Letter 12 - Shawn Williams

This is the twelfth story of the book

Inspired by the A&E's TV Series Beyond Scared Straight


My name is Shawn Williams. I am a fourteen-year-old Caucasian boy from Baltimore, Maryland. I lived there in a blue painted three-bedroom house on East Eager Street in the Middle East area with my mother Maura Williams and younger sister Jessica Williams. Life for me became very tough for me when my father Michael Martin went out on the run to do his own thing. Because I didn't have any fatherly guidance, I believed that I had to hold my own on my own. At Monument Middle school, as I began the eighth grade, my peers started to bother me by asking me questions that usually involve sexual preference. Every time I answered the questions, they would call me gay. At first, I just ignored them and just went about my business being the studious student that I was trying to make myself out to be.
            As time passed by for me, I would begin to get into fights with my classmates at school. Each time I got into a bout, I would tell my supposed foe, “I'm not gay!!” Because of my reputation at school for attaining good grades, my teachers were lenient with me about the fights until they got worse. As my fighting reached its breaking point, I began to become disrespectful towards my teachers up to the point of making attempts at smacking them in their faces. I even began to disrespect my female classmates by hitting and spitting on them whenever my anger led me to running astray.
           My behavior at school also followed me at home. One day while I was playing a board game in the living room with Jessica, I began to feel seriously frustrated that I was losing. “Oh, come on. Why am I losing?” I spoke. “I don't know big bro but remember what Mom used to say: 'Don't hate the player. Hate the game.” Jessica said. “Well, I don't just hate this game. I hate you too.” I said as I turned to look at the window. “Oh, come on big bro. Let's just finish the game.” Jessica said as she slowly approached me. “Enough. I'm done with this game.” I spoke. “But…” Jessica said. “I said enough!!” I said as I threw a hard cover book right at Jessica hitting her arm. “Ow!! What was that for?!!” Jessica said. “You were being annoying.” I spoke. Instantly, Jessica raced to mom and told her what I did. “Shawn what's wrong with you? What gave you the right to throw a book at her?” Mom said. “Nothing.” I spoke. “Did she throw anything at you?” Mom said. “No, she didn't.” I spoke. “Shawn, I do not understand. What is with you? You have been acting very berserk lately. Your school principal called me as well saying you been getting into fights and attacking people for nothing.” Mom said. “Nothing is wrong with me Mom.” I spoke. “Wait a minute. So, you're doing all of this for nothing? All my effort of doing all I can to take care of you and your sister has gone down the drain for nothing.” Mom said. I allowed evil to become the only thing I can live for. When the discussion reached a moment of confusion, I walked away to my room and slammed the door behind me.           
             A week later, I found myself in a fifteen-passenger van with a dozen other boys my age. All I could do while taking the ride to prison was smile, laugh and conversate with the other boys in the van. When the driver got us to the Patterson Correctional Center in Lochearn, police officers were already waiting outside the facility ready to give us an experience that our behavior has brought us to. I couldn't help but act very colicky when an officer checked me. “Look you will stand still as I do this search!” said the officer. “Just don't be touching me.” I spoke. “You need to understand that people will be touching you for this whole entire day. Get it in your head!” said the officer. I sighed loudly right in front of the officer with the effort of not even caring about it. Inside the prison facility, the officers had us put on light orange jump suits. The officers then had us walk in a single file and had us stand right at the entrance to the prison yard where all the inmates walked around. An African American male officer walked over to us. “My name is Michael Fitch. But when you speak to me it’s Officer Fitch to you. Now kids before we let you in here, we want you all to understand that the decisions you are making out there are leading you here. We're bringing you in there to see that. Today is going to be a day of roaming in Hell. Good luck to all of you.” said Officer Fitch as he opened the door and had us walk through it. Because of the tremendous fortress of pride inside of me, I didn't have a care in the world over what I was going to see and hear for the duration of the prison visit.
