Yesterday I got a letter from Tom, mostly telling me about his raise and the new visitation rules before he knew I knew about them.

I gave him Mary and Myra’s names to check out online and told him not to bother with trying to find the best complaint address, since the water’s still hot, believe it or not, and now that I’m down to 60 days left. Two-thirds of the way to the finish line.

LaBorde fixed my leak. It was coming from the water well upstairs. She gave me an extra towel.

Everybody’s been kind to me today or at least ignoring me as I’d prefer. I was chatting like old times with Mary and Myra. Even Brandie, who never said a word to me in the past, or smiled, was smiling and friendly.

Nancy actually ignored me today on her hour out. Maybe she felt hesitant for fear of Myra defending me and yelling shit out at her.

Since the DOs know they can break rules and cut corners and get away with it, they do. LaBorde let Mindy out while I was out on my hour like she wasn’t supposed to, but I stayed right where I was, pacing around the dayroom. I wanted to see if she’d be dumb enough to make a move on me under LaBorde’s nose. Of course, if she had, I’d have broken every bone in her body, but she ignored me.

Yesterday’s biggest surprise, although it wasn’t that surprising, was a letter from Ida. I got a kick out of how Hann said, “Oh, so you’re going to tell her I said she was a complainer, huh?” when she saw I wrote her back. I laughed and said that she was a complainer. Yes, Ida was the queen of grievances and she knew it, too.

Ida’s letter was only a few sentences long. She just wanted to send me the articles she wrote in ‘78 for the Mesa Tribune. I wasn’t too impressed with the porcelain article, but the German castles were quite impressive.

As I asked her to, she signed the letter, “Fuck you, Sylvia” in German. “Fricke dich” is “fuck you.”

In my letter to Ida, I filled her in on the jail’s ups and downs, then informed her of what Espi told me about the newspaper she was in for stealing 5 years ago.

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No, my leak is not fixed, and it stinks, too. Damn it, LaBorde! Can’t you do anything right? I could end up in A Tower till this is squared away like Myra said she once did, and I’m not sure I want that.

I asked the old geezer why she wasn’t taking the mail I put under the door, and she told me she couldn’t bend over to pick things up. Then she shouldn’t be a DO. How’s she going to defend herself if she gets in a fight? This woman has gotta be well into her 50s. Too old for this job, unless she’s just being lazy. That’s always a possibility, too.

Anyway, what Espi said was that Ida was here 5 years ago.

So this wasn’t your first time in here, you little liar! What did you lie to me for, you old fart?

Anyway, I guess she was in for some probation violation. Something about reading a neighbor’s newspaper that she intended to put right back. Yeah, I knew she was in for something stupid. Most of them are, as Espi herself said.

I broke the ice with Bryant last night, though I didn’t mean to. It just happened like it does with most DOs once they get to know you unless you give them a reason not to like you.

I said hi to her and told her I had 60 days left. She asked if I’d be back. “Hell no!” I told her “I ain’t getting framed twice.”

“Good,” she said, “then you won’t be scaring me no more.”

I thought she was referring to my evil laugh, and I apologized, saying I didn’t realize I was that scary to her.

Then she goes, “Yeah, when you pop your little head up in the door you scare me.”

After I thanked her for handing me my breakfast in the morning, she said, “Mhm,” which is the first thing she ever said to me unless it was in response to my asking the time.

My current least favorite DO is Pancake Face Smith, OKA Barbie. I’d take Misery over Pancake Face Smith any day.

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Bunch is on now. Guess there’s no need to worry about anyone coming into Ad-Seg tonight. I remember when 3 was empty and she was like, “I’m not going to say anything.” I guess that means she doesn’t exactly enjoy checking people in here.

When I think of Tom I feel overwhelmed with gratefulness for all he’s done for me. I also feel guilty for all this shit. It may not be my fault, but because they fucked me over, they fucked him over, too. Yet amazingly, he’s still with me! Very few people stick together through shit like this. They gotta dump each other as soon as they have a bad day. That’s why so many people break up. That, and because being the extremists most people are, they seek mates that are either too similar or too different from them.

