Texas Prison

By Pop Benedict

Texas prison system has a multicultural environment, some win some lose. Texas Department of Correction is no longer Texas Department of Correction, it is Texas Department of Criminal Justice now because no one was being corrected. They have some innocent people there they have some people there for the cause of protecting their self this is real fiction. All proceeds of this book will go for transportation for prisoners family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pop Benedict
• Release date: Sep 29, 2019

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The stories I write about are true and the names have been changed (mostly) to protect the innocent. I’m calling this series of books Testimony of the Devil (Part 3 of 3); a Biography. Part 2 is about Darrington Unit, where I did 9 years of this 25 year sentence (2002-2011). But I will have to await my release (2012) before I can finish all the parts of Testimony of the Devil…it is too risky to write about some of the details while still incarcerated.

I am now considered a 3-time loser in the Texas Penal System’s codes, rules, and governances. Although I never say that I will never return, because I can’t predict the future. But, I am damn sure I ain’t going to kill myself.

Right now…at the time of writing this…I am 50 years old and have done 23 years and 10 months of my 2-25 year sentence (running concurrently). I have 4 felonies, all together.

Bottom line to my story is, I never thought I would live this long (to see 50 years old) and be to fuck, dress, and damn near, do all I want to do. I didn’t care if I lived or died before – while I was Ghetto Balling in Dallas and New Orleans’ 9th Ward. If I had been out all this time, I really feel that I would be either dead or on death row. For one thing, I was literally drinking myself to death!

Then again, someone probably would have killed me for ‘pimp slapping’ them during one of my drunken sprees or, or one of my Bitches would have killed me for some other odd reason. I have been stabbed 3 times by Hoes I have fucked with. On the other hand, I win almost every fight I’ve been into – if I’m not drunk – because I get straight to the point while most Motherfuckers are still standing there talking.

I have 4 murders in my past, but they only sentenced me for 2 of those…because all these cases were self-defense – me fighting for my own life! The victims had threatened (and under-estimated) me…sadly, by bringing a knife to a gun fight.

In my 3-book series…Testimony of the Devil…readers will see what I am talking about. Also, what brought me to the point of fighting back, since normally, I consider myself to be a Pimp/Player type of Negro!

My first time going to prison was in 1979 (to 1980). I was sent up for a robbery case. After I got caught and arrested at Lovefield Airport in Dallas, I copped to a 2-year sentence for robbing Rodd’s House Restaurant, where I used to work. They eventually got all the money back and my sentencing went from 99 years down to 2, before my plea. I learned that my cousin – who was my ‘fall partner’ – turned State’s evidence and snitched on me. They let him go. I didn’t trip about it because there was also another witness who had seen us and who also testified. So I took the 2 years. That was the hardest penitentiary time I ever did.

I was only 18 years old in 1979. But age had nothing to do with anything…and they just don’t do time now, like they did back in 1979.

When I was in the Dallas County Jail awaiting my trial, I had to make the decision to fight my case or take my chances in court – when I knew I did it, even though they did not catch me at the scene of the crime. They actually caught us about 4 hours later. We were amateurs, young and dumb. When we hit this fool in the back of the head, he didn’t go down (as expected) and instead, he started yelling and screaming. My cousin and I took off running…without the money! During our unplanned escape, we ran into a young Janitor in the basement who told me, I was not supposed to be downstairs. I asked (while "big-chesting him), did he want to make something out of it? He walked away, into the break room, which was just about 20 feet away, and where we had hit the fool with the money! So we took off running again, still without the money.

Of course, the story we later told our family was much different. In hopes that they would post our bonds and get us out…we told them we had the money! Unfortunately for us, that lie didn’t work.

Part of the story we told our family was that, we ran out the Airport into the underground parking lot across the street. We made it to the bus stop where we caught a city bus that took us to the Spot-Light Club on Cedar Springs Blvd. At about 4 a.m., when we walked out the club, the Police were waiting for us! We also added (in our lie about us having the money) that, when we ran out the airport, the fool we hit in the head was running behind us telling everyone that we had robbed him. So we threw the money all over the street to cause a distraction. While everyone was distracted trying to pick up the money, we ran and caught a bus that took us to the Spot-Light Strip Club…which is where they arrested us, as we came outside. This was the elaborate lie we told everyone…at first.

