Happy Easter

Celebrating the Resurrection of Christ, two double-bacon Chipolte grilled cheeseburgers, 

and a visit from my dad.  

(Side note from Brooke: J.J. had a very special Easter visit with his dad today, which was his first visit since the recent confinement time.)

Happy Easter to everyone!

Clowns & Bones

Here is the second piece of art that J.J. did in solitary confinement.  Put an artist in a small box, give him a piece of paper and a BIC pen, and Voila....

 

Hey Mom

Smashing Pumpkins has a song that states...."Today is the greatest."

I'm not sure what today holds for me, but I'm ready.

Today, I'm headed to the law library to get a motion to once again file in the courts asking why they haven't ruled on my previous motion yet.  A 3.850 motion that was filed two years ago in April.

My class song was the Smashing Pumpkins.  Had I graduated with my class.  I did not.  However, I did go back and catch the G.E.D. wagon about two years later.  So, here I am...once again looking toward the future.  My future.

I had to decide one day that at the least I wanted my G.E.D.  The rest of my brothers and sisters all graduated.  So I went in partially to make my momma proud.  Then look where I wound up.

Today, I am seeking freedom for everyone who loves me.  Not to mention myself.

However, I called mom the other day.

She asked me to be home in time for my little sisters wedding.  Well, my sisters wedding is in one year.  I still have five years left.  You do the math.  Only way I can possibly make that is if I can get the courts off their ass.  Which means I will have to get off mine.  And, so I did.

On June 18, 2012, I filed a motion to hear and rule.  Asking the courts to please rule on a motion I originally filed on April 12, 2011.  Today I filed another motion on my last motion to rule on the original motion.

Did I just lose you?  Yeah.  Some days I'm lost myself.  I came into prison having no clue what a "motion" was.  I had no idea what an "evidential" hearing was for.  Now, I'm well-schooled in the appeals process.  And all the legal jargon surrounding it.  Only time will tell if I'll make it to my sisters wedding.  However, by then I may be a tattooing lawyer.  I'll most certainly be a heavily tattooed baker and jolly pop manufacturer.

Mom, I don't know if I'll be home in a year.  That's out of my control.  But, just like I went back and got my G.E.D. I'm also going to fight for my freedom.  Either way I know you will be proud of me.

These days my fighting has mostly turned to noble ventures.  I could go lay back and do nothing.  Just accept what life offers me.  You raised me better than that.  Have I told you that lately?

This is my call home to tell you that the older I get the smarter you get.  You told me as a kid that I could become whatever I wanted to be.  Right now today I'm just ready to be free again.  I'm looking for my second chance in life.

I hope that I didn't cash that option in already.  I know I've burned some bridges, and I hope none was my exit.  For now I'll just keep cruisin' along. 

Nuts and Bolts

So, this was written on March 3, 2013, however, the letter landed elsewhere for a bit and just arrived today.  Although this is a bit dated, I wanted to be sure to share it with you! 

A quick update of the facts.....

On Wednesday, February 27th I was called out of my dorm and asked to head to the property sergeant's office.  When I arrived, there was also a captain present.  I walked in and was addressed as J.J.

My name is not J.J. and DOC is quick to remind you that even more-so than a name, you are referred to as a number.  So once I heard J.J. thrown at me then it registered that instead of me being under the gun, once again the Jailbird had come under question.  

Most will recall that the Jailbird was recently investigated at my last prison.  They too didn't fully understand the whole blog thing.  So an investigation from the Tallahassee office was called in to look over the blog.  Making sure my contributions of art and my writings about my life behind bars violated no rules of DOC. 

A security evaluation was performed first and foremost.  They came to my confinement cell the day they cleared that part of their investigation to let me know that part was OK.  Then the small stuff... things like you can't openly pen pal in Florida prisons.  Which is not done on Jailbird. 

Once all their questions were answered, a clean bill of health was given to the Jailbird.  Their investigation ended with "Any mail leaving institutions becomes property of receiving party..."  There is only one stipulation....if my writings were sent to a publisher for a profit then that would violate a rule in Chapter 33.602-207.

My art and life encounters are freely given to my childhood friend and family with no profit intended.  I talk to you for free.

Each time I'm transferred to a new prison all my files are moved with me.  Just like my medical and dental records, I'm quite sure that the outcome of my last investigation of the Jailbird blog also came with me to this prison.  So, instead of trying to explain to the property sergeant, the captain, and the mail lady that I'm simply a writer and artist, I came to confinement while they sort it out.

