Solitary (2016) - full transcript

I grew up in the foothills
of the Blue Ridge Mountains

in Earlysville, Virginia,

right outside of Charlottesville.

Grew up dirt-poor, wrong side
of the wrong side of the tracks.

You know, Dad was an
alcoholic and a drug user.

For the most part, he was absent.

I was the middle son,

so no matter what happened,
I always got beat for it.

You know, being the middle child,

so on and so forth, whether I had anything

to do with it or not.



And going to school,

you know, we went to a
pretty nice school, actually.

And we were, I mean, by far...

the poorest there, you know?

So we got picked on,

made fun of and stuff like that,

and I just started fighting, you know?

I never bullied anybody,

but I would always pick fights
with the bullies

'cause I hated it.

I-- you know, I know what it feel like

to be put down and made fun of,

so I would take the bullies--

I'd stuff their heads in
the toilets, you know?



That's just all I've ever
known, was how to fight.

My dad made me fight.

You know, we sawed off 2x4s

just to toughen us up and make us hard.

He said, "If you get into a fight,"

you damn sure better finish it.

"And if you lose,
I'ma beat your ass for it."

That's pretty much-- I mean,

unfortunately, that's
pretty much my childhood.

You know, all I've ever known was violence.

You know, it-- it wasn't
the solution to the problem,

it was just life.

Now I'm doing 1,214 years in
the state of Virginia without parole.

That's pretty much it.

Forty-five to Officer Patrick.

Can you take a count?

I'm gonna take your handcuffs off.

Let us control your hands.

I'll get you!

The main thing that segregation

means to me

is extreme loneliness and boredom.

That's the main thing-- loneliness.

You know, don't care how tough you are,

I don't care how badass you are,

you can Bruce Lee it up all day long,

it gets to you.

And it hurts like hell.

I feel like I've been
buried alive in the ground

and just-- everybody's just

basically walking over top of you.

You can hear them, but they can't hear you.

That's the way I feel-- forgotten.

You know?

And that is not a
comfortable feeling at all.

When you're alone,

you tend to reflect on your thoughts a lot.

You tend to maybe regress
into yourself a lot.

You just have nobody.

You truly are alone.

And anyone who says, "You
know, I would love to be alone,"

I don't think they've been alone.

So...

Because when they do, they'll experience it

and they'll hate it.

I've been in seg going on eight years.

And when you're in here,

you don't have the contact that you want.

Every time you leave
the cell, you gotta strip.

Turn around.

Squat and cough.

Now let's see the bottoms of your feet.

Other one.

And then you're in handcuffs.

You're in shackles.

And you know you got a gun
up there in the booth.

While it's not necessarily pointed at you,

it only takes a couple seconds.

You get to go to the shower, you know,

talk through the doors a little bit.

You get to go outside in the rec cages,

you know, for an hour, a few days a week.

So, when you're in here,

you're around hundreds of other guys--

inmates and the COs.

But...

you walk alone.

Yeah.

Hey, open up!

Hold up.

Turn down that racket, man.

Red Onion was open in August of 1998.

It was open to be a security level six

segregation facility, supermax.

Basically, a totally lockdown facility...

where most offenders remain in the cell

23 hours a day, seven days a week.

I came here as assistant
warden at the time.

We opened the facility.

We brought offenders in
that had negative behavior.

The worst behaving offenders in the state,

and we brought them from
other facilities to Red Onion

to be able to house them
in a more secure environment

than the lower level facilities.

Count time!

I'm not even an inmate.

I done been to court up here

for stabbing up security guards,

and they dismissed the charge
because I'm not an inmate.

I got...

Twenty-nine Roberta or Stanley.

- Seventeen.
- Great.

Sixty-two to 100.

My name's Michael Kelley.

I'm originally from
South Central Los Angeles.

I don't know nobody out here.

I don't have no family,
no friends out here.

I don't know a soul in Virginia.

I came out here to Virginia
to drop somebody off,

and I committed a couple of robberies.

And the courts in Virginia gave me 38 years

for two armed robberies.

If I would have known
that I would've got 38 years

for two armed robberies,

like, I would have never done it.

You know what I mean? 'Cause
I would've been like, "Holy shit.

I'm not fittin' to throw
my life away for 38 years

for two armed robberies.

That's crazy. That sounds nuts."

But I didn't know how serious
it was out here in Virginia.

In California, I would
have got, like, eight years,

and that would have been that, you know?

But...

I didn't know how serious it was,

and I didn't know how serious

society took that.

When I was a kid,
I wanted to be a gangster.

I wanted to be like my father.

You know, in California, where I came from,

we don't really look at
gangbanging as being crazy.

It's just kind of our culture.

It's a neighborhood thing.

Like, if you're from the neighborhood,

that's your family.

And that's your-- that's everything to you.

You know, when we're young, you got people

that you look up to them and say

you want to be like them.

You know, I want to be like him.

I look at his car, you know,

look at the girls that like him, like...

I want to be like him.

I wanna look like him when I get older.

That's my America.

And I'm in prison now.

They put me in segregation for fighting.

And being in that cell 23 hours a day...

it's a mental challenge in itself.

Just being...

in that cell for so long,

it's a psychological thing.

You know?

Any and everything that we go through

is just in that little box,
in that little cell.

