notes from a cell tower

Notes from a cell tower - by AJD Circa December 2020

Chapter one

I carried my first meal across the pod looking for a friend to sit with and eat. I was a motherless lamb surrounded by crimials. Hungry ones, gay ones, lonely ones. Row upon row of empty seats, each being guarded by a grimy rubber cup. As I neared each one, the cup's mistress shouted “You can’t sit here”. Though I did not know I at the time,  this jail assigned seats at mealtime.

To top off the guantlet I just walked, I had been holding in 8 hours of rejection and confusion. I was about to blow my top like steam from a midnight trains chugging its way through Winder. I knew the trains schedule from hundreds of sleepless nights, some at home and some not. There was not a moment I could squeeze in  not one second could I finr to ease my very troubled and betrayed  mind. It was always peppering me with questions and trying to get the best of me.

The more I sat and fought with myself about how strong I was, the more I believed it. My sister always answered my phone calls and confirmed my belief in the things she said over and over. . I was determined to be as strong as everyone kept saying I was. This made me feel untouchable and gave me a feeling of victory. After all, jail could not keep me forever._________________________________________________________________________________

The best moments started with “davis you have a visit” and ended with “70533 back to your cell.”

Close cell 206 clank, clank lock. The sound had already gotten familiar to me and was not at all bothersome on day 12.

Chapter 2

Ms. Davis investigator Brian brown called as I stepped out of my 2006 Chrysler 300. As soon as I turned around, I knew what was going on. I had 2,200 cash in my hands from my oh so trustworthy friend who had just left my drive. I guess you know why we are here/ Brian grabbed the cash from my hands. While his over weighted partners eyes watched my hands as if I were going to pull my pistol out and have a shoot out right in my neighborhood. This was it the day every person never waited on. I was set up. By someone that I trusted my children with, someone who has never tried abusing me. Someone I knew my life would be safe with. Someone who spent years building the woman I wanted to be just to destroy me with one action. So many times, I found an escape, but I could not let me tired legs run. I was tired for sure. Of the things I was doing, of the lies I was telling, all the looking over my shoulders. It all stopped as soon as I heard my name from a stranger’s mouth. I was calm and it was scary calm. They were loading my gently used beauty of a car on a tow truck; they had given me no choice about that.  The only thoughts that invaded my head were, dan, a cigarette and I shot.

 Right in eagles landing I was shackled. Hands to stomach and stomach to feet. I was a real criminal. Was this real? Was this happening to me? I do not have a criminal history, but they stuck me with my first felony and wheeled me to the single wide trailer. Although I did not live there, they knew some weight was there for sure… after two hours of sitting in the cruiser while they called for backup, I had fallen asleep. The whole street was covered with unmarked trucks, & undercover police. When they opened my door, they were drug hungry lunatic blood hounds’ informants all overweight, wearing different color thermal tops with a badge of CI around their necks. Ready to tear my shit apart. One short dick head with a mask was running this show. He demanded I tell him wear the drugs were but I  had no idea so they had to search for themselves after ten minutes of searching my most private drawers they had found what they came to look for . my ride to barrow county had begun.

 I was booked in fingerprinted and deloused. The pod id call home was H2. My cell was h2206. All the way up and the last to your left. Being as tall and slanky as I was just like my father, I was assigned the top bunk. The itchy blanket I was assigned was a whole two foot shorter than I was. The cell was originally white and spotless. Now after five years it had seen many different faces, heard many different stories and it kept so many secrets. The Walls were now holding an orange cream color, impossible to scrub clean, I know because I tried more than once. It had a two or three-foot-wide shower, a two-man dinner table a seriously freezing stainless steal toilet. We had three meals a day, most of the time never enough. I was always hungry. Starving became a verb to me a very, very familiar one. I was 11 days in with no cigarettes no vodka and no drugs. My stomach grew along with my appetite and I had already eaten my once a week store order. Three days ago, I was denied bond. So, there was nothing to do except sit, think, and starve. The women in h2 did not like to share even if they knew you were hungry because they were just as hungry too. This particular detention center was known to be the hardest timekeeper around. We got 4 hours out of each day to walk around and use the phones that were a sore reminder of the old pay phones we used to have in the free world. Other than that, we were kept in our cells and talked to like animals. 

Chapter 3

Inmate 20499 was the light of my incarceration. We laughed when we cried, we saw each other eat shit sleep and starve. We were both booked for the same charge- trafficking. We became best friends so quickly. I started socializing acting arrogant during my free time so other women would not prey on me. Id often refer to myself as a psychopath that loved being a piece in people’s games because I was notorious at funking shit up. I loved games. Games are the real reason I sat behind this wall now. The street game. My roommate and I washed our five pair of panties with a bar of soap in the sink that matched our stainless steal toilet. Laundry call was Tuesday and Thursday. I was dressed out in a charmtex orange striped suit while my roommate was dressed in blue. Orange was known to be the highest level of security, blue was moderate. I used to think of my brother my father, and my uncle and their stripes I always thought wow they did this, this is them, and now that same thought applied to me. The same little girl who shared a mud puddle with her little sister, the fourth not so innocent child of her mothers, the same woman who has three small children and lived somewhat of a normal life. I was a criminal, but it did not feel like it, I had to tell this criminal’s story. Because I am not just a number, I’m not just a drug dealer, I’m an addict and I didn’t know that until I couldn’t get what I needed and couldn’t get it.

Chapter 4

I was eager for the meals three times a day I became obsessed with gaining weight, maybe to prove my change to others, maybe because I was so used to change…I just wanted to shed the person I came in here as, I was feeling refreshed and renewed. I could not wait for my family to see that and be proud. Acceptance is always something I had to have especially from my immediate family. I could be knocked down 500 times hit the hardest and still Id bounce back. My come back was always worth chasing. After all it was inevitable. change is a mirror with many faces always reflecting the souls long traveled journey and only the deepest most unexpected changes can conquer great evil. With knowing that I was free, in jail with no release, still free.  but not free enough.  I could use a real washer and dryer and a Marlboro 72 red. I just had to keep focusing on myself and count the days and pray that god will shall be done.

“you have a collect call from timothy” I had ignored that one too many times. How was I supped to know about something I had never been through yet? There was nothing great about being on this side of the wall, but I can say that my family paid more attention to me than ever before. And that drove my tired body. That fact alone gave me no feeling of loneliness. They were all there waiting and begging for my turn around just as I had been. I felt like calling every person that called me while they were behind these bars and apologize but all I could do was apologize one by one in my head and vow to do better next go round. From the moment the ice cream slid off my cone hitting the dirtied ground at five years old, I knew this is where I’d be following my father Scott my brother timothy and my uncle.