A few weeks back I was looking at my life.  Here I am trying to make it back home to my family.  To the people who love me.  Right now, I live in their world.  Where I have no control.  I barely have any say-so.  Basically, I'm always dead wrong.

They say an empty can rattles the most.  I'll say I do some rattling, but seems plenty of people are listening.  Even if all they're doing is investigating me.

As always, there is no charge to hear this can rattle.

I just wouldn't feel right charging anyone a dime to take a look into my life.  Talk is cheap and this is free.  Thanks for your time.....

Michael

Happy Birthday, Brooke!

Hi ya'll! It's Ester. I wrote a while ago to check in and see how ya'll were getting along. 

Today I'm asking you to join us in celebrating the birth and gift of life that is our very own Miss Brooke.

(That is Brooke in the back, holding Grace. I'm standing in front of her).

We weren't kidding when we said she was a childhood friend. She saw us at pretty dorky stages in our lives.

When Michael and I embarked on this journey together, he saw how big it would get. He got me excited and I loved working on this project with him. When I really started promoting J.J., I added 300+ people on Facebook. Everyone I remembered from high school, Michael's old friends...anyone, everyone. Brooke was among them. Many of you, if you're still reading, checked out the page. I'm sure plenty of people did not. Many sent me emails asking about Michael, asked what he was "in for." How long he was in for. A few friends asked if they could write him. A few told me what I was doing was wrong - that Michael should be serving his sentence in quiet contemplation. That he didn't deserve to be heard.

It's hard to have a brother or a son or spouse in prison. It's hard sometimes, when you're at a wedding and run into a lot of people from the old days, and they ask about the family, to say, "Michael is in prison." I used to say he lived in Florida. He DID. It wasn't a lie. I didn't want to freak people out. I didn't want to feel embarrassed. I didn't want to field a bunch of nosy questions. 

As I worked on J.J. and as I started to tell people about it, I learned that if there are over 2 million people incarcerated in the U.S. (and there are), chances are, you know one of them. Chances are that the high-power executive at your workplace spends a weekend a month visiting her little brother in prison. Chances are that 5 or 10 people you went to school with are in prison or jail. Chances are that you or someone you love has made a choice to either support or to disown a loved one who became incarcerated. I'm just guessing. I don't have all the facts and figures.

When Michael went to prison, he had some friends and family who disowned him. ...And he had some friends and family who circled and said, "We are here for you." Brooke did that for both of us. I had hardly been in touch with her since we were kids, but when I was pregnant and my world was changing so fast that I had a break down, she called me. To check on me. Because she could tell something was wrong. We spent hours on the phone and she talked me down and calmed me down and told me how she could help.

Brooke is smart. She is one of "those people" who are almost sickeningly sweet with optimism, with hope and a positive outlook. She sees the silver lining in everything. She thinks and acts in ways that put others first. She is gentle and kind. She has a calming way of talking that is refreshing and encouraging. I love the living daylights out of her. 

I mentioned before that it's hard to tell people that you have a loved-one in prison. Sometimes they say, "me too!" And sometimes they do everything they can to avoid the rest of conversation with you. Brooke seemingly said, "Well that's kind of a bummer. How are you holding up? Anything I can do to help encourage you?" And that's how you make friends in rough circumstances. Brooke has become one of my dearest friends. And I'll venture to say she is one of Michael's. And my mom's. She's invited to our birthdays and holiday parties and I wish she lived closer so I could share a bottle of wine with her today.

(Ester, Brooke, THE MOM, Grace)

Michael wanted to say Happy Birthday to our dearest friend. We are so blessed, Brooke, to have you in our lives. We are honored that you choose to be in our lives, dysfunctional as we can be :)

We are so thankful for you! Happy birthday, Brooke!

"A light heart lives long."

-William Shakespeare

Meth affected the life of J.J. also

So, last week a young lady caused a car chase with the police while under the influence of drugs.

 

I (Brooke) first saw this on Facebook several days ago, and I have been disturbed ever since.  What disturbed me?  The hundreds of hateful comments left under her picture. 

J.J. lost 12 years of his life to drug addiction.  Meth (reportedly the drug she was addicted to) affected the life of J.J. also.  I am grateful that J.J. is clean and has chosen a new path.  And I am proud to stand tall next to him, and share his story with you in hopes that we all remember to stop and help one another, care about each other, and stop condemning and judging each other.

This woman needs help.  Not bad hair jokes.  This world needs less hate, and more love.

To read about the police chase, go to http://www.14news.com/story/21528455/police-woman-high-on-meth-led-them-on-chase. 