Trying to, like, create things to do.

Trying to keep from going crazy,

like, every day, all day.

Like, for me,

my therapeutic time
is cleaning up every day.

When I get up in the morning, I clean up.

When I go to bed at night, I clean up.

You know, hit the floor, the wall,

the sink, just clean everything.

Get it all straight.

Spick-and-span, right? But I don't know.

I think that's just maybe OCD
or something. I don't know.

Maybe I'm crazy a little bit.

The COs can't really understand.

You know what I mean?

They're here half the time we're here.

You know what I mean?

But at the same time, they leave.

You know, they go back into the real world,

then they come back.

This is our world.

Tracking the development
of a winter storm here

along the East Coast
and just starting to see

some snow in the North and South Dakotas.

A bitter cold, Arctic air from the south.

That ends the warmer air to the southeast.

And then we get that storm developing,

so it's just initially
starting to develop now.

Temperatures are dropping.

Give me all your clothes.

Some days it can be...

easygoing, and then some days

your stress level can be out the roof.

And it feels like you're doing time,

'cause you have to come
right back and do it

the next morning, but...

You make what-- you make the best of it.

And in order to maintain control,

you have to be firm.

Face the back wall.

Spread your butt cheeks, squat, and cough.

Working in a supermax prison,

it will definitely make you tougher.

Twenty-eight!

Maintaining, you know, your calm

is quite an achievement

when dealing with some of these guys.

And some days, it feels like

the day's just not going to end.

You know, it's one thing
right after another.

I'm unit manager of D building.

I've been with the Department
of Corrections, now,

for 16 years.

I started as an officer

and I was promoted to sergeant,

then to lieutenant, then unit manager.

Open up 616!

The hard part for some staff

is, because they're on such great alert

12 hours a day

and there's the potential for violence...

when you go home and it's time to relax,

sometimes it's hard to let your mind...

- Yeah. Definitely.
- ...relax, 'cause you're still on guard.

So, I think that adds to the stress

of this profession.

You look at things different.

When I'm out on vacation

or out in big crowds with my family,

you know, I'm always looking around.

- Yeah.
- I think it has to do with this job.

- You have to just let
- Red Onion be Red Onion.

You know?

And it takes a--

it takes experience to really settle in

to the point that you
realize this is just a job.

You know? We don't have to live here.

Five-twelve.

Slide out.

All right, here we go.

My name's Lars Hanson.

I'm a lifer.

I have a life sentence.

And life in Virginia means

life without parole.

You're in.

And people who have a release date,

their mentality is different

than an individual like myself

who-- where we have life.

It's life,

and it's very impact-- it's...

It's depressing, it's sad, it's...

It can really overwhelm you.

So, when you have to live
with that year on end,

year on end,

you know, it can take a toll on you.

I'm 41 years old.

I've been incarcerated here in Virginia

for almost 20 years now.

I started getting in trouble--

you know, nothing major.

I was, I guess, probably 13 years old.

But I come from good parents.

You know, they love me.

You know, they didn't beat me.

They taught me to respect people.

And I have a brother who lives in Texas.

And we're just alike.

It's just that I made the bad choices

and he didn't, and, you know,

he's doing really well.

When I was 17, I shot a guy,

and I did five and half years
in prison in Hagerstown.

And I think that kind of
messed me up a little bit,

'cause it's very violent out there.

I've told the parole board
this, they paroled me.

And so, I went home, age 22.

And I was home for six months.

But I still had
the mind frame of an inmate.

Mentality when you're incarcerated

is you don't want anybody
to really disrespect you

or take advantage of you

or, you know, stuff like that.

And, so...

I was at a gas station with my girlfriend,

and there was two guys

who just kept harassing
my girlfriend and I,

and they just kept on, kept
on, and kept on and kept on,

and I snapped.

And I stabbed him.

And I killed him.

And they gave me a life sentence.

I mean, I'm up here for attempted escape.

All right, I actually scaled a fence,

and I got cut up real bad.

I got myself stuck in the fence.

I bled out, I woke up on the chopper.

And then they medevac'd me, saved my life,

brought me to Red Onion.

And I've been here
in segregation ever since then.

Segregation is tricky on the inmate,

because if the inmate is not careful,

they adapt to it.

And they start becoming antisocial

and become crazy.

They can lose their mind.

Ask yourself, "Can you live in a bathroom

for 10 years?"

It's bad to lock an individual
up and just put him in a...

in a room or a closed--

you know, nothing to do.

It's...

I guess you could say inhumane.

And I know that we're inmates--
and, "Oh, you're an inmate,"

but it-- excuse my
language, it fucks me up.

I've been in segregation going on 17 years.

But I've been locked up for 27 years.

And do you mind telling me about

the original charge you caught?

Armed robberies,

and I shot one person

in an armed robbery
with malicious wounding.

Well, I didn't shoot him.

It was-- I shot up in the air

and told him to get on the ground,

and the bullet ricocheted off
the steel I beam in the ceiling,

ricocheted off the brick wall

and hit the cashier in the foot.

They gave me 30 years for that.

A ricocheted bullet.

I didn't have no intent to hurt nobody.

I shot up in the air.

They even testified I shot up in the air.

But the judge didn't see it that way.

