to participate. Today I am embarking on an unusual life journey and find myself unsure if that training will make today's events result in a life victory lap, or end up as a premature eulogy. My company was like working in Camelot. But was I King Arthur or Merlin? Only these soon to be shared travails may crystallize and answer that question.
When Camelot ended, did it self-destruct or was it overtaken by villains? Did their marauders also seize, liquidate, plunder, burn, and shred those positive memories and were the victims, like me, simply ordered onto a transport like my symbolic plane?
I wonder if I should have flown yesterday or if today’s flight decision was the better one. In either event, it won't be until later tonight that I can relate the events, actions and stories that may unfold after this plane lands in New York City.
As the plane now taxies to the gate, despite my desire to stick my leg out the window, like a child on a fast moving sled to slow it down; my hands, normally dry, moisten. My occasionally intense eyes, now steel to watch the opening of the cabin door. Who might be charging on? I keep re-reading my full page New York Times response ad to this situation in the event there are any media questions.
I see that there were fifty-nine phone messages left during my two and a half hour flight. Listening to these messages will not be possible as my legal team greets me at the gate, not outside security. Can one man actually do this to me? How will my parents, children, grandchildren and wife process what may very soon happen? Will the following days be an adventure, a nightmare, a non-event or a life altering tragedy?
In less than an hour in the now awkwardly silent ride from the airport to lower Manhattan, a 60 year old, respected former political candidate, businessman and law abiding American citizen, without a parking ticket, will actually change his name from Richard Altomare (that's me) to 60981-054. I will report to the Metropolitan Correction Center to be placed in a high security solitary jail cell with no permitted trial, no crime committed and no knowledge of the events he and you, the reader, are about to share. Over the following unbelievable days we will better understand together one of America's best kept dark secrets, never before so clearly exposed by an innocent whistleblower.
During this soon to be life defining wrongful incarceration you, the reader, will see and experience a prison world yours and my defensive psyches refuse to admit could be allowed to exist.
Chapter 1– Orientation
I must confess I often have looked past the barbed wire of prisons thinking that our government ran a "tight ship" with our prisoners. Prisoners were bad. They obviously were guilty of something. These prisons kept law abiding citizens like me and you safe from them. Yet, tonight, Friday May 2, 2008 as stated, I have erroneously been accused of civil contempt by one Federal Judge, and I have been ordered to report to the Metropolitan Correctional Center located in downtown Manhattan, NYC.
Anger, embarrassment, shock and disbelief were only some of the emotions I felt as I boarded a plane in Florida to arrive the same day that the Judge refused to allow a forensic accountant to explain what he obviously refused to believe. I simply did not have the money to pay his outrageous fine, which was already on appeal. I am sure this "stay" will be a one or two day occurrence, so the judge can show his power and “make a point”, and I will be placed in some non-criminal minimum security facility. Maybe, I will be assigned to a prison like the one in which I was a warden, when activated to serve when I was in the military reserves many years ago. Now I, someone without a moving traffic violation, was actually going to prison! Life is filled with many unusual experiences, so having had a pretty full life, I figured I could at least have some new interesting dinner stories and be home by Monday.
I will discuss the aspects of this case throughout my diary which resulted in this incarceration, but to every American reading this diary, hold on to your hats and read about the "world within our world" called the Bureau Of Prisons (BOP) which spends over 60 billion dollars of our money annually.
Closely follow my story, as I visit but one “Club Fed”, for what I thought might be a short weekend junket, and I report (in far greater detail than I had originally anticipated) on what is happening inside the barbed wire at thousands of U.S. prisons nationwide.
Everything you will read is true. I will endeavor, through my observations to expose the reality that you or someone you know, innocent of any crime, and without a trial or conviction for anything, could suddenly and unwillingly be checking into any one of the “Club Feds”.
This diary can be a primer for "What you always wanted to know about prison life but were afraid or not previously interested enough to ask." The purpose of this personally psychologically revealing diary is to give a pro and con of a broken system through one non-criminal's eyes. I am not a criminal but have been sent here by a lifetime appointee to be "put in my place" or to be silenced. After reading this book, you can decide for yourself.
For "my protection", (non-felons) are often placed in solitary confinement for 24 hours a day. That's a 10 foot x 6 foot cell to be described in grisly detail later on in this diary.
This diary is presented without prejudice or elaboration. It is devoid of any slanted facts due to my obvious negative feelings towards my Judge and his tactics or his attempts to endear his governmental employer. It simply reports on a place most of us, including me, never thought I would live in for a minute - certainly not 83 long but insightful and educational days! And that means 24 hour consecutive days and nights.
On the day I was to report, the Federal Marshals removed my shoelaces and belt (suicide tools). The initial check-in process took about 3 hours with 8 other inmates. All of us were handcuffed, frightened or angry. This is where I began my initial observations of our penal system.
We were placed in filthy rooms with no windows as we filled out prison forms with rubber pencils or only wiggly refills to prevent us from attacking another inmate or hurting ourselves. Suicide occurs far too often in here. This is where I first met a 27 year old, William F. from Manhattan, accused of selling a gun. Based on my initial dialogue, the Marshals abruptly removed him from a drug clinic boot camp which he was attending. This young frightened father of three babies was my first roommate along with at least six mice and rats in our cell. I watched him and the mice during my first sleepless night.
Our first "food" delivery was served in small brown plastic trays about 6"x8" in size. It appears that some of the guards try to treat the inmates with courtesy; I will elaborate throughout this diary on the behavior of those who mishandle their unlimited power over many of the inmates.
That reminds me of my initial undressing from my civilian clothing in front of a prison trustee. I guess depending on his sexual preference, this may be a dream job for him. The undressing is done in front of only one inmate and prison clothes are issued while your civilian clothing is put in a numbered hanging bag.
I was given "rules and regulations for MCC-NY (attached) and "sexual abuse guidelines", which aids in one's first night of one-eye closed sleeping in that 10x6 foot cell. The toilet bowl and sink is one unit and located directly in front of the door which has a small window. When going to the bathroom an inmate either covers himself with his own blanket in order to not be seen by his bunkmate or to avoid the plain view of anyone looking through the window on the door. An inmate's cot is similar to a hard poolside lounge. The surrounding noises initially are frightening or later on humorous if you can detach yourself from the sounds of mice (or rats) in the walls. There are screamers, some yelling at each other, some yelling at imaginary people, and most yelling at guards. Unfortunately, the guards are forced to become as noisy and crazy as the inmates under their charge. The initial sounds alert you to the painful fact that this is not like any other place you or I have ever experienced.
During my check-in interview I answered yes to two questions,
