Walking The Halls of My Mind

Listen to Walking The Halls of My Mind by Sonni Quick on #SoundCloud

With the opening of my stores it has taken me time than I thought it would having to learn so much about marketing and advertising. I haven’t kept my blog up as w well as I should have, but there are only so many hours in a day.

This is music recorded for the book I’m writing. Let me know what you think. You can stream the tracks on SoundCloud or at my website. sonniquick.net 

Surviving After-Inside the Forbidden Outside-GoFundMe

 

Click on the link below to go to the actual Gofundme campaign page. 

https://www.gofundme.com/f/surviving-after-quotinside-the-forbidden-outsidequot&rcid=r01-156113009536-8d936ff586f5470e&pc=ot_co_campmgmt_m

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I need help to help someone else. For twelve years I was the only one who cared enough to help this man. It has taken a lot for me to ask for it. But I can’t do what I need to do without it. Here is my story:

The video explains who Jamie Cummings is and the book I am writing, Inside the Forbidden Outside, along with recording a music soundtrack of original piano improvisations for each chapter as well as music videos you can find on Youtube. This music aids the journey just as music accompanies a movie. I may be naive but I can see this story as a Hulu or Netflix series as the chapters go through quite a few prisons he was sent to around Texas. The feedback I have gotten from many people who have experienced even part of what I have written has been overwelming. There have been hundreds of comments.

The book and music take the reader inside Jamie’s head to experience the emotional trauma living quite a number of the 13 years inside a solitary cell in adseg, administrative segregation, a fancy word for solitary where he spent most of the years. I am 2/3 through the second draft as I have finetuned the story. You can read chapters at mynameisjame.net .

The music soundtrack makes this book unique. You can stream it at sonniquick.net  The book cover is done and is at the beginning of of every post at the blog that is a chapter. I also opened an online store to make money, but it is new and it takes awhile to cultivate a customer base. It is only for the continental US so far.  You can see it at Watch and Whirl Shop

This story needs to be told. It isn’t unique. It is the story of many people locked up who couldn’t afford an attorney. I wanted this to be complete before he got out, but he was unexpectedly paroled 2 weeks ago and had to go stay with family who had done little for him through the years. The proceeds from the book will help him be able to start his life. 36 years old with the life experiences of a teenager.

It tells the story of what severe deprivation can do to a human being. It goes through medical crises in prison caused by inadequate medical care and having epilepsy. You can feel the depth of his depression at not being able to see his only child, born after he was incarcerated, and his loneliness waiting for someone to visit who rarely came.

No one would take his son to see him. He was afraid he would hate him because he was locked up. I went to Texas every couple years, but I couldn’t go enough. So we wrote many hundreds of letters, his diary of sorts. As I near completion I have no way to pay a professional editor to look it over.

I can’t let him down. I promised I’d be there – to help him get an education, help guide him, help him find a way to survive. To help write the sequel, have him help with the business end, get him a computer and teach him how to make money online, and learn how to help others. He is the father of my grandson. He is family more than most of my own family. We have been there for each others through letters and they would break your heart.

I am on disability and have been recently fighting cancer – again. The video you saw was made early this year before I started treatment again. I have been unable to get to Texas to see him since 10/17. I have been determined to finish the book, but I have read too many self-edited books to take a chance with its success because I couldn’t see something wrong.

A couple months ago I went online to the TDCJ website – Texas Department of Criminal Justice – and found out he was approved for parole. They hadn’t even told him. 2 weeks ago he walked out the doors, with an ankle monitor. There was no one there to meet him. I had known no one would be there for him. I wanted so much to be there but it happened so fast I couldn’t. He was parole to the outside without any preparation. He made his way by bus to his brother’s house who had only visited him once in ten years.

The money I want to raise isn’t for me. I have tried to do this on my own.  A friend recommended I try this site to raise the money.  I want to go to Texas to go over the manuscript with him. He needs a laptop to work with me as I write the last chapters before editing. I have 70,000 words. I estimate it will end at 95,000 words. Writing through the years I am at 2012. It ends at 2016. The sequel picks up from there and goes through re-entry and all of its issues.

Thank you for any help you can give. I make this promise. The names of every single person who helps will be listed in the book. With any donation of $15 I will send you a free ebook and music when it is published and with $25 or more I will send you a signed copy of the book and downloadable copy of the album. I will give anyone who asks, a record of how the money was spent.

 

Land of the Free and Home of the Brave

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Trump claims that 2 years of investigation by Meuller was too long, yet William Barr is starting an investigation that is all over the map with one goal in mind, support Trump no matter what and endlessly tie things up until long after he has anymore control over this country.

But the law of cause and effect – you reap what you sow – is very strict. We can’t pick and choose whether we get effects from the things we do and say. Trump will go down in history, not as a great president, but as the leader of the destructive driving forces in this day and age that bring down our country on all levels.

Our planet will have little hope of healing itself because of the ignorance of climate science espoused by the deluded science expert in the White House who thinks his gut is more intelligent than those with the education to back what they say. If you don’t want to believe our climate stability is in deep trouble you can decide to believe the words of someone who tells you what you want to hear – if you are willing to live through the consequences.

If you want to believe an homogenized all-white America is a good thing, then you must also think “the land of the free, home of the brave” is just a nice sounding slogan. People who have lived in the country, often for decades or generations, have no place in this white society of which the GOP dreams. How could anyone want this? Many good people are excluded while organizations flourish as they cheer for a white society. And this cake itself a Christian nation?

How do I know this? Because Republican citizens by and large ignore commenting on any subject that calls into question how it would reflect on them. They don’t want to be seen ss personally destroying the lives of minorities. They want to be thought of as good Americans. Their arguments are defenseless.

Abortion has always been their go-to subject. Concern primarily lies with the fertilized egg. It has rights! Fertilized eggs need attorneys! The are people. We must save every last one and even make mothers have funerals for miscarriages.

Should the mother get the death penalty? Can she prove she didn’t actively try to miscarry? Should they have death certificates and be named? OMG what pain might the fetus feel – until it is born. After that they wash their hands of it. It doesn’t matter if they are abused, fed or educated. That is the parents responsibility, even if the fertilized egg came to life because a father raped his 10 year old daughter. Not their problem! They only needed to make sure it was born. To hell with it after that. Go save the next fertilized egg.

