Saturday, July 21, 2012

In Fond Memory of my Best Friend: Katy O’Leary


Written on 6-25-2012, from Ely State Prison

Usually it’s easy for me to write something down on paper; writing is what I do; it pretty much comes natural to me. But now, as I set here and struggle to find the right words, and the right stories, while wiping away the tears from my eyes, and the snot from my nose, I’m finding it difficult to write this, not only because the tremendous sadness I feel inside my heart, as I am just now finding out, but also because Katy was such an Incredible, Amazing person, that I just want to make sure that I say all that my heart can say, to honor her the way she deserves, so please bear with me here, รง uz I do have an amazing synchronicity to share.

Katy was my best friend. Of all the friends I have, she was my best friend. I’ve never met a person in this world who was so full of love and compassion! Love emanated from her very being; she was the embodiment of love – no, actually, she was LOVE! – Everything about Katy was love: everything she did was an act of love. If I ever said ‘I don’t know what love is,” then I was wrong, because I knew Katy, and she was LOVE. She showed me what love is, through her actions and just through her very existence.

It just shocks me that she’s gone now. It’s hard to grapple with. I am a man who is currently incarcerated in a maximum security prison, and I can’t even begin to explain how much Katy’s letters and her support has been the very thing that has helped me get through these days, months, and years. Not only me, but Katy has also helped my friends in here, all of who, have come to love her, appreciate her, respect her and truly value her friendship. Katy really cared about us. She cared about people in prison, the people that most of society has turned her back to, but she refused to turn her back on us, and because of her friendship and support, I promise you, Ely State Prison was made a better place. She helped us make it better, with her dedication and kindness, and not only with her letters and cards, but she really believed in what I had going on in here, raising awareness, passing out literature, building study groups with my fellow prisoners, and she would seriously go out of her way to make copies of various kinds of literature and reading materials, so that I could pass them around to other prisoners in here, as a means to educating them, lifting their spirits during such tumultuous times and while living in such sordid conditions, and just trying to raise the overall consciousness of the prisoners in here.

When she moved from Oakland, California, to Michigan to be by her mother’s side, Katy had made sure to [lug] envelopes and envelopes of copies she had made for us, she had them in the trunk of her car, and was going to make sure they were safe, so that she could send them in to us.

Katy was really amazing! The first time I started a book drive for the ESP prison library, she was my most dedicated supporter! She went around from bookstore to bookstore, person to person, collecting books, and even donating her own personal collection of books to our library, just so the prisoners here could have spiritual and educational books to read! The first time she donated 13 boxes of books to our library! A few months later, she donated 21 boxes of books! I was astonished by her dedication and her love! What a great person she was. The second book drive we had, a couple of years later, she was just as dedicated and passionate about the whole ordeal, once again donating another 21 boxes of books! So, the prisoners here will always have something to remember her by, and because of her, prisoners here will always have the opportunity to grow and educate themselves!

Back in 2007, Katy drove all the way out here to Nevada to attend a very important legislative meeting, to help make changes for Nevada prisoners. She got up and spoke her heart out, because I asked her to, and because I told her how much we needed her support on this. So, she got up and spoke to a room full of strangers, spoke her heart out, and helped us get Assembly Bill 510 passed! Katy was an Activist, and so much more, she did it all out of love, and I really admired her for that.

Yes, Katy truly [was] my best friend. She was someone I turned to and confided in when I was at my lowest ebb, and she’d always find the right words to pick me back up again. I have hundreds of letters and cards from her, she confided everything about herself to me, about her life and things going on. There’s nothing she didn’t, or couldn’t tell me, or talk to me about. She always knew how to pick out nice cards too. Different than my other types of cards I’ve ever received, but I loved her choice of cards and especially the inspirational things she would write inside and on the back of them. Her words always meant a lot to me.

I introduced Katy to my mother, and to many of my closest friends, and she became very, very close to all [?] Everybody loves Katy, everybody has been touched by her, she was Amazing!

Katy taught me about synchronicity, and we’ve had some amazing, awesome synchronicities of our own, one of which I’m going to tell you about here shortly… And it was because of Katy that I’ve added the word “Resonate” into my vocabulary. She would always be telling me something was really “resonating with her.” She had so many stories, so many positive and wonderful things to say, she talked to me about her friends, her […] daughters, Rachel, Rhiannon and Heather, and she’d always talk about her grandsons Calvin and Greyson, who she loved and adored so much.
She always talked about the 13 moon calendar, the Mayans, the Native Americans and their spirituality, and about how much she loved being Irish, and about being a midwife, and about magic and love and about everything. She would write me these amazing, long letters that would never bore me, but that were always filled with excitement, emotion and adventure, and inspiration. She really knew how to be a friend, she knew how to heal and how to help me pull through the darkness, and how to help me get through this time while being confined to a maximum security prison cell.

Oh, I am devastated, I can’t believe she’s gone, so suddenly, so unexpectedly, this really hurts to lose my best friend, I’m really, really going to miss her.
She was always telling me how she was “looking for her tribe.” In the last letter I wrote her (I really hope she got it?) I told her that I’d be getting out soon and that we could both go up to the Northwest together, Washington State, and find a place to live and find our tribe. And I was waiting for her reply, and now I find this out, that she’s gone, and that she died in Oregon, of all places. Wow. This just hits me hard, Katy was so much a part of my life, I called her ‘Warrioress Katy”, because she was like a warrior woman to me, always willing to take on the fight with me, to fight by my side, and to fight for me. She was Red Planetary Serpent, she taught me all about the calendar, and really got my Mom into all of that, and she taught me how we were living out of synch with [Saturn] time…

When I first met Katy, when we initially started writing to each other, we hit it off, right off the bat! It was one synchronicity after the other. We both found that we needed each other, and we had one of the most amazing synchronicities together, only months into our friendship. She kept telling me how a bluejay kept visiting her backyard, and on the very exact day that I came to the hole, August 5th, 2006, I looked out the back window of my new cell, and lo and behold, there was a bluejay, right there!

We’ve had many other magical synchronicities since then, but what’s really amazing is this – she believed, as I believe, that birds are carriers of our souls, and that they symbolize the souls of the dead… Right before Katy died, passed away – this is really amazing, and I swear it’s the absolute truth – somehow a little sparrow was able to get inside of the unit that I’m on, and it was flying around on the tier! I was able to push some bread out of my door, and I actually fed the little sparrow. It is very unusual and very difficult for a bird to get inside the prison, and on to the unit, and secretly, I’m somewhat astonished and awed by signs and magical things myself, so when I seen the little sparrow flying around inside the unit, I knew something was up, and instantly I thought of my best friend, Katy!

Oh, and it hurts now that she’s gone! I’ve lost my best friend, but not before she came to say good bye to me, and to all of us here, ‘cuz the guards were saying that the bird was also flying down the hallway, over to unit 4! I know that little sparrow had to be carrying Katy’s soul, I don’t know how to explain it, as I don’t believe in heaven or hell, but in my heart I know that was Katy’s way of saying good bye to me.

