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                UNCENSORED FROM TEXAS DEATH ROW

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December 24, 2004                

3:35 a.m. - I’m pacing my cage, 1, 2, 3, turn, 1, 2, 3, turn. It’s Christmas Eve and I pace. My emotions alternate from love to hate, pain to rage, hurt to confused. I pace trying to outrun the BEAST WITHIN. The beast made of my pain and hurt. There is no room for pity or sadness in here. No understanding of love from the powers to be….just pace my cage on Christmas Eve and keep my demons away.

I’m at a breaking point. I don’t know when I will fight, but fight back I must. One can only be pushed and cornered for so long. You either snap back and fight or break. I will not let them break me. They lost all their bargaining chips when thy took away my special visit with my daughter. Nothing else can be held over my head.

As I pace and write I think back and see how the conditions here on the row have steadily gotten worse day by day! New restrictions, more rules from prisoners. No one else has rules to follow.

We sit passively by as we wait our turn to be slaughtered. Why? For commissary? For our radio? That is what it boils down to!

Me, it was the special visits from my family, the real reason form my passivity. I’ve tried, but now I try no more! I will not be pushed 1 inch!!! Broken toilets, cold showers, nasty dog-type food! Dirty, filthy, stinking Pods that no one wants to clean.

I do not regret these last couple of years of being passive and most likely I would have been able to continue my blind-eyed-ways through the last year or so of my life. I tried, but now I pace, hoping to hold at bay my aner, heart and pain….turning all into a rage against this DEATH MACHINE they call TEXAS.

I almost feel relieved or rare I say “FREE”? I am my own destiny and I choose to take you all on the ride with me through what’s left of my life. Hold on tight and fasten your seat belt. This will not be pretty. I will pull no punches. No softened truths. Just write it raw and how I see it. My own not-so-personal diary of my little hell on earth. Do I deserve it? Some say “Yes”! Are they wrong? Who am I to say!

This is not just about me, but it is about a society called Death Row. A society put together by you the Free-World Voters. A necessity? Who’s to say?

Do not doubt that we are our own society! Upside-down and backwards as it may seem to you guys out there, be are a dysfunctional society. As motley as a crew we are.

I’ve seen far more love and compassion in here than I’ve ever seen in the free-world! Struggling in the throws of Death to redeem one-self. To come to terms with yourself. To forgive yourself. To die bit by bit slowly each day, betting closer to death. Each execution on step closer to YOU!!! Not so slowly at the POLUNSKY UNTI DEATH HOUSE though!

Prisoners kill themselves on a regular basis!! This is fact not fiction. Then there are the ones who fid escape through insanity! You think it is an act? Soam say “Yes”! Tell that to the man who cut his penis off. Or the many men who live in their cages and play in their own bodily wastes!

The guards just laugh and ignore them. Voices of the haunted. Voices of the mad. This cage is made to break ones will to live and save the State of Texas millions of dollars on appeals. Because we (prisoners) volunteer to drop our appeals and get executed! Just a state sanctioned suicide, eh? Dr. Kevorkian, anyone? However the state may want to sugar-coat it. I’m just calling a spade a spade!! ASSISTED SUICIDE SAVES THE STATE MILLIONS OF DOLLARS. GOD BLESS TDCJ! They hold the power of life or death in their hands through their chosen actions. Think about the above stqtaement…I feel like I’m playing cards with a stacked deck. I know it’s stacked, but have to try anyway. What other choice do I have? Assisted suicide? That will never happened.

Well, I’ll sign off for now….need to write some letters….

In Struggle

R. Cartwright
999224
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 S.
Livingston, TX 77351

******************************************

Dec 25

It is Christmas Day! Merry Christmas to all and God Bless you and you families. I spent most of my day thinking about my little girl and hoping she had a wonderful holiday along with the rest of my family out there.

Of course Christmas day on the row is no reason to stop the abuse or insanity. My neighbor, Donald Newbury, #999402 AKA “Lizerd”, one of the infamous Texas 7 is coming back from his Christmas visit with a 5 man extraction team wheeling him on a gurney!! Merry, Merry Christmas Donald!!!

I asked Lizard what happened. After visit policy is a “strip search” in the legal cage! Why? Who knows? You visit over the phone with bullet-proof glass between your visitor and yourself…anyway. I digress…When Lizerd was just in the legal cage and un-cuffed he asked “to speak to the Captain”! They asked “what for?” Lizerd said “personal reasons, not everyone’s business”. This place is like a damn gossip column for real. The powers to be told Lizard the Lt. Griffin was the highest rank on the farm.

Now Lizard told me “I’ve been in this system off and on since 1979 and worked many jobs that required me to be ready 24 hours a day and have had Captains pull me out too many times to count, so I know they always have a at least a Captain available.”

Anyway Lizerd refused to come out of the legal cage and the “Goon Squad” 5 man team was used to extract him by a “use-of-force.” Of course they did not use the usual tear gas and pepper spray on him because they did not want to stain the “pretty white walls” in the main hallway! They must make sure that it stays presentable for tours! (NOTE HERE: there are 6 pods on Death Row A-Pod – F-Pod. Now A-Pod is all newly painted and properly cleaned religiously. Why? Because that is the “Show Pod” for tours and media…The rest of the pods are dirty and smelly.) The use-of-force was of course dirty as they all are. They put the handcuffs on sideways so they dig into you nerve and bones. On as tight as possible. Same with the leg shackles.

Why did Donald feel the need to go to this extreme? He has been filing paper (grievances) on these people for years about unsanitary cells…(See, at first they moved all members of the Texas 7 once a month for security reasons, i.e. harassment…then it was 1 per day for 3 weeks and now it is 1 or 2 x a week!!!) Moving into cells full of human waste…..!!

He would have kept fighting with just paper, but on October 15, 2004, they violently assaulted prisoner Newbury while he was handcuffed behind his back on the run refusing to go into a cell that was filthy.

I asked prisoner Newbury to write in his own words what happened on October 15, 2004.

Donald Newbury, 999403 AKA Lizerd:

"On October 15, 2004 as I was brought out of the shower I saw 3 Sgt., a Lt., and a handful of COs (Non-ranking Officers). I was informed to pack my property because I was moving.

As I was packing I showed Sgt. Puttman the grievence I won which is GR. # 2004008074 wich clearly state the requirement of the ranking officer in charge to properly search and sanitize any cell they are moving a prisoner into! This is for disease control and also for security reasons. The above #2004008074 grievance was signed off by Warden Alford.” (Mr. Newbury also has stated Death Row Warden Jones also signed off on 2 grievances about the same security disease threat.)

“Now as they moved me or tried to move me to FF-71 Cell I noticed the cell was filthy. Mind y’all, this is a constant battle seeing I’ve been moved 56 times just this year ALONE!!! So I stopped at the door and advised Lt. King (who is now Captain King) of the proper policy and procedures that need to be followed before moving me into this cell. Lt. King walked in the cell, walked out and said ‘Put him in the cell’. I locked my legs and refused to move.

TDCJ allows a prisoner who is in imminent fear or bodily injury or safety to refuse an order! Without repercussions. With aids, Hepatitis C, Bronchitis floating around this camp….I had good reason to not want to enter this filthy cell.

Lt. King told the officers to stop until a camera came! (Policy states: Any use of force must be taped and a 5 man team suited up in ’Combat Protection Gear’ if at all possible.) Lt. King stated ‘Warden Alford is not here. I’m running this and you will go.’

In the mean time Captain Wickersham come storming down the run, walked past me and told the guards ‘Put the Punk in his cell.’ (Now the term ‘punk’ in prison means a person who was forced to perform sexual favors on other men. Very degrading and unprofessional.) Now in that one statement he violated a few rules.
1) No attempt of intervention to try and reason the matter through by talking. (Work wonders Wickersham)
2) Called Prisoner Newbury a Punk. Provoking the situation more.
3) Authorized a use-of-force with no video camera and no extraction team.
Of course by the time the use-of-force (punches, kicks, arm bending) ended the camera was finally there at the very end! Convenient, eh?

Then Capt. Wickersham violated more policies and procedures by taking it upon himself to cancel my approved visit, leveling me at Level III status. A Captain alone can NOT change a prisoner’s status. That has to go through the proper channel which is (DRCC) Death Row Classification Committee. Just another ‘I’m Above the Law’ Rogue Move by out Rogue Capt. Wickersham. I grieved this issue also and low and behold, the grievance was ‘lost’ and the time frame to file ran out! (God Bless the ‘Good Ole Boyz ‘Sys. Of Justice in TDCJ.)

Now I know what it means when they wear their TDCJ issued hats that way ‘We take care of our own’. Hell, sounds like something for a street gang, eh?

Now I have had 4 use-of-forces since than because I refuse to lie down for the ‘Master’ and all his puppets!

Here is a funny bit of irony for y’all. Now remember this all started with them saying they must move me every 7 days….well my first 9 ½ weeks on Level III (which is the highest security risk status there is) I was not moved at all!!! I guess they only move me once a week when it does not inconvenience them, but me. So that tells me they are just playing games with me. This is not security. It’s a dog and pony show!!!