We want to say America is a free nation. “Make America Great Again,” but only if the GOP can control what other people do and stifle their freedom while doing it. Republicans want less government regulation, unless it is something they think they have the right to control. What hypocrisy!

You can choose to not believe this is happening, but our grandchildren will have to live with it as well as the many combinations of races of people who make up our country who are trying to survive in an unwelcoming atmophere, even though many of these families have lived here for many generations. These people, who are less than snowy white are people the Republicans believe are inferior to the white European mix of nationalities. Only white people call the cops when they think someone is infringing on a space they think they shouldn’t be, even if they are in their own front yard.

My family used to be all-white. Now it has a mix of Choctaw Indian, African black, Island black and Hispanic. The GOP thinks my family is no longer worthy in taking part in the say so of this country. My family’s vote should not have the significance it used to have because genetically we are not “real” Americans any longer – according to rich white men who think they carry greater intelligence and should now make and enforce the laws. They believe they are superior.

That is the white male fear – that they will fall off their precarious, self-made pedestal and the minorities $ will rise up and say, “No more” will take over. God forbid!!! So Republicans are working feverishly to impose laws to benefit themselves, made even more evident to everyone after the midterms. They thumb their noses at their own hypocrisy.

Republican citizens will pay for this as well as everyone else for their blind ignorance believing the GOP has their best interest at heart, but they aren’t rich enough to matter. If you do not delve deeper into understanding what is happening and stop reading conservative soundbites as your news and education you can kiss goodbye any freedom you may still have. Let’s see if God can save the hateful, bigoted, self-serving “Christian” politicians who have fine tuned their own brand of Christianity used to control people they think should not have an equal say in our country. Only white men are good enough for that, as they have clearly said.

This is not about supporting a democratic nominee instead of Republican. This is about understanding what the GOP wants for America as a collective body. The abomination sitting in the White House, whose life is built on lies and immaturity and his active destruction of anyone or any agency that doesn’t bow to his authority goes against the very foundation of who we are, or who we used to be. There is very little left of what made this country great, and most of that is only in our imagination because we want to think of America as the land of the free and home of the brave – a nation of good people. That is gone. The good people are no match for the evil that presides.

Much of the world despises us because of the harm we done. Having an “America First” attitude which is really saying, “F*** Y**” has destroyed any good will we had left. Trump’s personal nature is an affront to humanity. If you can’t see that and instead try to change the subject to a Democrat you think need investigating, then you purposely choose to remain ignorant. Maybe it is the ego that won’t allow you to voice what you think of Trump – the man. Maybe you think it doesn’t matter.

To me, these people are an enemy of my country along with every other white nationalistic group that wants to control or rid the country of color, control women and minorities, as well as normalize rape and incest and fetuses that grow from that violence, destroy public education, destroy healthcare and medicine availability, allow unprecedented poisons in our air, water and food with little repercussions to corporations slowly killing us. Destroying or changing history and teaching fallacies to our children, using incarceration for profit that destroy families, keeping black people from voting against the laws that unfairly incarcerated them. The list is too long to print. But these are the things you approve of when you support the GOP.

So goodbye to you and good riddance.

I had written this originally for Facebook but edited it and published it at DailyKos.com: 

Is it Rain or Tears – Chapter – ITFO – repost

Last Note 2 sm

 

This is an early chapter in the book I am finishing. what a journey it has been. In this chapter Jamie is still at the jail after his arrest, before he is sent to the first prison in LaMesa, Texas. He is having problems coping. I haven’t had enough time for writing blog posts, so for those who are new to Jamie’s story – this chapter is important.

 

Is it Rain or Tears?

 

“You need to flush the goddamn toilet. You can’t leave it like that,” Jamie exploded. He raised his voice louder than the sound in the room, yelling at the man walking away from him.
     He was tired of smelling everyone’s crap. Some men have the worst toilet habits like they we’re raised by animals. They can’t flush or wipe the seat if they mess it up. The next man has to clean it, if it matters enough to him.
     Jamie bit his lower lip between his teeth, forcing himself to not throw another insult at the man walking across the room, through the isles of stacked beds. Low man on the totem pole, a newcomer to this dormitory, he got stuck in the back of the room near the toilets. The only other overwhelming smell was pungent disinfection. It got poured on everything.
     Being here was getting to him. It was too soon to let it affect his behavior. He had too find a way to keep it together. The thought of not breathing free air for seventeen years was depressing beyond words. Knowing the woman he loved was getting bigger, waiting for the birth of a son he would not be able to see, was the cruelest joke life could play on him.
       This was only the beginning of his sentence. He didn’t know how he was going to get through to the end. He was tired of this crazy old asshole coming to the back of the dorm which held dozens of bunks with men reading, sleeping or playing cards, and then leave a dump for him and everyone else to smell.
     Jamie’s bunk was in the back near the toilets, and they smelled ungodly rank. If someone was going to take a dump they’d better have the decency to flush. He was losing his tolerance for ignorance as well as losing his emotional self control. He was often angry. Angry about being here. Angry because he couldn’t change it and angry at himself for screwing up.
      It wasn’t as if the janitor came in to clean every day, or even every week. No one wanted to get up and flush the damn toilet for someone else. Some dudes think they can intimidate weaker ones as if they were some stinking ‘King of the Hill’ in a child’s game. Jamie had had enough.
      “Didn’t yo’ mama ever teach you no manners?” Jamie yelled sarcastically across the room, deliberately provoking him.
      “Oh, yeah?” This dude was clearly not liking that Jamie had the guts to get in his face. He turned around and started strutting toward him with the bowed legs of a gorilla, acting as if he thought his shit didn’t stink. “You have anything else you wanna say about my mama?”
     Jamie immediately felt sorry for the woman who gave birth to this lowlife. He must have been a joy as a kid. He clearly wanted to use this as a reason to pound somebody’s head in and thought Jamie was his next likely victim. He didn’t know what a mistake that was gonna be.
     “Da-amn,” Jamie muttered under his breath in two syllables. He was going to have to make good on what he said. He got himself together and slowly stood up. He wasn’t going to get caught off-guard sitting down.
     “Oh well.” It hadn’t been a good day so far, anyway. He might as well make it worse.

