Institutionalized

By Oliver Gray

DESCRIPTION

 

Oliver Gray is currently serving a sentence of 30 years for armed robbery with gun enhancement in the state of California. He's currently appealing his conviction on the basis of newly discovered evidence that proves his innocence. Along with several other grounds of appeal that violated his constitutional rights.

 

 This non fiction story INSTITUTIONALIZED outlines his journey and experience through the criminal trial where evidence was presented of his mental retardation and significant brain damage which was denied and rejected by the judge as credible. 

Before being arrested Oliver had a 20 min long standoff with police holding a gun to his face before surrendering.

 

 At trial Co defendant Kristopher testified that he and another man known as "J" had committed the robbery with him. Oliver was only in the van not involved in the actual robbery at all. Next Oliver also testified that a man known as "J" committed the robbery with Kristopher and not him , "J" ran in a different direction and got away after the police chased them.

The jury convicted him of all counts sentencing him to 30 years 4 months for armed robbery.

 

After trial new evidence was discovered that was withheld by the district attorney. A witness stated that both suspects were black and Oliver is white clearing him as the suspect. However this evidence was never presented.

Institutionalized details the effects of long term incarceration , the psychological impact and emotional experiences adapting to life in a maximum security prison. In addition to him being white belonging to a black gang, Sacramento's Meadowview Bloods. Displaying how the California prison system is entrenched with a culture of racism and violence. Placed in administrative segregation where in isolation he fought mental Illness and depression. 

Later describing being addicted to a cell phone and having separation anxiety after his cell was searched and the phone was taken.

 Lastly the book comes to the unexpected ending when 10 years into his sentence and wrongful conviction his appeal was denied at the last level available. However God works in mysterious ways when he meets "J" on a prison yard. He was serving a sentence for a string of separate robberies. After realizing who Oliver was and hearing the news that Kristopher died of an overdose in his prison cell "J" agreed to come forward and admit his role in the robbery and clear Oliver's name. He wrote and signed a statement confessing to the robbery that Oliver was actually Innocent and wrongfully convicted.

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: OLIVER GRAY
• Release date: Feb 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201098155

Book preview

The defendant has continued to reoffend, escalating from low-level offenses to multiple felonies in a relatively short period of time. Including multiple instances of first-degree residential burglary. The defendant's pattern of criminal conduct is significant and increasing in severity. Having graduated from residential burglary to armed robbery.

A complete review of the defendant's criminal history shows that the defendant has been unable to abstain from criminal activity for any significant period of time unless confined to law enforcement custody. The defendant has also shown no willingness to rehabilitate. In fact he has escalated in criminal conduct. Both in the seriousness of the offense and also in the sophistication in which he commits his offenses.

Moreover the defendant has demonstrated a pattern of criminal behavior increasing in severity. Also in his numerous prior juvenile convictions demonstrating an inability to maintain a crime free lifestyle and an unwillingness to abide by the rules of organized society.

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My name is Oliver Gray, the defendant being described on the last page. Starting around the age of thirteen I was already beginning to develop my rap sheet and a cycle of juvenile delinquency. I can look back without doing the math and see I probably spent as much of my youth locked up in a cell as I did on the street. I've been processed and booked into juvenile hall approximately seven or eight times for both probation violations,resisting arrest and other theft crimes.

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I want to share something about this process from the heart. Every time that cell door closed behind me, it didn't take very long for the reality to set in. Next followed a mixture of anxiety, impulsive thoughts and these dark feelings. Realizing that no one can save me in here. I remember just standing there suspended for a long second carefully examining the surroundings of the cell judging the situation and taking all my options into consideration. Searching for any possible way of escape or means of alibi or excuse. I remember I would pace back and forth staring at these walls looking out the cell door window. Eventually I would become mentally exhausted until I finally made my bed curling up under the covers. For endless hours I either sat on the edge of the bed or tossed and turned in the bed as my mind would remain alert and active the impulsive thoughts would never stop attacking.

While locked up in the emptiness of a cell, stripped of everything and separated from everyone. You are forced to confront yourself , face the truth about yourself, and are left to reflect on all your actions and relive all your memories. With no excuse or distraction you can't hide from your conscience or run from the consequences. This is time for you to do some real reflecting and soul-searching.

