I have tons of stories from there, although this general period of my life is very vague). Second, there was absolutely no rape (at least, that I witnessed witnessing a man being raped (or any rape) is already a horrible experience, believe me) nurses and guards were all over the place and seemed to like me (I was the only one not throwing up food, and accepting whatever drug they told me to take without fighting. First, I had a meeting with a psychiatrist every day. I was attacked again, until I finally got transferred to another establishment, a psychiatric hospital.įrom there, things slowly went uphill. Then, I was let out and put in my regular cell. At first, I was put in solitary confinement, which was in my mind much better than the other option. I filed for psychiatric help, and I would go as far as saying it saved me life. I did tell my lawyer (public defender), and he did file papers, but mentioned it could take a while, and that my sentence could end before I was transferred. I thought of just telling everything in the open, but I knew what would happen to me if I did. I was humiliated, degraded in any way imagineable - called a whore, being told that I "loved it," that I was born to "XXXX XXXXX" (you get it), etc. I became very depressed, had a lot of negative talks and degraded myself constantly with thoughts. In the shower, in the cell itself, in the gym, even outside. After a while, I could check an inmate and tell whether or not he had been sexually assaulted. Well.įrom there my life only went downhill. I was ready for a fight, and he finally called his "gang" and they attacked me. I let him do it, and he became more aggressive. There was a huge guy, he wanted to watch another channel. I got attacked the first time (I rarely employ the other word) while watching television. A man I was sort of a friend with told me I should find a protector, have sex with him perhaps two or three times a month, and that he would protect me from gangs. They were more, and bigger than me, but I should have fought them. I now realize I should have had zero tolerance for that behavior. It would be little things at first: throwing a basketball ball at the back of my head, stealing my food, pushing me, calling me names. It was about that time a gang prison started to harass me. In the first weeks, two people came to have a fight with me I managed to defuse the first situation (I am not a violent guy) and promptly won the second. It took many many years to get over it, and I do feel overall I've wasted my youth because of this story. I was diagnosed with a deep depression, started to drink and do drugs (more severly) and eventually lost even the will to live. I couldn't look at myself in a mirror without crying. I wanted to blow up a building to tell the news what was really happening, and what happened to me. I hated the society that dared to torture me.
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I had many passions, and little time for reading (I used to work full time).Īfter I got out, I was terrorized, and angry. I could envision a day of reading books, and generally learning. I thought of using these days to read (boy, was I stupid) and train. And my reputation would be made: I was a guy not to mess with. 180 days would go so quickly I'd be out by next christmas. This wasn't my first conviction, although it was my first time in jail.Īt first, I felt optimistic. A typical sentence, had I contested it, would have been 2-3 years in my state. I risked up to ten years (theorically) although my lawyer told me the most likely maximum would be five years.
I was sentenced to 180 days in a county jail, after accepting a plea deal.
What pissed me the most in that story is that the other guy only was charged with a misdemeanor he accepted a plea deal (after he was out of coma, obviously) and only got probation. I was arrested and charged with aggravated assault, a felony in my state. I accept what happened, but will never forgive the society for what happened next. I accept my part of responsibility: I was under adrenaline, I was stressed, a bit angry, and thought everything I would do was self-defense. He is the person who started the fight although I arguably used more force than necessary. I am a white male, straight, currently 33, and merely defended myself. In 2002 I was arrested for participating in a bar fight.
This is obviously a throw-away account, my main Reddit account is in good standing. I believe ignorance is sometimes better than the truth. This is only the third time I tell this story even my parents aren't aware of it.