            The moment we walked into the prison cell block yard, all we could hear was yelling, cussing, and banging on doors and walls. I couldn't help but take a hard look at the male inmates and wondered why a boy like me ended up in a place like this. After a long time of walking in the yard, the officers had us stand near the vicinity of the dark grey brick building. Officer Fitch stood right at the only door that led inside and said, “Now kids, I wonder how you are feeling right now because I want you kids to see that these are what your families are facing right now. This is the anguish that you are causing to the people who love you face right now. If you see this then you won't have to be in a place like this now let's go inside.” And with that, Officer Fitch led us inside of the main cell block building. I felt an important level of curiosity as I noticed Officer Fitch making casual glances at me. As I continued to endure the endearing of the prison visit, I stood near one of the cells where one lone Caucasian inmate was laying on a cot sitting on a hard metal bunk. I felt even more curious as I heard that inmate yell out my name. “Huh? What?” I spoke. “Your name is Shawn and you're the one who doesn't like being called gay.” The inmate said. I was so confused about the matter I stood there not knowing what to say to the inmate.
           Later on that day, in another cell block, I was standing in front of a cell that over a dozen men had to share. Hearing the men yell at me, throw things at me, and curse at me, made me say, “I really can't wait to get out of here.” “If you want to leave then why don't you fight us to leave.” one inmate said. “I don't want to fight you guys. I have no reason to.” I spoke. “Well, I heard that when somebody call you gay you will fight them. You're nothing but a punk. You are gay!!” another inmate said. “Whatever!! You all are stupid fools!!” I said as I walked away from the cell so the inmates couldn't touch me. “What's wrong with you? Go near them. What are you scared of?!! You are big and tough, but you won’t step up to these men.” said Officer Fitch who was standing right next to me at the bars of the cell. “Look, leave me alone!!” I spoke. “Why won't you fight those men?” Officer Fitch said. “Because they're nothing but gay fools!!” I spoke. “What? Oh, you have done it now.” Officer Fitch said. “If you're not gay then we're going to make you that. As a matter of fact, give us those shoes. Give them up!!” another inmate said in a frightening way. “Okay!! Okay!!” I said as I took off my clean pair of white sneakers and set them on the front of the cell and screeched as an inmate took them and placed his black slippers out of the cell on the floor. “Thank you, punk!!” the inmate said. I began to shed a few tears as I watched my shoes get taken away from me. “Quit crying!” Officer Fitch said. “I am not crying.” I spoke. “Oh. Oh. You aren’t crying. You aren’t crying?” Officer Fitch said as he grabbed onto me again and took me to the very entrance of the cell. Officer Fitch then pulled out the key to the cell ready to open it. As I stood at the metal barred gate, the inmates did all they could to try to get their hands on me. At that door, I felt trapped, beaten, terrified and humiliated all at once. I desperately wanted someone to come and save me from this situation. “I don't want to go in there.” I said as I shed more tears and tried to wipe my face from them. “Don't wipe your face!! If you don't want to suffer, then say what you have to say to these men or you will go in there. Apologize or you go in there!!” Officer Fitch said. I approached the men and said, “I'm sorry for calling you guys gay fools.” “You don't mean it!! Say it like you got some sense.” Officer Fitch said. “I'm sorry for calling you guys gay fools.” I said in a more convincing manner. “Thanks for your apology boy. Get your act together out there and show that you can do right.” said the inmate as he gave my shoes back to me.
             Later on that day in an indoor hangout area for the inmates, the officers had the us sit down in a row of chairs facing another row of chairs where the inmates sat. One inmate stood up and said: “You all are going to remain still in your chair with your hands on your knees. Listen up for what every man here has to say.” Immediately an African American male inmate stood out of his chair. Wearing his bright orange jump suit, he stared at us with his hands down. I looked at the man and noticed that scars were on both of his wrists. “My name is Michael Smith. I'm thirty-eight years old and I'm a murderer. That's what the state of Maryland calls me. The person I murdered was a little boy. That boy was my ex-girlfriend's son. The boy was only a year old. One day while my girlfriend was at work, her son couldn't stop crying at all. I just couldn't handle it at all. I didn't know what to do. I was so confused and lost. I got frustrated, I snapped and then beat the boy until he died. When the crying stopped, I thought he finally calmed down. I freaked out when I realized the boy was dead. When his mother came home, she immediately called the police. When the police came to the apartment, they quickly put me in cuffs and took me away. It also didn't take long for the judge and jury to give me a life without parole sentence for murder. Anger and fury are the reasons why I am in this hell hole. Control your anger boys. Do that and you won’t have to live a chapter out of my life. You learn that by getting your act together.” Michael said as he walked away to sit down. Michael kept a fixated look at me since he was the inmate who took my shoes away from me.