I've learned from doing time how I tend to make things more difficult on myself. I learned how I have the ability to create my own stress. I worried looking at how the future seems so uncertain. I would stress losing contacts and being separated from my family. The anxiety would narrow my vision and destroy my ambitions causing me to make assumptions and jump to conclusions, form judgments and expect the worst possible outcome playing games with my imagination. I never noticed it back then but those thoughts were driving me into depression. Silently guiding me into giving up. All this was causing me to question my beliefs, weakening my confidence and self-esteem and overall deranging me mentally. After days turned into weeks I started to grow frustrated and lose my patience, my stomach began to tighten, my palms were constantly sweating and my heartbeat accelerated. I remember the same questions repeating in my head.

How did I end up like this in here? What's going to happen to me? And why me? The heaviness of this time was beginning to weigh me down with every one of these questions I could feel myself descending deeper into depression. I couldn't help but think about my life beyond these walls going on without me. I started to imagine every single moment I was missing in here . I would wonder what my friends and family were all doing. Next I started to realize everything that I had once taken for granted. Sometimes I would close my eyes and picture myself free, thinking about how things would be including me.

As this time carried on my frustrations grew stronger and deep inside there was a sharp pain unresolved and increasing over time I spent countless hours circling the same questions over and over again like.. If things were different? If I could get another chance? If I could do it over again? If I could take it all back? Or let's just be honest, if I got away with it!

These hypothetical if's are unlimited and can continue on for hours if you choose to entertain them. Also wondering all these if's can become a serious habit. They reopen wounds of the past creating a pain just as fresh as the day it first happened. Exposing all the regrets and mistakes I'll never be able to take back or erase. Eventually I figured out wondering and imagining all these if's can be devastating. Stirring up my emotions that I wish I could've kept them hidden. As I sat behind the cell door setting on the edge of my bunk I began to count all the numerous victims and crimes I've ever committed. I grew conscious of the impact behind my actions. I imagined all the unseen damage I created and pain I caused. Truthfully I hated myself for some of the things I've done in my life. I couldn't see myself ever really being forgiven for the things I've done.

I was becoming lost in this isolation, I would drift off to sleep for a couple hours and wake up thinking it was a new day, losing track of all time. My mind would eventually return to the anxiety, impulsive thoughts and dark feelings I started to develop this sense of being unworthy, undeserving and empty inside. I even began to consider that maybe I belong in here and everyone's life is easier without me. Also maybe being locked in the cell was part of my destiny. Honestly these thoughts cut deep inside of me and led me to believe I was being abandoned by family, forgotten by friends and an outcast from society. I felt no one cared how I was feeling, or cared what I was going through. I felt alone like no one loved me anymore.

Next I started to look at my life and realized that they aren't worried about me.They are concerned about me. They haven't lost any sleep over me.

They haven't missed a meal once over me, and they haven't shed a tear over me. At this moment I was forced to accept that everyone has moved on with their lives without me. At this moment I remember looking up at the ceiling and telling myself this really isn't much of a life worth living. The truth was I was dying inside and no one could see it. To me it seems like only once there is nowhere else to turn and everything else has failed, then we resort to prayer and find ourselves looking to God to save us and solve our problems. Hopeless and desperate.

I was driven to my knees begging for forgiveness, confessing my sins and trespasses, admitting I am powerless and surrendering my life. Crying out even making unrealistic childish promises and offering to make sacrifices in exchange for God's mercy and his compassion.

It was inside this juvenile hall cell I actually read the Bible for the first time on my own. It was inside the cell I developed my relationship with God. It was inside a juvenile facility that I learned my faith existed. Kind of embarrassing to admit but it was in a cell that was the first place I truly put my trust in God.

I would repeat this process again and again as a teenager in and out of juvenile hall. Only finding myself praying to God while in this cell, or in between my court dates. Studying Scripture and attending the services. But every time I was released I would immediately return to the streets to the same friends and activities that landed me in juvenile hall to begin with. Sadly forgetting all about the pain, loneliness and anxiety also leaving behind all the promises I made and everything that I had prayed for.