The world has definitely suffered a devastating loss, now that our dear loved one, Katy, is gone! Good bye Katy, I promise I will always, always carry you in my heart. You’ve touched my heart and my life, in ways that will always be a part of me. I love you Katy, and I’m really, really going to miss you!
With a sad, lonely heart,
Coyote

Ps
To Katy’s daughters, or to whom it may concern, I am almost certain that your Mom was probably in the middle of writing a letter to me, on her computer, or in a card, or an unfinished letter, somewhere, because she was always writing me, always letting me know what was going on… She wasn’t able to mail the manila envelopes (copywork) to me, but that’s okay, I’m not worried about that, but it would really, really mean everything to me, just to be able to read the last letter (s) she might’ve had for me, so if you can find that amongst her things, I would really appreciate if someone could send that to me:
Coyote Sheff #55671
P.O. Box 1989,
Ely, NV 89301
Or via: https://www.facebook.com/coy.sheff (run by friends)
Thank you!! Also, please let me know the exact location of Katy’s burial site, so I can visit her and pay my respects when I get out. Thank you. If there’s anything I can do for you, to help, or to be of service, it would be my honor to do so. Your Mother was awesome, and I’m truly sorry and devastated for your loss. Your Mother was so awesome!


Sunday, July 1, 2012

Recalcitrance

Our subversive ways of life and thought have become intractable to those who keep us confined to these contemptible cages: our captors.

In this clandestine world of stone walls and steel doors, where an undesirable type of thickness languishes in the arid atmosphere, we prisoners have ingenuously created our own subcultural ways to live from day to day, even under the most extreme conditions, where in one form or another, many miscellaneous acts of inhumanity and degradation are constantly being imposed upon us.

Our captors see the strength and the passion that unceasingly remains, the flicker of life veiled behind our angered eyes that blink with an edge of vengeance and asperity. Our captors are not only awed by this magnificent strength and resiliency; paradoxically they also despise it, because it stands as a constant reminder of their own inferiority; knowing that they themselves could never have the stamina to endure half of the things we’ve been forced to endure. And the more they’re reminded, the more brutal and condescending they become, as they try and try to break us.

Evidently, what is not understood is often feared, and in this case, their fear leads to suppression. Naively and erroneously, they believe that their suppression is going to lead to our submission, yet contrarily, the more they suppress, the more fiercely we cling to our warriors way of life… The more recalcitrant we become.

Rebellion,
Coyote

Friday, March 30, 2012

ABC Nevada Prison Chapter: Still No Victories

First and foremost, my most sincere greetings of solidarity and respects are extended to the poor, imprisoned and oppressed. My name is Coyote, I’m a serious Anarchist radical, confined and isolated in the infirmary of Nevada’s most notorious maximum security lock-up: Ely State Prison.

In 2007, I started up my own prison chapter of Anarchist Black Cross. Because of my efforts – and another comrade’s efforts – and due to the exposure of the blatant medical neglect here at ESP through the Rikers vs. Gibbons / ACLU lawsuits, a solid support structure for NV prisoners has begun to be erected. This includes the Nevada Prison Watch website that provides oversight of the NDOC; Makethewallstransparent.com, which does the same; the Nevada Prison Newsletter, which I am now the co-editor of; and now the NV-CURE has been re-activated. Whereas before, NV prisoners had no outside resources to connect to, now we have these, so this is just the beginning of many things to come.

I have published zine after zine, all available from the S. Chicago ABC Zine Distro and also the Chicago ABC Zine Distro. Through my zines I have been able to reach many, many prisoners across the country, helping them to make the transformation from gangster to guerrilla, or from criminal to radical, and also showing them how to be active and organized while behind enemy lines. My zine “Starting Your Own ABC Prison Chapter” has been very influential to many prisoner activists who are trying to get themselves started. I have also been in collaboration (on the sly) with many prisoners in different states, helping them get organized where they’re at, showing them how to start up their own prison chapters, how to reach out to activists on the outs, how to reach out to prisoners where they’re at, etc.

Due to my efforts, and my resistance, here at ESP I have been able to flood this prison out with thousands of copies of all kinds of zines, radical literature and empowering reading materials. I have supplied hundreds of prisoners here with their own libraries and their own collections of literature, and they use these materials to not only raise their own consciousness, but also to raise the overall level of consciousness throughout this gulag. It has gotten to the point that there isn’t a tier/unit you can go to in this prison, where there aren’t at least 6 or 7 prisoners on each wing who have a good supply of zines and literature, most of which has come from me.

In January 2010, I started up a book drive for the ESP Library that lasted until May 2011, where people from all over the world had donated thousands of books to our library. When administration caught wind that an Anarchist radical was behind the whole thing, they hurried up and shut it down!!!

I have participated in mostly all of the riots, protests and demonstrations of resistance here at ESP, and have been accused by the pigs of being the main organizer of several of them. I have been placed on High Risk Potential status and labeled a ‘threat to the safety and security of the institution’, moved around from one hole to another every 30 days, which I have indeed used to my advantage to pass out literature, form alliances with other radicals, raise awareness, plant seeds and to organize.
Through my efforts I have been able to bring small numbers of enemy faction together, and unite prisoners across racial lines, to fight the true enemy. I have been a leader, a teacher, a comrade and a mentor to many of these youngsters here, regardless of their race, ethnicity, etc. Now there are many prisoners here at ESP who have become radicalized, and we now even have a handful of serious Anarchists here, all who have been taught and trained to be effective writers, propagandists, activists, leaders, teachers, and organizers, and some who are now in the process of starting their own collectives.

Because of my resistance to the stagnation and oppression of this everyday profane existence in this gulag, waking others up in the process, the warden has removed me from the rest of the prisoners, saying that I have “too much influence” over them, and placed me here in the infirmary to be isolated, until I am released. But even this has not stopped me.

Yes, I can proudly say that I’ve accomplished many things, have resisted all the way through, becoming a thorn in their side, but I claim no victories, because this prison still exists, we’re still locked down and treated like shit, still in the deathly hands of the enemy, and there are still many prisoners here who are unaware, asleep, afraid, or walking around ignorant and blind. There’s still much work to do, many battles still to be fought…

Still Striving for Real Victories
Coyote

To send letters of encouragement and support, please write me at this address:
Coyote Sheff #55671
P.O. Box 1989
Ely, Nevada 89301-1989

Coyote’s beautiful, inspiring writings can be viewed on either of these sites:
1) Coyote Calling
2) nevadaprisonwatch.org
3) Scribd.com/Prisonwatch

Coyote’s zines can be obtained at either of these addresses (free to prisoners):

Chicago ABC
1321 N. Milwaukee Ave.
P.M.B. 460
Chicago, Illinois 60622

S. Chicago ABC Zine Distro
P.O. Box 721
Homewood, Illinois 60430

Thursday, March 22, 2012

“I don’t know what love is”

