seven

Jail stories

Hansen and Ramirez walk pass the basketball court for the twentieth time, and surprised, they stare at the room in front of them, astonished, not knowing what to do for sure.

“I think we should tell her,” Ramirez says.

“Yo, C.O.!”  Hansen screams loudly getting the attention of the female at the podium. “These fellas over here are fighting!”

“And there’s a lot of blood.” Ramirez adds.

 

But it wasn’t like that how the story begins.

Meet inmates  5097853 and 90443518 also known as Brady and Murphy, both nineteen year old white males. They both came from different modules and from totally opposite backgrounds, as most of inmates are. Locked up in Room 7 in this module forced them to enjoy each other’s company. They weren’t best friends, but at least they didn’t have any problems getting along either. While skinny blond Brady took an extra milk, short brunet Murphy insulted a C.O., their reasons as for their being locked up. Two different personalities, yet they found common ground: Latina girls. Murphy loved them because they are freaks in bed, while Brady wanted to marry one because of their well-founded family values.

“no s**t man! I think you’re one of the Brady Brunch kids.” Murphy laughed. Brady did too. “I’m gonna call you Blondy with a Y.”

During their half hour outside their room, when everyone else had gone to their room, Blondy rants on the phone and keeps trying to reach his family. Yet, no one would accept the call. He couldn’t make debit calls because he had no money in his book. He has to one to turn to, he started to realize. The reasons he didn’t know, but it hurt. There was a burning sensation in his throat every time the operator said his phone call had not been accepted. Murphy continued to tell him he should give up.

“They’re sleeping,” Blondy replied. “They didn’t hear the phone ring.”

He’s stupid, Murphy thought as he turned around and walked away. Blondy had gambled not only his trust fund, but his twin brother’s as well, and he expects to be forgiven overnight? He’s dumb. Murphy laughed out loud to himself. Anything but to think about his own case. He showered, he watched TV, he talked to the C.O., he walked around, he played basketball. Anything but check his book because he know that he was on his own this time.

You went too far, his father said when the cops showed up at the house. The disappointment in his eyes and the crack in his voice was visible, and they stung Murphy’s heart because there was a time when their father-son relationship was good. He would come home from school and help his tired old man to do the house chore. It was only the two of them, and eleven-year-old Tristan. It had been like that for almost a year since the mother had passed away with cancer.

The house wasn’t fancy and their clothes weren’t expensive, but they were happy. As happy as they knew how to be. Someday,  Murphy would be a good doctor, the Dad thought at night; he will not only still be my little Tyler, but also M.D. Murphy. The idea kept both positive in life. However, college is expensive, and bills need to get paid. The janitor job the dad had was not enough; and the BK job that (then Tyler) Murphy held didn’t help much either. And it came down to the choice that got him sentenced to five years in jail for attempt of robbery.

I did it for you, Dad. Murphy said as he was taken away, handcuffed, crying. The blurry image of this father and younger brother at the door is the one that hurts the most. But nothing of this he tells to Blondy. He cannot show his soft side. If anyone asked, he continued to say he had a bad life and he’s been on the streets since he can remember.

“Bullshit,” Blondy called him out early that day before their fight. He dared to say that Murphy was just bluffing.

“Not everyone has Daddy’s trust funds to rely on, pretty boy.” Murphy exclaimed as he sat up on his bunk and leaned forward to watch his roommate in the bottom bunk. “In the real world, people actually have to go out there and look for a job.”

“You have a good vocabulary for a thug, though.” Blondy remarked.

“Well, I’m smart. Just because I steal and s**t means that I’m stupid.” Murphy exclaimed, a little offended. He considers himself an intelligent person. He worked hard enough to get where he was in school. A couple of scholarships for academics.

“Not smart enough to not get caught,” Blondy blurted out laughing.

“I had to do it, okay!” Murphy yelled, jumping off the bed to face Blondy. “We were going to lose the house.” Busted!

Tyler Bo Murphy came out, and so did the tears. Allthe frustration and pain he had been hiding for the past month and a half flooded his face, and Murphy couldn’t do anything to stop them. It actually made him feel better, he realized.

“I’m sorry, man.” Blondy said apologetically.

“I don’t need your f*****g sympathy.” Murphy turned around to face him after heading to the sinck to hide and wash off his tears. “You obviously don’t care about your family, s**t!”

“I said I’m sorry, ok? Lets just leave at that.” Blondy backed into the wall, walking away from Murphy. He notices then a couple of guys walking by the window.

“You should give up on calling your family. They don’t want to know anything from you, don’t you f*****g get it?”

“Stop Murphy. I’m sorry I said the wrong thing, ok? Let’s calm down.” Blondy repeats once more.

“Now you want to cool it? Where’s Mr. Badass? No wonder you got caught with weed. Can’t do anything right!”

“Stop it, Murphy”

“You know what? I think your family framed you to get rid off of your lazy a*s.”

“Shut the f**k up!” Blondy, full with anger and frustration, pushes murphy against the wall. He was warned, and he’s now getting his middle class a*s kicked. Murphy reacts to the shove by throwing himself onto Blond, punching away. Blondy has no chance to get off this bunk on time so he just covers his head from the rain of strong fists hitting him left and right.

From what seems to be a long time, and from far away, Blondy hears commotion. He recognizes the C.O.’s voice shouting orders. Go to your rooms NOW! Immediate footsteps are heard throughout the module as the inmates run to their cells while the C.O. calls code blue on the walkie-talkie.

Blondy’s ears ring  and burn at the same time. He cannot differentiate pain from noise. He is losing track of time. But he gets a last chance to kick back as police officers pull Murphy’s off him.

“I’ll f*****g kill you, Blondy!” Murphy yells as he’s dragged out of the module. “Family is to be respected, you son of a b***h! I’ll kill you!” Murphy doesn’t see the irony of his words, as himself dared to bring up Blondy’s family. But Blondy doesn’t hear all the nonsense; he’s being attended to stop his broken nose.

The phone rings several times until the C.O. gets to the podium to answer. That sucks, she thinks as she hangs up. Murphy had a visit. It was his father. 

Author's Note

If I get a bunch of reviews and views on this, I will add the rest of my stories I wrote while in jail. I've saved the best. Please, read and share and do whatever you kids do. Thanks!

Reviews

This was amazing. i want to read the rest that you have written. I liked the back ground and how you showed both sides of the story and how you hinted it. Great job.

[Green]

Very well written. I like that it's as depressing and ironic as life often turns out to be at the most inopportune times.