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I had many friends during my incarceration, but none like Gee. We met back in the early 2000s, when Nottoway Correction Center was a tough environment for anybody. Our housing unit, Upper C East Side, was called the Ghetto. The administration gave us that name, and it was exactly that: a ghetto. When I met Gee, we were in the midst of a gang war. The kind that had you checking the stairwell when you marched outside. It was a hectic time, but Gee was the type who smoked cigare

I stirred from my rest, hearing the annoying loud whistle of a correction officer (CO) that ordered us to stand for institutional count. I did, as did my celly. The morning rays crept through the barred window, showcasing that a new day had arrived. Breakfast was these cornmeal pancakes that reminded you of sand being chewed on. I avoided them by the blessing of a friend offering me his Common Fare tray; the pancakes were made without cornmeal. I devoured them, then guzzled d

I'm shaking my head, learning that Gee was under investigation after talking with me about movies an hour ago. It all came from Taz running into segregation, kissing his boy (gay lover) through the tray slot. The warden saw something on the surveillance cameras and now my movie buddy is in segregation under investigation. We're all like this is just another day in prison...and when was commissary coming? Crazy things happen regularly, and nothing stopped our priorities: worki