     “Oh, and you think I need to flush the toilet?” He laughed. Jamie smiled.

     As he closed the gap he spoke these words with a pause between each word. In a menacing way he walked toward him with slow, deliberate steps, trying to look more dangerous than he was capable of pulling off. Maybe ten years ago he could have, but not now. He might have scared some of the smaller men but he didn’t scare Jamie. 
     “Make me,” the man taunted him.
     He had the look of injecting too many steroids a couple decades ago and the hard muscles were turning to flab.
     “You and who else?” he demanded from Jamie. He looked like he had been in a few too many bar brawls already. Jamie didn’t care. He was strong and he knew how to take care of himself. Besides, he already had a seventeen year sentence. They couldn’t do much more to him they haven’t already done.
     The man walked over to a mop sticking up from a rolling bucket someone had left propped up and leaning against the wall. He grabbed the stick at both ends and broke it in half over his thigh. He raised the stick in his right hand, ready to swing it at Jamie’s head when he got closer.
     “Come on, mama’s boy,” the man bent forward and growled at him. “Show me what ya got.” He motioned with his fingers to come and get him.

The man would sorely regret those words. He lunged at Jamie, who beat the crap out of him all the way from the toilets, through the overcrowded room, past the open mouths of men on the bunks who were startled out of their boredom, to the locked door that led to the hall.
     Once Jamie got started he lost control and took all of his pent up frustration out on that loudmouthed son of a bitch who was never taught any manners by his mama. He knew some now, that was for sure.

Jamie didn’t quit beating him until the guards pulled him off. An ambulance arrived at the jail and took the man to a hospital. Jamie was taken to solitary confinement.
     “He’s the one who came at me,” Jamie tried to explain to the guard who cuffed his wrists behind his back and walked him to his new living quarters. The guard didn’t give a shit who started the fight.
      “So you decided to put him in the hospital?”
     “Maybe he’ll learn some manners in there, like knowing when to flush a toilet,” Jamie said under his breath.
      “What did you just say?” the guard snapped back.
      Jamie shook his head, “Nothin’.”
     “I didn’t think so,” the guard replied with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
    “You’re gonna to be staying here in this hotel room until you’re moved.” He seemed to take great pleasure in saying this to Jamie, but Jamie didn’t get upset.
     “How long will that be?” Jamie asked.
     “Where will they be sending me?” he added.
     His questions hung in the air unanswered. The guard probably didn’t know where he would be sent so it was pointless to ask again. He walked out of the cell and slammed the door. Jamie heard the sound of the lock turning. He motioned for him to back up to the small opening in the door and stick his wrists out so his cuffs could be unlocked. A second guard stood right outside the cell door making sure nothing happened.
     Jamie rubbed his wrists to get the circulation going. The cuffs had been put on as tight as possible. They wanted him to know they could do anything to him they wanted and he could do nothing about it. They weren’t going to take any chances  now they knew he had a temper.             

Jamie hadn’t meant to hurt the dude so bad. He couldn’t stop once he got started. The anger for everything that happened had been building up with no way to release it. He had to get it out.
     He had been in this jail for months waiting to see what was going to happen next. Nobody told him nothing. It was like they didn’t want to let him know what was going on. Keep him in the dark. He got some letters from Morgan who told him how his family was doing. He didn’t hear much from them himself. He did in the beginning. They were probably afraid he would ask them for money for the commissary. If they didn’t write to him they couldn’t say no. Their silence told him a lot. He was on his own.

    Morgan told him over and over she would wait for him. It was the only hope he had and he was hanging on to it for dear life. If he lost her and the baby he would have nothing to live for. He waited for every letter like it was the last letter he would get, afraid she would go on without him. Every day that passed with no letter broke him into smaller pieces. When his name was called a mail time it gave him a reason to hang on. One day at a time. That’s all he had. It wasn’t much.
     On the far end of Jamie’s 5′ by 9′ cell was a raised cement slab with no mattress that was supposed to be his bed. Not even a two inch piece of foam covered it. A folded, rancid smelling blanket was at one end. He doubted it had ever been washed. It was another way to break the inmates. Take away their humanity until they feel worthless. There was a toilet with no lid and a sink with only cold running water. A nearly empty roll of toilet paper balanced on the edge.
     If he thought the toilets smelled bad in the dormitory, that wasn’t even close to the smell in here. There was a permanent smell of piss and Lysol with the added odor of vomit and a backed up toilet that had never been cleaned. He was pretty anal about being clean, especially in this place, so this smell was an insult to his senses. 
    There was a grimy piece of polished steel for a mirror, screwed to the wall above the sink. Someone must have punched it. It was so scratched and dented it was almost impossible to see his reflection.
    A bare lightbulb stuck out from the wall next to the sink. He supposed that light was never turned off so the guards on the outside could look inside and check up on whoever was there. They didn’t have any privacy. They could watch you take a crap if they wanted to, just to embarrass you. It was a low wattage bulb, hardly enough to read by, if he had anything to read. So far no one brought him his stuff. How long would they keep him in here?
     Maybe he was better off here for awhile. Give him time to think. He needed to get his head together and figure out how he was going to handle this sentence. He couldn’t be fixin’ to beat the crap out of everyone who pissed him off. Besides, maybe if he was really good and caused no trouble they would let him out early.
     Jamie went over to the cement slab and laid down, folding his arms behind his head. There was nowhere else to sit but the floor and he didn’t think he wanted to get that close to it.
     He looked up to see a vertical, narrow window too high up to stand and look out, and too grimy to see anything. The light let him know it was still daytime. It was never daytime inside. In solitary you never knew if out was night or day if there wasn’t a window. That added to confusion and a feeling of being off balance.
     He could hear the sound of rain beating against the wire-enforced glass. When he closed his eyes and listened, the sound of the rain relaxed him. It was peaceful against the thoughts and emotions still raging through his brain. It helped clear the bad thoughts away and he felt himself begin to drift off to sleep.
     Jamie couldn’t stop his raw emotions from coming to the surface. One tear fell down the side of his face to his ear. The wetness joined with the sound of the rain running down the window pane.

