People always ask where I found my prison pen pal, then laugh at the answer: Gay
There you can browse gay prisoner profiles, which include stats, photos, location, and the nature of their crime. “I’ve made a couple of mistakes in my life, but I have a good heart,” ventures Angel, a transgender convict in for double homicide. I was desperate for an outlet, needy to talk about real shit.
In prison, Randy worked as a custodian, earning a month until he was laid off due to budget cuts.
One day soon, after some 4,300 days jailed, a free-ish life would begin at a halfway house in Austin.
After six months “reintegrating” there, Randy planned to go live with his father in Montana. ), his first meal (a Denver omelet with mushrooms, extra cheese, and a pound of bacon), and little luxuries like owning the marvelous all-in-one Norelco beard-brow-nose-ear hair trimmer. The halfway house promised a battery of barbaric tests (such as the penile plethysmograph, electrodes attached to his dick to measure arousal), and he had a more general fear that after so long away, he would be a lost relic from a forgotten age.
Disturbing as this was, I saw no good reason for me to further denounce a man condemned.
I wrote asking why he did what he did, how he felt about it, and if he considered himself hopelessly pathological — the thing about having a pen pal in prison is that you don’t have to frame anything sensitively. Letters are opened by officials, so I couldn’t send smut or cigarettes, but I could ask things like “What the fuck were you thinking with a 12-year-old? ” He hated the label (which implies it’s ongoing), but it was therapy he hated most of all. “The focal point of my self-morality now is [to] strive not to hurt others, and, while at it, be sure, at the very least, they’re 18.” But when he brought up ancient Greece, I wrote it sounded likehe felt he was the victim.
People were like zombies now, walking around lost in their smart phones. More than he ever had in lockup, Randy sweated the sex offender label.