Thanks for Reading My words

Donald Newbury, 999402
AKA LIZERD”

Dec. 26

It is 3:00 a.m. and I just received my pathetic breakfast tray!! One spoon, yes on tablespoon of instant eggs and 1 tablespoon of applesauce and 2 hockey-pucks or biscuits and a carton of milk! I’m starving here so I have decided to jack my breakfast try.

Now policy states that they get a 5 man extraction team, gas me, run in on me and get the tray before a weapon can be made. Instead they spend 2 hours trying to talk me out. 6 a.m. come and second shift leaves and no I’m 1st shifts problem. Can you say passing-the-buck?

Now I’ve heard nothing so far and it is close to 10 a.m. Plenty of time to make a weapon out of a sharp and sturdy plastic tray, which I do no do!!

Anyway lunch comes around and they don’t feed me ANYTHING!!! Now it is a federal law that you cannot keep food from a prisoner for a punishment. They are suppose to come get the tray by any means necessary and put me on Food Loaf for 7 days! (What is Food Loaf? Well, they basically take a tray of food in a blender, grind it up and bake it into cornmeal.) Food Loaf is disgusting but the corn meal fill you up. That’s why I want it! Damn shame I’m so hungry I want to eat a nasty food loaf instead of what the powers to be claim is a well balanced and nutritional meal! Yeah because Sgt. Ludwig tells them not to.

Well, I finally agree to give them the tray and get on Food Loaf. I now wonder how long they would have starved me. If that is not cruel and unusual punishment, what is? Sounds like a Nazi Concentration Camp.

You see how this is working, we have the Rogue Capt. Wilkersham who does what he pleases. All the Rank below him see this and do as they please. Now Major Nelson, sho is above Capt. Wilkersham just ignores it all, I-60’s, grievances…and turns a blind eye. She knows exactly what all her ranking officers below her do. It is so frustrating to be put in a no-win situation as this but to give-up or give in is just not an option for me anymore. They are going to kill me. I can’t get my special visits….nothing else matters to me at this point!!! I’m really trying to hold it together!

In Struggle and Solidarity

R. Cartwright
999224
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 S.
Livingston, TX 77351

Dec. 28

All is quiet, like before the storm….

Dec. 29

Noon –
Knock, knock, knock, Cartwright, hey Cartwright. You going to Court? Yeah, give me a minute. I’m going to court for the “Assault” on Sgt. Tolly and Possession of a shank (weapon) Kangaroo Court”. “How do you plead Offender Cartwright 999224?” “I plead Insanity” “You can’t plead Insanity. You can plead Guilty, Not Guilty or no plea.” “Capt. Bailey, my plea is Insanity.” He laughs and wrights “None” in the space; 30 days cell restriction!!

Now I’m being escorted back to my cell and just stop on the run. Why? I’m just fed up!! Releasing or trying to release my frustrations. Time for another use-of-for. At this time more officers are called and a video camera is present. Sgt. Henderson fails to follow procedures and fails to have a 5 man team suit up…..to much paperwork I suppose. They forcefully put me on the floor and shackle me legs, than forcefully lift me up onto a gurney and wheel me to my cell. No paperwork? No case? Did not happen! Convenient to say the least. No problems here says TDCJ!

Anytime they put a use-of-force, they are supposed to suit up!! They truly have no rules, but we must follow them all. No rules for them. They hold all the aces. But we must keep trying just to survive the constant injustices placed upon us…

Now as I come wheeled back on the gurney they go to get Donald Newbury for court. Now I don’t know how or why, but Mr. Newbury and I have seemed to be feeding off of, or into each others hopeless frustrations. Misery loves company? Strength in numbers? I don’t know, but I take comfort in the camaraderie we now share. It take a little of the hopelessness out of the frustration.

Anyway 30 minutes later and Mr. Newbury is being brought in on a gurney! I have to laugh or else I’ll cry. I know how he feels. I know what he is going through and, more importantly, he knows how I feel. 2 men fight the entire system! Can we win? Never! Can we survive? Maybe!

What is hardest is the pain and worry we cause to our loved ones, family and friends….who I can say al least for myself, are the only reason I still have the strength to go and keep on fighting. For the love and happiness I find in my daughter’s laughter, for my mother, who has never left my side, even when given reason too, and to Melissa for stealing my heart and teaching me how to love again, my friends, Missy, Suzanne, Sandy, Y’all bring so many smiles to me, my sister and her house full of kids and the endless humorous stories you send. Thank you all for your love and support, for all your kindness.

It is 5:10 p.m. and Sgt. Ludwig just brought Newbury a case for today’s little use-of-force, but brought me none! Oh well, just proves a point! They have no rules or regulations to follow. Two prisoners do the same thing on the same day and 1 gets a case and 1 does not! “TDCJ Logic” ? Oxymoron.

Keeping the Spirit Free

“Dear Joan,

I want to say I know this is hard. You live the battle often worse than I by not knowing from minute to minute. Thank you for your strength and support and for the love I never had before you.

I Love You. Keith Lizerd.

Donald Keith Newbury, 999403”

Dec. 29 cont….

Lt. Griffith told his officers NOT to shower me. He gave no reason what-so-ever according to CO Sever and CO Wright. Rogue Rank at Polunsky Unit Death Row is out of control Lt. Griffith also refused to feed me at breakfast time. Punishing me for what? I broke no rules! I have a security box on my bean-slot. At no time are both doors to be opened, so where is the threat?
Here is procedure:
1) Open top of security box and place tray inside.
2) Close and lock top of security box.
3) Once top is secured open side slot for prisoner to get his food tray out.
4) Once done, secure and lock side slot!!
Yet Sgt. Stern refused to feed me saying “Sit on your bunk inmate!” Like I’m a freaking dog!! Sit Boy, Sit! That is ONLY Policy for cells without security boxes, than again what is a Rogue Sgt.? Capt’s, Lt’s, Sgt’s, no rules for them. Sgt. Stern already lost his Sgt. Stripes once on another unit. So they bring him to Death Row as a CO IV for a couple of weeks and give his rank back. I will try my best to find out why he lost his stripes in the first place.

No shower! No food!! Man this sucks and I’m starving. Now when they refuse to feed me, Mr. Newbury (who does not have a security box) stuck his hand out of the food-slot to prevent Sgt. Stern from closing it.

Now Policy states that when a prisoner has a slot “jacked” No more slots should be open and that prisoner shall be watched at all times ‘til said slot is secured. Of coarse Sgt. Stern just left, Newbury, the slot, served the rest of 2 Row and than came downstairs and fed the rest of 1 Row!! Captain Wickersham has let all rank and officers under him out of control. No structure! How are we supposed to know where we stand? One day this is a rule, the next day it is something different. Chaos reins the Death Row ranks and officers all at Capt. Wickersham’s will. Why is Major Nelson allowing this? I don’t know. Call her and find out!!! Please call.

Back to Newbury and the jacked slot! Newbury gave it back one Lt. Griffith finally came on the pod. Still Newbury should have gotten a major disciplinary case and 7 days food-loaf. (I’m glad he did not!!) The reason he did not is because that would mean paperwork for Lt. Griffith’s shift and with paperwork, questions are asked! Why did Newbury jack the slot? Why did you not feed or shower Cartwright?

This all started when Capt. Wickersham came to take over Death Row!!! One person starts an avalanche of trouble. I have “The Death Penalty”. I really do not with so spend what little time I have left fighting these people, nor will I stand-down while they steadily screw me over. I can only speak for myself. I know many feel the same way I do, but we are all made differently and handle things differently!

Well, thanks again for “listening”. I better close her for now before Suzanne starts getting mad at me! Thanks again Suzanne and James for all your help and support. You are 2 very special people.

Until Next Time,

Dec. 31

6:20 a.m.-
Once again my mail has not been picked up and processed this morning! It is still sitting in my door where I left it. I’ve been trying to mail the same four letters out since Monday the 27th!! Melissa, Mom, Suzanne and Paula, please forgive the delay. It is by no means intentional!

Well, let’s see if I can find out what’s up. I hollered over the run just now and Ivan Cantu and Mr. Newbury said they both had mail going out on the 31st that was not picked up. This is Bull----!! They push and push! They want a reaction? I will give them one.

7:30 a.m.-
Shower time Cartwright. Officer White and Officer Puttman tell me to strip-out, do the dance, lift testicles, raise arms, run fingers through hair, turn around spread you butt-cheeks, lift your feet, show the bottoms….put you boxer shorts on, squat down, put your hands out behind you to be handcuffed. The bean-slot on our steel-door is approx 2 ½‘ from the floor so as I do this the officer (don’t know which one, my back is turned) puts the handcuff on one hand and starts to put the other one on. I jump forward pulling the cuffs, the dog leash and the officer with me. I end up with the handcuffs and dog leash. This is called “Jacking the Cuffs”. Sgt. Thompson is called and I explain what’s up! He is not in charge of mail….so I say right on, suit it up! We all know shit rolls down hill. So I cause them enough grief. They will get on the mailroom too!