 

 

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Sonni Quicks Piano Improv – YouTube videos of the music soundtrack for Inside The Forbidden Outside.

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Watch and Whirl – Sonni Quick.   This is my other blog. An odd assortment of rants and raves on a variety of subjects and music info, too.

Watch and Whirl Shop – e-commerce store set up to raise money to edit and publish the book, and help Jamie after Parole ( he has been approved but I don’t have the release date yet.)

 

Are White Men Freed After Unjust Decades in Prison?

Are white men today being freed from prison, their verdicts overturned because they were unjustly accused? Because the only accounts I read are of black men, and it takes 20-40 years to get that freedom. I think most recently of Patrick Pursely, someone I knew through through Facebook as he awaited his new trial. I’m not talking about people who got out on parole, but people who were never guilty in the first place. It is a long list.

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Today, while reading comments on my Facebook page, My Name is Jamie, there was a post about a black man who was finally released from prison after being wrongfully convicted after 40 years. A women wrote a comment about how horrible it was to go through that. A man replied to her comment and said, “It happens to white people, too, sweetie.” The term of endearment he used was intentionally inappropriate. I won’t go further into that at this time.

I went on a search. Were there multiple white people losing decades of their lives, too, because of false testimony and I just didn’t know about it? Did I unfairly think it was  black men who were being locked away with extremely long sentences because of unfair court convictions based on suppressed evidence along with a racist injustice system that doesn’t want the truth, perpetuated by racist cops wanting to get those “Ns” locked up and off the street?

In Google search I typed the words (in different ways) “White people freed from prison after decades”. At the top of the search there was an account of a white man freed after 39 years and awarded over $21 million. He was able to buy a new home and travel. 

I went to the next article. It had a number of white people in the picture and at the bottom was the head of a black man. That is who the article was about, not the white people in the photo.

I went to the next one on the list. But this was about a black man. So was the next one. I reworded my search and tried again because I wanted to know who the white men were who unfairly lost a major portion of their lives and then finally were released. I reworded my query yet again. The same list of men was brought up time and again.

I use Google a lot to learn things. When they run out of the matches to your search they will bring up “close” matches. In this case it was people of any race being released from prison, so after ONE example it started giving me black men. No other race. Only black men.

One of these black men was waiting for a $2 million settlement, and while he waited he depends on friends and $80 in food stamps (snap). Black men don’t get $21 million. If anyone knows of any other settlement else please leave me a comment and a link.

There is a difference in the way black people and white people are convicted. I am not  talking about getting a conviction overturned after a few years. I am talking about DECADES OF LOSS OF PRODUCTIVE LIFE AND LOSS OF FAMILY. Intentional imprisonment because he is black where often knowingly suppressing evidence was used to get that conviction along with the refusal to hear evidence that would have freed him.

So I need your help. Can ANYONE give examples to show the man who says it happens to white people, too? And any examples of money paid out that come come within $20 million of what this white guy got? Which means any payout over $200k. Put it in a visitors post and I’ll publish it. We need to dispel any thought that the prison system is equal for Blacks and Whites.

While still searching as I write this I found this white woman:  https://www.cnn.com/videos/crime/2014/10/11/dnt-ca-woman-freed-after-17-years.ktla/video/playlists/freed-from-prison/.

So that makes two. No one should be unjustly incarcerated. But it doesn’t compare with the unjust incarceration of the black race. Nearly 100% of sentences overturned each year are black man through a stacked and racist justice system.

Cop killers of black men who use the justification, “I was afraid for my life,” when they shoot and kill black people, and those who beat the crap out of both men and women, have been used in the killing of black people, NOT white people. I  don’t know of one case where cops used that phrase when dealing with white people. If you know of any please let me know. Please correct me if I am wrong.

The justice system needs to change. White attitudes need to change. It’s a tired story still being used and anyone still using it in the belief their race is “better” should be ashamed. Racists in all walks of life are the ones are the inferior people.

Jamie’s Parole, the Book, and Watch and Whirl

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As I insert this photo of Jamie I thought of how nice it would be to have new pictures. This is from my last visit October 2017.

My Apologies For Disappearing Lately

The last six weeks or so I haven’t posted much. Before that I spent more time writing the book instead of blog posts so most posts were chapters or music. Life got complicated and I’ve needed 36 hours a day to stay on top of it. In addition I’m going through radiation on my head for another bout of cancer. But since this blog is for Jamie I will begin with the most important news. Jamie’s parole news.

Jamie was approved for parole. I found out online before he found out. I received a letter asking me to check on the parole hearing he had LAST AUGUST, because no one would tell him anything. I’ve been in high gear ever since.

I was doubtful about him getting parole because he had nothing to work with. No trade, still in agseg and no certificates to show he had done anything to improve himself – because the prison wouldn’t let him.

There are different kinds of parole, different levels of releases, which was new info for me. It depends on the crime, or if it was for drugs and even if he had been a user, because they don’t want ex-inmates to hook up with the same people again. There are plenty of ways to get drugs in prison so if you’re an addict you don’t have to get clean. But drugs were not Jamie’s thing and he didn’t go near it inside. There are also different kinds of supervision if you are paroled, and how often you have to see a parole officer. There are also fines you might need to pay.

Parole isn’t cheap. You have to pay your parole officer each time you go. I don’t know if rules are different in each state, but I’d guess they are since everything else about incarceration is different. No prison is ever fun, but some states are REALLY not a state you want to be incarcerated in.

Jamie’s classification is Fl-1. I think it goes up to Fl-7. I contacted the women in a Facebook group called, “Loved ones in Allred Unit”, to see if anyone could answer my questions about parole. They said it would probably get a date in 1-3 months. On Facebook, some of the large prisons have groups so wives, mothers and girlfriends (and the occasional man) can communicate about what is happening at a particular prison – lockdowns, visits and even weddings. They share photos of their loved ones and often just need to talk and share their worry when they haven’t heard from someone inside. Often they are new to the prison system and have questions.