Love, love, love. Some want it, some don’t, but I think it’s safe to say it’s something we all need. Some people think it’s a “cheesy” subject to talk about, and then, some people, like myself, really don’t know what it is at all…

Before I venture any further and really delve into all of this, I just want to point something out right quick… Maybe, out there in the Free World, there are many people who have ways to "escape,” or they have things and ways to take away the pain that they feel deep inside their hearts – things like drugs, alcohol, medication, etc. But for me, I’ve been living in this hard, hostile world of misery and despair for nearly 15 years with no drugs to take to escape and with nothing to do but face myself and deal with every difficulty that arrives, just being strong while doing hard time and dealing with the agony inside, the best way I can. Needless to say, this pen and paper has significantly been one of the best ways for me to cope and deal with the anger, the aches, the pains, and the soul-destroying torment that comes from the loneliness that has lived the edges of my cemented heart. So even though some might think that the words I’m about to put down are “cheesy,” I’m still confident, nevertheless, that most will understand that these words that I’m about to propitiate to my readers come from somewhere deep, deep down inside, where they were discovered only after really taking the time to explore those depths and to feel what I feel, rather than try to escape, reject or conceal the real.

We all know that there’s no love here in this cold, heartless world of concrete walls, steel doors and plexiglass windows, and while we take so many pains to keep our emotions contained under a steeled surface, unrevealed, the more dehumanized we become. I’m not just talking out the side of my neck, but know this for a fact, as I have been living in this volatile world for so long; a world where the ways of violence, revenge and honor have predominated my environment, shaped my thoughts and has corrupted my heart.

This way of life, this world, is such a place where one feels it necessary to always keep their guard up, never truly being able to trust others, always watching your back, and if you have a sensitive side, it’s to stay way down inside, never to be exposed to the light of day, because in this cold world of darkness, it will be taken as a weakness and most likely exploited by the heartless, the manipulative and the corrupted. We all know the scandalous types that I’m talking about, some of us have once been like that ourselves at one time or another, assuming the ways of a predator as a so-called survival tactic; to keep from becoming the prey. So instead of opening up and trusting others, we stay suspicious and we learn to keep our defenses up, building walls around us, becoming hard, mean and cold inside. Emptiness is all you’ll find in a mad man’s heart. This is what happens when you live so long in a world without love.

From reflecting on my many years in prison – and from my many years of reflecting while in prison – I’ve come to realize that many men in here have a misogynist nature; whether consciously or subconsciously, they hate women. At one time in their lives they’ve been hurt by women and many have never taken the steps to try to let those wounds heal. They’ve come to look at love as “weakness”and to those who seek it as “suckers.” Females are derogated and characterized by the infamous “B-word”, or worse. There’s a lot of hurt inside and that hurt is directed towards women in a negative way. I know this because I myself have been through
some very painful moments in my life at a young age where I felt hurt, abandoned, neglected and betrayed by the person I loved and trusted the most in my life: my mother. And because of this pain I felt inside, I grew up to be a mean, mad, violent man, never opening myself up to love, not caring much about it others and having a deep resentment towards authority as well.

It has taken me years to heal from these wounds and truth be told, I’m still trying to fully recover and let the scar tissue subside, but even this can be a struggle. Sometimes I feel so alone like no one really cares, and I become so hostile inside towards those who come into my life pretending that they care, when really all they have is ulterior motives, and sometimes I feel like this
illusory thing called “love” just wasn’t meant for me, like it’s my destiny to live a lonely, loveless life as a revolutionary, dedicated only to struggle and anarchy.

My story is kind of sad, I’ve only been with three females, sexually, and that was about 15 years ago. I’ve never been in a relationship, never been in love and don’t even know what love is. I really do want to get out and find a good woman, one that would compel me to want to be a good man to her, but after living in a miserable world of hate and mistrust for so long, I don’t even have the foggiest idea how to go about doing this.

I don’t know how to trust a woman, to let her get close to me, letting her into my heart without having to worry about her playing with it like it’s a toy. I don’t want to be a possessive, controlling type of man, and yet, I’ve never really been in an experience where I’ve been tested in these regards to see how I deal with such things like commitment, jealousy, trust and just being able to really care about someone other than myself.

I’m afraid that my heart will break a thousand times in my search for love, or for a good woman. And after coming out of a despicable world of prison madness, I don’t even know how I’ll be able to deal with heartbreak. Will I end up killing myself? Will I kill her? Or will I find the strength inside me to heal and move on, and if so, will I dust myself off and try for love again, or will I be jaded and ruined by the whole experience.

You don’t learn these things in prison. This is a place where it becomes hard for you to even maintain a truthful, significant relationship with a woman, let alone your own family, no conjugal visits with your spouse, cut off from those important social ties that we need so much in our lives. Visits are rare due to the distance and the outrageous prices, phone calls are too expensive, and letters are more of a third-rate form of communication that it doesn’t give us a chance to really experience and feel what it’s like to actually be in a relationship.

We get locked up in this gloomy world of anger and hopelessness, sitting in these cells for years, deteriorating, not knowing how to love a woman or treat her right, and then get released back into a world that has become foreign and strange for us, not even knowing what to do. It’s no wonder people get out of prison and turn to drugs and alcohol to cope. I don’t want to turn out like that. My problems in life haven’t been drugs, nor have I been much of a criminal, my problems have been with anger and violence, which all stem from the pain I feel inside from not being loved.

One of my closest comrades always teases me, calling me a “hopeless romantic.” This is someone I consider to be a real friend, someone I’ve always been able to count on and who will have my back when I’m right and who isn’t scared to let me know when I’m not, and I feel bad, because there were times when I felt I couldn’t even trust him, and it’s not his fault, but mine, because I have serious trust issues, after all the times I’ve been betrayed, and from living a meaningless, destructive life for so long. But he calls me a “Hopeless Romantic,” and now it makes me wonder if there’s actually some merit to that. Is it really hopeless for me? Or will I be able to get out and actually learn how to be good to a woman and treat her right? I don’t want to go back out into the world not knowing these things; not knowing how to trust a woman, not knowing how to make love to a woman, not knowing how to care about a woman, not knowing how not to be demanding, controlling and possessive towards someone that I’ve ended up becoming so close to that I don’t want to let go or lose. If only we could learn these things in prison, if only they’d send us back into the world knowing not only how to be a man but a good man at that, then how much more hopeful our future would be.

This is something I felt I had to get off my chest, just to say that love is all we need. To have people in our lives who actually care about us, so that we can start caring too! Not only about ourselves, but about others as well. I write this from somewhere deep inside of me, a new place that I didn’t even know existed, with the hope that the minds of society will start to see that you can’t just throw a broken man into prison for some time, thinking he’s going to come out a better, fixed man. It doesn’t work that way. Society has to start taking new approaches to this, or we’re going to have to start tearing these walls down! I also write these words with the hope that prisoners will start taking a deeper, more serious look at themselves, and at love, trust and just at the way we’re living.