1 hour later here comes Rogue Captain Wickersham, Lt. Roach, Sgt. Thompson and Five Man Extraction Team (i.e. 5 men in body armor, helmet, gas masks and a shield). 1 man is Officer Moss (approx. 240 lbs.), 2nd man Big “C” (approx. 300 lbs.), 3rd man Officer Smith (about 200 lbs.), 4th man Officer Smith (another one, 240 lbs.) and 5th man Officer Daniels (190 lbs.). They come stomping in here like Li’l Troopers, very intimidating (sarcasm people, sarcasm). Sgt. Thompson gives me 2 orders to relinquish the hand restraints, strip-out or chemical agents will be utilized! I fail to comply so they blast my cell with pepper spray and tear gas!

Shit!! I live in a cement box, the ventilation is shut off during a use-of-force. My eyes water, breathing through a…..wet sock. Convict’s gas mask. It doesn’t matter. Adrenaline is kicking in and I know this was going down this way.

They spray, wait 5 minutes, then give me 2 more orders and spray again! As soon as they spray the second shot the door rolls open, DAMN!! CAUGHT ME SIDEWAYS AND FLATFOOTED. They usually wait 5 more minutes, 2 more orders and than fun in. They got down this time!

The team gets in a few shots (That is the name of the game.), handcuff and shackle me, pull me out the cell. Moss, 1st man, got my left arm. Who knows who got what else. Now mind you, my hands are cuffed behind my back, my legs are shackled and the weak bastards slam me to the floor AGAIN!! RIGHT ON!!! I start yelling and cussing telling what they all have blah…blah…blah…I’m burning, I’m sore, I’m pissed.

Nurse comes, asks how I feel! I say I feel like a teenager! They take 4 photos and put me back in my cell, lay me flat on the ground, take off the leg shackles and than start to remove the handcuffs, telling me not to move! You got to be kidding me! One cuff comes off, I’m on my way up and swinging. Of course they slam me right back down and place all the restraints back on me. Another nurse, more photos. 2 use-of-forces in 10 minutes.

Now here is the issue. I told them put me in my cell, take the shackles off, get out and I gave them my word. I’d go to the bean-slot and give up the cuffs, but I will not lay on the floor and be punked-out. Now Sgt. Thompson asked Lt. Roach if that was cool. Roach and Thompson both know I may get out there but my word is GOLDEN. I refuse to break it. Of course Rogue Capt. Wickersham said “No”. So once again I’m on the floor. These fools take off my shackles and I start kicking and thrashing and bending. I yell out “You are gonna have to break something. F-you” and just going as hard as I can on the floor, hand-cuffed and 5 men on top of me.

Finally Rogue Capt. Wickersham agrees to let me have my way on my word. I do what I say. The use-of-force is terminated. Now let’s see if my mail goes out Monday. If not, we will Rock’N’Roll some more.

Jan 1, 2005

Happy new year! YEAH RIGHT!! If you have a release date or parole, it is one more calendar behind you. One more calendar closer to the Free World.

On Death Row, It is one more calendar closer to death. One more year for me to watch my beautiful daughter grow up in photos. She’ll be 8 years old on Jan. 17th. One more year to see the pain, worry and hurt in my mother’s eyes or hear them in her written words. One more year I’ve watched the State of Texas Kill 26 more men in the name of “BLOOD-JUSTICE”.

8 years I’ve been doing this and the effects are overwhelming. Numbness is the best way to describe it. We live in death, facing her everyday as those around us get executed.

Then there are those who can’t handle our private and personal hell. Those they are finding hanging in their cells. Cutting their wrists, swallowing handfuls of pills to bring the pain and torture to an end.

Then there are one who find freedom in their insanity! Playing in their own bodily wastes. Yelling at their inner demons for release.

Happy New Year INDEED!!!

I know a lot of you people say “who care?! Bunch of murderers crying about fair-play!” My penalty is Death. I accept this. At this point I embrace it. Just leave me alone until my time comes.

2005 is the year they will kill me, unless some kind of miracle takes place. I do not wish to be on Level III, very limited visits and an empty cell, mattress, sheet, legal work and writing supplies. But I will not be treated like some kind of piece of dirt to stay on Level I!! I have to be able to look at myself in the mirror everyday and live with who I am and what I’ve done.

Well I now have about 14 pages going to James and Suzanne, who both work and have enough kids to start an army! HA! HA! HA! Thanks a lot guys. I mean that. Hey James. You should thank me. Without all this writing, you and “Suzie Q” will just be making more babies!! HA! HA! HA! Damn Right I’m Jealous.

Jan 1

4:45 p.m.- We just had another incident due to lack of professional behavior by the 2 COs working. Officer Rains and Officer Harper. They are running showers and just decided to go from my cell, 73 cell, to 75 cell, skipping over Ramiro Hernandez, 999342, in 74 cell. Why? I guess because they can, or they don’t like him, or for fun. I do not know.

Ramiro beats on his door asking, well screaming about a shower. The officers laugh at him. To them this is entertainment, breaking the boredom of their day.

Ramiro wants to speak to some rank (i.e. Sgt., Lt, Capt., whatever). Of course said officers aren’t trying to hear it and just move on, refusing to call rank.

Ramiro then starts a huge fire!!!! Smoke and flames everywhere. Fire alarm ringing. Oh yeah, he is gonna get some rank now. Now Officer Rains and Harper come to put out the fire with the fire extinguisher. But one that is done, they start to shoot the fire ext. into Ramiro’s cell just for more laughs. The fire was on the run outside his cell. Ruining personal property, books, photos….Ramiro starts chunking piss-water on them. Oh they just stopped laughing now. Amazing!!

Sgt. Thompson comes down and asks what the F#@! is going on. Ramiro tries to explain in his broken English that the officers are trying to jack him for his shower. Sgt. Thompson asks his officers about this and they say “we did not V.R. (verbally refuse) his shower, we just missed him in the line-up…blah…blah.” So all is said and done. We will shower. NOT QUITE!

Now Sgt. Thompson tell Hernandez he has to let the Sgt. Search his cell because once you throw on an officer you get put on 30 Day Container Restriction (i.e. no cups, shampoo bottles, milk cartons). So Officer Harper and Rains move Mr. Hernandez to the wall while handcuffed behind his back while Sgt. Thompson searches his cage.

Now as they escort Hernandez by my cell Officer Harper jerks Hernandez’s right arm. So Hernandez jerks his arm back and says “What’s your problem? Me got no pussy you bitch.” Harpers says “Do that again and you will eat concrete”.

Very tough indeed. Mr. Hernandez is 5’3” tall and is handcuffed wearing a pair of shower slides (flip-flops). Harper is a good 6’2”-6’3” and 250 lbs. What is he trying to prove? Hernandez won’t back down!

Sgt. Thompson hears the commotion and comes out and brings Hernandez back to his cage. His container-free-cage now.

About 40 minutes later Sgt. Thompson comes back and tells Hernandez that Warden Jones place him on 72 Hour Property Restriction. This means NOTHING IN YOUR CELL. NOTHING. No mattress, sheets, clothes, NOTHING. I guess that is the easiest way to prevent fires, eh?

The Officers sure aren’t going to be punished. Just Hernandez. If the Officers were not messing with him, there would be no reason to start fires. We pay no matter what. So the 2 Officers are standing behind Sgt. Thompson just grinning and smiling like the cat who ate the canary.

Hernandez refuses to come out so now Thompson has to go get a Five Man Team to get him out. Mr. Hernandez does not plan on making the team run-in-on him, but wants to aggravate the rank and officers a little bit. They have to go suit up in their gas-infested body armor, helmets, masks. That is 5 officers, than usually one female officer running the camera. About 2-3 bystanders watching the show and Lt. Roach. All with better things to do I’m sure.

Hernandez comes out and they take all his property.

Really it does not matter. If Hernandez needs ranks, one of us down here will start a fire for him. This is F-Pod. This is the one Pod on Death-Row where a convict can count on Unity of Convicts around him. We care not for commissary and will not sell-each-other-out for a radio.

Ok, another day in paradise. I hope we have a quiet day tomorrow. Thanks for listening. If you give a damn, call up Warden Jones, Major Nelson, or go above their heads and complain about the unfair treatment.

In Struggle and Solidarity
I Remain
R. Cartwright
999224
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 S.
Livingston, TX 77351

On a good note:

Saturday, Jan. 1

10:15 p.m.
WELL OLE LIZERD HAD A VISIT WITH HIS WIFE! He came back looking like a love-struck-puppy!! HA! HA! HA! On level III we are only allowed one 2 hour visit a month. That is the hardest sacrifice. I just wanted to say “Thank You” to Joan (Lizerd’s wife) for standing by him and making sure he knows he is loved! Joan, if you could have seen the smile on his face as he came through the gate of F-Pod-F-Section. There could be no doubt that man is head over heels in love with you. Love conquers all.

God Bless and Good Night.