There is also a group for those incarcerated anywhere in Texas, “Loved ones in TDCJ. ” Texas Department of Criminal Justice. Allred Unit is the largest prison in Texas so there are enough people to keep a group going. Even when Jamie was moved to Hughes Unit last year for a program that really accomplished nothing, I maintained contact in the Allred group because they know who Jamie is.

Fl-1 means they have to investigate if he can survive on the outside. They contact family and make sure he has support on the outside. They don’t approve you and set you out the doors. You are moved to a “pre-release” prison where they have resources and try to prepare you – a step – down program. I am still learning what happens next. They have to make sure he has an address to parole to; family or a halfway house. Will he have a job? He had been on disability for epilepsy. Can he reapply? How does he get his epilepsy meds? He has no work history. He doesn’t even have a GED because the prison wouldn’t raise him to a classification that would allow him to take any kind of classes.

Jamie’s family haven’t helped him during these years except at the very beginning, so I wonder what they’ll do when the novelty of his release wears off. Paying his way will take even more money now. What kind of job could he get that would enable him to pay rent IF a landlord would rent to him. He will go to his brothers house who has wife and two very young children. Will his brother begrudge the time and effort support him long enough?? He wouldn’t visit him in prison.

In January of this year his brother visited him for the first time in TEN years. When I tried to convince him to visit a few years ago his response was, “Its not my fault he’s in there.” Excuse me?? Is that a reason? Ten years? Maybe it will be okay, but that attitude doesn’t make me confident. All these years his family knew I was taking care of what Jamie needed and not once did anyone say, “I’ll pay his medical fee this year,”or “I’ll buy his food box this quarter” or put money in his account, even for hygiene. Yes, I have doubts about how this will work out. They can’t pretend they were there for him. How long will his brother and wife be tolerant of Jamie being around – feeding him, buying clothing, driving him places. His brother wouldn’t help him buy a stick of deodorant at the commissary so supporting him until he gets on his feet might be more than he is willing to do. That worries me.

So I’m asking for help from anyone who will.

I wanted to be better prepared. I wanted the book to be published. I understand better what it will take to promote it. I wanted to be father along.

watchandwhirlShop

watchandwhirl.ecwid.com 

ebay.com/str/watchandwhirlshop

On Facebook, just search Watch and Whirl. I don’t have a Url yet. I am also going to be turning my WordPress blog into a business site and put the site there, too.

A few months ago I opened an online e-commerce store in three locations, selling a variety of items from things for your home, nautical furnishings, musical items, jewelry and more. I’m choosy. Some online stores have thousands of items hoping to sell a few, but I only add items I like if have in my own home.

I opened these stores because I am on disability and need to pay a story editor to go over my book manuscript for “Inside the Forbidden Outside.” I also need a line editor. I have worked for four years writing and rewritingas I have learned how to write (and still learning). There are hundreds of letters strewn across half of my bed as I cross check what happened over the years with my letters that are on file online at JPay.com which is how I “email” letters to Jamie. It takes both his letters and mine to piece together his story.

In addition, there is the music I have recorded to go with each chapter. I spent four hours today working on a new recording. This is a much longer process than sitting down and writing just the book. Although I have used fiction to piece the story together, the events that happen in the book did happen. I did have to create some of the dialogue, especially in the dream sequences I use instead of printing parts of letters.

The amount of time I have put into this, if I did a crappy job during the editing phase it would put it all in jeopardy. But I’m on disability. My age and health doesn’t allow me the luxury of working an outside job.  Writing Jamie’s story has given me a reason to keep going. It has been my purpose. We have much to do when he gets out, including writing the sequel – from 2016 until.. . . now and through reentry.

I opened a store. I’ve written about it already – Watch and Whirl – at three locations, because I desperately need to make money. My disability check doesn’t cut the mustard. I have an online location, and a store on Facebook and eBay, which also has auctions.

I had no idea how many hours it was going to take each day, or what I was going to have to learn to make it work. I’m still learning. I also don’t have the advertising budget that is needed to put out Facebook ads, which has the #1 spot for marketing businesses online.

Yes, I’ve been having some sales success, but not enough to cover the overhead I have accrued with even the monthly fees of being in business. And trying to work on finishing up the book, writing music and taking care of 2 blogs – well, there are only so many hours in each day.

So those who know what I do – and some of you have followed me for 5 years – go take a look at my store. Maybe it will be of interest. Maybe it won’t. It continues to grow and change. All of this is to help Jamie. Now that he is being paroled, the pressure to make it come together is real.

I can’t sell internationally yet, but you could share my store on Facebook on your social media pages. It is all about people sharing.

In the meantime, I have a PayPal account. If you could send even a couple dollars to help, go to paypal.com and send it to the email address set up for him: squick@mynameisjamie.net

Jamie Made Parole!!!

IMG_20180324_211754_745

I found out today that it was approved on April 21st!  I don’t have any other information. I don’t know if he a step down process to go through or how long it takes. I just know that it will soon be over.

I received a letter from him a few days ago asking me try and check on his status because they wouldn’t talk to him. I don’t even know if he knows.

It’s been so long!

Who Do I See in The Stainless Steel Mirror

Sonni Quick improv piano

I have been working a lot on music to use in the book. I have been working on this for so long – because it is more than just a book. I have talked to a number of self published authors and some have written a fair number of books  mostly fiction. They can make a story be anything they want and a character can have any personality they can create. Even though I have to fictionalize the letters I use to base Jamie’s story on there still needs to be truth. The storyline follows what he writes about – for the most part. I have letters spread all over my bed in date order so I can follow where the story goes over time. I also have to take into account the letters I wrote to him because he answers them in his letters.

I received a letter a couple days ago and I will soon write about what he said. Nothing after 2016 is in this book, it will be in the sequel. But for those who want to know what goes on behind prison walls, what he wrote about needs to be told.

I am also not leaving marketing to chance. Many don’t think about that until their book is finished. Good books are written that no one knows about because the author didn’t take the time to learn the business end.