I just thank God, as mean and as unfair as he can be, that he didn’t have Tom end up framed and in jail, whether or not I did, too. Then I’d not only feel guilty beyond words but our lives would literally be ruined and over. If he couldn’t work, nothing would get paid for and we’d lose everything. I just wish I could handle this place as well as I know he could. The only thing that I think would be hard for him to deal with would be the food.

I just want to go home! Why has God been so obsessed with having me stuck in so many places I didn’t want to be, both as a kid and as an adult? I just want my life back, even though nothing will ever change. The freeloaders will continue to victimize whatever white people piss them off. Judge H will continue judging people and situations he doesn’t even know. The public defender will still lie to his clients, tricking them into confessing to things and signing plea agreements for things they aren’t even charged with. The pig will continue to coach and prep fellow blacks and pit them against whites, ruining their lives without a care in the world, all because their ancestors’ lives were ruined by slavery. The ones responsible couldn’t pay for it, so those of us who exist today have to pay for it.

How many more centuries will it take for these vicious, sick degenerates of society to move on???

Nancy’s still here, but I’m hoping she’ll be gone sometime this week. She’s never going to make it 3 years in prison. She’s going to threaten the wrong person. Some lifer with nothing to lose.

I can’t get that subhuman pig off my mind. How can I prove it coached her? How can I prove it planted evidence? What can I do to fight back and protect myself in the future?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Once again the Gods have protected my abusers. All I know is this fucking over Jodi and getting away with it won’t cut it anymore. I can’t just sweep this one under the carpet and “forget it.” I can’t sue for money I lost, I can’t get the time back I lost, but this pig needs to be exposed. If nothing comes of it other than to let the truth be known and to protect myself in the future, as well as others from going through the same thing, fine.

The question is – how? The direct approach? Go directly to him or his superiors and let them know that although I can’t prove it, I’m onto him and his schemes? Or should I reconsider going to the paper? I’m not so sure they’d print what they’d call an “unfounded accusation.” Besides, once it’s been established that a victim is a victim and a perpetrator is a perpetrator, no matter what the real truth is, that’s the way it stays. I’m always going to be seen and portrayed as the perpetrator in this case, even if everyone involved were to publicly announce what they did to fuck me over.

I don’t see how I could trust the media. Not after channel 3 edited out everything I said and added their own words to my face. If they just want to hear only what they want to hear – forget it.

I was talking to Bunch about my ordeal. She didn’t have any advice to offer me, but even she agrees that the system is a joke and that this could happen to anybody. Even her.

I think it’d be best to start with making the pig’s boss aware of the situation, even if he’s automatically going to jump to protect his own and side with his own. At least this way, though, if he’s dumb enough to fuck with some other unfortunate white soul, at least his boss will know that he’s been said to have caused trouble before. So even if there’s no proof and the scumbag covers up his tracks, they may at least keep a closer eye on the stupid fuck.

Now they’re being really fucking weird next door, with Myra as the leader, as usual. She was yelling up to Mindy, “Do you have the morning-after pill? Mary’s going to claim you as the daddy of the baby she just had.”

Dinner’s here. Fuck! It’s those fucking mother-fucking hot dogs! I’d like to cuff that fucking pig to a chair and stuff them down his throat one by one and see how he likes it!

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I had Bunch let me out to ditch the extra towel because it was getting pretty smelly. I’m using pads to sop up the wetness, though with the rains calming down, it’s been drier. At least I can flush wet, smelly pads.

The pencil sharpener is broken. Again? I think I’ll just spend the buck a week it’ll cost me to get the weekly limit of 10 pencils. I need pencils, paper and batteries like the air I breathe.

When Nancy went up the stairs after dumping her tray, I lay on the bed where she could see me, curious to see if she’d say anything. She didn’t. We just stared at each other without a word.