Prison Camp: Becoming an Inmate
A White-Collar Journal forum for criminal justice, lived experience, and the personal search for redemption
Excerpts From My Prison Journal
Over the coming weeks, I’ll be sharing excerpts from the journal I kept during my time in federal prison camp. These entries were written in real time. Wthout polish, without hindsight, and without the benefit of emotional distance. The first days in prison are disorienting. This is what it feels like to arrive.
I was released from solitary after three days. Turns out they send every new guy there. A warning, the guys tell me.
“Scare your ass so you don’t fuck around when you get to the camp,” said Rasta, one of my new brotherhood along with Muhammad, in fact, two Muhammad’s, Big Muhammad and Little Muhammad, the Cod Father, Lumi the killer, Mac the knife, Primo the Spanish brawler and Steve, regular, nice guy Steve — and thank goodness for Steve — especially after I met Mike the Greek and dark Tony and sad Bill, not scary but old and still in prison and compromised, can barely walk to meals and back, which will be me in a few years, and Smitty, a long-timer, ten years and counting, a once-wealthy guy, bitter, no longer fighting, angry at those who still are.
I mentioned an appeal which pissed him off.
So hard to know what will trigger reactions.
And hard to figure out a seat at meal time even though my bunkie, a young Spanish guy with a long sentence and sad eyes but a good attitude, tried to break me in. A kid. Younger than all my children. And all of them looking at me like what did I do, a life sentence, an old man like me?
I learned, early on after that, to craft your bio like everyone else so that you were screwed by somebody: a lawyer, a judge, a girlfriend, a colleague, whatever — but whatever it was, it “sure as shit” wasn’t you.
And then there’s the staff, according to the Brotherhood: the motherfuckers, the assholes, the douche bags who have it worse than us because they don’t get to leave — as if that’s really something — even though they go home at night, take vacations, have wives, children, lives even, divorces (so what), they have lives.
At least that’s the way I see it.
But you don’t let on.
You just go with it because you better learn early on to make your way in prison.
And I’m just getting started.
I make my own coffee.
I make my bed.
I clear my locker.
I embrace the ghost and put on my cloak.
No one even notices.
If this piece resonated with you, consider sharing it or leaving a comment. To support this work and help spread awareness about justice reform for white-collar defendants, subscribe to White-Collar Journal and stay connected. John DiMenna is a member of the White Collar Support Group.
Up Next on White Collar Journal:
Wednesday (Justice Notes): Criminal Justice Reform
Thursday (Notes from Exisle): Log/Verse: Daily, fragmented reflections
Sunday (Prison Camp): More Stories from prison
If you’re new to White-Collar Journal, you can read earlier chapters and essays on incarceration, justice, and reentry at whitecollarjournal.com.
Thank you for reading White-Collar Journal. Subscribing is free, and I hope you’ll continue with me as I explore stories of incarceration, justice, and redemption.
If this piece resonated with you, consider sharing it or leaving a comment. To support this work and help spread awareness about justice reform for white-collar defendants, subscribe to White-Collar Journal and stay connected. John DiMenna is a member of the White Collar Support Group.
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