There is so much to do. Doing it by myself makes for long days. I never have to wonder what to do on any given day! I’m never bored. So today I am promoting two new pieces of music and this is one. If you like it please share it on your social media as I attempt to get my music out while I can.

Also  come to my music page at Facebook. I also promote other very talented musicians and bands! You can also listen to everything and see all music videos at YouTube or my website: http://sonniquick.net 

http://facebook.com/sonniquickspiano 

Thank you.

 

Listen to Who Do I See in the Stainless Steel Mirror by Sonni Quick #np on #SoundCloud

Plea Bargaining: Prosecutors Leave Trail of Injustice When Playing Hardball with Defendants | Criminal Legal News

 

Plea bargains have been instrumental in filling our prisons, often forcing people to take a plea when they have been threatened with monstrous prison sentences. When you can’t afford to pay an attorney – and this is who our injustice system goes after – families end up losing a parent, son, daughter and friends.  Worst of all, the person who may have actually committed the crime gets away with it.

We all know of the racial injustice in this country and the drive to incarcerate people of color – especially the men – which then also has the effect of most of them losing the right to vote to change the system, or the ability to raise and educate their children.

Jamie was offered a 45 year plea deal the first time around. When he insisted on going to court they lowered it to 17 years, (so he would feel grateful?) and if he didn’t take it he would end up with a sentence of 50-99 years. What would you do?

He has now almost completed 13 1/2 years.  If you have followed along with any of the chapters I have posted of the book I am writing about his life inside – Inside The Forbidden Outside -you know how awful that can be, not only physically, but mentally. I received a letter three days ago about the prison he is housed in currently and I will be writing about what I learned. I promise you, if you had to live through this you would be working just as hard to try to change this system.

Source: Plea Bargaining: Prosecutors Leave Trail of Injustice When Playing Hardball with Defendants | Criminal Legal News

I’m Someone Time Forgot – Chapter From ITFO

 

Listen to I’m Someone Time Forgot by Sonni Quick #np on #SoundCloud
https://soundcloud.com/sonni-quick/im-someone-time-forgot

 

I’m Someone Time Forgot 

 

Jamie was stressed. It created a restlessness inside him he couldn’t get under control. He craved the feeling of walking. To go outside in the fresh air and push his legs to walk his full stride, and feel his arms swinging by his side. He wanted to walk with purpose because there was someplace he wanted to be.
     He wanted to walk and breathe deep until his body was exhausted. He couldn’t do that in his cell with only two full steps of walking space before he had to stop and turn around. If he was outside the cell, walking down the hallway, he could walk in a slow, shuffling stride of about twelve inches, the length of the chain between his ankles. If he went any faster he would fall on his face. Since his hands were cuffed behind his back it would be a pretty nasty fall. Even so, the more he craved walking, and couldn’t, the more stress he felt.
     He knew what Sonni would say, “Chant about it.”
Taking in deep breaths to chant was like meditating and it had a calming effect. But right now he felt too hopeless to chant because everything in his life was out of control. It was so hot and that made it hard to concentrate. How was he going to make it through the remaining years he had when he could barely make it through the day?

Earlier, Jamie asked to be taken to see the doctor because he was having bad dizzy spells. All the doctor did was tell him to get some rest. Beyond that there was nothing he could do for him. What did that fool think he did all day in a segregated cell?
     Jamie was afraid of falling. He had a couple bad falls during seisures and there were only hard things to fall on. He had some bad cuts and around here cuts got infected. The nurse always let injuries get infected before they did anything about it because they didn’t think there was any need to keep it from getting infected. Then, getting it treated by the doctor took time. Nothing ever happened fast. Infections could be prevented but they didn’t see it that way.
     The doctor don’t treat nothing until it’s about ready to kill you. He seemed to hate his job, especially the inmates, like they weren’t worth helping. He never even said hello, or anything like he hoped you would feel better soon. A smile of friendliness? Forget that. It was part of his job to make you feel like shit because you were in here.
     He didn’t like treating inmates. There were some scary ones he wouldn’t want to be around either, but he didn’t need to make sure everyone who needed to see him knew you were inferior to him because he was a doctor.
This job at the prison was probably the only job he could get. Why would you be a doctor in here if you could get a job a somewhere else? Did they even have a valid license that hadn’t been revoked?
     Jamie was lightheaded and passed out a couple times and now this fool told him that to fix it he was to go rest? Wasn’t it part of his job as a doctor to find out why it was happening, especially because of his epilepsy? Was it too far above what the prison allowed for the “adequate” medical care the law dictated. Ordering rest as a treatment didn’t cost the prison a cent. Running blood tests does. That ate into the profit they made off the inmates being here. They were kept alive with minimal food and care like other caged animals.
     Sleep was beyond him at night because all he did was toss and turn. When he finally did fall asleep he would jerk himself awake. He was sure it had a lot to do with not knowing what was happening with his family on the outside.
     He constantly thought about them, especially when he was trying not to. He hadn’t heard from no one in his family for a long time. Maybe no news was good news but he still needed to know. How was his son? Morgan wrote sometimes but she often put a lot of time between her letters.

Jamie lay on his bunk thinking about everyone he knew, one at a time. He didn’t have the mental strength to stop. When he got depressed this always pushed him further down the hole, and then he wanted to let it all go, but he couldn’t stop himself. He felt he was someone time forgot.
Out of sight, out of mind. He didn’t exist for them anymore, until he got out. No one thought about the effect it was having on him right now as he lived it.
     During these times of depression he always said he was going to give up, cut them off and never write to nobody again. He said that over and over through the years. He needed to hear from the people in his life who knew he was in here and that rarely happened. Almost no one took the time to do that to let him know they cared or write to tell him what was going on out there. No one cared that little Jamie needed him. Being in prison made it doubly hard for his son. He needed a relationship with his dad. All this made him terribly lonely.
     He was worried about Morgan. She was working two jobs. She had no choice with kids to take care of. He needed to be able to do his part and couldn’t, and that made him feel guilty.
     Sonni was sick and that was probably why she hadn’t written or come to see him in her dreams. Maybe she was saving her strength. Not knowing, he could only guess when it was time for her to get the liver transplant she was waiting for. She wouldn’t know until the last minute, so there wouldn’t be time to tell him.
     When too much time passed between letters he always worried the time had finally come, that she was in the hospital and no one would be there with her except her husband. No blood family. A time when family should be there to wait for her to wake up and know she was okay – to support her and make her feel loved. He knew deep down that this was going to happen. No matter what differences there were, her family should be there. They didn’t live too far away. The writing was on the wall and he felt bad about that. He knew what it felt like and would there if he could. He knew he would.