Sunday the 9th

Well, we’ve come to a close on another week here in our own personal, torturous hell. I sit here and watch as tempers flare, violence erupts, and feel the pressure building. I see that assaults on officers are becoming a rising answer to many who are at the end of their ropes. Hell, it beats the hell out of suicide, eh?

Suicide is also on the rise one again, not to mention the poor lost souls being shipped out to the infamous Jester 4 Unit (TDCJ’s cruel idea of a psychiatric ward). As soon as you get there, they strip you naked and put you in 4 point restraints on a bed! That’ll cure what ails you, eh??

I personally (R.M. Cartwright, 999224) have been doing my best to avoid conflict, but things keep pissing me off. I’ll get to that later on.

I had a wonderful surprise visit on Monday, the 3rd of this month. I did not even expect it or know I could have it. All the restrictions they presently have on me. It was a wonderful visit with a woman who stole my heart. She traveled from out of state, knowing she’d only receive a 2 hour visit, instead of an 8 hour special visit.

Melissa, think you my love, thank you for loving me and thank you for caring. Your love makes such a tremendous difference in my life.

I was, or at least felt completely free for those 2 hours I spent with her. Love on Death Row!! Who’d of thought it??

Now as the visit ends and I head back to my cage on F-Pod the first thing I notice as I walk through the entrance is the overpowering smell of pepper and tear gas! Damn, back to reality I come! I don’t ask anyone anything. I go to my cell, turn off my light and envelope myself in darkness and replay every minute of the visit I just had. Trying once again to escape this messed up reality I live in.

Later I find out Mr. Newbury (Lizerd), you should remember him, was the one who got run in on, and then I find out part of the reason was me, or for sticking up for me! Damn, I feel like a heel!! Still I hold my patience and self control and thank him for getting down.

Mr. Newbury wrote an account of what went down and I will include it in with this opening for all to read, in his words, what happened.

It seems the officers have decided to up the ante on their abusive behavior! Why not?? They have Rogue Capt. Wickersham to back up their every dirty move. I mean if 5 men in complete body armor come into your cell after they have sprayed enough gas and other chemicals to incapacitate your breathing and sight, need to punch and kick you so subdue you, well something is wrong.

The following is Mr. Newbury’s account as stated per Rich about what happened:

“On Monday, 01/03/2005, once again fed up with the deplorable conditions here, including the often inedible food, sleep and sensory deprivation and now, food deprivation, as myself, Donald Newbury, 999403, and Richard Cartwright, 999224, were denied trays.

First I jacked the bean slot so they couldn’t close it, then I jacked the cuffs at shower time. The officer involved, Christopher Loop CO II, told Cartwright ‘You don’t want to do that when I’m on the team. I’ll crush your bones!’ This guy is big and muscular, 6’1” or 6’2”, about 280 lbs. I told him to not take it personal, to just do his job as I was doing mine. Lt. Richie came to talk to me and told him I was all through talking. It was time for some action.

They suited up a 5 man extraction team (AKA ‘Goon Squad’) and came to ‘run-in’ on me. They gassed me twice with the strongest (10%) pepper spray they had.

As I was choking on this, they then sprayed my cell with another gas called C/S or ‘Mace’. This ‘mixing’ of chemicals constitutes an excessive use of force, is strictly prohibited by UOF Policy, State and Federal Regulations and Laws as well as the MSDS sheets on use of these chemicals.

They were really eager to hurt me bad when they came in the door 60 seconds after spraying C/S on me, immediately started throwing blows with their fists instead of merely trying to subdue me in accordance with UOF Policy.

Since I had now no choice but to defend myself I managed to rip the crash helmet off of Loop and got his gas mask, then pinned him to the bunk belly down and pounded him in the back of his head just like the other 4 of them were at my back beating me in the head, lungs and kidneys.

Finally they got me down on the floor where they cinched leg irons on me so tight it cut into my Achilles tendons to where I could not even stand or barely walk after being removed from the cell.

In the meantime they rubbed my face all in the gas on the cell floor, busted open my head in 2 placed by ramming it into the concrete repeatedly after I was cuffed, shackled and totally subdued.

Then they began punching me in the head and kidney a few more times, for added measure. Because they opened a 1/2“ gash above my eye I was taken to medical and brought back on a stretcher.

They dumped me into the empty cell (#82) next to mine (#81) and told me I couldn’t go back to my cell until it was decontaminated. In #82 cell the toilet leaks and there was sewage all over the floor so I demanded to be taken back to my own cell and told them I would decontaminate it myself!

In the meantime they refused to allow me to shower and decontaminate myself so the gas stayed and kept eating on me, drawing water blisters on my skin all over my body.

Finally they got the SSI’s (Prisoner Porters) to clean up my cell and moved me back into it at close to 6:00 p.m. This Use of Force (UOF) occurred at about 12:15 p.m. after lunch, but I was written major disciplinary case #2005016731 alleging that I ‘assaulted’ CO II Loop on 01/03/2005 at 1:40 p.m. ‘using the open end of a hand restraint (hand cuffs) by swinging and striking the officer repeatedly during a Use of Force.’ The assault resulted in injury (to Loop) which required treatment of first aid’.

I’m at a loss to understand how/why they charge me with assault when they are the ones who were the aggressors. They came into my cell assaulting me! Because I jacked their cuffs they had a reason to ‘run-in’ on me and subdue me, but not beat me senseless for no reason! I wasn’t resisting until and after they started beating me!

The purported objective of UOF is to pin the prisoner using a capture shield and to subdue him without injury. Five of them on one little ol’ me standing there in my shorts yet I assaulted them?!?! This sort of thing is typical of Warden James Jones, who graded this case.

I was left in #82 Cell over 6 hours covered in pepper spray and C/S mace gas. It took me an additional 2 days to get a mattress to sleep on after I was finally moved back to #81 Cell. My mattress was confiscated because it was so contaminated with pepper and C/S mace gases.

These are the conditions which drive people to insanity, suicide or death by dropping their appeals as did James Porter, 999378 (Executed on 01/04/2005). R.I.P. BRO! This one was for your!).

We’ve had five attempted suicide in the last 2 ½ months, 2 of which were ultimately successful and 2 others very nearly so. When you consider that this is a relatively tiny population (445 Prisoners) perhaps you can understand how onerous and oppressive these conditions are.

Weekly cell moves for harassment, starvation, Level III punitive placement with no disciplinary case and no due process at all. Currently Hank Skinner, 999143, is on Level III and food loaf for merely requesting a copy of a grievance he’d filed on Captain David Wickersham for retaliating against him earlier last year. Every time Hank writes a grievance for one of us or himself the Captain siccs his goons on hank to take his property and tear up his cell. Currently they’ve go half his legal property and religious material, refusing to return it and four parcels of his outgoing legal mail addressed to Attorneys which they refuse to return or mail out.

Hank is one of those guys who believes in following the policy and using the grievance procedure but since they’re now openly retaliating against him for using the grievance procedure and formal channels of redress, I wonder how much more abuse he’ll take before he takes the route I did……

I’m no angel, but I must defend myself and do whatever it takes to make them leave me alone and quit harassing me with their ‘frequent cell move’, destructive cell searches, 24 hour per day isolation, denial of food, etc. I was sentenced to death by lethal injection, not years of physical and mental torture.

Donald K. Newbury
999403”

My aggravation builds. I’m pissed, it is now personal. They make it so!!!

These officers have no rules. They cuss, they get mad at you, refuse to feed you… They rattle the cage, but never think about facing the lion inside. Well, that changed for Officers Brenda Traylor and Officer Rachel Bounds on January 5th, 2005!

I personally do not like or much agree with violence towards women, but truth be told, around here the female officers start 80% of the bull-shit with their mouths and actions. It is like they get off on trying to humiliate and insult us. Prison is a world unto itself. In here if someone calls you a bitch or a punk…it’s time to fight. Prison is not a friendly place and we all know the rules, even the officer. So when you step up to another, expect to pay the price.

I know I probably sound like some macho block-head, but I did not make up the rules that rain my insane world. Prison has its own rules, and like I said, we all know what they are and if you cannot understand that you should be very thankful. Nobody should have to live like this and very few enjoy it, but it is what it is and has been since the beginning and will be in the end.

Note from Suzanne Cookston: Before reading any further, I have to put in my own statement in defense to Rich’s statement. I’ve never been to prison and I know what he’s saying is true. Woman or not, I hope I would never be stupid enough to call any inmate a punk or bitch. Anyone with any common sense knows that.

You adapt, or become pray, it is that simple.

Anyway, Robert Campbell, 999023 (AKA CHILI RED) was the lion who’s cage door came open! Accident? I prefer KARMA instead. You reap what you sow. What comes around goes around.

The following is Mr. Campbell’s account of what happened to him:

“On January 2, 2005, I called Officer Brenda Traylor to my cell to ask her could the porter wipe the outside of my cell door. But instead she stated ‘What the fuck you want?’ So I asked ‘Who you talking too?’ She said ‘I’m talking to you bitch’. So I said ‘nah, you ain’t’. So they left.