Truth is…we went back to Lovefield Airport to try to recover the money. We had been so close to having it! I was thinking about my rent was due; and I only had about $160 in my pocket. I felt like we couldn’t lose…this would be an easy money-making situation. Well, in actuality, as soon we went back to the airport we were arrested for ‘suspicion of robbery.’

While in jail, all the criminals, pimps, killers and rapists were educating me about the system and giving their advice. However, they were adamant in the fact that they were not going to tell me what I should ultimately do.

With the weight of knowing I did it, I just wanted to cop out to the 2 years. I had to honestly look at all the facts against me. I had a State appointed attorney…I was already on probation for carrying a firearm and possession of weed…plus, they had a witness who had seen me at the crime scene (although they hadn’t witnessed the attack on the victim). This was some heavy shit to think about!

And the really pivotal point about all this was the fact that I used to work at this restaurant. Before they fired me, I was placed on probation after being caught hiding under the desk in the security office. Honestly, I was trying to get the money back then. They had this big safe that I couldn’t get opened. So the only way to get into it was to make the victim open it when he was bringing the money downstairs (stacked up from the 4 restaurants and bars they operated). I knew the money schedule and routine. All the cash would be stored in the big safe downstairs, from Thursday until Monday mornings, when Wells Fargo would come to make their routine pickups. It was Sunday, March 14, 1979 when my cousin and I went in.

That was my first…and last robbery!

During my court trial and after my copping to the 2 years, my attorney told me it was a good thing I did not make bail. I asked her why she would make a statement like that. She explained that someone had later robbed, shot, and killed a woman at one of the Lovefield Airport businesses in the vicinity of my crime. The victim had been shot twice in the back and head, and robbed of $15,000. My attorney handed me the newspaper article to read. I was really kind of rattled by this news…because I felt that, had I been out on bond, they would probably have thought it was me who killed that woman!

When I got back to the holding tank, I told everyone I took the 2 years. They said I did the right thing…which was an easy thing for them to say, because they had all been to prison before! Hell, this was going to be my first trip. Prior to this offense I had a night in jail, as a juvenile…once!

So there I sat, in Lew Sterrett County Jail, waiting to go to prison. I lost $1,500 worth of jewelry because they told my momma they couldn’t find it. Because she wasn’t used to standing up to White folks, she got tired of waiting (after 4 hours) and left. Then, my first-cousin had turned as a witness against me (State evidence) in the case.

I thought a lot about my time before getting to this point. My motto on the street was Fight hard!…and even though I did, I just couldn’t win drunk. After years of getting drunk, and then robbed and beaten by my ‘haters’, I ended up getting stabbed in my heart and lungs. I was stressing and pushing my ‘Pimp mentality’ on my homeboy – who, coincidentally, had married my Bitch after I went to Prison the first time.

I was stabbed by his Girlfriend’s brother who was also hanging out with us that day. Because this dude couldn’t stand to hear me check my homeboy on an issue concerning him and his Bitch (I was coming down on him about letting her disrespect him in front of his male friends), when this Bitch-assed fool stabbed me.

My outlook when it happened, and to this day is that, ‘it didn’t kill me…it just made me better…because it changed my life forever!’ I can’t drink anymore and, it made me more conscious about my life; after all those years of fighting and getting drunk. Up to that point, nothing had been as life-threatening to me as when that fool stabbed me.

When I awoke from the operation everything was crystal clear, as far as in my eyesight. Even brand new (you could say)! I realized then, at that moment, just how much I loved living and did not want to die.

Before my first time in prison, I could care less if I lived or died. My whole focus was to get that million dollars…even if it meant I had to do 20 years in prison trying to get it! But I drew the line at risking prison behind killing some stupid-assed Crack-head trying to fight and take advantage of me being drunk, because he’s hooked on that shit and out of his mind.

