MONEY LAUNDERER by Kenneth Rijock
Today we shall continue on with my typical, ordinary Federal Prison day, as patiently endured by for yours truly for a little less than two years. I spent more time in the US Army than I did in prison, and in the military your adversaries have a bad habit of shooting rockets at you at sundown, but being in custody, though generally safer, is terminally boring to anyone in the professions. Street-level drug organisation members can go lift weights, watch and infinite amount of television whilst not on work details, and share embellished tales with their brethren about their favourite wild escapades, but the doctors, lawyers, judges and politicians who were doing time were usually bored to tears. Fortunately, I found a few ways to amuse myself. Let's talk about those after we complete a description of my work-day routine.
- My day job in the Education Centre broke mid-day for lunch, and it was back to that military mess hall, though not so crowded, as most of the inmates were out for the day on work details on the air force base. Some inmates were not allowed out of the camp because they had testified against their associates in criminal trials, and could be killed whilst out on the base. Other preferred the easy routine that intra-camp work provided; Eglin's size, taking up the better part of three counties in Florida, meant commutes to more remote part of the base. Also, you didn't get hot food if you were out in the weeds somewhere cutting grass alongside a long runway, or at a special operations training camp in the woods.
- After the break, back to teaching high school dropouts how to master basic algebra, so that they would be able to ultimately pass the equivalency test. For a person who hated mathematics in school with a passion, it was a switch to play instructor, and I must admit, very satisfying when my former students would return later to the classroom with the state diplomas that had been mailed to them. For good reason, there was no indication on the document indicating where they had received their training; a generic high school diploma was issued.
- The days. having started very early, ended before the work-day we commonly participate in on the "outside," after which there is one of the day's many headcounts. Since the prison dormitories have no bars, nor do the boundaries have fences or barbed wire to contain the inmates, they are accounted for through a constant series of headcounts, so that proof of custody can be reported up the chain of command. Talking or clowning around during these exercises, where one must stand in front of his bunk in silence, results in disciplinary action, for the guards cannot afford to lose count in midstream. They always counted in pars, and compared notes later.
- Escape was easy, just walk past the yellow line painted around much of the camp, and you were on the air force base, or in the shallow bayou, which led directly to the Gulf of Mexico. Of course, what generally deterred most inmates was the fact that escape was itself a five-year felony upon conviction, and since many of the prisoners were serving shorter terms, if you were apprehended, you would end up doing more time than you originally had to serve. Not a good idea, unless you were in real fear of an additional indictment coming down against you that could result in a long sentence.
- Also, if you were ever involved, in any way, in an escape, you would not qualify for a minimum-security camp, and would be going to an institution with a higher level of security. Your file would be forever tagged accordingly. This means that wherever you went, you would be behind bars, in a cell, with no freedom of movement other than under tightly controlled conditions. This would represent a major change from the mild form of imprisonment imposed at a prison camp.
- After the evening meal, most people went to the library, watched television, or participated in sports. There were a number of baseball teams that actually competed against air force teams at the camp field. Some people frequented the library, or more often, the prison law library, were pipe-dreams of conviction reversals or sentence reduction stimulated those looking for the proverbial get-out-of-jail card, whether through the assistance of a helpful prison law librarian. Such a person was always a non-lawyer, as the prison correctional staff distrusted the lawyer-inmates. Was it jealousy? We cannot say, but lawyers were always under close watch, in case they began to covertly practise law.
- Since operating any sort of business from prison, whether on the outside, or in the institution itself, was a violation of Bureau of Prisons regulations, lawyers were always under suspicion of assisting the inmates. Since it was prohibited, that is exactly what I began to do; help some of them out with their legal problems.
- What I did was get education centre permission to teach a weekend class on legal research and writing, which would be similar to that attended by first-year law students, I ordered materials from the same law-book publishers who freely give away their training materials to all teachers who request same, in the hope that future business results therefrom. Armed with paperbook texts, I was able to illustrate the most effective methods of legal research, and begin teaching the basics of legal writing. Hey, when you are bored with your surroundings, why not relieve that boredom by using your brain for the common good of those around you? That is what I did.
- You never saw a more dedicated group of student in your life; of course you might be very highly motivated to study, too, if the results could possibly include your early release from prison. I extended the class several weeks past what I had originally intended, because class interest and participation was so intense. It was a real teacher's delight, I assure you. And that's how I kept my mind stimulated in the first six months of my sentence, which at that time was an oppressive four years.
Next Week: a light at the end of the tunnel?
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