The next day, Monday, January 2, 2005, I’m standing at my door talking to my neighbor, Officer Traylor came halfway up the stairs and asked me ‘what the fuck you looking at bitch?’ So I cursed her back. As she was leaving she gave me a ‘fuck you’ sign!

The next day we went through the same thing, she calling me bitches and hoes!

The next day, Wednesday, January 5, 2005, I was in the dayroom, Officer Traylor and Officer Bounds came on our section to escort some people to court. As Officer Traylor was staring at me, so I asked her do she have a problem. She said ‘yeah’ me. So I told her to come solve it then!

So they take one guy to court. At that time Officer Garrett and Officer Stroeder rack me up in my cell and told me get ready for shower. So Officer Traylor and Officer Bounds bring the other guy back.

Now they are coming up the stairs to get my neighbor, Tony Dixon, to go to court. Officer Traylor is standing in front of my cell looking at me. I said ‘What the fuck you looking at?’ She said ‘You, bitch’. So we argued ‘til they were gone out the door.

Then they, Officer Traylor and Officer Bounds, brought my neighbor back. She’s looking at me again, instead of paying attention to the Officer Beard/Muncell in the picket to tell her what door to roll. But she didn’t and Officer Beard/Muncell rolled my cell door. I stepped out and said ‘What’s that shit you was talking’. And she said ‘I wish you would’. So I hit her, and we starting fighting Officer Bounds sprayed me with her gas. But it was knocked to the floor by Officer Traylor, who was kicking at me. Officer Bounds picked it up again and tried to spray, but I knocked it out of her hand.

Then Officer Bounds picked up the food slot bar which is steel all the way through, which it weighs about 7 to 8 pounds. And 18 inches to 2 feet long and hit me across my back 3 times. The 4th time, I hit her and knocked the bar away on the floor. I turned back around and started fighting with Officer Traylor some more.

About 30 seconds later Officer Garrett and another Officer came running up the staris. I got up and went back to my cell and closed the door. They came back about 15 minutes later suited up and stuff and ordered me out of my cell, which I came out.

They took me into the hallway and took pictures of me, which I have a bruise on my right rib cage and marks across my back. They then escorted me to F-Pod Level III. I’ve been here 3 days now and I don’t have nothing. No toothpaste, deodorant, soap, nothing to write with.

They put me on food loaf and I’m not supposed to be. The only way you get on food loaf is if you disrupt the feeding procedures or jack the food slot. I didn’t do neither on of them, but they still got me on food loaf.

I asked about my recreation. They told me that Captain Wickersham called down to F-Pod 3 times and told Officer White and Officer Moss that I was on cell restriction. Now how am I on cell restriction and I haven’t went to court yet?

They got me in this cell that is broke. The water don’t cut off. Every time I ask to speak with some rank, don’t none come down!! I know that I was wrong for hitting a female, but she was wrong for calling me bitches and hoes ‘cause I never called her.

I asked the Sgt. about my property of what I’m supposed to have while on Level III. He told me I was on property restriction! And that I can’t have nothing, no soap, toothpaste, deodorant, legal work, writing material!

I don’t have nothing to go shower with and they know this and they refuse my shower. I haven’t brushed my teeth in 4 days. I don’t have a toothbrush or toothpaste. I don’t even have a jumpsuit to wear. It’s freezing cold and all I got is a mattress and a sheet and one boxer shorts!

After I left E-Pod to come to F-Pod, Lt. Richie went back to my old cell and started tearing up my property. He through away my socks that I bought from commissary. He through my commissary cup out and then stepped on it and broke it. He through my commissary shorts out. He through my tennis shoes away. He was supposed to pack my stuff up, not through it away.

Robert J. Campbell
#999032”

Of course the powers-to-be, Capt. Wickersham and Major Nelson did not like this at all and went above and beyond the stated rules to punish Mr. Campbell. Really, they have nobody to blame but themselves. They let their officers walk around and do and say what they want. Let me give you a very personal example:
On Saturday, the 6th, I was “fishing” (we make links by braiding string together and slide it under our doors and down the run. The next fella throws his line out to catch yours and that is how we pass things) with Hernandez down the way for a pen because mine ran out of ink. Now officer Stain (6’3” about 280 lbs.) sees this, comes in the section and snags my line and breaks it!!
True we are not supposed to have lines, but what the fuck! I’m on death row. I’m on level III status, can’t get no lower. I’m locked in my cell 24 hours a day, with only one hour of recreation a week. I need to fish to get by.
Anyway, I say “What are you doing Mother Fucker??” He said “Who you calling a M.Fer??” I said “you bitch.” He walks over to my steel door, with its totally secure splash shield…and says “You should not be fishing.” So I just laugh and tell him what a bitch he is. He makes some comment about me being a tough guy or some shit. I tell him “I ain’t tough, but roll this door and we can box”. He says “No Cartwright, I don’t have to worry about you, that needle will take care of you!!” (TALKING ABOUT THE OLE LETHAL INJECTION). Now I know I said the first insult, no doubt, I won’t sugar coat my actions. I gotta mouth on me. I’m no angel, but that last comment was way out of line.

I look at the picture of my family, my mom, my daughter, my heart stealing Melissa and know when they do kill me, it will hurt the ones I love most. It won’t hurt me. I’ll be done with this he3l-hole, so that professional officer throwing that is my face broke the resolve I’ve been hanging on to. I no longer respect or obey their rules!! I’m at the end of my ropes and I’m sure not trying to kill myself or head to Jester 4, but I need to unload my frustrations, my aggravation. Let me move on.

We have another addition to our Level III, F-Pod crew. His name is William Berkley, 999422 AKA Ghost. His version of his little adventure will also be enclosed with Newbury’s and Campbell’s. Seems they found a ½ a joint in his cell. He just moved into that cell and said it most have been in there already! Who know, but once again proper policy and procedures were being followed, the officers would know for sure.

Before moving a prisoner into a cell, they are suppose to clean, sanitize and shake down (look around for weapons, drugs and contraband), but they NEVER do this. I guess it is too much work.

Even if they caught Mr. Berkley and then proven of smoking a joint, it is still not a level III offense, but a level II! Level III according to TDCJ Policy is for assault behavior, weapons or a repeated offender of the same offense. You can’t tell that to Rogue Capt. Wickersham, though. He does what he wants to do; why shouldn’t we? I mean at any give time an officer can write you up a bogus case and you lose your level!

The following is Mr. Berkley’s account of what occurred:

“I just got moved from D-41 to B-81 on January 7, 2005. I was moved real late so by the time I got to my new cell it was about 10:30 – 10:45 p.m.

I cleaned off my bunk because it had chill or potted meat all over it and squeeze cheese all over the desk. By the time I got all this cleaned up, it was 12:45 at night, so I said screw it, I’ll do the rest tomorrow.

I woke up about 11:00 a.m. I usually wake up early, but I went to bed late. I cleaned out the storage container and mopped the floor, then took a break. There had been at least 10,000 years of dust under the bunk. I don’t think the person before me even swept or cleaned under the bunk.

Now I shouldn’t have to be doing this because it’s TDCJ policy to clean, search and sanitize, and make sure everything works in a cell before they move an ‘offender’ into a new cell. I started to draw and said I’ll clean the sink and under the bunk later.

I have 3 bags, 1 personal (which is ½ a bag), 1 legal and 1, I put my clothing in. I had 1 bag unpacked when 2nd shift started doing shakedowns. They pulled out my neighbor and did a little 2 second shakedown.

Then they came to my door and this guard starts taking her sweet time. She closed my door, not all the way but closed it so I couldn’t see in.

Then all of the sudden, she says put him in the shower. I’m going to go through his cell thoroughly.

So I said ‘Hell no’ and asked for rank. I refused to give the cuffs back and stepped through the cuffs. Rank came and I complained about harassment and discrimination because she pulls one person out for exactly 1.23 seconds (I time all shakedowns in my section with a stop watch from the moment I hear or see the door open, until I see or hear the door close.). She wants to take a quick scan of one dudes stuff, but go through mine with a fine tooth comb.

The thing that struck me as odd was she did not close my neighbor’s door. She was bent down at my storage box and kept looking back at me. I was turned sideways because I was talking to my neighbor. Then all of a sudden she gets up and closes my door. No guard has ever done that before.

Then she walked toward the desk area where I couldn’t see and comes running out talking about ‘put him in the shower. I’m going to go thoroughly through your stuff’.

When rank got there I politely explained my situation. He walked to my cell (I was still in the shower.), came back like 10 minutes later holding a folded up piece of toile paper, my bottle of glue and my sewing needle and asked ‘is there something you want to tell me about?’ I said ‘What, my glue and sewing needle? You found it, so….’ He said ‘Anything else?’ H said ‘No, no, no, is there anything else you want to tell me about?’ I said ‘No’. He said ‘What about this?’ and held up a piece of bunched up toilet paper. I asked ‘what is it?’ He said ‘You tell me.’ I said ‘I got no clue’. He looked at me, paused and said ‘It’s marijuana’. I said ‘Oh, hell, no, that shit ain’t mine’. He said ‘It was in your cell’. I said ‘bullshit. That ain’t mine. I just got hear yesterday and ain’t even had time to unpack. Plus I don’t fuck with that shit because I know you do random drug tests. Give me a drug test’. He said ‘You’d really be willing to submit a drug test?’ I said ‘Give me the cup. I’ll piss in that mother fucker right now!”