  

Take A Stand

A side note: This letter was written while J.J. was recently in confinement.  (It just arrived.)  J.J. has since been released from confinement and is doing well!  

At some point in our lives we are required to stand.

Stand for the pledge of allegiance.  Stand when the judge enters the court room.  Stand for the national anthem.  Stand to receive a diploma.

Hopefully we will all stand for something we believe in.  When is the last time that you personally took a stand?  Somewhere along the line many people have decided to sit down.  After all, that's so much easier than taking a stand.  We let others go fight and represent while we sit back in safety and only emerge after the dust settles.  Consequently, your children see the example and we suffer as a nation.

Quite honestly, whenever you stand you make a better target.  Still,  I want to be remembered as someone who took a stand.  I can't say my entire life has been this way.  Plenty of times I have taken a seat when push came to shove.  Not so much these days....

At this very moment I am secured in an 8X10 confinement cell.  Once again I am under investigation with the Jailbird.  Something I realized while back here in the box is how many people actually "check in" back here.  "Check in" would be defined by an inmate actually asking the officers to place them here to keep them safe from the compound and general population.  This generally happens because someone has a habit they can't afford.  So, before long they owe money they can't pay back.

Instead of being a man and taking responsibility they go check in and ask the officers for protection.  If they can't handle addiction in here, they don't stand a chance on the street and will be the first to come back once released.   

While I'm sitting back here, I'm blessed that my mother and my lady can see what type of man I am.  A man who stands tall.  I wasn't always this way.  We have a saying back here for these guys who check in.  We laugh, then say "Don't get scared now!!"...."You come all the way to prison to get scared?!?"

Out there on the street I took a seat a few times.  I let a marriage go to hell.  I pushed away people who loved me.  I let drugs rule my life and in the end destroy me.

But one things for sure...I didn't come to prison to get scared.  So again, I ask you, "What do you stand for?"  Would you head to an 8X10 confinement cell because you believe in something?  And what type of example are you showing your kids? Make sure you're not a "check in".  You "check in" at a motel.  Stop sitting down on life! 

Shakedown

This funny thing happened the other day.  Well, it's not, but it is at the same time.

I woke up late.  There were no call outs on account of a tornado warning in the area.  They let us sleep in and I wound up sleeping until nearly 10 a.m., which was nice.  Really I didn't do anything productive on this particular morning.  Then we had a headcount and after that lunch.

Lunch sucked as it generally does, but the fortified beverage was delicious.  I don't usually drink it.  At county jail, the mix "soft peter" into the juice.  I hate a "soft peter" so I never drink anything they tell me to drink. 

Today, I decided to drink the juice.  It's red.  Very sweet and tastes good.  I drink it all...then head back to my dorm.  I then decide I really want to go to reck yard.  Since a.m. reck never was.  On account of some tornado. Anyways.  I figure that a big cup of coffee would suit me nice before I head to reck.  However, another change of plans...

A shakedown. 

So they tell us to go sit on our bunks and don't move.  Fine.  But after an hour I am sitting on my bunk, crossing my legs like a school girl.  My eyeballs are floating and I have to piss like a race horse.  But the cops says absolutely not.  I must remain on my bunk.  I can't.  I have to pee.  Coffee, then red juice have me about to burst.  A second time I ask to piss.  The answer is still NO.  Ok....it's now time to improvise.

I don't want to pee in my coffee mug.  I have to drink coffee from it.  Besides....that's nasty.  Why didn't I think of it before!?  The sink of course.  There's a sink in my cell!  So, I walk over, drop my pants and hang my dick into the sink.  I feel immediate relief.  And just in time.  Here comes the shakedown squad.  They tear through our stuff for over two hours.  As soon as they're done, they tell us to sit down for our before dinner count time.

During this count I begin to read a book.  My mind is occupied when it registers I hear the sink running.  So, I look up to see my bunkie.  He has plugged the sink and as it's filling up he's lathering his face to shave.

I consider telling him, but as I open my mouth he dips his hands from the water to his face.  I gasp!  Cover my mouth to hold the nervous laugh back.  He goes on to shave his entire face, then use the plugged water to rinse off his face.  He then drains the sink and wipes the whole thing down.

Looks in the mirror and smiles then walks away.  I just shake my head.  Guess I don't have to clean the sink now.  He shaves with a BIC and lives with a dick.  Imagine that.   

Haunted Nights

J.J. is currently in confinement.  

Here is a piece he did just a few weeks before heading to "jail" or the "box".