I got into one fight when I was locked up. After almost 20 months behind bars, including 5 months in Zone A2 at Hinds County Detention Center and multiple months in Madison County Detention Center, I never got in a fight except this one in Rankin County It was over which football game we were gonna watch. I, obviously, thought that we should watch Mississippi State. He wanted to watch some Big 10 game. In life, you should always know what’s worth fighting for. In this case, Mississippi State was worth fighting for (tensions were high). Really, he smarted off first, but I lost my temper.
I knew I had already been sentenced to be a part of the Trustee Program, but I was not a trustee yet. I was still housed with prisoners that were on their way to prison. This kinda put me at a disadvantage because I did not want to get sent to lock down for fighting and ruin my chances to be a trustee. I did not want to look weak and easy to push around to other prisoners either, but I was not trying to be sent to prison. Generally, when fights happen in jail you go into one of the cells, so you will not be on camera.
I was cool with fighting in the cell; I didn’t think I would get into trouble. My pending trustee status would still be in fine shape. Well turns out (even if he was the first one to talk noise), when I said “I’ll put you in your grave old man” to a man whom had just been sentenced to 50 years in the penitentiary; he got real angry, real fast. He did not care about going into a cell. Trust me, I asked as this 45 year-old lifetime con scampered at me. Well he started swinging, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to go to lockdown. I mean we are talking about years of my life.
The first time my family went and spoke to one of my lawyers, she used terms like decades instead of years when talking about my time. I got a little better news when talking to my other attorney. He said I may only get to 10-12 years in the State Penitentiary. Things were looking up, not. So, thankfully, when the DA Michael Guest realized I was not a drug dealer, but a miserable drug addict feeding his habit; he offered me a plea for the trustee program in Rankin County Jail. I did not want to mess this up by swinging on an older man on camera.
This meant when he swung on me, I started dodging, ducking, dipping, diving, and dodging every punch. He was serious too. At one point this 175 pound man did a real, live spinning tornado punch. Even I thought it was incredible. I dodged it, but when he threw the next one, I dipped right into the set of iron stairs. Doingggg. A fist may hurt, but metal stairs affect you from your head to your toes
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It kind of knocked me silly, but I was still a little bit aware. I was probably about to get beat-up after ducking around 7-8 punches. Thankfully, my friend Mob Boy or “Mob” came and scooped me up. Dude, was he my hero. Mob is an interesting guy. He is a juvenile lifer. This means when he was 16, he went with an older guy to a business. He set in the car, while the other guy went in to get some money that was owed to him. At least, this is what Mob thought. The store owner died in the exchange, and Mob was tried as an adult. He was found guilty and given life without parole.
Mob is a 6’4” black dude with a scorpion tail and devil-horns inked onto his neck. This signifies his status as “Mobb”. Mob boys are members of one of the local gangs that originated in Chicago. In this gang, to be initiated you have to fight 2 people at once for a certain period of time. To be a Mob Boy, you have to go against 3 other gangsters at once for a certain period of time. This dude is tough, and I spent over a month of my life in the same room with him. Our cells were right next to each other. Sounds scary doesn’t it, not being able to get away from a convicted murderer with neck tattoos and a gang affiliation.
It wasn’t at all. This dude looked intimidating but is an incredible guy and friend. We would always gamble on football games. It didn’t matter what game. We were locked up and needed something to keep us sharp and smiling. I’d yell through the air vents, “ Say, Mob…I got two noodles on the Bulldogs.” It wouldn’t take long didn’t matter who they were playing, and I’d hear, “Bet.” I probably lost more than I won, but it was close. We would watch and talk smack every night. It’s good to laugh when you’re locked up.
The biggest day of the week, in jail, is the day commissary hits. Everyone wakes up with a little more pep in their step. I was hungry; I had eaten all my food in the first 4 days of the week. Jail food trays will not get a boy like me full. I was so pumped when I woke up that Friday and knew that Officer Burt would be around with my food soon.
He walked into our zone with a cart full of food. I was ready. Every time he would call someone’s name, you would hear that person back in their cell busting ramen noodles on their floor. This made me even hungrier. Usually I’d be one of the first people called. This is because my name is at the beginning of the alphabet. He made it way past the B's and I hadn't been called. Oh well, I was sure my name would be next every time, as I heard the loud noise of noodles busting in other cells.
He never called my name. My mom forgot to put my money in there on time. I was heart-broken, borderline depressed. My boy Mob, though, came through for me. He knew how sad I was and offered to help me out. He bought his commissary 2 weeks at a time, so he shared with me a weeks worth of food. Most convicts would 2 for 1 (expect 2 of everything I borrowed) a young person like me. Not mob…he told me to just get him back what he gave me. For that week, Mob saved my life. I can’t believe the state expects a good person like him to spend the rest of his life from 16 in prison, just to throw him away.
He is back in the county jail to go to court to hopefully get his sentenced commuted. He has already served over a decade. Most of us can’t understand what a decade in prison from that young age should do to a man. It takes someone very special to remain a good human after all that time.
A few years ago the US Supreme Court decided sentencing a juvenile to life without parole was unconstitutional. This is a great step, but it’s not enough. Mob has been back in Rankin County Jail for over 3 years because his court keeps getting put off. He can’t afford a lawyer, and the public defenders office and DA are dragging getting experts lined up for his hearing. My life may be totally different now because of some of the help he gave me. It doesn’t seem fair that everyday he’s had between then and now have been the exact same place, in the exact same room.
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