My doctor also told me that my drinking had helped with saving my life during the stabbing. Because my blood pressure was so low when it happened (from all the wine I had been drinking), it helped in keeping me from ‘bleeding out’. But since then, I still don’t want that Bullshit in my life. I am done with the alcohol consumption…that’s serious!

Maybe, while some would say that God (or whomever) had a hand in saving me, I had enough fight left in me to get myself up and walked a block to my Mom’s place (with blood squirting out my chest).

CHAPTER TWO – Prison Arrival

Going back to the Lovefield Airport robbery and what led to my first time in prison. Originally, the Nigga who used to be one of my co-workers at the restaurant had planned to do the robbery with me. When the time came to go, he was nowhere to be found. I later learned that he had been moving…but he had not gotten in touch with me or told me anything about his plans. But since I had my big corn bread fed, country, cousin with me I decided to go anyway.

Later, when the original Nigga that was supposed to have been there read in the newspaper that I had attempted to do the robbery at Lovefield, he made several wrong assumptions about what was actually going on with me. He figured I had made bond and was out on the streets. At this point, he made the decision to rob the place…thinking the blame would be placed on me (like I had returned to try it again). Wrong!

I did not make bond and had already copped to my time when the Homicide Investigators came to question me about the murder at Lovefield Airport. They asked me who I hung out with? Who did I work with? Who else would rob the place? And the ultimate question the dangled at me was, who did I know that would like to get the $10,000 reward being offered for information leading to an arrest in the case? I told them I had no answers to any of their questions and gave them nothing. They even tried to use intimidation tactics on me by showing me a 12-gauge shotgun and saying it was mine! However, although they had no finger-prints on it, they knew that I had placed it into a hollowed-out electric box in the wall. Bullshit! This was not mine!

About three and a half months after the crime I found myself at Ferguson Unit; a Texas State Correctional facility. Before arriving at the prison unit, I had to stop off at the Diagnostic Unit to get evaluated (IQ testing, health care, haircut, and being sprayed for bugs). When I came in on what they call the chain (new inmates being brought in either shackled by themselves or chained together), I had to stand by a desk in the hallway for about 4 hours. Everyone on the Unit could see me, as well as anyone else who came in on the chain.

I saw 2 Black dudes that I knew from Dallas. One had worked at the Hyatt-Regency with me and had claimed to be ‘a hustler’ when we worked together. He always looked like a Thug. But after thinking back about him (and seeing him then), I realized that he was only a yes-man to the shit I did. Prison made him show his true colors. They broke him from whatever he thought he was. He was what they called a model convict…he did no wrong! I couldn’t fuck with him. I knew I was a criminal for life…live and die.

I am always going to do me. I had made my mind up to fight, all the way….check game. I had been fighting all my life, so I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. Even back in elementary school I fought like Cassius Clay. Only a few Black fools that I stepped up to, tried to test me.

The other Black guy I noticed that I knew (from Dallas) was Charles. His brother lived in the Southern Oaks Apartments – where I stayed – and that’s where I met him. Although we recognized one another, but we still did not fuck with each other there at Ferguson. He ended up getting a life sentence for beating someone to death with his car jack, after they broke out his car window. I learned this happened in East Dallas – his old ‘stomping ground’. This had happened at some little ‘hole-in-the-wall’ club. It must have been someone he knew, because we used to roll through there all the time.

After standing up against that wall for 4 hours, Captain Frye interviewed me before they assigned me to a Cell Block. In no uncertain terms, Captain Frye told me that he was going to make sure that I did the whole 2 years for the robbery…because he was from Dallas! He almost made good on that threat, too. I saw him 25 years later at the Psych Unit in Lubbock’s Montfort Unit. He was still a Captain. I heard that he had made the rank of Major, but something happened and he went back down to Captain. I know where he is…if I had ever wanted to get to him.