He said my intent to hurt

was when I pulled that trigger.

And what happened

that got you to-- into segregation

for such a long time?

I cut the warden across the face

and the neck in...

19-- December 26th of 1996.

That's when I did that.

That wasn't too good.

That was a moment of passion.

That's something I've been regretting

for the last 17 years, almost.

In 1986, when I did my crimes,

I had papers saying if I do 10 years,

then I can apply for parole.

And then, in 1995,

they come up with this new law

that says that I don't get no parole.

And it changed my whole life,
my whole outlook on life.

That made me snap.

They took my parole in '95,

and I stabbed the warden in '96.

They sent me up here,

and I've been in segregation since.

I come in the prison system,

you know, fighting, slinging ink,

hustling, doing whatever.

So, I'm in population,

and my cellmate tells me, look, man,

you got a guy going around
telling these dudes

that he's going to rape me.

He said, "He's going to knock you out,

he's going to rape you."

Said, "Okay, if I had a knife,

I'd slit that boy's throat."

He said, "I'll make you one."

We used to have cassette tapes back then.

You know the plastic case around it?

Took it, broke the stuff off,

took a lighter, melted it,
folded it in half.

Did that with another one.

Melted it together
and put three brand-new razors

in it and melted it in there.

The next morning,

we walk out, and he's across the yard.

I walk up behind the dude,

take my left hand, I wrap it,
and I palm his face.

Put my right knee in his lower
back and I stretch him back.

I slit his throat from ear to ear.

His friend said, "Oh, my God, no!"

He dove like Superman and rolled
up, jumped up, and ran across the yard.

So, when dude turned around--

because it didn't really cut him deep,

'cause you-- cutting throats ain't easy

'cause you got all the
ligaments and tendons in there.

It's a lot tougher than people think it is.

You know, but he bleeding like a stuck pig.

So, when he turns around,

I just start catching him.

Beat the living hell out of him.

They come, run up on me, you know.

Before they can tackle me and whatnot,

I just step up, step back,
'cause I done put the work in.

You know, they put the handcuffs on me,

they take me, they bring me up here.

Those rows are still not even.

Make them even.

We have...

six offenders on mental health precautions.

Their SMI sheet should be on their door

listing specifically what the management
instructions are for mental health.

We now have the Glock
.40 calibers in position,

so make sure you have your weapons card.

Um...

I think that's all I've got.

Everything else should be normal.

Have a safe and peaceful day.

And thank y'all.

Tell me how Goodman is acting this morning.

He came out of restraints last night

about 12:30 and...

went to get his property
back to be reviewed.

He's already got it.

He's already got his property back.

He's still a little agitated.

What you got running today?

Things running smooth.

Officers are doing well.

- We're on lock.
- Anything that could lead to resume rec?

Not as of now.

Okay, well...

Once somebody starts in corrections,

they quickly learn that
they do make a difference.

You know, it's law enforcement.

Every day, we're protecting the public.

We save lives, and, you know,
that's fulfilling to you.

You know, you get to go home
and lay your head down at night

and think about what you done today

and realize that you did make a difference

and that you can make a difference.

In this area, you'll see
a lot of coal mines.

For years, that was the career

that everybody was drawn to

because it was readily available.

Saw mills.

Not a lot of high-end jobs in this area.

Then, when Red Onion Prison opened,

you know, there was a lot
of job opportunities,

and at that time,

there was a lot of coal mines
that were shutting down,

people were being laid off.

So, a lot of the people that
initially started at these places

were people that were coming
from the coal mines.

My father is still working
in the coal mines.

This is his 40th year working mines.

You know, I was raised in a mining family,

and...

that's really-- in this area, that's the--

the biggest and, really,
about the only industry.

That work in that Red Onion, it's tough,

but, to me, it's a good job
compared to with coal mines.

The unit managers make rounds daily

to see the status of every
offender in the building.

You've gotta know the
offenders in your housing units.

What's up with my situation?

- What's up with your situation?
- Yeah, why--

Let me go over to the door
where I can hear you.

When was your charge?

The charge was in January.

Okay. - I'm over here for a 212 charge.

- That don't even qualify--
- What is a 212 charge?

A threatening bodily harm charge.

A threatening bodily--
who did you threaten?

I didn't threaten nobody.

The officer said he overheard
me talking to somebody.

They won't give me my property back.

They won't give me nothing back.

You know, at each door,

each offender has a different problem.

And, you know, they all want
the answer, "Yes."

- Before 10:00.
- Before 10:00 in the morning, right?

Yeah! I done told them
leave the course here.

But "yes" is not the answer
that they'll always get.

No, they did not.

And I believe that we have
a number of offenders

that segregation is what they--

is what they want.

It's where they want to live.

They're afraid-- for reasons
they may be afraid

living in-- to live in general population.

And then you've got some in here

that just refuse to participate.

What's going on? I'm just trying
to get back home to Texas, man.

How is what you did last week

gonna get you back home to Texas?

If an offender acts out

or misbehaves,
there's consequences to that.

Acting up... If an
inmate continues to act up

or become disruptive,

then that's when we take
disciplinary action.

What did you do last week?

Did you flood-- break the sprinkler head?

Why did you break the sprinkler head?

You feel better now?

