Back in 1993 and 1996, I received a DWI; one in Burlington, NC and the other in Charlotte, NC.  Needless to say I had to lawyer up both times, but the second time was worse because I received a year suspended sentence, 7 days jail-time, and 72 hours of community service; not that I did not deserve it because I did.  I was glad I got stopped both times because I could have killed someone.  However, I did not finish my community service, nor did I show up for my jail time.

I was mad; mad at myself for getting into this predicament, and mad at the world because I was depressed with how my life was going.  I used to say that I was rebelling against the world and not God; but in hindsight I believe the two go hand and hand.  Maybe you do not rebel against the world without rebelling against God because I had other messed up priorities other than following Jesus, and I was about to learn a hard lesson for living my own sinful life.

After my community service fell through, my probation officer called me in for a meeting.  He said, “You didn’t show up for your community service.”  Although I did show up the first time, and an elementary school principal had me sweeping sidewalks outside, and then had me shovel mulch over the side of his truck which made my back hurt.  After that day I thought, “I am done!”  So I answered my probation officer; I said, “Yea I could not get there because I did not have a ride.  My probation officer said, “I would crawl there if I had to.”  After he said this, I was thinking. “Yea, you want me to walk a few miles in an over-populated city with not enough sidewalks to do my community service?”

Then, I decided to say to my probation officer, “why is everyone being so mean to me?”  He said, “Who is being mean to you?  I said, “You, the lady in charge of my community service; you guys are treating me like a convict.”  Then my probation officer asked me, “Do u want to do your jail time?”  I said, “Not really.”  Then my probation officer asked me. “Have you ever been to prison?”  I said, “No.”  He told me to come to court the next Wednesday, and I said, “Okay.”

Truth be told, I did not think much about it.  I had it in my head I would not go to prison, but I was not in my right mind at the time; like I said I was mad at the world and I did not care if I went to prison.  In fact, I wanted to go to prison because I needed a break from my life.  As it turned out, I got more than I bargained for.

It was September 1996, when I showed up in court, and I noticed my probation officer was sitting behind me.  I had not told a soul about this court appearance; not my parents, not my room mate, no one.  When the judge finally called my name I stood up, and he went through what I had failed to do on probation.  Unfortunately I had broke my probation, and that year suspended sentence I had received just became activated.  With the sound of the judge’s gavel an officer came over and put handcuffs on me and took me through a door in the back of the courtroom; all I could think was, “Here I go.”

They took my my mug shot, they took my clothes and personal belongings and gave me blue scrubs to put on.  Then, they took me in a room that had about four cells on the left side, and one big cell on the right with a shower.  This was my first time in an actual jail, and the guys that were already in there were shouting things at me and laughing. One guy asked me what I was in for and I replied, “DWI”, and he called me a drunk.   I was in a cell with four bunks and three guys.  I did not say much at all to the other guys; I just laid in my bunk because frankly, I was scared.

After a couple of days I got a little more use to the cell; I started talking more, cracking jokes and what not.  I noticed when the officers came in some of the guys were asking the officers if they could find out how long they would be there, so I asked one of the officers if they could find out how long I would be in there.  When the officer came back, he handed me a small piece of paper that said,”DOC(Department of Corrections).”  A guy I had been talking to said,”You are going to prison!”  I knew I would be in jail for seven days and then I would be shipped somewhere to the Department of Corrections.  I knew I was about to embark on a journey I did not want to be on, however, I had put myself in this position; this is what I wanted , right?

After seven days in a concrete jungle, my time had finally come.  An officer gave me back my clothes and they took me and another guy and put handcuffs on out wrists and shackles on our feet.  As I walked outside to a patrol car I felt as if I were in a movie, but this was one character I did not want to portray.  The officer drove us to a prison in Salisbury, NC.  It was there where they took blood test and what not.  They made me strip, underwear and all, and they gave me white boxers, a green shirt and pants to put on; so, it was official: I was an inmate.

When I walked inside the building, there was rap music blaring from the televisions, and as I looked around I noticed the other inmates staring at me; they must have been thinking, “Fresh meat, huh?”  They took me through another building and showed me to a bunk and a locker.  As I put my stuff in my locker I noticed there was an inmate behind me looking into my locker to see what he could take, but I didn’t want to say anything; I knew I had to avoid trouble so I would not have time added to my sentence.  The worst thing about it is that I had no idea how long I would be in there.  I just knew I had to keep my nose clean.

Once I got settled in, I walked out on to the yard and I noticed a telephone booth, so the first thing I did was walk inside the phone booth; I made a collect call to my parents house, and my father answered the phone.  I told him I wanted to let him know that I was in prison, and all he could say at first was, “What?”  I explained what was going on, and after his shock wore off a little he said in the most fatherly way possible, “Keep your nose clean.”  I told him I would and that I would be okay.  It was so good to hear his voice inside of a phone booth surrounded by uncertainty.

