WHAT A WASTE: The Untold Stories From The Inside

By Julie Grant

I hope that this book enlightens everyone to the horror of the system. I hope that it opens the eyes of those whose stories are in this book to see their ridiculous behaviors and to rethink their lives. Maybe if they read actual accounts of some of the things that they have said and/or done they will see what fools they have made of themselves and want to do something to become more productive people in society. Unfortunately, most see nothing wrong with themselves and so the cycle continues.

I hope that this book makes it into the hands of the government officials in higher positions to alert them to what is actually occurring in our prison system.

I hope it makes it into the hands of some of the guards to let them see that they can be the first line into helping the ones who truly want to change. Maybe just one of them will be a part of the solution instead a part of the problem.

I hope that this makes it into the hands of plenty of people who will get a sense of what this life of confinement is like and change their ways before they end up a part of the system that they don’t want to be in.

It is my hope that someone out there will read this book and review all aspects of the camp and the prison system in general...especially the Woman’s Camp at Greenville, Illinois.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Julie Grant
• Release date: Jun 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311057426

Book preview

Preface

I am actually writing the preface to my book several chapters into it and a few chapters after reading a book by Michael G. Santos titled Inside When I first started writing this factual account I was going to concentrate solely on the staff, the rules and regulations, the mistreatment of the inmates, the waste of taxpayer dollars, and the lack of care or concern by the staff of the things that don’t happen or things that happen and aren’t supposed to in the prison system.

I have since rethought this, as I have discovered some of the most manipulative, irresponsible, cold hearted, evil-willed, two faced, and back stabbing people that I have ever met in my entire life. By no means do I wish to imply that every inmate is this way. Along the same lines, I have met some of the most loving and caring, helpful women who are professional and intelligent and were put into a situation beyond their control or just simply made a mistake that is costing them dearly. The latter, however, is found much farther between.

I question the very meaning behind which this book was originally intended, and for that purpose I would like to say that the inmates housed here are just as much to blame for the way our system is run as is the government and staff.

It appears that most of these ladies hold true to statistics that at whatever age you start using drugs, that is the age that you are sort of frozen at in your mentality. The childish games, talking about people behind their backs and then hugging them three minutes later, and the disrespect and name calling are serious issues. I could go on and on using all sorts of adjectives but don’t really think I need to as you should be able to get the picture.

The names of all of the people in the following pages have been changed to protect their identities and privacy. I chose to use pseudonyms instead for my own protection as well. However, the names of my family members and loved ones have remained that of their own because I would like them to be recognized for the love and support that they unfailingly gave me through this experience and to this day.

Every account in this book is factual. Every incident is real. Every quote is true. Every day of hell and beyond actually happened.

The first several chapters are a rewrite as the warden at the FCI and camp holds possession of my originally written pages. That will be explained further on into the book.

I constantly have to keep reminding myself that most of the behaviors contained within these pages by these women are the same ways that they behave on the streets. Can you blame it on upbringing or circumstance? I don’t personally believe so. Sure a person can cry that their life has been hard for so many reasons----a broken home, parents who used alcohol or drugs, living in high crime areas, parents who just didn’t care and let their children run around unsupervised. The scenarios are endless. In my opinion it’s all an excuse. You can make your life to be whatever you want to be regardless of the circumstances. Life is what you and you alone make it. I was brought up in a poor family with an alcoholic father who was very abusive. I came out of that and so did my older sister. And do you know what? So did my mother. The fact of the matter is that there is no one to blame for your behavior except yourself.

The system is really messed up. The prisons are overcrowded. There are ladies that don’t belong here for reasons that go off of the charts from one end of the spectrum to the other. They have committed crimes which should have never gotten them incarcerated to begin with and that could simply be punishable with home confinement or probation, but there are also those who needed to be punished more harshly and not be outside of a correctional facility. They are ladies whose crimes are repetitive and come from ladies who have no desire to change their lifestyle. There are gun charges involved for a great percentage and multiple gun charges for several of that percentage. Camps are really a waste to everyone.... the staff, who do as little work as possible or who use it as a means of controlling people, the inmate who runs the camp, does whatever they want and have no opportunity to better themselves or the desire to do so, and the taxpayers who are funding all of these operations. Everyone suffers.

So, rethinking the title of WHAT A WASTE: The Untold Stories From The Inside, I decided that it would also be appropriate, considering the subject content, to give it a subtitle–Who’s To Blame For The Waste.

I hope that this book enlightens everyone to the horror of the system. I hope that it opens the eyes of those whose stories are in this book to see their ridiculous behaviors and to rethink their lives. Maybe if they read actual accounts of some of the things that they have said and/or done they will see what fools they have made of themselves and want to do something to become more productive people in society. Unfortunately, most see nothing wrong with themselves and so the cycle continues.

I hope that this book makes it into the hands of the government officials in higher positions to alert them to what is actually occurring in our prison system.