But you're feeling a little bit
better now than you was last week?

You know, that's the
last time I got any mail.

You feeling better today, Lonnie?

I got mental illness, all severe,

mentally ill, psychotic and neurotic,

and being denied all sufficient--

You're psychotic and neurotic--

is that what you said?

Yeah, psychotic, neurotic.

That's a person that is
simply out of touch with reality.

Don't know what's true and real--

what's real, and what's experiencing fake.

And some of the torture technique,

like strapping prisoners to the bed

with their useless chest strap.

- Starving. Stealing food.
- Well, I'll tell you what, Lonnie.

We're going to go on about our business.

And look, also, they got me in prison

with no evidence.

Didn't have no eye witness,

and the state found me guilty.

And they had a lot of
people with trials like this...

At Red Onion,

an offender would start out
as a level zero.

That would be you get
your rec and the showers

and your food and all the
basic requirements of life.

You get the very minimum.

If you behave, handle
yourselves in compliance,

you're cooperative with the staff,

you will go to level one.

And at that point, you may
pick up an electronic item,

you may pick up a few
more dollars of commissary.

If the offender continues to cooperate,

he can go to level two,

where he will pick up more privileges.

They may have some more commissary.

Of course, they get their TV.

I love the TV - because I feel like

that's the only contact

with life that I have,
you know what I mean?

As far as the outside world, you know?

I did 13 months straight
without a television.

And I cherish it.

I cherish my TV now.

I seen this show the other day
on Discovery Channel.

This dude was building tree houses.

He was building tree houses up in trees,

but they was like...

little mini mansions.

Little tree houses.

He had spaceships and all kinds of shit.

I'm like, "Wow."

I wish I had went to an art school.

For real, man.

When I get up in the morning,

I catch the shows on TV.

Watch local news.

Watch "Married With Children."

All that old stuff early in the morning.

But sometimes I watch a movie,

and see something in the movie.

Brings back memories that reminds me

that I'm missing out
on things that I used to do.

I get upset about it.

I cut the TV off or switch
the channels or whatever.

You know that show - "Bear Grylls"?

He does, basically,
what I call "survival camping."

You know, he'll go out there

with just, you know, a knife
and the clothes on his back

and pretty much nothing else,

and he just lives off the land.

I love that stuff.

I grew up doing it. I lived in the woods.

When I come home from school,

I wasn't watching TV,
I was out in the woods.

You know, out climbing trees

and throwing myself down mountains

and, you know, jumping
off of cliffs and rock climbing.

I loved that stuff. I miss it.

And, you know, they got frosted glass

on the windows, so we can't see out.

Can't see trees or anything.

90% of the offenders in Virginia

return to the public,

return to your communities.

Previously, offenders that have been
in segregation for quite a few years

would go straight to the probation office.

We would take the restraints off of him,

then he would be sent back to society.

And we'd expect him

to adjust to being in the public.

And now our goal is to take
the restraints off here,

to take the risk inside the facility

so the risk is not taken in the public.

To get out of segregation,

they must participate
in our Step Down Program.

...start going over some things to use

to help us deal with our anger.

A question I'm going to ask is...

how you learned to express anger...

all your lives?

So, how did you learn to express anger?

This is gonna be in module three.

Hand out for each.

Do you think we learn how to express anger?

Do you think that's something learned?

I mean, I learned more or less

from my environment, the people I'm around.

I grew up in a rough neighborhood.

- You had to fight or learn--
- "As you grew up,"

you learned to find ways to get
what you wanted from people.

Sometimes this involved violence,

intimidation, or physical
and emotional abuse.

Many men in prison are there as a result

"of the lessons they have
learned when growing up."

We're trying to prepare them

to be successful in a population setting.

Offenders that have graduated
through the program

will go from a segregation environment

into a population environment.

I'm going in three.

- What's up with the release?
- The release?

Yeah, I can't get the release.

And I've got the anger
management right here, man.

When are you going to participate

in the Challenge Program?

Yo, I finished it. Look.

That's anger management.

- You need the Challenge Series.
- This is it.

No, that's the anger management.

Hey, if you got a psycho program,

that means that somebody is a psychiatrist.

- Okay.
- So, why I'm not released?

I've been here for 10 years.

You've got one more program to complete.

I already done the program.

I'm right here.

I done it right here.

- Right.
- But I-- I gotta go to the cell block.

Yeah, you gotta-- once you
complete the Challenge Program,

then, after you complete it,
you'll go to D building.

I've been here seven years.

I've been in segregation

because they gave me nine charges

to keep me back here.

They're refusing to allow me

to progress in the Step Down Program.

The program...

Kelley.

It's been seven years

since I've had a fight...

with anybody.

Seven years.

I think I'm doing pretty damn good.

I'll get up with you on that.

We'll talk about it.

All right?

I understand that
in any type of environment,

whether it's in the
free world or in prison,

you have to have rules and regulations.

We all understand that.
You have to have rules.

Otherwise, it'd be chaotic in here.

It would be crazy.

But when you actually have
a valid problem--

if you have a valid issue, it's not heard.

They gave him a charge and all that.

He got my property, and they--

Huh? All right.

And it's like you have no voice.

And being a person and having no voice,

it hurts at times, you know?

