It almost always froze in solitude. In order to stay warm, prisoners would wrap themselves in sheets and extra clothing and travel back and forth. I could actually smell my own breath on some days.
Some inmates would rip up their blankets, stuff them into their toilets, and begin flushing, causing the unit to flood. I endured silence.
The unit’s top prisoners started to “flood” together one night. The cells there were flooded by the contaminated water that poured down from the upper floor to the lower level. Water poured into my cell until I was on my knees. The toilets started flooding later, including mine, adding to the mess as the pipes became clogged, adding to the mess. I jumped onto my bed because I was terrified, but the grimy water rose until it reached the edge of my mattress.
No one arrived while I yelled for the police to assist. My cell was hygienic, but the water started to recede after a while and eventually stopped rising. An officer approached about an hour later, and I pleaded with him to unlock the door.
He gave a grin. I’m not opening any doors because it’s my third shift, which meant the unit had to remain locked up.
“Bro, this is bad in here. I begged, “Please let me at least get the water out.”
He said, “You’ll be fine,” and then left.
The floor was covered in faeces all over. In a cage, I felt like an animal.
“Please no, not again,” the message.
My trial began in December 2004 and lasted until I was found guilty in April 2005. Up until August 2005, I was kept in isolation. It had been solitary confinement for two years.
I was immediately assigned to a general population unit at NJSP. I could now visit the mess hall to eat three meals per day, attend religious services, and work in the kitchen, laundry, or other areas of the prison. Regular visitors could be made to the yard and the gym.
I discovered that getting in trouble is the only way to end up isolated. I therefore made it my priority to avoid any.
But 17 years later, I was locked up because I had an unrestricted USB wire. For infractions involving prison, I was transferred to a “temporary” holding cell. In addition to the above, the tiers placed prisoners in AdSeg. This location was loud-ear-shatteringly loud, unlike the county jail lockup.
Some of the prisoners were yelling at one another. The police were being cursing and yelling at the inmates as well. Then there were the door bangers, like donkeys, kicking the metal doors into their cells. A zoo was nearby.
Evidently, the previous owner had been disturbed. The mattress was torn apart. Decomposing food was present. In the stainless-steel toilet sat a dried pile of faeces.
I wasn’t a brand-newcomer at the time, though. I spent nearly 20 years in one of the country’s most notorious prisons as a middle-aged man.
I summoned my strength and pleaded with the unit officer for some cleaning supplies, including a “night bag” of soap, toothpaste, toothbrush, clothing, toilet paper, a spoon, a cup, bed linens, and a blanket.
What do you desire? I was asked by a young officer who was overworked and disheveled.
I referred to the toilet’s faeces. He merely waved and instructed me to clean the sink with the sink’s water.
What should I use to clean that? I pressed on, agitated.
He said, “Use your hands,” and he left.
For me to hold onto my growing anger took decades of patience and self-control.
I paced for the following two days.