He looked at me for a second and said ‘you said you just got here yesterday. Was your cell clean?’ I said ‘Hell, now. There was chili or something all over the bunk’…and explained the rest.

He stood there for a second then said ‘Alright, this is what’s going to happen. We’re going to take you to level III, because a guard claims this was found in your cell. We’ll give you a drug test; if it’s positive, you’ll stay level III; if not, you’ll get moved back to level I.’ And here I am.

Yesterday, he told me it tested positive, that it was marijuana and asked me my statement. I told him that it wasn’t mine. I will take a drug test to prove I didn’t smoke it because the ‘roach’ Sgt. Reed showed me was a partially smoked, not full, joint.

William Berkley, 999422”

Can you imagine living like that? Bad enough we are waiting to be murdered, but we try to be good. We try for our families who want to come visit us, but when you do not know what the rules are anymore, you never know, you just don’t ever know.

Hell, up until about 3 weeks ago, I hadn’t had a case in over 2 years!!! I was waiting on special visits from out of state for January, February and March, but all that is now gone over some B.S. case. My daughter, who will be 8 years old on the 17th of January, was suppose to be brought to see me by my mother, who lives in Chicago. Awful expensive trip for a 2 hour visit, so I get no visit with my Angel Ricki. That hurts, that is painful.

But hurt and sorrow don’t work in TDCJ! Rage, hat and anger, those get you action. Those get us attention in here. So I just turn my pain and sadness into anger and rage trying to hold onto my sanity. Now I must try and release it…damn it, I hate the way I feel right now. I hate the hurt and pain I’ve one again caused my mother and my daughter. My daughter will only turn 8 years old one time…and now I will miss seeing her on her special day. They can’t give me that back. All they do is take and keep taking.

Well, I will end this one here. I’m getting more aggravated the more I write. They call me an unrehabilitatable, heathen killer, but I do have a heart and it feels love, along with pain…they just don’t know.

I will close with a live from Baudelaire: “I have felt the wind of the wing of madness.”

Richard Cartwright EXECUTION DATE SET for May 19, 2005

Well another week in paradise has gone by. Well, it has been 11 days, a whole complete 11 days without a state-sanctioned-murder! Wow!! Is that a record? Seems like it should be.

The last (execution) murder was James Porter, 999378 (Bones) on 01/04/2005. I guess we officially should call his death an assisted suicide for James chose to drop his appeals rather than live in a cage. I do not agree with James’ choice, but I do respect it and even understand why! Hell, why not? We live in a cage and get treated worse than animals. We eat sub-poor food.

Our prayers go out to James’ friends, family and loved ones. At least he is finally at peace.

Three more murders are set to take place this month. Jose’ Briseno, 999043, Troy Kunkle, 000784, George Jones, 999147, please keep them and their families in your prayers. Jose’s date is for the 20th, Troy’s the 25th and Jones’ the 27th.

I do not want to lessen the impact of Mr. Briseno’s and Jones’ dates by focusing more on Mr. Kunkle, but I’ve known Troy for almost the entire 8 years I’ve been on the row. Troy was born on 5/27, 1966 and ended up on death row on March 2, 1985; he was 19 years old. When he was arrested, he was 18 years old and had no prior criminal record. At this time, 2005, Troy has spent 20 years on the row. He has spent more than half his life on the row in a cage. Troy is not the 18 year old kid they brought to this death house. He has grown up; he is a different person, for one, he is now a full grown man….older than his years for the life he has lived for sure. They say the death penalty is designed for the worst of the worst. Troy is by far not that!!! 20 years does change a person, any person.

For instance the Green River Killer, this man killed at least 50 women and brutally raped them, he has a life sentence! How is one to make sense of this?

It is wrong to kill, no doubt, but how do you fix it by killing?? That is an oxy-moron, eh? It is wrong to kill and we are going to kill you to show you and the world it is wrong. There is absolutely no logic in this way of thinking.

Troy, I don’t even know if you will read this before they kill you, but I want you to know that I’m gonna miss you, Bro!! You will live on in the hears and memories of those who’s lives you have touched, which is many. We’ve had our ups and down, but I’ve always considered you my friend, and I’ve bee praying for you, your family, your wife, Christi, along with all the men on “death watch”. Man, Try, we had some good times together, eh? Remember all those “cement wrestling matches” we used to have? Ha!Ha!Ha! The “Finger Take Down” in the commissary line?? Hey, Troy, I’m gonna miss you Bro. Keep your head up and Ride the Lighting into you next life. Love and Respect, Your Bro, Chi-Town.

Just like that people, I’ve had to say goodbye a hundred times and more in the course of my 8+ years on the row. It does not get any easier either.

Let me go back earlier in the week and talk about some of the thumb-screw tactics of our fin administration here on the row.

Monday, the 10th, seemed to be the days of days. It started with Donald Newbury, 999403 (Lizerd; his spelling, not mine) as he refused to give his lunch tray back. This is a major security threat because the food trays are extremely heard plastic and on can break ‘em down and make shanks out of them. Actually, you could make quite a few and pass them around to others. Of course Lizerd has no intentions of doing this, but they do not know that. Lizerd is just trying to get his point across. He is sick and tired of being moved once a week, sometimes twice a week.

See Lizerd is one of the infamous Texas 7 that escaped TDCJ a couple years back and showed hoe truly incompetent this system is. They move him, or say they move him as a security precaution, but it is just plain old harassment or better yet, let’s call it revenge. Hell, if they are worried about him digging a tunnel, shake his cell down, eh? Hell, that’s policy and correct procedure calls for anyway. This place is stressful enough without the administration adding more shit to the game.

Now the powers-to-be that want to move him for “security reasons” once a week just let him keep the tray. 2 different Sergeants and 1 Lieutenant came to talk to him; they cannot see in his cell because he has his door and window slots covered, trying to talk him into giving the tray back! Lizerd’s only response is “You know what it is, suit-up!!!” The rank leaves and Lizerd is up in his cell waiting for the team or “Goon Squad” which does not shop up.

Approximately 4 hours later (Lizerd could have made 3 or 4 shanks and passed them out) my neighbor William Berkley went to shower and when he came back to his cell, he jacked-the-cuffs, as they went to remove them.

Jack-the-cuffs…it means as you reach you hands through the door slot behind your back, if you time it right, as the officer removes one cuff, you yank your other arm in the cell as hard and fast as you can.

Well, Mr. Berkley was successful and got the cuffs, one on his wrist and one free swinging.

Now you might think Mr. Berkley did this to just join in with Lizerd, but that is not the case. Berkley or AKA, GHOST, is a very mild mannered skinny young guy. He weighs about 140 lbs and always says “yes sir” or “no sir”, “thank you”….very well and proper in the manners department. For 4 days, Ghost has politely asked all the guards and 2 different Sgt. to get him his property. He has been in his cell 75 cell F-pod, F section without so much as a TOOTHBRUSH!!! Why? I’ll tell you why. Because politeness gets you nowhere in here.

I gave Ghost some toothpaste, but I’m not trying to share my toothbrush. I got limits. Well,10 minutes later, Sgt. Henderson and Lt. Richie are down here talking to Ghost. Ghost says “Sir, I’ve been trying for 4 days to get my property and I get no response.” “Sir, I will not give you the handcuffs back until I get my property.” Sgt. Henderson says “Well, you won’t get your property this way and we will come in there and get the cuffs.” Ghost says “Sorry to hear that you feel that way sir.”

I’m laughing my ass off at this point. The Sgt. is totally pissed. I guess he is also not used to politeness.

Now for 4 days the officers and rank say “we are short-handed, we don’t have the staff...to get your property”… Typical B.S. Remember this comment.

Anyway, now Lizerd is still upstairs with the tray and I tell Ghost “Hey, dude, you’re a little to small to fade the team in that cell.” He says “don’t worry Chi-Town, I’m not stupid. I will fade the team if I have to, but I’m gonna try something else.”

Here comes the team and they are huge, the 5 men in body armor, helmets and gas masks are well over 800 lbs. combined weight; easily if not closer to 1,000. The first 2 alone make up more than 500 lbs. (Y’all can get these tapes to confirm all of this!!) Sgt. Henderson says “Inmate Berkley, I’m giving you a direct order to relinquish the hand restraints and submit to a strip search or chemical agents will be used.”

At this point, Ghost, ha!ha!ha! takes the free hand-cuff and locks it to the screened window slot in the door! Now they can’t come in. They can’t open the door. Now Sgt. Henderson says “Inmate Berkley, I’m giving you a direct order to relinquish the hand-restraints and submit to a strip search or chemical agents will be applied.”

Now I start screaming “How’s he gonna do that. He is handcuffed to the door.”