These offenders are
extremely dangerous offenders.

They are very violent

and have been very violent.

So, when it comes down to those guys,

there is a lot of risk involved with them.

But through the program,
these offenders have jobs

rolling what we call plasticware.

Boiled eggs and shit this morning.

Had some biscuits, man.

The gravy was just nothing but water, dude.

That's all it was, man.

I like them apples.

I don't touch them apples, man.

Is that-- you know the
movie "Need For Speed"?

- Yeah.
- Is that Jesse from - "Breaking Bad"?

- That's who I thought it was, man.
- Yeah, yeah.

- I recognized him.
- Yeah.

- What's that one with Lucy Liu in it?
- Oh, that's "Elementary."

But they got this new show coming on
ABC, I believe-- "Endgame" or something.

- Dude, it looked really cool.
- "Mind Games."

"Mind Games," that's it.
It looked kind of cool.

It's got - Christian Slater in it.

Oh, never mind.

That will be canceled
before the end of the season.

Out here working,

we can talk to each other
about things on the TV

and stuff like that.

And that's good.

But we're still wearing shackles

and we're still put in handcuffs.

We still got guards with vests

escorting you around.

You know, I want to get out of seg.

There's gotta be a way out.

Close 14!

The monotony on the same thing

over and over and over over and over again

messes with your mind.

Like, when I first come to segregation,

I didn't really have no problems.

I was just angry.

But after I stayed in seg so long,

being isolated...

it turned me worser.

I had to go to the
psychiatrist to get medication.

Like, whenever I don't
to take my medication,

I cut on myself.

Like, cuts all over myself.

You know, that's what
segregation did to me.

Look, I got two life sentences

without the possibility of parole,

so I'm in prison for the rest of my life.

But I want to go home.

I want to go home.

That's all I want. I want to go home.

You know, you ask a lot of these dudes,

man, if they could go home,
what would they want?

Oh, they want cars, they want houses,

they want all these girls
and Kim Kardashian and--

man, screw all that.

I just want a good job.

I'd love to have a wife,
a couple of kids, and a dog.

That's all I want out of life.

That's all I ever want.

I screwed up. I ain't blaming
my parents or whatever.

I did what I did.
I accept responsibility for it.

And if I gotta spend the
rest of my life in prison...

then I'm gonna suck it up and deal with it.

That's the only thing I can do.

Either that or kill myself,

and I'm too much of a coward
to kill myself.

If I feel myself depressed,

I shake it off and I start working out.

And I work out for at least--
at least four hours.

And I try to do that
to where I'm so exhausted

that I don't start dwelling on despair.

You have to internalize it,

and then after internalizing so much...

You know, the mind's funny.

You gotta feel like
you're relevant to somebody.

You know, and if you don't feel like
you're relevant to nobody in that cell,

then it'll make you want to just...

lose your damn mind.

You know, just go crazy.

I remember when I started,

I didn't feel like I knew
what I was doing or anything.

I was 20 years old,

and I was just walking around

doing a check and looking into a cell.

We had a guy-- he was in cell 10--

who had...

bitten a hole in his arm.

And he was...

I remember stopping and looking at it,

and being like...

You know, I was in shock, you know?

I didn't really...

I didn't know what I got myself
into, to be honest with you.

And my first reaction--

I turned, like-- I turned sheet white.

I was freaked out, and...

he just kind of looked at me, you know,

and he said, "Shh."

And blood was going everywhere.

Medical had to come over there.

It's pretty crazy.

First incident, but...

it kind of broke me in.

Bottom.

Mr. Marsh.

Have any lunch today?

Did lunch come?

Did you accept lunch?

Like to talk to me, Mr. Marsh?

As you know, as I
mentioned to you yesterday,

we're getting ready to
send you over to Marion.

How do you feel about going to Marion?

Can't say.

All right, we're gonna send you off

and then we'll look for you to
come back all healthy again.

Okay?

Okay.

There have been studies that have shown

that segregation can have harmful effects

on a person's mental health.

But I haven't really...

probably been in the system long enough

to see that or to track it, if you will.

It's just that occasionally, we do see

that an offender who has a history

of no mental health services

does all of the sudden
start becoming symptomatic.

And we have no other way to explain that,

except for the fact
that they have been housed

in this environment
for such a long period of time.

What's going on? Why are you back here?

I busted my head open.

How'd that happen?

I was taking a shower

and I passed out.

How old are you now?

- Seventy-one.
- Seventy-one.

How long have you been locked up?

Fifty-four years.

Can you tell us why you're back here?

Severe-- they say severe suicidal thoughts.

"Severe suicidal thoughts."

And we put you back here on precautions

to kind of keep an eye on you,

prevent you from harming yourself?

- Yeah.
- Right.

When you're back in the building,

what are your concerns about being housed?

Where I'm housed, that's in segregation,

it seem like I'm forgotten about.

Yeah.

I think we need, you know, more hands-on,

you know, treatment.

- Yeah. Yeah.
- You know what I'm saying?

You know, give me things to do,

you know, other than being
in a cell 23 hours.

- Yeah. I hear you.
- You know?

It's a challenge for us here.

- It's not a challenge, though.
- It's a challenge.

My opinion

is just they just don't care.

Yeah, we don't care.