I hope it makes it into the hands of some of the guards to let them see that they can be the first line into helping the ones who truly want to change. Maybe just one of them will be a part of the solution instead a part of the problem.

I hope that this makes it into the hands of plenty of people who will get a sense of what this life of confinement is like and change their ways before they end up a part of the system that they don’t want to be in.

It is my hope that someone out there will read this book and review all aspects of the camp and the prison system in general...especially the Woman’s Camp at Greenville, Illinois.

I actually requested coming to this camp because of the location and accessibility to my family and friends but I really wish after speaking to inmates who have been to other locations that I would have been sent somewhere else.

However, if that had been the case then this book might not have been written. On that note, I hope that everyone who reads this finds it to be informative and helpful and writes to their local representative to have this institution, as well as the entire Federal Prison System, looked into.

Acknowledgments

The past five months have been the most trying and difficult times of my entire life. I cannot imagine how I would have made it through these months without the love and support of so many people. My wonderful common law husband of more than 11 years, Bruce (may he rest in peace), never gave up on me and he never will. When I gave up on us, he never did. With all of the emotions that I had been experiencing since all of this started in August of 2009, he has been there riding shotgun with me. When I gave up hope, he kept hope alive. I love you honey!

My children, Drake, Josh, and Danika---things haven’t always been easy for us. I am far from a perfect mother but I love you for not giving up on me and for forcing me to see things that I closed my eyes and heart to and for helping me to make some much needed changes in my life.

My mother, Sandy, and my sister, Tracy, have been my rock. They say that Samson got his strength from his hair but I got mine from my sister and my mommy. My sister made sure that I had everything that I needed to keep me as comfortable as possible while I was incarcerated. She wrote me novels of her life story to keep me occupied. She made me realize that I wasn’t the only one with problems and refused to let me play a pity party for myself. She made me laugh when I felt like crying and let me cry when I needed to. My mom—my wonderful mom—would get herself so upset that I was angry with her for not writing more frequently. I still don’t think she understands that it wasn’t about the writing frequently. I could never be upset with her. All it took was one line from her to make me glad to wake up every morning. That line was, I AM SO VERY PROUD OF YOU! Everything else is trivial in comparison. That one line said it all and she said it so often. Irreplaceable, unfailing, dependable, loving, nurturing…that’s MY perfect mother!!

My little brother Paison, who every Saturday, until my visits were suspended was there for me. Saturdays was the day that I looked the most forward to every week. At 9:00 a.m. just like clockwork, I heard, Ferguson, you have a visit. come across the P.A. of the camp. The smile upon my face was an instant response to what was yet to come. He never let me down. He knows my deepest and darkest secrets. He never judges me. He was and is always there for me. He is the best friend I have ever had, other than my husband, and I cherish our time together. He has kept my Facebook going, ran errands for me, made phone calls, transported my daughter to and from her father’s house, and so many other things without fail and to him I am eternally grateful.

For the rest of my family— My mother-in-law, Jerri, Joey, Doyle, Doug, Kristin, Krista, Cathy, David P, Jimi, Jami, Brianna, Cheyenne, and anyone else whose name I didn’t mention, they all helped me to get through the day to day challenges of prison. I dedicate this book to them. I suppose it only fitting that I thank all of the inmates of Greenville Federal Prison Camp and the staff. If it weren’t for their actions and behaviors then I would never have created this book.

Life in and of itself is never easy. Add prison to the mix and some may consider it a catastrophe. I, however, would like to think of it as a valuable life lesson and use this as an opportunity to make changes for myself and hopefully encourage others to do the same.

Most of all I would like to thank God for getting me through this experience. With him all things are possible

Chapter 1

I woke up this morning after a very rough night of sleep. I jumped into the shower and let the hot water just pour over me as I stood there crying. This was going to be one of the hardest days of my entire life. I got out of the shower, dried off, got dressed, and went to wake up my boyfriend. He and I had a big day ahead of us. I finished packing everything that I had taken with me to Chesterfield the day that I left my home in Cahokia and had left my common law husband of 11 years. My emotions had been a roller coaster since all of this began in August of 2009. So much so, that I had convinced myself that my husband didn’t love me at all and that someone else did. So here it was the day that I had been dreading—October 14th, 2010, and I had to get a lot of things done before my report time of 1:30 p.m.

My boyfriend and I left Chesterfield and headed to my bank to withdraw money from my account for gas, cigarettes and food along the way. We drove to Cahokia and stopped at my husband’s family owned dry cleaners. This would be the last time that I saw the sign Cahokia Cleaners for 5 months, not to mention the last time I would see my family, as well. I had told my children goodbye the night before and most of my immediate family. When I walked into the cleaners, I fought back tears as I was telling my mother-in-law, Geri, goodbye. My husband, Bruce, wasn’t there. He had gone to pick our presser, Kathy, up for work. While I waited for Bruce to return I went next door to the home that I shared with him where I dropped off a lot of my belongings that I had taken with me when I left two weeks earlier to go stay with my new partner.

