Not This Morning: A Prisoner’s Dispatch

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About A. Whitfield

A. Whitfield was born in Virginia, became involved in an outlaw biker gang at a young age, and has been incarcerated in Virginia and New York state for almost thirty years. He has earned undergraduate degrees from Canisius College of Buffalo and Indiana University, and he will be a master candidate at California State University, Dominguez Hills, beginning in the Spring of 2012. His writing has been published in the Minnesota Review, Stone Canoe, Central New York Magazine, and will appear in the book, Fourth City: The Prison in America.

Comments

  1. Peter Houlihan says:

    Good luck!

  2. Thank you readers for taking this time with me.
    Although Mr. Whitfield’s story is compelling, he raises more questions than answers. My question for Mr. Whitfield is simple:
    Show Your Paperwork.

    • The fireprisoner is by far the most curious species of inmate. He remains asleep, rising at the click of the door, whereupon he hits the concrete in a full-on sprint for he has slept dressed and shod. No water, no comb, no toothbrush, no nothin.’ He just burns out the door, leaving a wake of fohnk. Fohnk from his pitted out shirt. Fohnk from his mal-wiped behind. Fohnk from his rotten, bleeding gums. He is PURE-I-DEE-FOHNKAY.
      Every inmate is terrified of finding himself housed with a fireprisoner, for like roaches, they are next to impossible to get rid of. Two methods for use in terminating the living arrangement with a so-styled inmate:
      Incentive: “Ay man! You’re fohnkay as a mugg up in here. And I ain’t really trippin’ but the hommies is still trippin’ off your hygiene habits. So they told me to tell you that you got’z to move.”
      Subterfuge: “Hey buddy, wake up. DUDE! They just called your name. Wrap up your stuff; you’re being released, I think. . .No, fuh the reals.
      Now, after you’ve helped him with his things and given him a pound on the other side of the door, slam it. Hold your ground. Put yourself in a headlock and scream the following:
      “YOU GUYS CAN GO TO HELL. HE AIN’T GETTIN’ BACK IN HERE! A’HM SERIOUS. MATTER FACT, I WONNA SEE THE MAN! BRING ME THE MAN OR I’LL BREAK THIS FOOL’S FOHNKAY NECK.

      —Calendars by Spacey.

  3. http://markpeacocklaw.com/cases/rivera-v-lappin-bop This video explains what happens in Prison.
    Mr. Whitfield has asserted that the C.O.’s arbitrarily allow him to go to chow, that he gets shushed, and that some kid calls him O.T.
    First what the hell is O.T.? Does he mean O.G.?
    The Prison in the video, USP Atwater, and places like it Victorville, and Florence are run by the Convicts, double and triple O.G.’s, shot callers. There would be an uproar in one of these place if the least man were to be exposed to the kind of disrespect meted out to Mr. Whitfield daily. Why is this?
    What has Mr. Whitfield been convicted of?
    Does he posses honorable court records (did he snitch)
    Mr. Whitfield has taken on a serious platform and he should qualify his experience by making his paperwork (court records) available to his readers.

Trackbacks

  1. [...] If you haven’t read part one, check it out here. [...]

  2. [...] Not This Morning: A Prisoner's Dispatch — The Good Men Project I have just been dragged from the salty spray of roiling surf by the impatient, alarm-like clanging of the count bell. I struggle to hold a rapidly fading figment: my feet being swallowed by the warm white sand, my fingers pressing deeply into the pliant flesh above the rolling hips of a cinnamon-colored nymphet clad only in an orange bikini. A series of small heart-shapes of missing material climb the rising slope of rounded suppleness filling the bikini bottom. [...]

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