Sgt. Henderson puts on his gas mask, tells the camera “At this time, I’ve given Inmate Berkley 2 orders to relinquish the hand-restraints and he has failed to comply. I will now use chemical agents.”

He does spray Ghost! I’m kicking the door screaming!!! “What the fuck. He is handcuffed to the door…he can’t relinquish…SHIT….” I’m irate. This is a totally excessive use of force!!!

Now, Lt. Richie, Lt. Griffith, Sgt. Henderson, Capt. Wickersham, Major Nelson, a camera operator and a five man team are here along with 1 or other observers. So we have about 13 officers! Now, why is it they cannot find any available staff for 4 days to get Ghost his property, yet we have 13 people standing in line to kick his ass, or watch him get his ass kicked.

Now everybody is screaming how can he relinquish the hand restraints…. After another 20 minutes of negotiating, Ghost agrees to let ‘em pop his door open, it can only open about 1” with him cuffed to the door, and let Sgt. Henderson reach his arm in there and un-cuff him from the door. This is done. Now they strip search Ghost, re-handcuff him and open his door and take him to the picket area for medical examination and 4 polaroid pictures.

Anytime a UOF (Use of Force) is applied, they take 4 photos and a nurse looks at you! Yeah, that will help a whole lot, eh?

After they are done, Ghost sits down on the run and refuses to walk. “Sir, I’m sorry, but I want my property.” Anyway, they pick him up and carry him to the cell.

Now to give credit, where credit is due, I actually heard one of the officers on the good-squad, I don’t know which one, say “Hey, be careful, man. This dude is small.” What shocked me, they seem to get gung-ho on me!! I guess being 6’2”, 205 lob is a little different. Still I gained much respect for Mr. Berkley for standing up for himself.

Oh yeah, Mr. Berkley did receive his requested property, later that night!!! AMAZING, NO??? They also moved him off the Level III F-Pod-F-Section to Level II E-Pod! Congrats Ghost on you level 2 status.

See the worse you act, the better they treat you.

Well, I’m getting ahead of myself here. Let me back track….remember ole lonely Lizerd upstairs with the tray? Now let me mention something here…Lizerd is no “spring chicken”. He is 42 years old, I’m sure he’d much rather be sitting in his cell writing Joan and drawing dirty cards! Ha!Ha!

The camera lady, the 2 Lts., the team, and Capt. Wickersham, Sgt. Henderson, all head upstairs to deal with Lizerd. Capt. Wickersham at this time tried to talk to Lizerd. Lizerd said “I tried to talk to you on Oct. 15, 2004 and you disrespected me by saying ‘pt the punk in the cell’, remember? No more talk, let’s rock!!”

Now Lizerd has his cell light covered, door blocked off, his cell is pitch black. They open his bean-slot shinning a spot-light in there trying to see where he is. Lizerd had a sheet up ½ across his cell, plus he was hiding behind a homemade shield of newspapers and towels, so now they still have no idea if he has a weapon or not (one again, he does not and never had). Sgt. Henderson gives Lizerd 2 direct orders to submit to a strip search and hand restraints. Of course Lizerd says nothing. Sgt. Henderson sprays this new kind of gas, it’s white and called CS #587 and it is very costly, but very, very aggressive, also. It actually seems to suck the air right out of your cell. This is the 1st I’ve heard of them using it. It also causes your eyes to close. Actually, they used the same stuff on Lizerd last time. My bad!!

The last time they sprayed him twice with the regular CS 10 and sprayed him with the CS # 587 on the 3rd spray. He was ready for it this time. Though. Old-School Lizerd knows how to adapt. He had plastic over his eyes and socks over his mouth. It is not much, really it’s quite sad when you think about it. You in a cement and steel box, no circulation with all these burning, blinding and breath taking chemicals.

Anyway, back to Lizerd. After Sgt. Henderson sprayted the 1st burst of gas in the cell, it was apparently no enough for Lt. Richie so he says “oh no, go ahead and load him up.” So they sprayed 3 more seconds in his cell…1, 1 thousand…1, 1 thousand…1, 1 thousand. They wait 10 minutes for the CS # 587 to take full effect and now Lt. Richie give 2 more orders “Inmate Newbury, I’m giving you a direct order to submit to a strip search and hand-restraints or a second burst of chemical agents will be applied”.

Lizerd says nothing! Lt. Richie sprays Y seconds of this CS # 587 in Lizerd’s cell, now that’s killer people. That CS # 587 ain’t not punk!!

Well, they wait another 5 minutes for the chemicals to have its killer affect to weaken Lizerd as best it can before the good squad comes in. I hear the cell door slam open. I hear banging, more banging, Capt. Wickersham yelling “get him down, get him down,” Lizerd is chunking the team. Point man is thrown to the bunk.

Now remember Lizerd has a plastic eye cover, 4 socks and a jumpsuit, while the 5 man team has gas masks, helmets and body armor. It is a no win situation, you can’t win, why try??

Because when you reach that point, you either break or fight back. They push you and push you and keep pushing you. They take and keep taking. You let ‘em break you or fight back. Hell, this is the only human physical contact we are allowed. Think of it like this, if you ignore your kids, they will be bad, because even negative attention is better than no attention.

I know I probably sound crazy, but we live in a total sensory deprivation environment and the physiological effects are truly devastating. You can’t understand the full impact without leaving it for a couple of years.

Just look up and see how many people have tried to kill themselves or gone crazy here in the last few years! Damn, can I ramble on…back to Lizerd…

They finally are able to wrestle him to the floor and put on leg-shackles and hand restraints. They carry him out of the cell and drop him on the run. 30 seconds later Lizerd is talking trash to the team and Capt. Wickersham :). Venting his frustrations and why and how this all started, saying “I just want to be left alone, stop harassing me with these ridiculous weekly moves” (NOTE: Amongst all the body armor…the point man comes in with a huge plexi-glass type shield, ouch!!!).

Now, the team picks Lizerd up by his jumpsuit and carries him down the stars to put him 71 cell. Once again no sanitizing or cell search is done as TDCJ policy and procedure requires.

After they put Lizerd in the cell they cut off all his clothes! Why? Just because they can.

So now the team removes the leg restraints and leaves the empty cell. Lizerd goes to the door and they remove his hand restraints. Now Lizerd is butt-naked and in a totally empty cell with no soap to wash off the killer gas.

Captain Wickersham, to his credit, then came to tell Lizerd that he wants to talk to him either later today or fist chance in the morning. Also to Capt. Wichersham’s credit, he kept his word and had 2 officers escort Lizerd to his office at about noon the next day.

Now Capt. Wickersham had done his research on Mr. Newbury and all his filed grievances about all these moves and how the cells were never cleaned. He actually won the grievance filed on not cleaning and inspecting the cells before they move him in, yet they still do not. Lizerd was moved 56 times in 2003 and approx. that many times in 2004.

Of course the mailroom, commissary, legal library, book library….could never keep up with his location. He’d miss store, receive mail late, no access to books of legal works. The whole time, 3 years, Lizerd has been filing paper work and following the system and nothing was ever done or even attempted to be down in all that time.

Now after Lizerd has been fading the goon squad since Oct. of 2004, Captain Wickersham and Lizerd have had a private talk and came to an agreement. If Lizerd stops fighting the team, they would reduce his moves to one a month.

Now in accordance to TDCJ policy he is not supposed to be moved, but every 90 days, but he was willing to meet ½ way with Captain Wickersham.

I will close this bit about Lizerd with a quote from Lizerd:
“So, with all this said and done, I find it shamefully said and positively sickening that the only way I was able to obtain my goal was by violence, not by following proper procedures.”

Well, you’d think that was enough excitement for one day, right? Hell no! I’m still totally pissed by how they gassed Ghost, even though Sgt. Henderson gave him an IMPOSSIBLE order to comply to. Once again how does one relinquish the hand-restraints when he is handcuffed to the door.

Now I was planning on jacking the dinner tray, but 1st shift fed us and second shift picked up the trays, not 1st shift. So I gave them my tray.

After a few minutes of chasing around the thoughts in my head, I was still pissed and decided to let them know about it. They came to show me at about 7:15 p.m. or so. The officer put on handcuff on my wrist and I jacked the cuffs just like Ghost did earlier. The 2 guards tried to talk me out of the cuffs. I said “it’s not personal, go suit it up.”

Finally, a relief team of rovers came to watch me (Once you have the hand-cuffs, there must be an officer watching you the whole time). The pod rovers got everyone out of the showers.

At around 8:45 p.m. Sgt. Hutchinson came around to talk to me. Trying to resolve the situation without a UOF!! It’s too late for that now. Sgt. Hutchinson leaves and comes back with a gas mask and some gas CS-10.

Now here comes the 5 man team stomping in. My adrenaline takes over. Again, Sgt. Hutchinson tries for about 20 minutes begging me to lay it down.

Finally at 9:20 p.m. they spray a long burst of CS-10 gas after I refuse to give up the cuffs in my cell. Damn it, it’s been awhile and the gas hits me hear, but I keep composure and I’m just happy they are not using the CS-57!!