With these words written, I just want to let it be known that until I can really get some real love, I’m still going to be … Coyote who howls in darkness, just an anarchist trying to open up the hearts and minds of the poor, imprisoned and oppressed, with my full extension of respect to the people in this world who actually do care about us in here. Maybe someday someone will come along and really teach me, and show me or help me find out what love really is. My heart has been hardened to this world I’ve lived in for so long, and now I know that the only thing that can save me is love.

Solidarity and Respects,
“The Hopeless Romantic”
Ely State prison
3-14-12

Monday, November 21, 2011

Thrown to the Wolves

By: Coyote

“It is imperative to distinguish carefully between the rhythms of flourishing and the rhythms of decline in every single thing.”

- - Myyamoto Musashi

Devastation sets deep in my aching heart as I continuously see all of these young faces coming through these decrepit doors of prison madness; 15- and 16-year-olds, and sometimes younger. With no true guidance and no true leadership, they are locked up and thrown to the wolves, learning quickly to fend for themselves, follow others, or fall off, and got lost in a dark, dreary world of misery, anguish and pain. They look for strength, knowledge and counsel in their older homeboys, but it doesn’t take long for them to realize that all of these years most of their older homeboys have been in these dungeons wasting away, deteriorating, on some straight nonsense, not really trying to do anything useful or productive with their time.

Many of these older cats have neglected to take true strides to better themselves, or to elevate their positions in life, let alone their thinking… And so, therefore they really don’t have nothing good to say, or to give these youngsters, and so a lot of these youngsters are coming through here, and they see this and many of these youngsters – the ones with any sense, that is – quickly begin to lose respect for these so-called O.G.’s and they start to look at them differently, and usually with a disdainful eye.

The ones that don’t have much sense, that’s a different story… They don’t know any better, and don’t have anyone to show them or to teach them, so they get caught up in all of the madness and degeneration, and usually they end up becoming degenerates themselves, and that’s all bad.

Yet, amazingly, I often come across many sharp youngsters in here, who have been eager to learn and to really take their thinking and their lives to a new level, and I’m always impressed at how sharp some of these youngsters are, and yet a bit saddened whenever they confide in me that they wish their older homeboys were more on point, sharper, brighter and more on top of their game when it comes to passing down strong, useful knowledge. They talk about how they wish their older homeboys would take the time to give them literature or put a book in their hand, discussing real shit with them and trying to teach the, something new, or something with true significance and applicable value. I once asked one of these youngsters – whom I couldn’t help but notice was extremely sharp and really on top of his game for only being 21 years old – what does he look for when he needs someone with an “O.G.” Status? And this is what the little dude told me:

“When I meet someone with an “O.G.” status I look for someone who carries themselves in a manner that one can look up to, I feel he’s supposed to be able to teach you things and show you things you need to know of what’s to come in this lifestyle; he should give you the history of what you represent and why certain things are the way they are, he should encourage you to educate yourself and push you to want to be something better in life, and as a person, he should be a rider “still”, he should want to help you and not just use you, he should teach you about war and what’s worth and not worth going to war over; he should help build you up and make sure you stay the best you can be… I had an “O.G.” homie who once made me read a dictionary because he said I said “cuzz” too much and I needed to expand my vocabulary. An “O.G.” should always want to see you do something with yourself and not just always want to see you in some bullshit in the name of “da set”… “

These are words coming from a young warrior that I quickly became very fond of, and I assure you that his words are definitely a reflection of precisely how many of these youngsters feel, as they can’t help but notice the evident deterioration around here and the lack of true leadership from many of their so-called o.g.’s.

Me and this youngster had a couple of good sessions, I taught him the difference between Honor and Dignity, I passed him some good literature to read and we chopped it up about that, I helped him write an article about the psychological warfare tactics that these pigs use on us in here. His writing skills were already on point, and he wrote the whole article by himself, actually, I just gave him some advice on how to tighten it up a little and he took my advice and redrafted it and it came out hella good.

I told him what he said about what he looks for in someone with an “O.G.” status was definitely on point, but not to forget to look at things from both sides and also realize that there’s a lot of youngsters who come through here who think they know it all and who you just can’t tell ‘em shit. He said he knew what I was talking about and that he used to be like that too. The fact that he’s not like that anymore and that he’s eager to learn, tells me a lot about his character and his potential, and it’s youngsters like him that I’m eager to embrace, because I recognize that determination and that fire and strength and that passion that resides inside of them and burns so fiercely in their young warrior hearts. I only had a couple of weeks to kick it with this particular youngster before they moved me to another unit, but I hope the impact I had on him was as strong as the one he had on me.

I don’t look at people in regards of rank, status, or class, as long as they’re solid and they have something good to share, then I’m as much as their pupil as I am their teacher. We each grow and learn and get stronger from each other. This youngster taught me something and showed me lots of things that I’ll never forget, so as far as I’m concerned, he’s as much as a leader as those he refers to as “O.G.’s.”

Since then, I’ve come across many other youngsters like him who wanted to learn and who were looking for realness and truth in their lives, and who also had things to show me, and who have taught me things I’ll never forget… I came across one young, twenty-year-old cat who came up with an acronym to describe some of these older cats around here who just lie around like dead weight. He calls them “Dead P.O.S.S.O.M.S.,” which is an acronym for: Pile of Shit Sorry Old Man. When I look at things through these youngsters’ eyes, I’m surprised at how clearly I can see where they’re coming from, and how right they are about so many things.

I can’t help but to acknowledge the fact that there are a lot of piece of shit individuals in here; I’m talking about people who are foul in character and deed, and who loathe change and despise growth and all they know is to be foul. I avoid people like that, because there’s not much you can do for them, and really nothing they can do for you! It’s the youngsters with the potential, the eagerness to learn and the ones who refuse to stay at the same stage in their lives that I’m always trying to reach. I want them to really be able to see and recognize that the state has thrown them in prison and given them this time, not to help them but to destroy them, and that’s exactly why they have to be strong and wise, and use this as an opportunity for growth and prominent change. I want these youngsters to see and sincerely understand that there’s more to life than “the set;” than to be gangsters, a predator, thug, criminal, etc.

They can still be strong, and they can still be warriors, but I want to encourage them to be strong, sharp warriors so that they can fight the right fights, not the wrong ones.

I tell them that when I came to prison I was 19 years old, I came in with a hardcore gangbang mentality, maxed out on all of my sentences, caught more time in here, and now I’m 33 years old, close to the gate. What the fuck do I look like, 33 years old, getting out of here and going back to the same shit I was doing when I was 18 years old?? That would make absolutely no sense at all… and when I tell them this, they feel me, and they begin to look at their own lives and they start to think about it a little more, and once they begin to understand this, and the true, beastly nature of the State, and once they become aware of the truth behind poverty, oppression and racism and see that the true design of these prisons is to crush us as a classless people, then that’s when they begin to take serious strides to build themselves up as a man and a human being in life, so that they can do good things, make a positive impact and help the youngsters that come after them. And with all of this, I’ve noticed that once these youngsters truly begin to understand that being on some bullshit is only going to lead to more bullshit, they begin to reevaluate their priorities and the course of action that they’re going to take in life, and once they see that the bullshit does not really lead them anywhere good in life, then “change” starts to look like the best thing going!