Captain Frye sent me to 10 Block where I had to sleep on the floor with 2 other convicts in the cell with me. One was a Black dude from Dallas; the other one was from ‘H-Town’ (Houston). With Black being from Dallas, I felt a little more comfortable. Because I knew if this fool out of Dallas, tried to help this fool out of H-Town to rape me or anything like that…he knew I would see him again in Dallas. Hell yeah, I was scared. Only a fool wants to look over his shoulder all his life. That was my theory.

I slept on the floor for 3 months before I got a bunk. I was assigned to the ‘Field Hoe Squad #12’. Steadily, for 5 days every week, we had to run out the Cell Block building until we reached the back gate outside. Then, we were counted and had to run another 2 miles out to the work site, after we were let out the back gate.

If we did not go to work, they had convicts who were Building Tenders that would come and beat your ass until you did get out and go to work. They were also known as Turn Keys – or the ‘beat ‘em up boys’! All these dudes did mostly was lift weights all day; count us; and beat our asses, if needed!

If anyone still did not go to work, they would be allowed to beat your ass until they killed you…and nothing would be done about it. Oh, the officers would call your family…but only to inform them that you committed suicide.

I had no problem working. I was in good health and held my own. Standing 6’2" and weighing 165 pounds. There had been fire in my veins all my life. Even as this was written (at 50 years old) I am still in good shape. I would say that only a man who has been used to fighting all his life (like I have), or someone that has been practicing on a professional level, could beat me – right now – pound for pound. I have learned, over the years, to use my hands, speed, and timing to my advantage. Now I maintain my weight at around 165-200 lbs. Although I may be just a bit slower…I am stronger, and I still use timing to my advantage.

In the past 24 years, I have only lost 3 fights out of 56. Because I was not looking and got hit from the back, I lost 2 of them. So, you know those were cowards.

I never had a problem fighting, if someone had wanted to try me back then…thinking they had someone weak, they got a big surprise.

The first time a convict tried me was in the Day Room while waiting on the Commissary Store. This big fat, Black dude named South Park told me to get him something out the store…he was going to give me a list, he said. I only had about $20 on my account. I told him that he had me fucked up!

Wait a minute! Calm down, brother! I was just checking you out to see where you at. With that attitude, you will do all your time! He was totally apologetic and quickly changed his whole approach after I came down on his ass so foul.

Whatever! Because I ain’t got but 2 years and I ain’t paying no one nothing! No protection. No ass. No nothing! I made sure that everyone within hearing range heard me and they were clear about what I said.

CHAPTER THREE

From that day on, I stuck to my prison routine of going to work from 6 a.m. to 11 a.m.; then went back out a 12 noon and ran back in at 6 p.m.

I recall what my dad used to say about working from sun up until sun down…picking cotton in the 1940’s and 50’s. But I felt that it would have been nothing for me at 18 years of age and in perfect health. My only drawback was a few rotten teeth. During my time on Ferguson, I ended up getting 9 teeth pulled. That was the worst pain I ever felt…except when this muscle-bound Homosexual broke my jaw in 2 places.

After getting used to being at work, it became nothing for me to run down the rows getting the job done. I took lead row sometime, but I would never beat anyone up for not being able to keep pace. I was always ready to help them, though. Some of the guys would ask me come catch them up…this meant I would have a couple of dollars coming for my help.

Years ago before I came to prison, I had been turned out by a Dick-sucker who was at the park on Cedar Springs in Dallas. He offered me a ride home and $20 to let him suck my Dick. That quickly sprung me. I had only had 3 shots of Pussy (in my life) before I turned 18. I was a slow starter on Pussy because I was busy after that money. Then, I ended up fucking one of my friend Ed’s punk-assed homeboys. His name was Joe. I was mad at myself after I did it. He was a rough-looking assed Niggah, who I thought had money and was going to break me off. He got me drunk and then I was just happy to be fucking something.

When they moved me off the floor of the cell and gave me a bunk, I moved next door to a blue-eyed, Blond-haired White boy, who was Gay. One day I overheard another (Black) convict stop in front of the White boy’s cell and told him that he had seen the White boy jacking his celly off. He said that if he didn’t pay him, he was going to tell the laws and they would put him on the cell block with the Homosexuals (I and