NOTE: THIS POST IS EXTREMELY VAGUE. I AM TRYING TO ACCELERATE TO THE YEAR 2000. ALL POSTS AFTER PART 2 OF THIS BLOG WILL BE VIVID AND VERY DESCRIPTIVE. I did not come from a broken home. My father was not an alcoholic. He did not beat us or my mother. I had a normal childhood filled with great birthday parties and nice family outings. My father was a very strict man, but he did not do anything to make me turn out the way that I did. I did not grow up in a bad neighborhood. For some reason, I was always a little wild during my early teens. I use to sneak out a lot. I was just a normal thirteen or fourteen year old boy chasing after girls. At that point, I had experimented with LSD and ecstasy. I was wild, but by no means did I partake in any sort of criminal activity. I would sneak my parents car out a few times a month and hit up the night life in Houston’s amazing club scene. They were not very strict when it came to fake I.D.’s back in those days. Sex, drugs, skateboarding, and going to concerts was how I spent the majority of my mid-teen years. My sister was killed in an automobile accident a month before my eighteenth birthday. That is the hardest thing I have ever had to deal with. It destroyed my family. We have never fully recovered and we never will. Unless you have experienced the loss of an immediate family member at such a young age and it being totally unexpected, it will be impossible for you to understand the ramifications it creates. I did not
handle it well at all and I guess you could say I was weak. I started doing more drugs. I did not care about my future anymore. I went from being a great athlete who made excellent grades to a person
with no drive or expectations concerning my life. I started hanging out with less than desirable people. I was breaking into houses, selling drugs at a low level, and fighting a lot. Before I knew it, I was arrested for burglary and illegally buying a firearm. I went to boot camp not once, but twice. Looking back I was just a little punk doing stupid shit because I truly did not care about my well being. I would definitely graduate into the big time a few years later. For now, we will stick with my current path at that time. I must go in order for you to truly get a sense of me as a person and how many transformations I have made.After I got out of boot camp for the second time. Not a whole lot really changed. I kept doing drugs, hanging out with my friends, going to clubs, and having tons of sex. I did that for a few years. It was early 1995 by this time. I was about to turn 21. I spent the majority of my time taking ecstasy and having threesomes with my girlfriend and her friends. I guess that was one of the perks from selling the pills and dating a stripper. These crazy nights often took place after we would get back home from Club Some around 7 or 8 in the morning. I was also about to become a father. My previous girlfriend was pregnant. I was nervous, happy, and very sacred. Fatherhood was a role I would have to grow into as I became older. I will discuss this exclusively in a future post. On one particular night I decided to go visit some friends in southwest Houston. I was pulled over by a police officer and the aroma of weed billowed out of my car. He put me in handcuffs and commenced to search my vehicle. It did not take long until he found a beretta 9 mm. I was back in the Harris County Jail. I was unable to get a bond because I was on probation. After going to court for several months. I was sentenced to three years in the Texas Department of Corrections. The day they called my name to “catch the chain” to T.D.C. I remember being nervous and I did not know what to expect. In Harris County we fought all the time. Fighting was no big deal, believe it or not, I even enjoyed it during that time of my life. All I knew of prison was what I had seen in the movies. I guess I thought rape was an everyday occurrence and I kept thinking I will probably die because there was no way I would allow that to occur. I would rather face death than experience something as brutally vicious and degrading as rape. The entire bus ride was extremely quiet and all of the inmates were pretty much in silence with the occasional sound of chains from being shackled and some very light conversation. As we pulled into Huntsville’s Holiday Unit which was a classification unit. Inmates would stay here for a short time until you were assigned to your “real unit.” I remember seeing all the guard towers and chain linked fences with barb wire surrounding the unit. This place was very clean and nothing like I expected. The food was much better than Harris County and there was not very much violence, or fighting for that matter. I remember thinking prison is not that bad with the exception of not seeing my family, friends, and no sex. Prison is segregated. You stick to your own kind. I was cool with a few of the black and white guys, but it made no difference in there. You stuck to your own race and that was that. To go even further, especially with the large Hispanic population, you are talking about huge ethnic groups serving as politicians, peacekeepers, and governing bodies with violent soldiers. Throughout the entire prison system things were broken down into cities and regions of Texas. Mexicans from Houston only fucked with other Mexicans from Houston. Some cities were cool with others. Some were brutal enemies. San Antonio also know as “San Anto” were always getting into fights and riots with Houston also known as Houstone(pronounced as Hou-STONE). I know all of this sounds ridiculous, but I did not make the rules. I was however, ready to play the game. The first two months at Holiday unit not a whole lot happened. That was all about to change once I left for the Gist Unit in Beaumont and then Robinson unit.