ROLL CALL ~ A Prison List (True Prison Story)

by Glenn Langohr

  CHAPTER 186

  The ring leader was losing his patience. Why weren’t they handling their business? It should be easy with those scalpels I left for them to use. Just do it!!

  While the ring leader watched from the roof, wondering what they were waiting for, his cell phone rang. It was from central administration. He was told they had just got off the phone with the governor demanding the yard be put on lockdown. He was personally on his way in regards to an Internal Affairs investigation involving inmates B.J. and Damon!!

  The ring leader asked, “How much time do I have? How long can you run interference?”

  The ring leader’s integral component at central administration responded. “You’ve got until this morning’s yard recall. After that, there’s nothing I can do to keep the word from getting through…”

  The ring leader looked at his watch and acknowledged it was 11 A.M. Yard recall was in half an hour for the morning yard. There was no other choice than to coordinate an emergency meeting with Topo to see what the fuck he’s waiting for? He got on his phone and hit a button that went to the main tower guard. “Hey holmes… Announce for inmate Rodriguez to report to the program office. I need to talk to him A.S.A.P.!”

  CHAPTER 187

  We were still doing our extended routine and paying attention to the little things when the loud speaker announced “Inmate Rodriguez out of building 5… report to the program office!!”

  My attention was focused on L’il man, his 5 star general and their henchman nearby. They reacted to the announcement just enough. Was one of them inmate Rodriguez? L’il man and the 5 star general discussed something and then L’il man got Ricky’s attention still sitting on the curb. From where L’il man was standing on the yard, his field of vision offered him the ability to finger sign something to Ricky. Ricky nodded his head that he got it and looked up to the roof and realized the ringleader was missing.

  I realized the ringleader must have walked to a spot on the roof that let him climb down into the tower to get into the building. The building’s door slid open and the ringleader walked out by himself. He took an angle out of the building that was going to take him past the tables on the track the rest of the way to the program office. Ricky got up from the curb and I began to understand what L’il man meant about him getting corrected.

  All of a sudden, the table with all of the Mexicans erupted into a full-blown war. Damon, Smashmouth and I responded the same way. We started throwing punches at each other and I was absorbing too many trying to see what was happening. Ricky sprinted to the ringleader and jumped him. He left his feet and took flight and took the ringleader to the ground and I couldn’t see him anymore.

  Shots of live rounds echoed from rifles and the piercing sound of the alarm filled the air. There were constant shouts from the speakers yelling “GET DOWN!! GET DOWN!!” Then the louder booming of block guns filled the air and deputies from all of the buildings and other yards filled our space. Canisters of tear gas started being lobbed on us and our vision was eye burning and hazy.

  Now that I wasn’t distracted by what was happening. Damon, Smashmouth and I were fighting harder. Smashmouth got hit with a block gun and went down hard from the close up impact. Damon and I took billy clubs and went down. We all got stepped on and pinned to the ground so it was harder to see all of the guards in riot gear wearing face masks and shields with some holding block guns, some rifles and others Billy clubs.

  Every one of the inmates went through the process of getting zip tied by guards trying to retake control of the yard. My arms were being yanked at an unnatural angle rudely far behind my back. I wondered if Ricky was able to get away with it by rolling into the fray at the tables. Maybe he could make it without being identified, I hoped so.

  For the next five minutes, the tear gas dissipated while the medics rushed the ringleader onto a gurney sled. They lifted the gurney sled and clamped it to a motorized cart that sped to D yard’s gate headed to the main infirmary. We could hear a helicopter coming for the ring leader to fly him out of the prison.

  About half an hour later, Damon and I got yanked up to get escorted to our building. On the way we walked to the track, passed the tables, and saw Ricky lying on the concrete in a pool of blood with half his head shot off. There were about 60 inmates lying on the ground in zip ties staring at Ricky’s dead body. The pool of his and the ringleader’s blood was draining towards them. A couple of inmates were directly in its path and tried to stomach crawl away only to get stepped on by a guard. The weirdest thought popped into my head. I imagined this whole scene being the backdrop for an alcohol commercial with the caption, “KNOW WHEN TO SAY WHEN…”

  EPILOG

  Raymond Senior didn’t want to do any interviews at first. Oprah was calling, as was Glenn Beck and even Larry King, but he couldn’t see himself talking to them about what was on his mind. The only T.V. personality he could imagine talking to was Lou Dobbs and he wasn’t calling… Raymond Senior took the initiative and made the call.

  Lou Dobbs sat across from Raymond Senior studying him with those sagacious eyes of his looking like an Eagle hungry for the truth. He asked, “What would our founding fathers think of the leadership of this country right now? What would make them roll over in their grave with frustration?”

  Raymond Senior looked just as sharp as Lou Dobbs. They were both wearing a pin striped suit with suspenders. Raymond Senior pulled out his checkbook and wrote $100,000 across it for Lou Dobbs and the whole world to see and said, “Our founding fathers would want heads to roll for the way our federal government spends Americans’ tax dollars.” Raymond Senior ripped a small piece of the check off and said, “This represents the hundreds of millions our country throws to other countries every year to fight the drug war.” Raymond Senior crumpled up the small piece of the check and tossed it.

