Breaking The Silence And Getting To The Truth

One night after work I sat in my cell reading a book. I always enjoyed reading on the outside, so it was something I hoped would keep me sane on the inside.

“So what are you in for?”

My cellmate finally asked, after almost a week of us living together.

“Drug possession.”

I hesitated, unsure if it was okay to ask him the same thing. I went for it anyway.

“What about you?”

“Kidnapping and armed robbery”

I sat there in stunned silence. We were both quiet for a minute, he seemed willing to talk so I kept the conversation going.

“How long are you serving?” “Life”

The look on his face was cold and serious yet he spoke in a friendly way.

“How long have you been in?” “For this charge, since I was 20.”

He looked to be in his 50’s

“What do you mean this charge?” “I’ve been in and out of the system since I was 13.” “What did you do back then?” “Petty theft, I stole some Pop-Tarts, they were my brother’s favorite.” “Pop-Tarts?” I couldn’t help but smile but didn’t want to offend him.

“What’s your brother up to now?” “He was murdered when I was 18. Drive-by”

I’d never felt more out of my element. The only time a saw a drive-by was in the movies. We sat there in silence.

“Our father was never around and our mother was always working, or drunk. My brother and I had to look out for each other. When he died my life fell apart. I swore that day I would find the guys who killed him and make them pay.” “Is that who you kidnapped?” “No, I couldn’t find him, so I broke into his house and kidnapped his little sister.”

The look on my face must have told him how uncomfortable I was.

“I didn’t hurt her, I was just using her to get to him.”

I sat there in silence, not sure what to say. I’ve never been good at giving advice or sympathy. The things he was talking about were so far from anything I had ever seen or heard. I looked away, too scared to ask anything else.

“What kind of drugs you have?”

He shifted the conversation to me.

“None. They weren’t mine. My friend stashed them in my car so he wouldn’t get the blame.” “Yeah, I’ve met plenty of bitches like that, always blaming others.” “He’s been arrested before, if he got caught with everything on him he would have gone away for a long time.” “That doesn’t make it okay.” “I know, and I was pissed, but it was my car so the cops didn’t care who they belonged to.” “Yeah, they don’t care about much.”

The mood in the cell had changed. I wouldn’t say we were friends, but having something to bond over helped ease the tension.

“What’s your name?” “Matt. You?” “Carlos” “Nice to meet you, Carlos”

He nodded in agreement without saying anything.

From that point, he started to give me the lay of the land. Telling me how things worked on the inside. What to do, what not to do, and most importantly, who to avoid.

“Most of the guys in here aren’t bad. But the ones who are, are really bad.”

He started telling me stories about fights and stabbings he had seen. Including his friend who had been killed by a gang he’d pissed off on the outside.

“People in here don’t forget about things. If you cross them they remember, and they have all day to wait and think about how to get back at you.”

He was telling me a story but I could tell it was more of a warning. There was one safe place, the barbershop. Everyone has to get their hair cut, so there is a mutual understanding that the barbershop is neutral territory.

I just sat there and listened, but I finally had to ask a question.

“What do you know about death row?” “Why do you ask?” “I work in the kitchen, I had to cook someone’s last meal yesterday, it really tripped me out.” “What did he order?”

This question took me aback.

When I thought about it it all came back, not only the food but the feeling I had when I made it. After I ran down the list he sat there and nodded his head and gave a look of approval.

“Not a bad way to go out. I would have gone with lobster.”

This time I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You like lobster?” I said with a smile. “I only had it once, my brother and I got invited to a fancy white people restaurant. I still remember the white table clothes and people paying violins while we ate.”

Throughout our conversation, I started to see Carlos in a whole new light. Sure, he had done some terrible things in the past, but he seemed like a good guy. I started to wonder how many other guys here were good people who made bad decisions.

“Do you regret what you did to get here?”

Carlos stared at me, making eye contact for the first time.

I started to panic, had I gone too far? Our friendship was just starting, or were we not friends? Had I overstepped the boundary?

After a few seconds, he responded.

“I don’t regret trying to get back at the asshole who killed my brother, but I regret bringing his sister into it. She was only five. She didn’t deserve to get caught up in this life.”

He looked off in the distance, clearly, he had thought about that a lot.

I still wasn’t happy to be in jail, and I still had a long way to go before I got out, but I felt a little more at ease now that Carlos had opened up and helped me out.

“Do you think you’ll ever get out?” I asked “I hope so, but I don’t know if it’s possible. Best thing to do is take it a day at a time. That’s what we all do in here. If not you go crazy.”

Thanks for reading, here are the other parts of the story.