This was the worst thing that kept him awake at night, tossing and turning. It seemed to him that family thought they had the right to hurt you the most. It was important to him and important to Sonni to be there for each other. It’s hard to go through things like this and be alone. It messes up your head and makes you feel helpless to not be able to help. If only he could shut off the thoughts.
     He liked calling her Mom. She knew he needed family and because she was his son’s grandmother they really were connected like they were family. It meant a lot to him because she stuck by someone like him the way she did. Some people look down on people in prison and treat them bad even after they get out like they weren’t already punished enough. She didn’t see him as a bad person. She never tried to make him feel bad. If she wanted, she could be angry at him because he did something that made her daughter’s life hard, but she didn’t. Now she was the only connection he could count on who always remembered he was here.
     Now she needed him to be there and he wasn’t good for nothing and was letting her down, too. He loved her because she took the time to be good to him. He wanted to do the same for her.
     It wasn’t unusual to hear this same story in here. He heard it plenty of times. Family stopped writing or visiting, or the drive was too long, or they got tired of being asked for money, like somehow the inmates found a way to get the things they needed without doing something that could have far reaching consequences. So they stopped answering letters. Maybe they didn’t want to know what was happening inside. Maybe they couldn’t scrape together twenty bucks between them to put on his account. A lot of dudes were on their own with no help. He had Sonni. He would never forget that.
     Jamie knew his family hadn’t stopped loving him. They just didn’t know how to show it. Maybe they took his love for granted. He would love them no matter if they wrote. And he would, he always would, but it was hard to keep making excuses their absence. He knew they had their own problems to deal with. He wanted to know what was going on in their lives and they didn’t tell him. But he knew what was going on Sonni’s life because they wrote to each other. He could pray for her about that and feel like he did something to help because he needed to do something besides sit here.
     Whether someone prayed to God or simply prayed and put it out there, it was the focus of the prayer and the mental energy that went into it that mattered the most. So he prayed urgently that she was okay. He needed her to be okay. He didn’t want to be without her. She was all he had.

Jamie looked up at the sound of banging on the cell doors. It broke into his thoughts and he stood up to go stand at the door. It was time for the meal cart to bring dinner. It had lots of shelves with trays stacked on top of trays. He was hungry tonight. There hadn’t been much for the mid day meal except two baloney sandwiches with nothing but a slice of meat and cheap bread. That wasn’t enough for a man his size.
     He thought about a real sandwich. Lots of meat, tomato and lettuce, two slices of cheddar cheese with lots of mayo and pickles, too – and chips. That made him hungry. He laughed a little. He shouldn’t torture himself like that.
It had been a good while since he had a hot meal. No matter what they brought to eat it was always cold when it was put through the slot. Sometimes he thought they never heated the meals at all.
     The trays were prepared ahead of time and kept frozen in big freezers in the kitchen and were brought to them just as they were. They couldn’t prepare them at mealtime. How were they going to serve hot food to all the inmates? Were they going to heat them up in microwaves, or prepare trays one at a time like they would at a hospital? Fat was congealed on the meat like it hadn’t been heated again. It was bland, no seasoning of any kind. It was horrible food and he was always afraid of getting sick eating it.
     The dudes in gen pop ate hot meals because they walked to where it was served. He was trying to get back to G4 so he could walk to chow. In the chow hall it was important to have eyes in the back of your head because you never knew who was gong to start trouble with you, but it was worth it for a hot meal. It wasn’t exactly fine dining but it was better than what was slid through the food slot.
     Jamie had lost a lot of weight since he was locked up because he couldn’t choke down a lot of what was given to him to eat because it was so bad. No use complaining about it, though. It wouldn’t change anything. Jamie looked down at himself. It was getting hard to keep his pants up. He hadn’t been this skinny since he was a kid, and he was chubby then, too.
     He heard laughing and the bang of a food slot slamming shut a few cells down.
     “Oh, you thought you was gettin’ food tonight?” he heard one of guards say, laughing.
     “I’m sorry,” he added sarcastically, drawing out the words. “I guess they forgot about you in the kitchen.”
     A few seconds later he heard, “Too bad if you’re hungry. It’s not my fault. It’s too late to go get more. I’m not your servant and I’m not going to make a trip to the kitchen just for you.”
     The guard’s voice started to get a threatening edge to it because the dude in the cell wouldn’t quit talking and getting louder, too. The guard only worked here. He didn’t make the rules. If he wanted to keep his job he did what he was told, and he was told to bring food to only some of the inmates. Was he supposed to care if they were hungry? They were fucking criminals. They should be glad he brought them anything at all. Sometimes he felt like a goddam babysitter.
     “So I guess it’s no dinner for you tonight,” the guard sneered as he turned to walk away. “You’ll have to wait until morning. Deal with it,” and continued on to the next cell.
     His drawn out Texas twang had a nasally sound like he had a marble stuck up his nose. It grated on Jamie’s nerves like hearing fingers scraping up a chalkboard.
He could hear the dude in the cell raise his voice, calling him every name he could think of, but that only made the guard laugh. He turned around and stood there, far enough away from the door, hands on his hips where he couldn’t be reached through the bars. What a dick.

