AY9581 Life In and Out

By Mark W. Faler

This book is an autobiography of my false imprisonment. It tells of my life before, during, and after a 5 year prison sentence for what I did not do.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark W. Faler
• Release date: Jul 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533716040

Mark W. Faler

Mark Faler was born in 1964 in Frankfurt, Germany. Being epileptic he had gone through many trials and tribulations as a child. His family had moved from to place to place finally ending up in Mt. Pocono, Pennsylvania in 1982. In 1984 his life completely changed. At 18 years old he was charged with many crimes he did not do including murder. Spending 5 years in a state prison for something he did not do gave him a new outlook on the world around him. In this autobiography he tells his story. What his life was like before prison, what it was like in prison, and what it is like today

Book preview

AY9581 Life In and Out

Mark W. Faler

Published by Mark W. Faler, 2016.

While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

AY9581 LIFE IN AND OUT

First edition. July 5, 2016.

Copyright © 2016 Mark W. Faler.

ISBN: 978-1533716040

Written by Mark W. Faler.

Table of Contents

Copyright Page

Dedication

AY9581

About the Author

This is a true story and autobiography. Some of the name and identifying details have be changed for identity reasons.

This book is dedicated to the many people who have helped me through the years.

To my parents who have my unconditional love.

My grandparents: William and Grace Myrtle for their memories of love

My siblings: Jack, Kristine and Philip for their patience

To my cousins who have gone to heaven to soon: Alicia Bambrick Leone and William Myrtle

To my dear mother-in-law Patricia Evancavich now in heaven

To my AA friends for helping me

My two step-sons George and Johnathan Vidmosko and their children for making me smile.

To my life long friend Alexandra Bender

And most of all to my wife Patti Faler who will always be the beat that keeps my heart beating.

AY9581   

The sound of the crashing steel brought pain to my heart and echoed loudly in my ears. That ungodly noise would be stuck in my head forever. The hall I was walking down looked never-ending, something like a nightmare that had no conclusion. In the nightmare two middle-aged guards held my arms.

The guard on the right was slender and tall. He looked a bit hypnotized as he walked down the never-ending hall with me. He wore a beige uniform that looked as if he had just bought it. He had patches on the front of it and on the arm that held mine. The impressive uniform reeked of a familiar clothes detergent, something like the Tide that my mother sometimes used when I was a child. The uniform had no wrinkles whatsoever. The hat he wore was placed on his head perfectly, just like an army general’s hat. He must have had an army cut, because I saw no hair. As we walked down the never-ending hall, he said nothing, not a peep. I saw no emotion at all.

The guard on the left was the exact opposite, chubby and short. It looked as if he had bought a uniform a size too small and a tie a size too big. He had not done a great job of shaving before coming to work, because you could see the nicks he had made and the stubble he had missed. There were wrinkles all over his uniform. It smelled musty and old. It had not been washed in a few days. Most likely he had no wife and spent his time at home with a Budweiser and his trusty hound dog. I was sure if he was the only one holding me, I could have broken away and run far down the hall with no way for him to catch me, but I had no place to go. It was as if I was being held by Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy. The chubby guard needed only a derby.

As we walked on, the chubby guard looked at the slender guard and spoke in a rough mumble. Did you see the Steelers game Sunday?  It looked like Mark Malone had no clue what he was doing. The Rams killed them thirty-two to three. Bad night. The slender guard said nothing and showed no emotion, ignoring the chubby guards statement. One could tell that the slender guard worked out because of his stature and his grip on me. His partner held onto me as if he was being pulled with me by the slender guard. The chubby guard tried to start a conversation again by complaining about his wife’s cooking. I’ll tell you one thing Jack, my wife is a terrible cook. She screwed up the pot roast last night. We ended up having frozen pizza. Women, right? I was wrong: the chubby guard was married. Jack must have had a bad start of his day. He did not respond again, and walked on. I peeked over and saw a very small grin begin at the side of his face, but it quickly disappeared.

Both men came to a halt, startling me. The slender guard unhooked from his belt a chain that held so many keys that it was too hard to count. He fumbled through them and picked out a big heavy-looking silver key. He held me with one hand, while with the other, he fiddled with the lock and opened up the steel door. It had to be at least three maybe even four inches thick. It was the start of a new hall which was not very long. At the end of the hall was a very high steel gate. He fumbled with more keys and pulled one out which had a big red A on it. I looked above the gate and saw A embossed on the wall in black. Now Laurel and Hardy were opening the gates of hell. I glanced back at the other steel door. The chubby guard slammed it shut, locking it again. All of the steel slamming sounds were getting louder as I got closer to each door. The slender guard opened the gate to a view I had no business seeing.

All types of men moved around, going about their day. Some sat at small round tables playing cards, smoking and laughing. Others sat together staring at the television that hung from a shelf, playing a talk show. It looked like the Phil Donahue Show, due to the white-haired man running up and down stairs, talking to his audience. The two guards brought me up two flights of stairs. The chubby guard shouted down to the floor at some men who were yelling at each other. It would turn into a brawl if it was not stopped. Stop now or you will both be in deep shit. The two men were pulled apart by the other men.

The guard named Jack pushed me into a small room, a very small room. Finally he spoke. Take off what you are wearing and put the orange pants and shirt on. The two men turned away as I quickly did as I was told. I placed all of the clothes I had been wearing in the bag that was given to me and handed it to the chubby guard. He said in a stern voice: Make your bed the way the one on the bottom is. It is 2:30 now, and at 5:00 someone will be bringing you food. You can come out of here tomorrow for two hours when this door is opened for you. If I was you, I would mind my own business and just sit here and stay quiet.  With that the two guards walked out of the small room. The chubby guard popped his face from behind the gate. Like I said, mind your own business and keep quiet.

The instructions were easy to follow, but before I followed them, I needed to try and see if the nightmare came to an end. But I was not sleeping, and my situation was not a nightmare. This was the real deal. I sat down on the lower bed, slowly taking everything in. I could tell that it was an older room within an older prison, and that someone would be living in the room with me. Flip-flops were placed neatly under the bed I sat on. The thin metal shelf held a few pictures of family and young children and a few books. There would not be room for anything I would collect. Maybe an upside-down box could fix that. I noticed that the sink was more like a sink in an airplane or bus bathroom. Over it was a cracked plastic mirror that did not look very clean. The steel toilet was connected to the concrete floor by big thick bolts. I wondered who the hell would try to pick the toilet up anyway. A