I’ve noticed that a lot of older cats, especially some of the ones who have been doing time for a long time, think that because they’re older and that they’ve done time longer, that that automatically gives them the right to assume some type of position of seniority over you where they think they can just freely meddle in your affairs, telling you what you should and should not do, talking about “how back in the old days…” and always talking about racial separation and shit like that… and yet, some of the advice these cats try to give, instinctively I know that if I were to follow their advice, I’d have been dead a long time ago! If not in the physical sense, well then, I’d be one of these walking-dead zombies that you see so much of around here, because all of the things that are true to me now, and that I know are right and real, the things that make me who I am, all of these things would fade away, and I’d be nothing, man, I’d be dead inside…

I was living next to some older dude who has been doing time – in and out of prison – since 1983. This is a cat who got out and supposedly robbed all kinds of taxi cabs so that he could use the money to score dope and get high. He got caught and they sentenced him to 50 years! He was willing to trade 50 years of his life just to go out and get high for a couple of months, and now he’s living next to me, and his whole life now consists solely of how he’s going to score his next shot of mud, he does not read, he hasn’t even tried to strive for any real change in the whole 14 years that he’s been down, all he does is gamble, drink coffee, work-out, talk shit and watch the “idiot-box” – all day… and so when he tries to give me all of his advice about “prison life” and all that shit, I kindly tell him, “look man, I’m close to the house, my mind ain’t on none of this bullshit that goes on around here.” So then he switches up his tact and tries to give me advice about the streets, so I had to break it to him as gently as I could, and I told him, “Look, with all due respect, I appreciate what you’re trying to say and all that, but look at you man, you’re somebody who exchanged 50 years of your freedom for a few months of getting high, and now I’m supposed to be listening to you? Don’t you see the irony in that?” Now, maybe if I hadn’t immediately peeped out that he only had ulterior motives for associating with me in the first place, then I might’ve taken more time to pay attention to what he had to say… But I doubt it. Thinking about cats like these reminds me of what my young comrade said about “dead possums”… But the thing to consider is all of the many younger and naรฏve cats who have come through these doors and have fallen prey to the designs and manipulations of these wolves in sheep’s clothing.

In my opinion, there are indeed a few things from the past that are definitely still worth preserving and handing down to the next generation of “convicts”, but I think there’s also a lot of things from the past that need to be put to rest once and for all. The enforcement of these silly racist policies and ideas of racial separatism, the senseless ongoing gang warfare; the disunity that comes with all of these things, in my opinion, are amongst some of the things that need to go…

Also, another thing I want to point out, just because someone is older, or they’ve been doing time longer, doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re worthy of being leaders or teachers. It wouldn’t hurt to actually sit back and listen to some of these youngsters and listen to their ideas, and what they have to say, and to invite change into their lives, let evolution take its course, because those who hold on to the past are only holding on to old, ineffective, outmoded ways, that can’t and shouldn’t be applied in these times, under these circumstances… Not only that, but when it comes to being a leader and being someone who passes down knowledge it is sad to say, but the truth is, I’ve only come across a select few in this foul ass system, who actually have the pedigree to lead and teach, on an effective level. That’s just something to think about…

If you call yourself an “O.G.”, a leader, etc., and yet you don’t have anything good, or real, or meaningful to give to these youngsters, something that they can go through life with – even if it’s just one thing – then maybe you might want to reevaluate your position and “status” in life. Anybody can preach and talk and make their words sound real colorful and pretty and glorified, but talk has always been cheap, and it’s getting even cheaper by the day. I think you really have to ask yourself, as a leader, why would someone want to follow you? What would really make someone want to listen to you? Look at yourself, listen to how you sound when you talk, your character, your conduct, your actions, the way you present yourself, if all of that doesn’t match what you say, then ain’t nobody gonna think twice about anything you’re talking about, and in effect, all you’re doing is making noise. The change you want to see elsewhere has to start within you first.

Once consciousness has been raised, then things start to move in a different direction. The thing that I’m trying to convey here is that there’s flourishing and decline in everything in life, things can’t always stay the same forever, and they shouldn’t! Especially when you look at the way things are right now; ain’t none of this shit real, ain’t none of this shit right. It’s time to reevaluate, it’s time to raise the stakes. These youngsters are beginning to see what we’ve failed to see long ago. They know that if a little bit of freedom is a good thing, then a lot of freedom is a great thing. If a little bit of pleasure is nice, then a lot of pleasure is glorious. They are not content to settle for whatever left-over scraps of self-determination and joy come their way under the system that subscribes their lives today, and I do not blame them!

I feel that if you don’t have nothing good to give, or to share, then you need to move over, get out of the way, ‘cuz all you’re doing is muddying this shit up. I’ve seen a lot of these so-called shot-callers who have let that shit go to their head, they demand all kinds of respect that they don’t even deserve, they rule through fear and not through love; they’re all about themselves, not about their people, they’ll go to war over some bullshit and are putting their people at risk over some bullshit, but won’t stand up to the real enemy over some real shit. These type of people don’t impress me, and I have no respect for that shit.

That’s why I’m about what I’m about and do what I do, and I’m starting to look at all this shit differently. I see that a lot of people are motivated by their own jealousies and hate, and their own personal feelings, but I’ve come to find that wisdom lies in being able to see things objectively, not subjectively. I have nothing but respect for warriors of all types, and I respect the old warriors of this system (Nevada) who have been putting it down way before I even came to this disgusting place; (15 years ago) when I came to prison, those old warriors were my mentors. I’ve learned many good things from them, and I’ve learned a lot of good things from my own experiences too. I don’t waste my time trying to explain myself – my ideas, my standards, views, etc. – to people who I know aren’t going to understand. Nor do I have time to entertain other people’s old, tired-out, detestable ways and ideas. Indeed, it is good to learn from others, but if all they’re trying to teach me is how to become obedient and complacent, then they can’t really teach me nothing. Obedience is what got us in this situation we’re in now, and complacency is what’s keeping us here. When there’s nothing to respect, there’s nothing to obey, and if you take a good, square look around you, and if you’re honest with yourself, then you can see that there ain’t nothing respectable around here! Not a damn thing. So there’s no lesson for me in obedience, no lesson for me in complacency, so please miss me with all that; thank you very much, but no thanks!

While I’m still here, I’m going to keep trying to help others, no matter their age or race, and I’m going to keep reaching out to these youngsters, teaching them how to become leaders, so that they can do the shit that needs to be done and keep the good shit going, when there ain’t no one else around to teach them or to show them. I’m here to pass the torch and to keep this fire of resistance burning strong until it ignites everybody, and then we will come together and use that fire to burn this shit down!!! These pigs and this administration can keep trying to come down on me, they can try to suppress me all they want, I don’t give a fuck! Because I know what I’m doing is right and I know it’s what needs to be done. They can put me in the infirmary, behind double doors, isolate me, or whatever they want to do – they’re always trying to present some weak shit to strong individuals – but it doesn’t matter, ‘cuz I’m still going to find a way to do what I do!