Jacking their food happened at at least for one meal a getting food. There was no reason for this. Messing with the inmates might feel like a sport to the guards but it would end up causing a lot of problems for all of them. You can only push people just so far before they come back at you.
     The guards were finding ways to make the segregation inmates miserable. No one was going to stop them. They were probably encouraged to do it. Even if they all filed a grievance about it nothing would come of it.
     It didn’t do it at every meal, but it happened enough times to make them all worried about being hungry. The food might not be worth feeding a dog, but it was the only food they had. Sometimes, when they brought a tray half the food was missing when they put it through the slot.
Some of the dudes planned to get even with the guards because they had nothing to lose if they got in more trouble. Some were going to be here for most, if not all of their lives anyway. They didn’t care.
     The day before, an inmate cut an officer pretty bad when he didn’t get his food. A lot of these dudes had a weapon of some sort they had made. They could get creative when finding materials they could sharpen and turn into a something they could stab into someone. This dude was waiting for just the right time and he cut him. He was lucky he didn’t kill him. What did the guards expect? They thought they could be assholes and no one would try to get even? These dudes had all the time in the world to plan what they were going to do.
     Fires were set inside the cells and there were no fires extinguishers anywhere to put them out. It caused a lot of chaos and it was a mess to clean up. Others flooded the halls by stopping up the toilets and overflowing the sinks. It stank in here. The heat made it worse. Imagine breathing in that stink with every breath you take and you can’t get away from it.
     Jamie didn’t want to be included when the officers retaliated so he drank a lot of water when they passed him by with no food and didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to react emotionally. It wouldn’t do no good. It wouldn’t make them bring him food, so he was better off in the long run if he just let it pass.
     Joining in when they started getting crazy wasn’t a good idea, either. He tried to stay cool. The last thing he wanted was to do something stupid he would later regret that could get him written up or have more time added to his sentence.
     That is where this was headed if it didn’t stop. He guessed that was what Sonni meant when she wrote about cause and effect. What he chose to do right now could affect his future and he needed to make the right choices.
     The officers were taking it out on everyone on account of that guard getting cut. It wasn’t right, making all of them pay because of what one dude did, but that is the way they did things in here. There is no justice on the outside and there is damn sure no justice on the inside.
     Jamie tried to do his best to cope with everything, but sooner or later he knew something would happen. Things got crazier every day as it got hotter. Tempers rose. Days went by. Hopefully things wouldn’t get any worse.

The next month didn’t get any better. Each day was like the one before it. When the heat started rising in March everyone knew it was fixin’ to be a long, bad summer. No way they were going to spend the money for AC unless they were made to do it legally.
     Money the prisons paid out to families 11 people died was less than the cost of installing an AC or heating system. The winners cold get pretty cold, too. There were a few articles written each year but nothing was done and when it got hot the next year they wondered if would be bad enough to make the prisons fix it. The newer prisons were built with it, but not the older ones.
     Jamie passed out from the heat one year. When someone gets that hot, and they haven’t been given their meds every day, it puts those people in danger who have high blood pressure or diabetes and other illnesses like him with epilepsy. But it keeps happening.
     This year bad heatwaves were happening everywhere in the country, even up north. It seemed like it was getting worse every year. It was up over a hundred for weeks. That meant it was doubly hot for inmates in the south.

It was mid July and Jamie hadn’t heard from Sonni in more than a month. She had been saying the doctors told her to expect July would be her turn for a transplant because she was getting close to the top of the transplant list, but there wasn’t an exact day and all kinds of things could go wrong.
     The reason she moved up the list so fast is because two cancer tumors were growing in her liver. If one more developed they would take her off the list because her chance of surviving the transplant would be less. If one got out of the liver it would over, too.
     He wished he knew why she hadn’t written. If something happened, what if no one told him? The more he thought about it the more he worried. Add to it that it was so hot breathing was an effort and the water that came out of the faucet was rank. Terrible as it was he couldn’t drink enough of it. He couldn’t drink enough of it because he was so dehydrated.
     There was nothing to do and nothing new to read. He didn’t feel like re-reading his books again or more time so he took out his letters and began reading them from the beginning. They were in order by the date so it was almost like reading a book. Some of the letters were almost memorized. He knew all the good parts. He held the images they created in his mind and tried to imagine living inside the stories.
     He laid back down on his bed and had almost fallen asleep when he heard the mail cart outside his door along with his name being called.
     “Cummings. Mail.”
     Jamie jumped off his bunk and moved the few feet to the door. A Jpay letter was pushed through the slot. He thought it was from Sonni until he looked closer. It was from her sister, but she must have used Sonni’s Jpay account. He recognized her first name.
     The waiting was over. It was finally over. The relief was overwhelming. She had the liver transplant two weeks ago and was home now. She hadn’t been able to write or type, that is why he didn’t hear from her. He was right in feeling so unsettled. He had been worried about her because he didn’t go this long without hearing from her, but she was okay. The stress of waiting was finally over. They had talked about the transplant happening for a long time.
     The letter was dated, July 17th, 2012 and this is what her sister wrote:

“Sonni has asked me to write to you. She finally had her liver transplant on Sunday July 1. The six-hour surgery went well. She spent 10 days in the hospital and they have finally sent her home to start the slow healing process. Her recovery is amazing. She wants a normal life so bad.
When I visited her on Saturday she told me she had received a letter from you. It will be some time before she can sit at her computer but she wanted you to know her long wait and surgery were finally over. She looks like my sister again, not a puffed up marshmallow. I know from our talks she cares alot about you and she didn’t want you to worry.

Take care and I know she will write herself as soon as she is able.”

On August 6, he got his first letter from her. He could tell it wasn’t easy for her to type. He was relieved to finally hear from her. Life was going to be rough for her for awhile but she made it this far and the transplant was over now.

” dear jamie-im getting a little better every day. slow and hard. i tried 2 send u money but my card was out of date. i have 2 call 4 a replacement. im learning how to walk n talk all over again. i am bored we each have a cell but i know that yours is much worse. i chanted nam myoho renge kyo so hard in my head-screamed it. pain meds dont work on me and i have felt everything they did 2 me.but ive turned a corner n its a little better. i think of u every day hoping u werent 2 worried. everyone has their own choices and does things that cause unhappy things to happen. my grandfather taught me from childhood – To thine OWN SELF be true. no one can know u really. some think once a loser always a loser. that isn’t true because i guess that would makes me a loser 2 – former drug addict and all that comes with it. i just didnt get caught. u arent a loser. neither am i. i have to go. nurse is here. be good! Mom”

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