Well, I can understand

why you might have that impression.

And for real, Doctor, I need your support.

I need your support.

I don't want to--

don't throw me back into where I left.

You know, I ain't had
a visitor in over five years.

My family is in Richmond,

and it's, like,
500 miles round-trip to drive,

and we only get one hour a visit.

And you can't touch each other.

My family used to come up here once a year.

But now, you know, my mom is 73 years old.

The rest of the family is dying on me.

I call my brother once a month

and I call my mom once a month.

That's the only contact I got.

Being in a cell

and not really being able
to socialize and mingle,

you're just like in a world of your own

and you're just like...

the longer you stay in here,
you just, like, shut down.

But you could talk to guys on the vent

and stuff like that.

But that's if you get a person that,

you know, is, you know,
sociable like yourself.

So, you know, I'm on a
better vent over here now.

- I've dealt with it before,
- I'll deal with it again.

The vents suck air in and out of the cells,

so, you can, like, get up on the vent

and you can scream and holler

at the different inmates
in the different cells

that's connected to your cell.

You can make a chessboard
out of a little, like,

piece of paper, make little pieces

and play chess on the vent.

It's something just to do.

Just to pass time, you know?

Just-- but, yeah, get on there

and play chess like you
Bobby Fischer or something.

You know, it's a way we communicate

kind of privately without
other people hearing us.

This pod only has two people on the vent.

Just you and one other person.

But in other pods,

you know, you have four people on the vent.

Being able to open up and talk,

it really helps me to think clearly

instead of thinking in a negative way

or a way that I shouldn't think.

You know, when I wake up...

Me and Hanson,

we're on the vent together now,

so we know a lot about each other,

and he knows me.

Like, he can tell in my voice

when something's wrong.

I'm not having it.

It's just like, "Here we go again.

It is what it is."

Like, he might call me and I'll get up

and be like, "Hey."

He'd be like, "Are you all right today?"

You know, he'll hear in my voice

if I don't want to talk.

It's like-- because he knows me that much.

But, you know-- and he'll know

if I'm in a good mood
because my tone of voice.

So, it's our telephone system.

We kind of feel each other out.

Even though you can talk
to other dudes on the vent,

eventually, you get some smartass punk...

It's just a matter of time

before he starts running his mouth.

It's just a matter of time

before he starts calling you a snitch

and a faggot and...

all these other things.

You know, cussing you out.

They'll get to banging on the wall

while you're trying to sleep.

And you want to get to them

because they won't let up.

And they'll bang

seven, eight months at a time.

And you got the lights on all day long.

There's no switches on the lights.

And you're just stuck in that cell.

And it drives you crazy.

If you just sit and just listen

to all the different cells,

you will hear a thousand arguments

all day, every day, just about nothing.

It's the anger and the frustration

everybody feels inside themselves.

You have this...

You have this-- this rage

that just builds and builds

and builds and builds and builds.

And little things

will just make you go crazy.

For instance, mail is, like,
the highlight of the day.

You know, when you see
the officer go past your door,

and if you ain't got no mail
coming through that door, you know,

that can really be a damper in your day.

It's like if you didn't have a
piece of bread on your tray.

- No, no, no.
- You're supposed to get

two pieces of bread on your tray.

If I was missing
a piece of bread on my tray,

I would explode!

They didn't run mail yesterday.

They didn't run mail
because of whatever reason

they didn't run mail for.

Walk around the cell for hours.

You can just walk in circles and circles

and circles and circles
and circles for hours

and just think.

You can't move.

You can't move, you can't--

you just walk around in circles.

I don't expect the administration

to understand what we go
through behind them doors.

There is no rules for the administration.

They have no rules.
They make up their own rules.

They didn't come tell me
why they didn't run the mail.

They just told me that
they didn't run the mail.

If I didn't have a salt on my tray,

"Give me my salt.

I want my salt now!" You know what I mean?

Like, it just-- but it--

but what-- it was that--

it's like two totally different realities.

When Monday comes around, I'm
looking for this mail and I don't get it,

but don't nobody tell me nothing.

Don't no CO say nothing to
me, don't nobody come and say,

"Hey, they're not passing the
mail out because of whatever."

And if we don't get what we deserve

or what we're supposed to have--

and even if we speak up

and we snap out and go crazy

because we're not getting
what we're supposed to have

in their guidelines,

and then we're deemed as being disruptive

to the security and-- it's
just all these different things

that they stack on you.

We have rules stacked

six feet above our head.

They don't follow the rules
that they have in place,

but they want us to follow
every single rule by the tee.

Walking in circles and
just laying down all day.

And it makes you just wanna
just rebel and just be like,

"I don't care about
none of their rules now.

I don't care because
even the rules that I follow--

where's my other piece of bread?"

You know what I'm saying? Fuck them.

For real.

Oh, man. Like, "Fuck them," you know?

Because in that cell,
you just got so much anger.

How we end up fighting, you know?

Like, "You gotta come in this
cell and you gotta beat me up.

You gotta beat me up. You gotta
come in here. I wanna fight you now."

I just got so much pain
built up inside of me,

I wanna just fill it,
you know what I'm saying?

Give it to me. Like, don't play with me.

Just give it to me all the way.

In that cell, don't nothing matter.

I used to act out.