These youngsters get snatched up and thrown into these cesspools of inhumanity before they can even learn how to think for themselves, and the ones who do the thinking for them, rarely have their best interests at heart. That’s why I use the expression of them being “thrown to the wolves.” The nature and the design of these prisons and these cells is to annihilate our youth, to break and destroy them, just like you see all if these older cats who have been broken and destroyed, with no fight in them, no life, no passion, no determination, and nothing good to hand down to the next generation of the young, free-spirited men that unwillingly get shoved through these unrefined doors of misery and hopelessness. So many times have I seen these youngsters come into this scandalous world of deprivation and perversion, and when they have become subjected to all of this foulness that has been laid out in front of them, they quickly absorb this shit and assume these foul, degenerate ways themselves, and that really ain’t cool.

It’s on us to start taking the time to elevate ourselves and re-educate our youngsters around real concepts of struggle and unity and growth, and we have to organize around the issues we are faced with in life, every day – the things that are right in our faces – rather than what race we are, or what region we come from. That shit hardly matters when we’re all going through the same shit. Oppression, poverty, capitalism, racism, gangsterism, this shit has an ill-effect on us all. We should take it upon ourselves to start igniting the flames of revolution in these youngsters’ hearts and in their minds, giving them something better to strive for and something real. We should find ways to give them real-life lessons that they will learn and gain from, taking these young minds filled with fantasies of gangsterism and helping them transform their thinking into guerilla warfare strategies to hopefully one day be used on any and all establishments of oppression. Because, from what I’ve seen, all of these bullshit racial policies that prisoners are forced to live by – by other prisoners, nonetheless – and all of the madness we see now, doesn’t do anything other than keep us all divided – and therefore conquered.

Those of us in this situation are all an oppressed people and we are all under the same gun. We have to stop emulating the ways of the pig – the oppressor – and start finding ways to uplift ourselves until we have the power we need to control our own lives.

We want change, we want truth, we want freedom, we want everything. We want complete control over every aspect of our lives; we want to taste the sweetest happiness and the most exhilarating liberty this existence has to offer. We don’t want to be slaves no more, we don’t want to be robots; we want to lead lives that are as adventurous, as magnificent as any we could read about in books. We want high stakes: we don’t want to just let our lives pass us by, mediocre and tiresome, stale and stagnant, as so many others have before us.

We see these cats who don’t have no life in them, no spark in their eyes, grouchy and miserable, no fire, no soul, and we don’t want to be like that. We want to live lives that mean something. For this, we are willing to risk anything; for this, we are willing to fight.

Things are changing and moving in a new direction now, more people are waking up, and soon enough we will start to see radical and revolutionary prison groups, chapters, movements and collectives sprouting up in Nevada, and in prisons everywhere. These collectives will be designed to give prisoners strength, solidarity, and will show them how to rise above oppression, not to mimic the ways of the oppressor, not to stay stagnant and stuck in a perpetual state of misery and despair and domination, but to challenge it, fight it, and to defeat it all together! Things are changing, we can look at what’s been going on in prisons in other states these last few years, not only for examples, but also for evidence that the prison struggle continues. A prison was burnt down in Kentucky a few years ago, then we’ve seen the biggest American prison strike in Georgia, followed by a successful hunger strike in Ohio – which was, in fact, kicked off by 3 of the Lucasville 5 – and now we have just seen the largest hunger strike ever, in California.

When we see these things we see the power of Unity in full effect. More prisoners are resisting, more people are coming together to challenge the injustices and to seek solutions. These are definite signs that change is about to come. It’s time for us to start making new history.

Until then, the devastation in my heart remains as I continue to bear witness to these young men being shuffled inside of this perpetual death-trap. But while I’m here, I will do all I can to try to bring forth greatness in every youngster that I come across, and one day, rather than desperately trying to seek knowledge and strength in their older comrades, they will begin to look for these things within themselves.

Resistance, Solidarity and Strength

Comrade Coyote

Anarchist Black Cross – Nevada Prison Chapter

Black August 2011

Ely State Prison, Nevada

Note: At the time of this writing, these pigs have snatched me up and moved me to the infirmary to try to isolate me and keep me separated from comrades and peers; they said that I was trying to organize. And [ass. warden] Brooks (no longer here! Hooray!) had to come in to 4-A, along with Lt. peck to feed us our dinner; ‘cuz the pigs were too scared to come onto the tier to feed us! Later that night, they came and got me and took me to the infirmary. I stayed there for a month, then they moved me to 3-B, where I’m at now.

This is an ad.-seg. [administrative segregation] unit, but I’m on D.S. [disciplinary segregation]. I got kicked out of the hole! (the first person in ESP history to ever get kicked out of the hole!). I’m doing my D.S. time on this unit now, because there’s no youngsters on this tier, no comrades. They’ve got me here not only to isolate me, but also to pacify me. The atmosphere on this unit is way different and more mellow, the mentality of the prisoners here is nothing like what I’m used to seeing in the hole, everything’s quiet and still and the pigs don’t go out of their way to fuck with none of us over here.

The conditions on the unit are a little better than the deplorable conditions you see in the hole… I guess they don’t like it when someone goes from tier to tier bringing all of the youngsters and all of the convicts together to stand up and resist the disdainful conditions of the hole. They see that unity and they fear it, so they try to do everything they can to keep us stymied and separated, everything that is, but what they’re supposed to do!

For a more immense and more intense version of this article, send a stamp to:

S. Chicago ABC Zine Distro

P.O. Box 721,

Homewood, IL 60430

And ask them to send you a copy of “Thrown to the wolves”- by Coyote

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Mail-Call

"Mail-Call"

The sun has finally set and has evaporated somewhere beyond the menacing razor wire. it couldn't have been longer than 25 minutes ago that the meek guard had silently tiptoed off the tier. 6:30 count. We sit in our cells and wait. The sally-port door opens, an attentive who resides in a cell just a few doors down from mine calls out in a distant voice: "Mail-Call!" All those who hear and who care come to their doors in arcane anticipation, hoping that the guard will stop and slide a letter underneath their doors; to see if someone on the outs has taken the delicate time to show their love and concern, letting us know that although we're gone, we haven't been forgotten...

Some prisoners wait all day for this event. Mail has become their only livelihood in this volatile existence. After dinner, it's the only meaningful thing we have to look forward to. Those who are fortunate enough to receive mail sit down on their bunks and read the letters that have been afforded to them with an abundance of joy and excitement, sharing select pieces of information and news with their friends and associates who linger in the adjoining cells around them. Those who are less fortunate sullenly turn off their lights, crawl under their flimsy covers, hoping that tomorrow will be better, as they drift off into a light sleep.