Lizerd is down the run giving me a play-by-play on what’s going on because I have no plastic over my eyes, because I don’t use it. Dumb-ass that I am. Eyes watery, breathing labored. I wait, pacing my cell like a cornered lion, just not that tough!!

5 minutes ass and Sgt. Hutchinson give me an order for the cuff. I refuse. He sprays another long shot of CS-10 and closes my bean-slot. Once again, the chemicals assault my eyes, skin and breathing.

About 10 minutes pass and no I‘m tripping, what’s going on?? Why are they not coming in. Shit, I’m on fire. Sgt. Hutchinson once again says “Inmate Cartwright, relinquish the hand-restraints and submit to a strip search or chemical agents will be applied.” I laugh! He sprays, but shortly there after about 2 seconds the can is empty.

So at this point they have used an entire can of CS-10 on me...and I wait…Another 10 minutes go by, shit according to Lizerd it has been close to 30 minutes at this point. The gas is kicking my ass. I’m thinking I’ve faded the worst of the gas and as Murphy’s law would have it.

I hear Lizerd yell down the run “Hey Chi-Town, he just got a can of CS-587!!” Just what I needed to hear, right.

The Sgt. gives me the orders to relinquish the cuffs….I laugh…They spray a 4 or 5 second burst of CS-587 in my cell, as they do it, my wet rag over my mouth (my gas mask) tied on with a piece of sheet falls around my neck. Man, CS-587 stole all my breath! I could not breath, just cough, choke and spit. Now it’s a waiting game…I want to lay it down. I can’t breath. I’m 90% blind, but my stubborn pride or “stupidity” pulls me along.

5 minutes later the team comes in. They came in hard and fast. Lizerd said it sounded like thunder and he felt his cell wall vibrate. He is in 71 cell, I’m in 76!!!

By that time they folded me up and restrained me, face smashed into a liquid puddle of gas. I can’t breath or see.

Now I will quote Lizerd’s description of me since he has put it so eloquently! Yeah, right!!! Lizerd’s words:
“Chi-Town looked like he was painted orange with CS-10 gas and than dog-piled by the whole Chicago Bears Football Team. He was not able to walk properly with the leg shackles put on to tight and no eye site. The gaurds would walk him 3 feet to the left than to the right /\/\/\/\/\ to keep him disorientated on his where-abouts. Mind you he is in full restraints”.
Alright Lizerd, thanks a lot! ~Smart-Ass-Smirk-Here~

Anyway, they lead me off the pod and out to the hallway and lay me down on the floor in the steel box. As I lay down my feet stick 3 feet out the box. It is extremely small. They take off my leg shackles and fold me into the box and lock the door.

I stand up and allow them to remove the 2 sets of handcuffs off my wrists. I was than ordered to strip-out. I did so. My eyes just started to open.

After stripping out, I was given back my boxer shorts and nothing else…handcuffed me behind my back through the bean-slot and opened the box.

They than put my leg shackle back on. I told the Sgt. “What about my shoes? I’m not walking barefoot on this dirty ass floor. You want to carry me?”

They give me my shoes and escort me back to F-Pod F-Section, but not to 75 cell, but to my new cell 72, right next to Lizerd! Ha!Ha!

They lay me on the floor and take the leg restraints off. They go to remove the hand restraints and tell me not to move. I say “Oh, no. You take them off, we are gonna fight. I’m not gonna lay on this floor face down like some punk!! Not gonna go down like that. Just get out of the cell and I give you my word. I’ll give you the cuffs back through the slot” and they agreed and I kept my word.

They left me in my new empty cell with nothing to decontaminate myself with.

Approximately 2 or 3 hours later, they brought my property to me. Man what a night.

While I was in the hallway, they did take their 4 photos and the nurse checked me out and noticed a cut on the back of my head! I’m told I was ok, that was an old injury! Wink!Wink!!

The rest of the week’s been pretty quiet. Us old men, Lizerd and myself, are licking our wounds.

I’m happy to say Lizerd is done…he got what he wanted and is going to do his best to get back on level 1! I don’t blame him. He misses his weekly visits with Joan very, very much. Don’t worry Joan, I’ll make sure he behaves himself. Hey, Joan, why are you laughing at me. I’m serious!! Not that he needs any help. He love you and that is all he needs.

Now, on the 11the they had a team escort prisoner Robert Gene Garza 999466 from Level II F-Pod E-Section 65 cell to Level III F-Pod F-Section 82 cell because of a staff assault.

Let me explain, on January 5th, 2005, Mr. Garza made his Level II from Level III. A few days after, they moved Mr. Garza to 65, his toilet broke, could not flush it without it over-flowing.

Now Mr. Garza kept telling them about it and asking to be moved. He is living in a damn out-house for crying-out-loud.

Now after 2 days of trying to do the right thing, they are taking him to 64 cell periodically to use the restroom throughout the day and night. Of cause 64 cell has no light, so he can’t move there, but there are other open cells.

On the 11th, they took Mr. Garza out of 65 cell to use the toilet in 64 cell. Mr. Garza gets on the run and sits down. Now he is handcuffed behind his back and 2 guards are there.

Now Sgt. Hutchinson comes to try and resolve the problem. He tells Mr. Garza “You’re going into 65 or 64 cell”. Mr. Garza says “I’m not going into my cell ‘til you fix the toilet and 64 cell doesn’t have a light”. Sgt. Hutchinson tells Mr. Garza “You are not going to stay on the run until they fix the toilet.” Mr. Garza says “Do what you gotta do Vato, I ain’t moving.”

As Mr. Garza sits on the run, here comes the plumber with a “toilet snake” to try and fix the toilet. He pulls up toilet paper…getting soiled and 2 day old water al over the floor, but still cannot fix the toilet.

At this time, Lt. Sterin is also on the run. He tell Mr. Garza “they are going to have to fix his toilet through the pipe-chase. Go back in your cell.” Mr. Garza says “Vato, I ain’t going in my cell with a broken toilet and shit water all over the floor”. (NOTE TO THE READER: Lt. Stern came to Death Row about a year ago from another Unit. He did something wrong at this other unit, lost his rank and was sent to Death Row as C.O. 5. Before long, he got his Sgt. Stripes back and just recently, became a Lt. again. I do not know why he lost his rank, but I ca guess. Anyone able to get this info to me would help me out incredibly in showing you the Row gets all the throw-backs and rogues working here.)

Now Lt. Stern goes into Mr. Garza’s cell and starts packing his property. An unjustified action. Mr. Garza asks him “what are you doing?” Lt. Stern ignores him and is just whistling.

Mr. Garza says “You can’t hear me, Vato?” Lt. Stern looks down at Mr. Garza and says “nope”. Mr. Garza spits right in Lt. Sterns face!!! Now, Lt. Stern turns to the lady with the camcorder and says “Turn it on. Inmate Garza just assaulted me.”

First of all the camcorder should have been on. As soon as Mr. Garza sat down and the officers put there hands on him to keep him there, it becomes a UOF!! Maybe Lt. Stern did not want the camcorder picking up the fact that Mr. Garza has been living in a cell for 2 days with a broken toilet, he? Or his unjustified actions of taking Mr. Garza’s property. (NOTE: POLUNSKY UNITIS IS ACA or American Correctional Association approved which means this unit gets extra funding for being in compliance with the states rules and regulations. Maybe the fact that the ACA states that an inmate should be moved or the toilet fixed within 4 yours of reporting the problem kept the camera off. Who truly knows.)

After that Lt. Stern takes out his can of gas and says “Inmate Garza, I’m giving you a direct order to allow the officers to put you back in your cell or chemical agents will be used.”

Now Mr. Garza, who is sitting on the floor and already hand-cuffed behind his back, looks up at Lt. Stern and says “do whatever you gotta do, Vato.!!” Lt. Stern gives another similar direct order and Mr. Garza says the same thing.

At this point, Lt. Stern puts his gas away and leaves. He comes back in a few minutes with a Captain. No one knows this Captain’s name. The Captain finds out all that happened and tells Mr. Garza “You’re going to Level III for assaulting Lt. Stern by spiting in his face.” Mr. Garza says “That’s fine. I’d rather be on Level III with a working toilet than on Level II living in an outhouse!”

The Captain asks if Mr. Garza is going to walk over there. Mr. Garza ways “What about my property?” Captain says “If we give you your property back, will you walk over without resisting?” Garza says “yes!”

They move his property into 79 cell and he follows. What a damn shame that Mr. Garza had to drop back down to Level III just to get a working toilet.

This is another week in paradise. Man, can you see the daily B.S. we all must face? We are treated less than human. It’s frustrating as hell. I don’t know the words to use to try and relate how we feel. Do you care? Should you care? That is your individual choice.

I will leave with a quote from The Book of Counted Joys
“Hope requires the contender
Who sees no virtue in surrender
To the cradle to the bier,
The heart must preserve.

In Solidarity and Struggle
I Remain
R. Cartwright
999224
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 S.
Livingston, TX 77351