The days lingered on, and my parents would send me money and I would buy cigarettes from the canteen to help pass the time.  I made a few so-called friends while I was there; I would go to church and sing with the nice ladies who volunteered their time, and I cried every song; I asked God for forgiveness for allowing myself into this unfortunate situation I was in.  Church always made me feel better, but I was just living day to day, and I was trying not to let anyone get me into trouble.  One inmate sat beside me and smoked a joint which I did not appreciate, but I did not want to become a recluse.

I have to admit that the DOC in Salisbury was not that bad; I got mail from Grandma Tilley, my parents were sending me enough money to buy what I wanted, and no one really bothered me.  I engaged in games of volley ball, and I even pumped iron.  I even volunteered to lay pine straw outside of the fence; but while I was out there I could not help but wonder how far I would get if I made a run for it.  The DOC in Salisbury was almost like a resort, except you know, no freedom.

To much of my dismay, Salisbury was where I was processed and I stayed for one month.  I was transferred to Duplin County DOC, and it was basically a nightmare there.  The worst part was being shipped there; I was on a bus with inmates I did not know, and the bus took us to a place where they held us prisoners until it was time to go to our next destination.  They held us in what the inmates referred to as “The Bull Pen.”  It is called the bull pen because it was so packed; there was barely room to stand, and I saw some unspeakable acts inside there that I can not forget.

When I first walked in, I walked into the wrong pen; once I stopped and turned around, I noticed all the inmates around me were wearing beige which meant felony; an inmate next to me said I think you are in the wrong place, and I said, “No kidding” as I walked away.  Being in the bull pen and standing for hours would only be the beginning.  Once they finally called my name, I boarded another bus, and the trip to Duplin County was around three hours.

When we arrived, I was nervous because I did not know what to expect, and as it turned out, it was for good reason; I was on my own.  The only reason anyone would talk to me was because they wanted to bum a cigarette, and being the nice guy that I am, I always shared.  I often bought cigarettes from another inmate, and I would pay him back once my money came in.  The inmates at Duplin County were different; they were not very nice, but I kept my guard up and my nose clean.

I used to be an avid runner, so I spent a lot of my time running around the yard to stay in good physical condition.  The building I was in was not half bad, until they moved me to  another building after talking with a counselor.  The counselor wanted me to take a course, and when I said no, he asked, “Why?”  So I decided to take auto mechanics since I never took it in high school.  The inmates in my new building were not nice at all; my bunk mate once yelled at me for standing in the light; he said it was hurting his eyes.

One night while I was sleeping hard, someone grabbed me by the throat and punched me in the face.  At first I thought it was a bad dream until I noticed my nose was swollen; it must have knocked me out.  I knew who did it; it was this inmate who had been staring at me a lot, so I just stared right back at him.  Then I learned that staring someone down in prison is considered a challenge, but I would not retaliate.  I simply went to the guard office and asked them to move me back to the building I was in to begin with; when the guard asked why, I told him what happened.  I said, “First it is a punch in the face, next time may be a shank in the back.”  So he let me move back to my old building.

Auto mechanics class was pretty fun; I really liked the teacher, and I got along well with everyone in the class.  One day the teacher asked me what are you doing in here?  I told him I don’t know, and then I told him about getting punched in the face.  As soon as I told him about the punch, he made a phone call to a lady he knew, and when he hung up the phone he said,”Your file has been placed on top, so you will be out of here soon.”  I will be eternally grateful to that teacher and what he did for me.

My family did come visit me while I was at Duplin County, and I will be eternally grateful to them for taking the long drive just to see me.  They gave me a sense of normalcy, and with every thing that was going on, I needed it.  The hard part about seeing them was having to say goodbye.  I can still see me standing there as they drove away; I felt lost and alone.  Eventually, good news came, and I found out I would be shipped to DWI School; I had been in prison for three months, and I would spend one month at DWI School before I would get to go home.  Plus, I would get to wear my own clothes at the school, which made me start feeling normal again, and not like some inmate.

The DWI School was different; each morning we were given a chore to complete.  Then we had counseling sessions and meetings.  The school was set up like a college campus, and it was a moment I was just staring out of the window next to my bunk that I knew I wanted to go to college.  I will never forget my last day; I heard my father’s Chevy truck coming around the corner; it sounded like thunder and the cavalry coming to my rescue.

Back then, statistics showed 70 percent of inmates would return to prison; I made a promise to myself that I would be part of the 30 percent that would not return.  So far, so good!  I will never forget my time in prison; considering where I was in my life at that particular time, I think it was something I had to go through.  I regret drinking and driving, and I will never, ever do it again because I do not drink anymore.  Personally, I think drinking is overrated, but to each their own.

Well, I hope you liked this story considering where it took place.  Feel free to check back later to see what else I might write about.

Take Care, and God bless!

Chris