Receiving mail from the outside world definitely plays an intimate role in the aid of a prisoner being able to keep his or her sanity and focus while under these profane living conditions. it's a productive way to stay connected to the world outside of these suffocating walls, and also a healthy way to combat the loneliness that harshly grips us as we languish in these contemptible cells.

With this time that I've had to endure while under lock and key, mail-call has been the most important event of my day, every day. Just to be able to receive publications of various sorts has not only kept me abreast of current affairs; it has also kept me afloat in these turbid waters of agony and despair.

It has been through these various publications that I've been able to keep my ear to the radical streets, while passing these on to other prisoners so that they too can become enlivened and aware... I've come to learn about things that I never knew could even exist; things such as zine distro's, squats, autonomous zones, as well as different groups and organizations such as the IWW and the ARA. With this new understanding of life and radical events that transpire beyond this torpid state of existence; the veneer of capitalism has become removed with greater ease, the hold that these cold, stone walls have on me, now become tenuous, my eyes are unveiled and a strong, vibrant sense of joy and passion for life and freedom starts to well up inside of me! Now I know that a better, more beautiful world lies beyond these wretched walls, waiting for me to come and join...

To the prisoners that keep the torch of freedom burning strongly in their hearts, I encourage you to continuously and adamantly reach out to people on the outs, friends, family, prison advocacy groups, newsletters and newspapers, and various organizations, and keep the connection with the outside world alive and as fervent as ever. Do what you can to connect the people on the outs to our struggles in here, and to find ways to join in and contribute in their struggles out there. Don't let these walls close in on you, even if you have life sentences; please don't let this terrible world of darkness and misery consume you. Stay connected to the outside world, and always stand for freedom.

Freedom,

Coyote

Anarchist Black Cross

Nevada Prison Chapter

October 2011

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Ely State Prison: A Place of Depravity, Death and Despair

Ely State Prison is a place of death, stagnation, misery, pain, loneliness and indeterminate lockdown. If you were to take a walk on one of these depressing tiers back here in “the hole”, you would hear many disembodied voices ring out, yelling in anger and frustration, trying to tell you how bad it is for us in here, in between the isolated confines of steel and stone.

This is a maximum security prison, but not everybody here is a security risk, but if you were to ask these pigs that, they’d probably tell you otherwise, just to try to justify the fact they’re keeping us warehoused in here, whether we deserve it or not. With time things change, and usually for the worse. Deterioration is a normal occurrence in here. In fact, if you were to ask the prisoners around here if they think the conditions here will get better or worse, most of them will tell you things are only going to get worse. Pessimism and hopelessness permeate the minds and attitudes of the average prisoner in here. There’s nothing much to look forward to, besides the next meal, and maybe a letter in the mail, if you’re lucky.

Back in the day, ironically when E.S.P. was actually opened up (when we were allowed group yard, tier time, porters, etc.), the majority of the prisoners here were actually befitting of the status: maximum security. Back then, a man was sent to Ely State Prison for failure to adjust in another, less secure prison, violence, escapes and things of that nature. But even then, that could also mean he was disruptive, someone who organized other prisoners, led religious services, or filed too many legal writs or grievances.

Not every man at ESP is told why he’s here these days, and not every man here has committed a violent crime. Not every man here has done anything serious to even warrant maximum security status (like for example, I have a neighbour here in the hole with me right now who was transferred up here simply for contraband). A prisoner has no chance to appeal a transfer before being sent to ESP, and sometimes arrives in the middle of the night without warning. Brought into a world of darkness, locked into a cell, left to get stale and stagnant as he deteriorates, like a mouldy piece of bread.

Nobody belongs in a world where they’re buried alive, where they’re in a tomb for the dead, basically. And the police has total control, and many of them frequently abuse that control, either on a psychological level, or on a physical level. And over the days, weeks, months and years, a prisoner who is confined to this every day misery, begins to degenerate. I’ve seen it happen, over and over again. Nobody belongs in a world like this, where death permeates the atmosphere. Where pressure is applied so constantly that all it does is make these men hard and mean as time goes by.

Some of these guys in here feel they only have 2 or 3 choices now: escape, snitch or suicide. Nobody has escaped from here yet, but many turned into snitches, and many have committed suicide. And others have succumbed to psychotropic medications, which is a form of both escape and suicide. For so many of us in here, there’s nothing to strive for, no aim, no goals, no hope, no light at the end of their tunnel, and they just give up; give in. There’s no love here, just the artificial love that you’ll find in the gang culture of prison life. This is a terrible place to be, especially for someone who has to return back to society.

All you have to do is read a little psychology to figure out what’s going on, to understand what’s being done to us in here. They try to break us down, sever our family and social ties, dominate us, talk shit to us, treat us like children, going out to their way to try to keep us stagnant and ignorant, and always out to break our spirits. Needless to say, I pass around books, articles and notes on psychology, so that prisoners can get a deeper understanding about things. Not just about being in prison, but also about how our minds work, personality, emotions, why we act the way we act, and why we are the way we are. It’s very important to actually be able to come to an understanding of these things; to raise our level of conscious and to be able to elevate our thinking under these circumstances is very important in more ways than one, and it’s also necessary for our survival in here, where psychological warfare is being waged on us every day.

The depravity and despair in this graveyard continuously pushes men to death or insanity. I wrote an article on November 18th, 2009, about the mysterious death of death row inmate Timothy Redman. November 18th, 2009, was the day he died, and I was there when it happened. This is a prime example of the daily depravity that takes place in this hellhole. Approximately an hour after Redman allegedly tried to grab a correctional officer by the wrist and pull his arm through the food slot (apparently the pig had to struggle to free himself), an extraction team of officers was made up to physically and forcefully remove Redman from his cell, or at least to try. Redman refused to surrender and to be placed in handcuffs, and he did so by displaying a weapon. What’s cold about this whole thing is that the policy (administrative regulation) even states that any time a prisoner has a weapon in his cell, his water and toilet is to be shut off, an officer is to be stationed outside of his cell, and nothing is to come in or go out of his cell – not even meals, and this officer is supposed to stay stationed outside of his cell until the prisoner either gives the weapon up, or for 72 hours, and then they have to decide what to do from there, whether excessive force is to be used or not. Did this happen? No. These pigs refused to follow their own rules and a man died as a result.

I can tell you exactly what took place. After Redman refused to surrender, the pigs then proceeded to spray one can of pepper spray into his cell. After that the senior officer in the control bubble commenced to open Redman’s cell so the pigs could run in there on him and retaliate, and then remove him from his cell. But the cell door was jammed from the inside, and they couldn’t get it open. Obviously Redman was no dummy, he knew how to keep the pigs out, and he knew why it was so important to do so. That’s a situation that you usually don’t win. They come in and beat your ass, and after they’ve got you fully restrained, they beat you some more as they yell out “Stop resisting! Stop resisting!” So, over the course of two hours, the pigs emptied a total of 6 canisters of gas into Redman’s cell, and then sprayed a seventh canister one time. They would spray him, and then go hide out in the upper storage room, so that the gas wouldn’t affect them (Redman was housed in 3-B-48, right next to the upper storage room). When they were finally able to open Redman’s cell to get him out, he was dead. His face was purple, his body was blue and blood was coming out of his nose. His boxers were stained with feces and urine and he had what appeared to be a smile on his face. The nurses and doctors tried to revive him, but to no avail.