  “When you add up those hundreds of millions year after year, and then, you read in the news that those countries end up allowing the drug cartels to control the money, it makes you sick. In Colombia, it’s been reported that the same helicopters we bought for them to fight the drug war are being used by their cartels to monitor and even fly their drugs around. In Mexico there have been accounts of their military actually escorting drug cartels with thousands of kilos of drugs across the border!”

  “Then, consider the hundreds of billions of dollars this war in Iraq is going to end up costing us… That war was sold to the American public over ties Iraq had with Osama Bin Laden’s Taliban and Al Qaeda. Those ties were never bona-fied. It was hype. So was the intelligence concerning weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. Bogus wires fed to the American public. Look at the cost.”

  “The real war on terror was fought in Afghanistan. Shortly after 9-11 we went over there and identified the Northern Alliance was the Taliban’s chief competitors in the heroin poppy trade. They have something like 80% of the worlds opium there and it’s sold to the U.S. and Europe for the most part. We went over there and sided with the opium smuggling, drug dealing Northern Alliance in hopes we could attain some good intelligence on the Taliban and Al Qaeda. We actually had to pay them for their time since it would have been better spent selling drugs to American and European kids. We not only paid them, we helped chase their competition out of the area. We caught a few Taliban stragglers but for the most part our generals were scratching their heads over the bad intelligence the drug dealers were providing. Imagine that! The moral of this story is how hypocritical our government can be at times.”

  “About the same time our government was working with the opium smuggling, drug dealing Northern Alliance to chase the Taliban out of Afghanistan and into Pakistan we didn’t do anything about all of those heron poppy plants that make up 80% of the world’s Opium/Heron. Now, if we’re that gung-ho as a nation, to fight this drug war to the point we’re going to incarcerate millions of Americans and tear them from their homes and rip them from their families for becoming the smallest component of this drug chain, then, answer me
this… Why aren’t we torching those poppy fields? Why are we throwing so many people in prison and throwing so many billions away to Mexico and South American countries to fight this un-winnable drug war when we could just detect the largest of the coca plantations and obliterate them? I’ll tell you the answer. Look at the laws that were enacted right after 9-11. While we were working with the heroin smuggling Northern Alliance to chase their competition out of the area so they could have it to themselves, since we weren’t torching their poppy fields, we were busy drafting legislation to wire tap anyone’s phone we wanted to in the interest of national security. We were busy drawing the connection between drugs and terrorism. The war is not on drugs… It is on people. It’s on the lower class. People who struggle making ends meet and get caught hustling. It creates bigger government. Imagine if we won this war on drugs. Let’s say we torched all of those big poppy fields in Afghanistan and the coca fields in South America and then focused on what remained of the now, more obvious drug dealers since there’s not much left… Guess what Lou? Our economy would come crashing down. Our unemployment rate would rise. In California we have 35 state prisons, at least twice that many county jails, and a number of federal prisons, all of which are bursting at the seams. If we took down all of their fields and the cartels went out of business, the prison populations would be cut in half. We’re not going to need all of those prison guards, parole and probation officers and, God forbid, we might not need D.E.A. agents, narcotic detectives by the thousands etc. etc. Our infrastructure is built up around it!”

  “Back to this war on drugs, which I look at like a war on the poor and struggling. The reason I feel this way is because the rich and famous don’t go to jail very often for their drug crimes. They can use drugs if they just use their heads and buy physician’s prescriptions. You see it on T.V. commercials all the time. If you’re depressed, take this pill and trade your depression for some sexual side effects and some diarrhea. Then, take this pill for your sexual side effects but the side effects might be some joint pain and headaches. Don’t worry, they have something for that because you can take this drug for the pain that’s really heroin under a different name! It’s the pharmaceutical game instead of the cartel game.”

  Lou Dobbs was smiling at the passion Raymond Senior had flowing. He chuckled and said, “Now, tell me how you really feel.” After a pause Lou said,

  “On another related issue you have some far reaching ideas that we should look into, taking a segment of our incarcerated souls already in prison for petty drug crimes and other non violent crimes and find a way to utilize them. You mentioned the military, and, one I really like, because it also gives these prisoners a chance to build a life in a new direction—Steering them into work programs that actually have them working for some of our struggling businesses like Detroit’s big 3 auto companies. I personally think that’s a great idea, but, what do you say to those who call it socialism or communism?”

  Raymond Senior responded, “Fredrick Nietze said it best. He proposed that underneath our different government philosophies we’re all run by a select few, powerful people. They either get their way through propaganda, like we saw with all I mentioned earlier, or by committee. Underneath it all we’re evolving in the same direction and a lot more similar than you might realize.”

  Lou Dobbs asked, “Wasn’t Neitze a little crazy?”

  Raymond Senior smiled and said, “It takes getting dirty and going to the dirt sometimes to truly understand things deeply. Sometimes you go a little crazy with frustration in the process of discerning this life.”

  Lou Dobbs finished with, “I heard what happened at that state prison. What’s happening with B.J. and Damon? Are they alright?”