           As Michael sat down another African American inmate stood up. “My name is Nicholas Andrews. I'm only seventeen years old. When it comes to the State of Maryland, I no longer have a name. I'm just a number in this hell hole. Just like Michael, I was arrested for murder too and guess what, the person I murdered was my own mother. It happened all because I was crazy over an iPad that she took away from me. I ran to the kitchen, grabbed a knife and stabbed her till she died. I will never leave this place because I couldn't control my anger and frustration. I'm here to share my story because I don't want any of you to end up here like me. I have a life sentence too. I'm going to die here but it’s not too late for you. I wish I could leave but it's so hard to deal with all the crap I must face every single day. Please get your acts together before it's too late.” Nicholas said as he walked away keeping a look at me since he was one of the inmates who tried to grab onto me from those cell bars.
           As Nicholas sat down another inmate stood up. His orange jump suit was covered with white spots in various areas. The inmate sniffled his nose and wiped his face as a tear rolled down his face before he began to speak. “My name is Nathan McCain. I'm twenty-one years old. I am here for attempted murder. Even with attempted murder here in Maryland you don't have to kill anyone to receive a life without parole sentence. I got here because of me doing something stupid to an innocent girl. I shot her in the head nearly killing her all because she said no to a request for a date. When she said no, I felt so frustrated because I was longing for a girlfriend. My desperation brought me here. I made an awful decision I shouldn't have made and now I am paying for it. Nearly every day I get beaten and even raped by an inmate who's bigger and stronger than I am. Like these other two men have said, get your acts together. Please. Do it not just for your family. Do it for yourselves. I hope things turn out well for all of you and I hope you make a change in your lives.” Nathan said as he walked away sitting down with his head facing the ground.
            After the inmates finished telling their stories, the officers then took us to a court room where our parents/guardians were waiting for us. Even after all I heard and seen, I still felt like I didn't change at all. I didn't care about anything until Officer Fitch came right up to me in the face. “Do you still believe that you're tough?” Officer Fitch said. “Yeah, I do.” I spoke. “If you feel tough then do you want to go back to that cell room?” Officer Fitch said as he grabbed onto me. “No! Please don't.” I said as I resisted by moving around trying to break Fitch's grip onto my shirt. “If you don't want to go in there. Make a change into yourself so you won't end up in this position.” Officer Fitch said. “I can change! I can change!! I'm sorry. I mean it.” Shawn said. “Go over there and tell that to your mother.” Officer Fitch said as he let me go. I immediately went over to my mother and hugged her tightly. “I'm sorry Mom.” I said as I shed tears. “Please my boy. You need to change. Stop letting those kids at school control your choices.” Mom said. “I won't Mom, but I need help.” I spoke. Officer Fitch approached Mom and I and said, “That was the best thing you said all day, Shawn. You do need help. We can sign you up to go to a counselor. I can go with you to your meetings. I don't want to see you back in here again.” Officer Fitch said “I won't come back. Those men are evil.” I spoke. “Right, they are, and I have to deal with them every day.” Officer Fitch said.
            Three months later after the visit to the prison, I made a tremendous change within myself. I reconciled the relationship with my mother and sister. At school, whenever a classmate tried to make fun of me, I would act as if I had never heard it. Due to my improved line of effort, my grades have improved exponentially. I have been attending anger management classes under the encouragement of Officer Fitch. Officer Fitch consistently checked with me once a week to see how my life was going. I understood that anger was never going to help change my endeavor.