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Until one day as I became older growing familiar with this process of being arrested and booked into juvenile hall I remember returning and stepping back into an empty cell. I expected to be struck with the sudden feeling of anxiety, worry and stress but surprisingly there was none. So I continued the routine by examining the surroundings, reading all the writings on the walls names and numbers and neighborhoods, looking out the cell door window, making my bed, sitting on the edge of the bunk. Eventually I found myself bored and went to my knees to pray. Something didn't feel the same so I stopped halfway into my prayer. Inside it felt like something was missing, like there was no real connection. Inside me there was no fear, no desperation and no emotions. I realized my heart wasn't engaged in it. Like my words had no real meaning behind them. Next I got back on my feet without even finishing , this was honestly an embarrassing moment for me that I never shared with anyone before. I later realized that all this had become a routine over the years and praying was like a learned behavior and a coping mechanism to help me deal with the stress and anxiety. I was just reciting the same prayer and repeating the same words asking God to forgive me and watch over me.

Later that same night I remember approaching the cell door to look out the window. Before I got to the door I was distracted by an image in the window. It was the reflection of my face in the glass. I was stuck looking at myself for a long second suspended by the reflection I was seeing I didn't even recognize myself .The cold expression on my face. My eyes were bloodshot and circling with bruise colored darkness. I didn't even notice over the years what I was becoming. I never took the time to consider that by repeating this process I was growing cold, emotionless and heartless towards myself and others. At this moment I remember I didn't even feel like a human being anymore.

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Looking back I see how I did most of my aging and maturing in locked facilities from juvenile detention centers onto the California Department of Corrections. Also while on the streets, all I did was can tribute to the crime rate and help terrorize my community. While growing up adapting to these environments I learned that survival is basically dependent on manipulating others to protect your image or at the hand of violence to earn your reputation. Surrounded by others just as eager to prove themselves as you. Competing at who can be the most violent and callous or the best manipulator. I came to find out quickly it was required to camouflage my feelings and disguise my intentions in order to maintain a tough exterior and image. I never want to show any type of weakness. Even during my saddest or most stressful moments I repressed these feelings because I never wanted to place myself in a vulnerable position that could open me up to humiliation or tarnish my reputation. I know there's some people that would laugh at me and call me soft for admitting this, but this mindset became ingrained over the years.

I developed these strategies to cope and deal with these settings. I manipulated myself into repressing feelings and learning to detach myself from emotions. So beneath this image I've been portraying and below the appearance everyone is used to seeing, deeper than who I think I am, and underneath who I believe I am supposed to be. There is this story that has remained untold about feelings I've never shared or express and the pain I have never exposed

Be not deceived: evil communications corrupt good manners.  Corinthians 15:33

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There were a lot of times in my life I can remember thinking to myself , I don't know how this is going to play out, '' or I don't know how I got myself into this, or don't trip ,don't worry and everything's going to be alright".

I remember talking to myself and trying to calm my own nerves and convince myself into feeling confident but inside the truth was I was confused, unsure and insecure. But in my mind there was no backing out or turning around. I wouldn't ever allow myself to look weak or scared. So instead despite my better judgment I continue to move forward. As the tension was building inside me, my heart rate was speeding and increasing , my palms were sweating and vision narrowed into focus. Looking at the uncertainty ahead of me I had no real strategy, also no idea what the fuck I had gotten myself into. But my options seemed limited and I felt committed. At this moment I knew I would rather die than go back to jail, because I had made myself this promise. I was reminded when I was in prison that I vowed to myself I would rather die before I return back to the emptiness and isolation of a jail cell. At this moment I had every intention of staying true to this promise, inside I knew my life was about to come to an end.

At 20 years old after recently being released from prison a couple of months prior. On May 29, 2011 arising from a robbery of a south Sacramento restaurant. Sacramento County police officers observed the defendant walking southbound down a residential street holding a handgun down his side and not wearing a shirt. Next the defendant turned around to face the approaching officers and then proceeded to put the handgun to his head. At this time he yelled out to the officers, don't care anymore am going to kill myself! At this time additional officers arrived on scene and a standoff situation ensued. Officers began to negotiate with him in an attempt to get him to surrender without harming himself. Throughout the standoff the defendant repeatedly asked the Sacramento Police Department to shoot him and made statements that he was going to aim his firearm at officers and force them to shoot him and made more statements