We get no second chances. African American youth like myself grew up in East Baltimore, never hearing about the tortuous prison structure, George Jackson, Angela Davis or Kwame Toure. We only heard about being a thug, not the consequences and reality that once you commit a crime, the sentencing cap is 30 to life with a plea bargain for 20-25 years.
Reblogged from: SF Bay View, Nov. 1, 2013
by Gary Cooper
I came to prison at the age of 14 charged with two first degree attempted murders 12 years ago to serve an original 20-year sentence. I inevitably received an additional seven and a half years for a framed second degree assault on staff and possession of a concealed weapon, bringing my sentence to 27½ years. It’s the ingenious design of prison to focus more on profit and perpetual imprisonment through antagonizing and framing inmates than on rehabilitation, human rights and community development.
Even if you shot a stick-up man once in the back for robbing you of someone else’s heroin and money or the rusty gun you found running the alleyways of the inner city accidentally discharged while you tussled over possession of it with a co-defendant, shooting a White woman once in the buttocks – both scenarios transpired in my case – you still get no second chances.
In 2011 the parole commissioner said that my crimes were too violent for me to be released back into society for a second chance. I did my sentence wrong, focusing more on introspective clarity and knowledge to have something on my mind so as not to come back to prison when I should’ve only been focusing on being subservient to the administration who come to work daily with an “us against them” mentality.
Because I didn’t learn that I have no win and didn’t allow myself to be dehumanized and castrated as a man, I am not ready to be back with my family because I have no right to be upset at the criminality of law enforcement. Just look at all that I have probably done wrong.
I am currently housed in what I believe to be one of the most racist and tortuous institutions in the country, the North Branch Correctional Institution in Cumberland, Maryland. This is the institution where they denied me parole, the institution where I was pusillanimously attacked by the administration and two correctional officers, Sgt. B. Bowman and Officer S. Lease, the institution where my many stresses all come down on me and where, though I hate to admit it, I had a mental breakdown.
My grandmother died in October 2011, but I didn’t receive notice until 30 days later and was denied a grieving call by the institutional chaplain because he forgot my mother’s message on his answering service a month prior and by the time the notice reached me through mail the matter was long overdue. Reality set in that all the knowledge I learned, the changes I made – it was all worth nothing.
I’m going to be trapped in prison for the next 16 years and probably lose my mother as well as my only supporters because these demonic, racist correctional officers overshadowed my true essence within my case file out of pure hatred and malice. I couldn’t eat, sleep or move. I waited for death to take me.
There is no politically conscious support in Maryland inside or out, so the worst thing I could’ve done was make changes and dream while in prison, because that’s when life gets miserable and reality sets in.
On June 24, 2012, they placed me on suicide watch in a concealed cell where they are notorious for attacking inmates. I knew my date. The wolf was finally defenseless and out his mind. They came in at 7:00 in the morning and instructed me to wake up and lie on the floor to be handcuffed, then to shower and see someone.
Once I complied, I was immediately hit in my face with a blast of strong mace. Then they put the mace can in between my buttocks (up my butt!) and blasted me with mace again.
They repeated that motion all the while kicking me in my ribs. Then they dragged me out of the cell completely naked, punched me in my face around the medical station, then handcuffed and shackled me to a loop that they call the “D-ring,” putting me on public display for two hours burning with mace.
They concocted a story to cover their tracks that I was unresponsive so they came into the cell to check on me and I scooped up an unknown liquid substance with my hands and threw it – the liquid – across the cell, splashing both of the officers in the face. Ha! Where in the laws of physics is that possible?
All I request is what I wrote to Gov. O’Malley of Maryland, to order polygraph tests for myself and the officers on what really happened in that cell, revealing that these sick sadist savages brutalized me beyond belief. I want my freedom through parole, finally being given a second chance with my family, because if I can endure that and control my rage and hatred, then who are the parole commissioners to say that I don’t deserve to be given a second chance?
I am a freelance writer who has written many books, movie scripts, etc. I am hoping to find activists to network with and offer me support with finally getting my books published, exposing the modern day prison industrial complex and its new agendas.
I also urge the SHU prisoners and others across the country to stay strong and continue to fight. I know it’s hard, but daily I think about giving up because I’m alone in Maryland, but my desire to be better and to be heard drives me to keep reaching out, even if I have to reach all the way to another coast for help.
Send our brother some love and light: Gary Cooper, 311-499, NBCI, 14100 McMullen Hwy. SW, Cumberland, MD 21502.