Genuine fear.

The most intense moment I ever had in prison was while working for Stan.  It was a rare occasion for me to feel genuine fear.  He had a bunch of stuff in his car that he needed to get to his office.  He didn't want to carry it all so he asked me for help.  I complied.  I probably wouldn't have though had I known what he was going to do to me.  Despite my façade, the hyper-masculinity, I am a very cautious person.  I don't ride motorcycles for instance.  I am always aware that every time I pass an oncoming car on a two lane highway, doing 55 mph, that I have just had a near death experience.  I don't take unnecessary risks ever.  If you ever see me doing something sketchy it's only because have already thought it out in my own way, or I would not be doing it.

Stan couldn't see this part of me.  No one understands the calculating.  There is too much intuition involved.  I doubt it ever crossed his mind that he had endangered my life at all, but I was acutely aware of it.  The truth is I probably wasn't in danger at all, but that just wasn't how I saw it.  For all I know those guards weren't even paying attention.  

When we got to the front gate I was already nervous.  The only time inmates are near the front gate is when they get to leave to go home.  Inmates aren't even allowed to walk within a hundred feet of it.  Part of the security of the place is that no one really knows what it is like past the visiting room.  There is just never a reason for inmates to be there other than for leaving.  Besides the day I left there for good, this was the only time I had been in that area.

I never met a high ranking white shirt that gave a shit about inmates.  To them we were basically just animals. To me they were just bigots; men who judge by the eye with no depth of thought whatsoever, yet were making life altering decisions regarding others.  I never liked to be around them.  They were all powerful.  Whatever they said went.  Since I was merely an animal to them there was no power to get from them.  There was no advantage in dealing with them.  They could only bring negative consequences.  No inmates had power with them.  They were always in headquarters. 

There was a small area at the entrance to head quarters.  It was basically a rectangle shaped enclosed chain linked box.  Headquarters was encased.  Snag wire, chain linked fence, cinder blocks and bullet proof glass.  Looks like a fort with big light poles all around it.  Besides the hole it was the only part of the prison with high tech security.  The entry road to the prison passed right in front of it.  It had full vision on the three sides not attached to the visiting room building.   

The small chain link box at the entrance was for security purposes.  I called it the double locked door technique.  If you were to be entering the prison, they would buzz you through the chain link fence door.  Once it was secured, they would then buzz the main door to the building.  Both doors are never open at the same time.  Stan had me step out into the box.

I'd been locked up over two years by then, and right there in front of me was the parking lot.  Right there was freedom.  The closest I had been to it in years.  I was not cuffed or shackled.  The main door slammed closed and I heard the lock engage.  Then buzz click.  The chain link door swung open.  My hands were shaking.  Then Stan did, what was to me, the unimaginable.  He asked me to help him get the stuff out of his car.  I panicked.  He's acting rushed.  He's in a hurry.  I didn't want to seem stupid in front of him, but I was scared to death.  I didn't want to cause a scene and argue with him.  It was like I was floating on air.  Adrenaline was pumping through my veins. 

I could have been shot dead for that.  An inmate, not cleared, standing outside the perimeter fence, can be shot on sight.  It's a minimum of five years without parole.  I was trying to get that shit out of his car and back into the box so fast I was sweating.  I needed back in there and I needed back in there right then.  I should not have been outside the fence.  Those shotguns are always loaded.  Five flat years on top of what I had already done might as well have been a death sentence. 

By the time I got back to his office with the stuff I was quite upset.  I said something to him about it too.  There was no need to put me in jeopardy over some crap in some boxes.  I didn't trust him anymore after that.  He saved my life, so I couldn't be truly upset.  He couldn't control what those guards would do.  He couldn't assure my safety in such a situation.  Some of those guards literally prayed for someone to try to escape.  I made it clear to him that that would never happen again.  He would have to find someone else to go outside the fence if he needed help.