I used to throw feces on the guards,

feces on the inmates.

Get the extraction team,

the officers to come in my cell

and fight them and get gassed up

and get beat up and strapped down

in five-point restraints and all that.

I've seen a lot of people get hurt

really bad over the years

during cell entries--

busted knees, ankles, elbows, arms.

You know, inmates...

actually getting their hands on an officer.

It's very dangerous.

I remember one time, - I got together,

you know, a few guys, and we ended up

covering our windows and just
having a battle with the administration.

And so, they end up coming in my cell,

and we start just having

just a full-fledged physical combat.

I used to love it. I mean, I really did.

- I used to love it.
- Why?

Getting fired up.

You have to get in a certain state of mind

before you go into a cell

and fight another human being.

- It's combat.
- It's combat.

It's kind of like...

the same feeling you get
when you score a touchdown.

Or hit a home run.

You gotta get pumped up.

When it comes down to using force,

to enforce rules, regulations

whatever it may be,
we will do what we have to do.

When you're dealing
with higher-level offenders,

their history, a lot of
times, is extreme violence,

so we have to treat them as such.

Bottom line, my job is to
protect the public safety

and protect those staff that are here,

protect the offenders.

That encompasses a big picture.

So, we have to consider the big picture.

What is best? What is safe?

What is safe for all?

I'm 35 now.

And basically from the time
I was 11 years old,

I've been incarcerated.

I've only spent maybe a
year and a half on the street.

When I was 10 years old,
my dad left my mom,

so me and my brother,
we went back and forth

between my dad and my mom,

and neither one of them wanted us.

So, they put us up, you know,
in the foster system.

So, there was, like, a
17-year-old foster kid there,

and he started bullying my brother.

So I grabbed a pool cue
and just started wailing

on him with it and beat him down.

And, you know, so, I
got kicked out of there

and I went to a group home.

See bottoms of your feet.

So, one day, this place had banana splits.

I had never had none.

Even to this day I've never had one,

but I always wanted one.

You know, that was like
the quintessential thing

as a child is a banana split.

And the dude there wouldn't give it to me.

Well, I got mad.

"I'm gonna kill myself if you don't."

"Oh, I don't think you will.
You ain't got it in you."

So, I grabbed the fork and
I shoved it through my wrist.

I was about maybe 11 at the time.

They took me to the hospital.

You know, I got kicked out
and went to another foster home.

Started getting in trouble.

I stole a car, got busted,
and I go to juvie.

You go to juvenile prison in Virginia,

you fight every day.

You know, and I did several years there.

And that doesn't mean I won every fight.

I've gotten my ass whupped
more times than I've won.

But they don't call it
gladiator school for nothing.

So, I make my way out,

and I was living
with my grandma at the time.

And I tried to join the Army,

but they told me that I had
to be six months off parole

and probation before I could join.

Got a job working electricity
in Charlottesville.

That was fun because I've
always been good with my hands.

And my grandma needed a stove.

Hers was falling apart.

So, for Christmas,
you know, I go and I get it,

you know, put a little down payment on it.

But I get fired.

And now I can't make the payments.

There's no way in hell

I'm gonna let them come
repossess my grandma's stove.

I'm like, "Man, you know what?

Screw it.

I can't get a job.

I know what I'm good at."

I break into a house,
steal a couple of guns.

I steal a brand-new '97
Subaru Legacy station wagon.

And I steal a bunch of other stuff.

I got a gun.

Got bullets for the gun.

I'm headed up Interstate 29
120 mph in a station wagon.

I mean, I'm gettin' it.

You know, I'm, like, 19 years old.

And the car's almost out of gas.

I pull into the store, I fill up.

I don't got no money on me.

So, I walk in, I grab a Coke,

I walk up to the store owner.

I just put a gun in his face.
"Give me your money."

So, he pulls some money out of his wallet

and he gives it to me.

"Open the cash register, give
me the money." He opens it.

I said, "Man, take the
money out and give it to me."

He said no.

I said, "Man, if you
don't, I'm gonna kill you.

He looked me square in the eyes

and he said, "Young man,
I don't think you will."

I shot him in the chest.

He fell behind the counter.

I reached over, shot him twice in the back.

I walked down the counter, walked back up,

and I stood over top of him

and I shot him six more times
in the back of the head.

Took the money and I left.

...comes the snow, a new area
of low pressure

forming up along that same front
that moved in over the weekend.

That snow's spreading north and
eastern here through these morning hours.

We are expecting disruptive snow

for West Virginia
across the Mason-Dixon line.

The PA turnpike gonna be an absolute mess.

In some spots, 6 to 12 inches here...

What you gonna do
when somebody attacks you?

I mean, you'll do what you gotta do.

It's not gonna matter what program

you put in front of somebody.

So, when I found out they was
bringing me back, I was pissed.

I was mad.

Knowing that - I was coming back

to long-term segregation,

I had to start getting my mind right,

because once you come over here,

you don't know how long it's gonna be

before they let you go

and send you back out
into the prison world,

back into population.

I know I tried to escape,

and that's why I'm here.

I have no one to blame but myself.

But at the same time,
I'm not a violent inmate,

and I have 18 years of demonstrating that.

So, you put me back in general population,

I will not mess up.

There was a slip.