What’s mysterious about this whole situation was that when they pulled Redman out of his cell, there was no rope tied around his neck or anything. But they say he hung himself. They said it was a suicide. But did he really hang himself, or was he murdered by six cans of pepper spray? Was it a cover-up? People need to be concerned about this, and they should demand to see the video footage of the extraction, just to make sure, because the whole thing seemed mysterious to the majority of the inmates who saw the incident take place.

All seem to agree that Redman died from the pepper spray. They think he was murdered. Who knows what happened. All humans are capable of murder, and death row inmates have been murdered before under McDaniel’s administration. I know this much: a couple of hours after they carried Redman’s body out of the unit, 2 of the wardens, the coroner, and the investigator were all standing outside of Redman’s cell laughing, smiling and joking around, thinking it was funny, until a prisoner piped up and said, “What are you laughing at? If that was one of your own who died, you wouldn’t find it very funny, now would you?” They got quiet. But it seemed like they were happy to see Redman die. At dinner time, a guard who was on the extraction team came into the unit and yelled out loud, so everybody could hear, “Cell 48 said he doesn’t want his tray.” It just goes to show how much regard these pigs have for our lives. They have no love, no mercy for us. The whole scene was a blatant violation of the administrative regulations and a blatant disregard for Redman’s life. And the really cold, cold, part about it was, when the coroner asked the warden, on two separate occasions, “How should I decide this?”, “How do you think I should decide this, suicide or murder?” The warden looked around, seen that prisoners were standing alert at their doors and said, “I can’t decide that, that’s your job.” But what would even propel the coroner to ask such an odd question like that in the first place? It makes you wonder…

I knew Redman personally. He wasn’t really a friend of mine, but someone I talked to occasionally. I don’t know what set him off to go after the pig, but I do know this: Redman was a death row inmate who has had to endure 23-hour lockdown while on H.R.P. (High Risk Potential status: supermax custody level) for 16-17 years straight. I’ve heard him talking once about how year after year administration is stripping one privilege away from us each year. Tobacco, milk, scrambled eggs, hot lunches, food packages, clothing packages, etcetera, etcetera. They just take, take, take and keep you locked down in a cell with a death sentence hanging over your head. Oh yeah, and I know that they were messing with Redman’s mail too. He seemed to think that his wife left him due to this; because certain letters never got to her. So, I think it’s safe to say, with all these things taken into consideration, you have a man who has nothing to lose, and no hope in sight, who has basically been driven to a point where life doesn’t even matter anymore.

There’s a lot of people like that in here. They weren’t always like that though. They’ve deteriorated, and have been broken, and just stopped trying, stopped caring, with no one or nothing to help pull them through. It’s a sad, sad story, about depravity and despair. Some of us fight and struggle (psychological and spiritually), trying to make it through this, trying to better ourselves and better our positions in life, and some just give up all hope. It’s easy to give up in a filthy, foul-ass place like this, where nobody cares about what you’re going through, or about where happens to you, one way or another.

The guards that work here don’t care about us, they’re not trained to care about us, they are only trained to control us. Ely State Prison is an unproductive, unhealthy environment, even for these pigs. It has been documented that prison guards have the highest rates of heart disease, drug and alcohol addiction, divorce – and the shortest lifespans – of any state civil servants, due to the stress in their lives. Prison guard are in constant fear of injury by prisoners, and the fear of contracting diseases always lingers in their minds, since prisons are normally flooded with all kinds of diseases, from hepatitis C, tuberculosis, to AIDS.

From the first day in the academy these guards are trained to believe that they are taught to believe that they are the “good guys” and that prisoners are the “bad guys”, They are pretty much programmed into fearing and despising us – before they even come into contact with any of us! They are led to believe that all prisoners are manipulative, deceitful and dangerous, and that all prisoners are the scum of the Earth. So no, they don’t care about us, they are not even allowed to care about us. We are not even human to them. Needless to say, none of this leads to rehabilitation, but on the contrary, it only contributes to the everyday depravity here in this hellhole.

I’m writing about all of this for a reason though. I’m here to expose the abuse, the injustices, the disparity and hopelessness. I’m here to raise awareness about all of these things, and I’m here to help seek solutions. One of the things I’d like to help Nevada prisoners understand is that the situation for us out here is deplorable. There is a real problem with this whole system, and if we don’t recognize these problems, we will never find solutions, not to mention the possibility that we ourselves could even be contributing to many of these problems. Please believe, the way they’ve got us doing our time is not the way we’re supposed to be doing our time. This whole prison is “the hole”, there’s no general population here at E.S.P., there’s no incentive, no programs, no rehabilitation, nothing. We have way more coming to us than this! We are not supposed to just lay down and accept this, we have to start finding ways to come together, we have to start striving to make the necessary changes that will help better our positions in life, so that we don’t have to keep coming back to these dead ends.

Furthermore, like Ikemba always says, there’s no real level of activism in Nevada. Prisoners do not have any available resources, bookstores for Nevada prisoners, no prisoners’ rights advocacy groups, no solid help from the outside, whatsoever. In order to make changes on the inside, we need support from the outside. We must take it upon ourselves to build a proper support structure for Nevada prisoners, and we have to do this from the ground up!
So, if you’re a prisoner doing time in Nevada and if you have family/friends out here in Nevada – or anywhere else on the outs – I would like to encourage you to explain to them how bad the situation is for you/us in here. Let them know that we cannot expect any type of real rehabilitation from this system; explain to them that the administration is not going to do anything to help us further our growth and development, or push us close to becoming reformed, socially functioning individuals. We have to take it upon ourselves to do these things and we can’t do it without a proper support structure from people on the outside.

Talk to your families, talk to your friends, talk to your loved ones out there (show them this newsletter if you have to), see what they would be willing to do to start up programs for Nevada prisoners. Something needs to be done, but nothing will improve unless prisoners start taking the initiative. The guys who have to do life sentences, or who have to be here for the duration, I encourage you to start learning the law, use it as a tool to make changes for everybody; start stepping up to the plate, instead of waiting for others to do it for you. As long as we keep trying, sooner or later something has to give. It’s better to try than to do nothing, especially when we’re living like this! We can do anything we put our minds to, it all starts with a thought, and what we think about we become, so let’s get it cracking. 

Until then, we are just going to sit here, warehoused in this misery, as the years go by, more people losing their minds, more deaths and suicides, more repression, more rules being placed on us, making it harder on us, more restrictions, more losses of privileges and whatever else they want to take from us. We will sit here with sad looks on our faces, as anger and hatred eat us up inside. The despair will lead to depravity, and the depravity will do us in. Death is the only outcome tomorrow, for those that don’t start taking action today.

Solidarity and Respects
Coyote