.\u201d
*******
\xa0
*******
Carole and I celebrate Christmas day sitting beside each other in the visiting room. Wreathes, blinking lights, a Christmas tree, and a full-sized red, wooden sleigh decorate the room. A prisoner in a Santa outfit walks around the crowded room handing out candy canes, but my gift is sitting beside me.
\u201cThis is your 21st Christmas in prison,\u201d Carole says. \u201cOur sixth together since we\u2019ve been married.\u201d
\u201cWe only have six more to go.\u201d
\u201cFive,\u201d she corrects me.
\u201cNo, 2013.\u201d
\u201cBut you\u2019ll be home in August. We\u2019ll spend Christmas together that year.\u201d
The years blend together for me now, but Carole helps me visualize our life ahead. It\u2019s not easy to imagine being free. Strange. \u201cTime will move so much faster starting in 2008,\u201d I say.
\u201cHow so?\u201d
\u201cWe\u2019ve got all these events to mark the time. They\u2019ll come like milestones, passing quickly, giving us real markers to look toward.\u201d
\u201cLike what?\u201d
\u201cWhat do you mean \u2018like what\u2019?\u201d I hold up my fingers to count. \u201cIn January the political season kicks off with the primaries. We\u2019ll follow all the races, starting in Iowa. After the primaries roll around, we\u2019ll have a better idea who our next president is going to be.\u201d
Carole squeezes my hand. \u201cI\u2019m so sick of politics. It doesn\u2019t matter who wins, nothing changes.\u201d
\u201cThen in March the $500,000 fine that my judge imposed expires. We can open a joint bank account as husband and wife. In May, you graduate from nursing school. In June, Nichole graduates from high school. Sometime during the summer the political conventions will name the candidates. The fall will make politics really exciting. Then it will be Christmas again.\u201d
\u201cThe years take much longer to pass than you make it sound,\u201d Carole says.
\u201cRemember what we were doing five years ago?\u201d I ask her.
\u201cI had just moved to Fort Dix.\u201d
\u201cRemember what I told you on New Year\u2019s Day, when you and Nichole came to visit?\u201d
\u201cTell me again.\u201d
\u201cI put up my hand and opened five fingers like this,\u201d I repeat the action. \u201cI said that in five years, if you stayed with me, your life would be completely different. And look at you now, five years later.\u201d
She smiles and brushes her cheek against mine. \u201cDo you think I\u2019m so different?\u201d
\u201cYou\u2019re a magnificent wife. No matter what happens in my life, nothing will bring me more happiness than my marriage to you.\u201d
\xa0