A lot of stuff going on
in my head at the time.

I regret it every day.

I regret it every day, so it--

Right.

But this is not the end.

It's still a work in progress.

How long and where it's going to lead to,

I can't answer that now.

But it is a work in progress.

Right.

Okay, that's right.

Well, I was told that,

and then, it's still never--

I guess, you know, progressing, I guess.

You've had that opportunity
in general population.

You proven at the time...

that you couldn't capitalize
on that opportunity.

You slipped. You made a mistake.

From this point, you're working
to regain that opportunity you lost

due to your actions.

Uh...

me, personally,

I would love to progress off of Red Onion.

You know?

Not just-- you know, but...

That door closes and you're
in that confined spot...

I couldn't imagine, for real.

It would be awful, being in here, anyway.

Yeah. That isolation would be something

I don't think I could
deal with easily either.

Um...

I think not being able to roam around

would really, really take a toll on me.

Yeah.

I don't think I've actually
thought about it

as far as how I would act
if I was behind a door.

I killed a man.

Should I have lost my life
for the act that I did?

I took that man's life.

I took him away from his wife,

from his children, from his grandchildren.

I took him away from his business.

Who knows what happened to his family

after he lost his store and lost his job?

There's so many consequences

that could've came from my actions.

I took that man's life.

Am I being punished enough?

In my opinion, no, not even close.

But seven, eight years of segregation

isn't working,

because all it does is make you angry.

It makes you more frustrated.

All it's doing is turning us
into caged animals.

♪ We don't need no radio ♪

♪ 'Cause the music here is too damn slow ♪

♪ If it don't make your head implode ♪

♪ They're gone ♪

♪ Long gone ♪

♪ The music's in my head ♪

♪ Music's in my head. ♪

I call it reality TV.

You know, I make my own
reality television entertainment.

You know, I got the hound dog.
I like the hound dog.

Hound dog, hot on that gal tail.

Hot on that tail.

You know, it's good entertainment, too.

You know, keep myself entertained.

Then, you know, like I said,
I'd be having suicidal thoughts,

and so I try to keep myself in a
good mood most of the time, right?

You know, when you look in the
cell, you can't see out the window,

and that's an old torture technique

that cause deterioration of the brain.

You know, the brain needs sensory.

Like any organ, it need exercise.

Sensory deprivation,
that's what it's called.

So, that's why I'm kicking on the door.

Every day is exactly the same.

Exactly the same.

Every single day is exactly the same.

In that cell by yourself,

it's like you're not in prison.

It's just like it's somewhere else.

You're just away from life.

You're just away from life, period.

I don't know if hope
is what's keeping me going.

I just think it's...

my inner strength, I guess, my--

it's either I'm gonna find the
strength or I'm gonna kill myself.

You know, it's either one of the two.

So, I haven't killed myself yet,

so, you know, I'm just trying--

I'm just trying to make it, and I'm just...

The handcuffs and shackles--

been wearing them for 17 1/2 years.

That's a long time.

I've done more time in segregation

than some guys got for murder.

I ain't killed nobody.

I've been doing what they told me to do,

I've been acting right,

I ain't been getting into no trouble.

And as long as I do that,

I don't see no reason why they
can't let me out of segregation.

'Cause I'm gonna die in prison.

But what I did doesn't merit
no death sentence.

The judge didn't give me a death sentence.

Why are you going to give me
a death sentence?

Keeping me in segregation for the
rest of my life is a death sentence.

That's the way I look at it.

Life ain't worth it without hope.

What's the point in having
a life if you're just existing?

Twenty-three!

I'm tired.

I'm frustrated and I'm a little bit weak.

Borderline depression, so to speak.

You know, I think
every human deals with it,

regardless of where you're at.

And how do you deal with it?

Fantasizing, you know, just
about going to different places.

You know, I-- I create
entire landscapes in my mind.

You know, I have that ability

to where I can close my eyes

and I can actually paint it.

I can actually see it.

I can actually walk through it.

Sort of like a 3-D model on a computer.

I pretty much do it every day.

I cross my hands behind my back

and I'll just close my eyes.

You know, I just will it to exist

and then I'm able to step into it.

Sometimes it's childhood
places that I've been.

You know, like the woods
when I was growing up.

When it got too bad at home,

I would just take off into the woods.

In the woods, I was comfortable.

I was safe.

I didn't have to worry about

getting the hell beat out of me.

When you're walking through the forest,

you know, climbing up the mountains,

you know, and you feel the sponginess

of the pine needles underneath your feet?

You know, the branches, you know,
brushing up against your clothes.

The fresh air. You hear
the squirrels chittering at you

because you're invading their territory.

The birds swooping around your head.

You know peace.

You know contentment.

You know that this right here

is what God created this world to be.

He didn't create it for violence.

He didn't create it for strife.

He didn't create it
for murder, rape, robbery,

you know, lies and deceit and trickery.

He didn't create it for all that.

When you're out there
in the forest by yourself,

you know, and you're 20, 30 miles away

from the closet person
as far as you know...

you get a true glimpse of what Eden was.

You know, you get a true glimpse

of what life is supposed to be.

You know, it's your own
little personal utopia.

You know, it's a perfect environment.

You know, it's the one place

where I was happy.