a coffee and coffee-cakes to welcome us to signify the name of RDC, but it was rather the opposite.
They took us inside the showers instead. They made us stand inside, and then quickly sprayed disinfectants to eliminate street infestations of any bugs and bad things, especially lice in the pubic area.
Followed by the spray reception, I stood up in front of correctional officers at the corner of the shower and they began to check our naked bodies one by one by giving verbal orders.
One officer gave me orders.
“Open your mouth, turn around, lift your leg,” so I followed.
“Put your hands on your cheek and spread it,” the officer said, but I hesitated for a second.
I immediately put both hands on my face and squeezed, because I did not have any idea how I could possibly spread my cheek according to my understanding. Then, they laughed and giggled but I did not know why.
After the body inspections, I met one very mean man who was in civilian clothes. As I sat next to him he said something but I could not decipher what he was trying to tell me. It sounded like murmuring but soon I knew he was giving me the authentic prison number that would belong to me for the rest of my life. It was the authorized wholesale serial number for future usage. He in effect notarized me to become one of the most expensive goods in our society as he proudly stamped my number on the paper.
After I got the new prison “driver’s license number,” they took mug shots with my license plate on my chest, and then took us to the barber shop followed by a trip to a small window where one middle-aged female worker checked for any tattoos as these were common body symbols among criminals. Unfortunately I disappointed her because I had nothing.
I thought when we got to RDC, they were going to serve some kind of donuts for our reception, but I realized their idea of receptions was to receive us as one big batch or package of valuable goods in the justice business.
When their reception of us was done, they took us to the cafeteria. I was hungry, so the foods were delicious and definitely better than jail. I knew then I was registered to be a member of Indiana DOC as an expensive liability of the state.
Following chow, we were taken to the cells on the second floor. I was sent to cell 2B-12. When I arrived at the cell, one young white prisoner from Ohio welcomed me as his cellmate.
The building was very old and looked as if the state had paid off the mortgages a long time ago, and the structure of the cell was like that in the movie on the Alcatraz. Each cell was 6 feet by 8 feet and had one bunk bed and toilet with an attached washbasin. It smelled repulsive to me instinctively but, just the same, I digested it immediately as I walked in, knowing it was going to be my dwelling place for the next so many days. As I stepped into the cell, I quickly became emotional. I knew I had to deal with any circumstances coming to me, and so I shook hands with my new cellmate and then lay on the bed for the endless journey ahead of me.
It was the beginning of my DOC life.
RDC Supplies
They gave me one blanket, a pillow and two sheets. It was a civilized country prison, so prisoners’ supplies were better. I realized for sure that this DOC tried to keep the expensive commodities in good condition.
Soon, they delivered a toothbrush and toothpaste; ironically, those were donated by Mr. Bob Barker, of The Price Is Right, because his name was stamped on the supplies. Anyway, I liked them and opened them immediately and so now I brushed my teeth with a real toothbrush.
At about 4 p.m., they took newcomers to the orientation room. One young black officer, who was from Mississippi, gave us the introductory speech about RDC.
He welcomed us warmly and heartily indeed because he knew prisoners were important for him to keep his job. He loved to use the F-word in between phrases. He told us about the RDC and its function and then asked us to follow orders. He gave me a speed lecture, but most of them were F-words. I understood that he had to use F-words because that way it was easy for inmates to understand his speech. After his lecture, I began to notice that I had to use these F-words myself to make people understand my words from then on.
To Be an Offender from a Defender
The initial welcome party at RDC was officially over at around 9 p.m. Now, it was a beginning of a new career as a prisoner and as a new DOC member. Surprisingly, they began to call us “offenders.” I tried to figure out why they called us offenders. I was very confused but I could not ask anyone about this. I’d feel stupid if I did.
It took a few minutes to figure out why they called us the offenders. According to my theory, the trial game was a lot like playoff football games. Prior to conviction, defendants defended their teams against the State’s, but in the first half the defendants lost the game by a score of 21-0 and the State humiliated them. During this period, the defendants did not have enough probable powers and weapons to beat the State.
It was the second half. Now it was the defenders’ turns to offend and fight back to win their games. So far, the offenders failed to win any games yet. The State knew the defendants had no strengths and strategies to score a touchdown in the second half. Knowingly, the State had given time to the defendants to offend and take their balls back, therefore, I thought, they called us the offenders. Once I thought about my theory, it made sense to me. I began to absorb the meaning of “offender,” although I never offended anyone in my life.
3
RDC Facility
The Main Wholesale Distributor, RDC
The RDC is located in Plainfield, Indiana, next to the Indiana Youth Center, where poor Mike Tyson was incarcerated because of a complaint by a woman who was very disappointed at his sexual performance.
In my theory on the Tyson case, when she met him, she had expected good and enthusiastic sexual pleasures from him since Tyson was the world heavyweight champion. However, she only felt strong physical contacts like a punching bag might feel in boxing practice, without getting any satisfaction. Unfortunately, Tyson just pressed hard like punching her on the ring and knocked her out without giving her any orgasm and pleasure, so that she became very mad and disbelieving at his attempts at intimacy.
Later, knowing she was embarrassed and humiliated, she decided to make a complaint against him for his sexual responsibilities. Furthermore, she wanted him to pay for failing to give her satisfaction, so she contacted an attorney, and the counsel assured her this was a big fish. She immediately filed the claim and won, and then extorted easily. She knew the public would be on the side of any woman’s complaints.
Street lawyers are always waiting for something to happen like a car accident. And here was someone determined not to forgive Tyson for his poor sexual performance as a famous boxing champion. This was why, I believe, she went ahead and accused Tyson.
The RDC was old and the building color was faded, but somehow the state used it well and made fortunes from it. It consumed about 500 new vials of merchandise and generated new incomes for the Justice Department on an everyday basis. It smelled all over but I dared not make a complaint; instead, I consumed all atmospheres of the RDC as a given in order to remain within the wholesale distributor.
When darkness approached, I immediately felt lonesome and remote, and a strange sensation came over me. I could not explain what I was thinking, but nervously sat on the bed like a retarded person. Suddenly, I felt tears coming down my face. I kept