When I returned to the cleaners, Bruce was just pulling up in front with Kathy. I hugged her and told her goodbye. I hugged my mother-in-law one more time with tears in my eyes. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was feeling now as I looked into my husband’s eyes. He held out his arms and I fell into them and told him that I would see him soon and that I loved him. My stomach was killing me as I walked back out to the car where my boyfriend was sitting and waiting for me. As I drove away, I wanted to just turn around and run back but I knew what I had to do and running away would be the worst thing I could ever do. So I continued ahead with the schedule that I had made the night before.

My next stop before heading to my final destination for the next 5 months was that of a neighborhood young man who was going to ride with us and drive my car back home for me. After we picked Joey up, we hit the highway. Cigarettes and gas was our next stop. I was in the backseat riding with my beau while making final cell phone calls to my family to tell them so long and going over the list of things that I needed to have my partner and Joey take care of while I was away.

Joey had brought his father’s GPS system with him and it told us that we were estimated to arrive with approximately 20 minutes to spare. Little did we know that 25 minutes into our journey, we ran into road construction. I began to get increasingly nervous of what the consequences would be if I were late reporting to where I was supposed to be. Finally, there was a break in the traffic and we were moving along smoothly. The GPS said that we would still have about 11 minutes to spare if we didn’t run into any other issues. At 1:00 p.m. I saw the sign for our exit. My stomach became a big ball of knots again as we veered off of the interstate and on to the exit ramp. Two big water towers came into view. That was a sign that we were almost there and that only about five minutes stood between me and the next five months of my life. Again, I caught myself fighting back tears but to no avail. I wanted to scream Turn around Joe. I don’t wanna do this. But I couldn’t find those words. Just then he pulled into the parking lot of Greenville, Illinois Federal Correctional Facility for Men and the Camp for Women. The blinding glare of the razor wire atop the many layers of stainless steel fencing was intimidating and horribly frightening. We approached a T in the road which directed us towards the camp which was on the left. That scary razor wire and fencing was on the right thank God. Nonetheless, this was home for the next five months.

Chapter 2

Let me tell you how I got here. August 10th, 2009, two gentleman dressed in suits came through the front door of my husband’s family owned and operated business and asked me if I was Julie Ferguson while presenting federal badges and identification to me. I told them that I was, and they asked if there was some place where we might be able to go to talk. I called for my husband who was working in the back to come to the front to watch the counter as I told him who the gentlemen were and that they needed to speak with me and that I was going to take them to the back office to talk. The men introduced themselves, and I asked them what this was about. They threw a rather large manila envelope onto my desk and told me that they were there because I had been indicted on felony charges of making false statements. I asked them to please explain to me and then they began.

You have a son named Joshua who receives SSI (Supplemental Security Income) checks for disability for 4 years and he is not living in your household. You lied on the Representative Payee Form that you fill out every 6 months in that you placed a check mark in the box for YES when it asked you if the person receiving the check resided in your household. In fact, he lives in Missouri and attends school in the state of Missouri as well. one of the men started.

I began to try to explain why my son lives in Illinois at my address and attended school out of state but the two agents began raising their voices and becoming hateful in their speech. One even went as far as to come right out and call me a liar saying that he had sworn statements from the person with whom my son was living with stating that I had in fact abandoned my child at his home.

My husband, Bruce, came back into the office at one point to check on me to see if I was ok or needed anything and he was told very rudely by the agents to leave immediately and that this had nothing to do with him. Bruce responded by saying that he was just coming to check on me and they got even angrier and told him to leave or they would have charges of obstruction brought against him. He reluctantly left, and the two men continued to interrogate me. They had me write a statement, which I did, and then they stood up, told me that I would be hearing from them very soon, and then they left the building.

After explaining all of this to my husband I just sat down and cried and then shortly after that I never thought anything more about it.

My son, Joshua, was diagnosed in 1999 with ADHD. By 2003 he had had 8 more diagnosis added including Bipolar Disorder, Asperger’s Syndrome, Conduct Disorder, Seasonal Affective Disorder, Sundowner’s Syndrome, Oppositional Defiant Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and suffered from both visual and auditory hallucinations causing pyromaniacism. I had been receiving disability checks for Josh’s benefit since 1999.

All of the years I spent dealing with my son were traumatic. Medication changes, psychiatric care, psychologists, hospitals, long term residential placement, suicide attempts, suspensions from school….they were all a part of my daily life. I was having difficulty getting him to complete and go on from grade to grade in school due to his absenteeism from suspensions and hospitalizations. I worked very closely with the schools, teachers, principals, and counselors. Josh had an above average I.Q. and was labeled dangerously intelligent. In the school year of 2005-06 I had an I.E.P. (Individual Education Profile) performed which helps to determine the things that need to happen to help him to excel academically. I worked with all parties concerned to come up with a plan for him. His teachers, doctors, principal, counselor and both Bruce and myself all worked to accommodate Joshua’s needs.

At the end of that school year, I