Why did you die when I killed you? (The Jeffery Asbury story)

It was a spine-tingling murder that occurred within a small Wisconsin community; where for some of its local residents it was said to be a crime of passion; one that simply escalated out of control. But it was the louder voices of the general public that cried-out for justice saying, that this egregious act of violence was a blatant case of outright cold-blooded murder, committed at the hands of a cold-blooded sadistic killer.

To-which the a-fore mentioned incident happened on an otherwise balmy Sunday evening of March 11, 2007 where at 4:15 pm in the state of Wisconsin in the county of Dodge, in the Town of Fox Lake where it was a breaking news report by a beautiful Asian female reporter who stood-fast before her camera crew following the interruption of the local news programming schedule in order to inform the viewing audience, that her follow-up report was about an all too-familiar case of domestic violence; one that once again ended in udder tragedy, and of all places to which she further stated after a momentary pause; for a murder of this magnitude to occur; inside of your fox lake police department she went-on to conclude. But then after her awkward emotional response; as if she suddenly remembered a time in her own past where she herself, or someone close to her, had been the victim of a similar domestic abuse incident, but then she proceeded rigorously like the journalist trooper she was with her public announcement ; saying that the details leading up to this grizzly murder report was guaranteed to leave (you) her viewing audience with a bit of a gritty after-taste in their mouths.

Where according to the clock on the wall just above the guards station, it was 5:45 p.m, which for me and the other inmates, that only meant that it was 15 minutes to chow, and as I stood there leaning against the iron door of my pod cell breathing against the small port Plexiglas window with very little enthusiasm about being fed another state stank a*s meal, but really; what was I gonna do; starve?

After-all I was just 4 months in on a 3 to5 year prison sentence, and I still had a long ways to go and a lot to learn about trying to survive inside of the prison system.

It was from the second floor tier that I could clearly view the full spectrum of the emptiness of a once over-crowded day-room; where for me looking out at it now only reminded me that it was just another surreal day in passing. It was out of my small port window that I could see the entire floor plan. From one end of the wall where the guard’s station was located just below me, all the way down to the other end of the pod’s wall, and located about 2ft before that wall was where the TV. was mounted on one of those TV extended bracket in the so-called designated TV. Room. Which in itself which consisted of a TV., two; two-seated couches and four eating chairs in a wide open area as it kinda reminds me of the time Al Bundy went on vacation by roping off the couch area, where everyone even though they could see him, were somehow supposed to be convinced that he was away on vacation, sitting on a beach in-front a hotel as he simulated relaxing and enjoying the serenity of the waves.

It didn’t take long (4 months) for me to notice how often the other prisoners clicked among themselves in their own individual clans, gangs, and or groups just like an everyday run of the mill backyard barbecue gathering; but to me looking on as a first timer, I found it easy to label them as being institutionalized, yet hindered more on the side of a prison pattern of familiarity and complacency, especially for those who obviously had been there through the system more than a few times before. But all in all the bottom line was the end game, and the end game clearly states that you do what you have to do in order to survive in a prison world.