  Raymond Senior said, “The governor is standing up to the prison union and his wife is thinking about helping me with a nonprofit foundation to help ex-cons re-enter society. We want to encourage them while they are incarcerated, also, by offering them a chance to get their art work in local galleries, help them publish material, and in general, offer them another direction from the one they were on. B.J. and Damon are going to be chairmen of the foundation. We’re going to introduce them to city hall and give them a juice card to get things rolling with the governor’s authority behind them.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  A good portion of this storyline is based on true stories. B.J.’s childhood was similar but not completely accurate. The messages from my angel of a Mom are accurate and carried me through a lot of the darkness you read about in Roll Call. The story of the Festiva is based on a true story, The story of the investment into the custom Harley is based on a true story, and so are a lot of the other storylines, but truth can be hard to define when we complicate it and try to play god.

  Early on in the storyline of B.J.’s career, I can remember feeling sorry for myself, and being extremely angry and full of vengeance against everyone I thought was a hypocrite {that seemed to cover everyone who wasn’t as righteously angry as I, with as many chips on the shoulder}. Writing this novel helped me realize how immature I was at the time, when I thought the whole world should revolve around me, or at least care about my circumstances! Facing this level of immaturity and being way past frustrated, I tried my hand at playing god. I had a good, well-built conscience so I held myself to an extremely high committee of judges (All in my head). For every bad act I chastised myself, I committed two selfless acts! At least it started that way, until the grey area and the evilness of the lifestyle pervaded too deeply into my soul. Feeling my life slipping and sliding down into a spiraling hole faster and darker, I continued to pray for what I thought I needed: Strength, Courage and Wisdom! I thought that should fix things! If I was granted those things, I believed I could stop this roller coaster I’m on and re-make it the right way!! That saying, “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” Made me determined to change the game by focusing the players on the cause! “Yes God, if you grant me these blessings, I can fix this world for you and I am willing to go to the deepest darkest caves with a candle to bring what I can to those dwelling in those caves and bring them out to you!”

  Somewhere deep in my subconscious, I saw through my bull shit. If I’m so self-righteous, then why am I selling speed and pot? I tried to start legal maneuvers to get out of the darkness and establish myself on a sturdy foundation. I had to learn over and over that you can’t serve two masters righteously. I tried that tug of war between the guardians of Heaven and the guardians of Hell and came out of it with some bloody wisdom. Sometimes, you have to fall all the way down, to get all the way up. Another thing about wisdom, it’s knowledge and faith combined. Without that faith, knowledge can wear a mask and lead you astray. We can rationalize knowledge until we’re lost and don’t know where we lost the TRUTH and look in the mirror and see that the mask is now on our face.

  The TRUTH is that truth is simple in its essence. It’s an all knowing, all seeing LOVE that can never be put out, it’s conquers all hate, lies and deception. TRUTH comes from God. His son Jesus Christ not only defeated death and the ways of this world for us who BELIEVE, he showed us how TRUTH responds to this world, by helping those in need, who are sick, hungry, confused, lost, and even demon-possessed, by providing HOPE and a TRUTHFUL way. He also showed us what we of the world do to TRUTH. We slander and defame it! We deceive people about it! We stab it in the back! We crucify it! Those who are not part of the TRUTH are jealous of it, feel inferior to it and are scared of facing what it will reveal about what’s inside of them. I, thankfully have come to terms with how much of a wretched sinner I really am. The only thing an insecure, obsessive-compulsive, die-hard, competitive person such as me can hold onto is TRUTH. It is enough for me. With this TRUTH I can wipe out loneliness and confusion and stop being lost. I can stop seeking that elusive something, that’s only temporarily attainable in this world, and fill myself with God’s LOVE that always satisfies and brings HOPE and strength.

  I did just this in a jail cell and felt Spirit-l
ed to start writing. I went from obsessively pacing my cell and wondering and worrying about how I was actually going to get my attorney to defend me, and, how many years this sentence would bring, to realizing that if I find a way to write what’s in my head I can find a way out of this hole I had put myself in! At that point I started actually singing praises to God in my cell and realized with His love I could make HEAVEN out of HELL. God continued to fill me with HOPE and I turned my determination into writing for hours every single day.

  I didn’t start off as a writer, I was a ball player. I was the kid in the class in elementary school with the buck teeth staring out of the window daydreaming about playing ball at recess. My reading comprehension was so poor that if what I read didn’t entice me, I’d remember nothing! I can remember trying to read and concentrate on what I was reading as hard as I could and I’d get to the end of the page and not remember one character’s name or anything else! I’d try again, same thing! So I was really starting at ground zero.

  If I have written anything worth reading, all glory and thanks go to God. It is also my HOPE that other individuals can relate to my story, can identify with the SPRITUAL aspects of Roll Call and determine which master you serve. I have to give tribute to the die hard shot callers I’ve met in prison who had the courage to admit they read the Bible and fight for righteousness even amongst so much extreme darkness. When you can hold your candle in the middle of Hell, you deserve respect and are a good influence to those youngsters looking up to you and learning from you. You have the keys and which way you decide to turn the key when it’s decision time is up to you.