The Crack Riot Chronicles by Mark Anthony Given

prison writing, true crime, crack cocaine, crack riot, bureau of prisons, fci marriana,

IT IS A BEAUTIFULL 77 DEGREES at the

Federal Correctional Facility at Marianna,

Florida, and small whiff from the Gulf of Mexico,

99 miles due south can be discerned, but not

from in here. It's at least 125 degrees in a 14 by

10 foot room that was once a janitor closet but

now suffices as the Exercise Room, just big

enough for six Schwinn Airdyne exercise bikes all

going at once. From here with my headphones

rocking and a huge auditorium box fan circulating

the funk, I can see George Martorano across two

glass enclosures into the Art's & Crafts Room,

painting his thirtieth attempt at the Perfect

Mother Mary to take him away from this awful

place. Dude plead guilty on advise of his attorney

thinking he’d get 10 maybe 20 years at most.

First time non-violent offense the Federal

Sentencing Guidelines called for 5 year sentence

and the government “stood silent.” Meaning it

was up to the judge. But because he had a big

Italian name and the newspapers were full of real

mobsters killing each other, the heartless judge

sentenced George to LIFE WITHOUT PAROLE!
           BLACK FOLKS WENT OFF in the late

'90 over the new Crack Law being upheld by the

US Supreme Court, effectively sealing the fate on

a whole generation of young black folks... I have

been in the middle of more than one prison riot

and this one was quite serious. Because of the

Cuban Riots in the late 80’s, the Bureau of

Prisons had removed all free weights and replaced

them with these exercise bikes and stationary

equipment. My celli was a little black guy named

Joseph Davenport who grew up on the Gulf

Coast. He had a string of crack houses and night

clubs that got him 17 years in federal prison

without parole despite never having been caught

with anything. When I came back from the hole

after the Cop on the Compound deal, Joe

approached me in the center of the unit where

the new fish slept on Army cots until a bunk came

available. I took a little heat for bunking with a

black guy but I knew Joe was quite and clean. I

didn't know it at the time but his angle was to get

me to read his trial transcripts after the Crack

Riots when we were locked down for nearly two

months eating sack lunches and boiled eggs.. Joe

told me a week in advance they were going to

“go-off” because he knew I was crazy about not

losing my legal material. People trusted me to

read their briefs or transcripts and if I lost them

it would not be good. I had been paying several

people .25 per name of every informant they ran

across in the Federal Reporters and Federal

Supplements. I would take five minutes to show

them how to comb through the cases looking for

certain words then record the names and cases

they appeared in. I had hoped to establish a web

site for attorneys’ to access before questioning a

informant on the stand. The government liked to

use the good informants as almost show ponies

and they would work several cases all over the

country. When you asked one on the stand if he

has ever testified in any other criminal matters

and he says no, it could be years before his name

appears in print. But I already have it. I probably

had 300 pages (25 names and citations on each

page!) of that to protect, a lengthy porn

collection and a stack of appellate briefs two feet

high. People on the compound knew that I bought

briefs. If your case was over and that stuff was

just taking up space under your bunk, I wanted it;

I must have had close to a hundred. I’d give

them a few bucks for it, depends on how fat it is

(My prized possession as 175 page CCE

(Organized Crime) government TRIAL BRIEF

from EDNY USA Office).
              I HAD A PILLOW CASE FULL of

appeallate briefs and legal papers in plastic bags

and working on the Yard when All Hell Broke

Loose about about 9:15 in the morning. The Yard

is generally a good catch for convicts; pick up a

few cigarette butts and spend the rest of the day

walking the track and working out. I was finishing

up my hour straight on the exercise bike before

the next Movement, when a group of black guys

started swinging make-shift curling bars at Safety

Glass with metal mesh in it, because it was the

only thing breakable. End Part One the Crack

Riot Chronicles Copyright 2011 by Mark Anthony

Given