From: Sabine Hauer <no.conditions@T...>
Date: Sun May 12, 2002 1:44 pm
Subject: NEWS: Brian Davis' date - Richard Michael Cartwright's feelings
To: ABOLISH@M...


Brian Davis' date ? Richard Michael Cartwright's feelings

Today 5-6-02 I had a visit. Visits are always, well usually, something I
look forward to. Today was different. My brother, my friend, Brian E.
Davis has an execution date for 5-7-02! So his whole family was out
there to visit him!

Of course the purpose of my visit was to show my support for BD and his
family. BD's dad, mom, ex-wife, two sons and sister, aunts and uncles
were all there to show their undying love and support. Tears were
flowing freely by all. BD's dad more often than not, was with his head
in his arms on the table crying so strongly his whole body was shaking.
I was a trooper, or so I pretended to be until my visitor left (Thanks
for being here for me T baby). Then I broke down into tears. Yes me, the
heartless, cold-blooded, unrehabilitatable killer! Yes me, who will no
doubt be executed because I'm a man, so they say, who has no human
compassion and puts no value on human life!

Sometimes I wonder if the same people can look into their mirrors and
see the double standards they set? I digress. Let me get back on track.
I believe two main events out at visitation were the cause of my final
failure as my facade as "trooper" so to say 1. when Tracy, BD's ex-wife
(whom I've never met before this day but heard tons about through BD)
came to talk to me. She had love in her eyes and a broken heart in the
tears she fought so hard to hold back as we talked. Her undying love for
Brian and their sons touched my heart deeply. She has stood by BD and
made sure he saw his kids as often as possible. Now she must help her
boys through their fathers murder. Tracy whose face will both have me
and bring me peace for many months to
come.

The second event was to see BD's mother in such tears of pain and
helplessness, to see a mother's broken heart, I cry now as I recall.

Wow! I did not talk to BD's mom. I did not have the courage. I was there
when they all started to leave and when his mom turned around to blow
him a kiss. All I thought about was tomorrow, when she leaves and blows
him another kiss, that same motherly kiss, it will be the last time she
will see her son alive. In this I saw all the mothers before her to go
through this.

All the mothers after her who will go through this. I saw my mother and
all the pain and hurt that my execution will someday bring her. My
mother, the one person in my life who has stood by me in these past five
years with her undying love and support. How do I apologize to her for
what I foresee? I can't, no words will help.

I've just read what I wrote and it is sickly ironic, that all these
innocent people (BD's family and loved ones) will all become victims at
the time of his murder. "Justifiable homicide by the State of Texas".
Tomorrow, they will become victims in the name of "victims rights"! In a
society that demands BD's execution. To what purpose? Bring closure to
the victims family of the man they say he murdered? To that I ask how
does BD's family go about finding closure when the STATE murders him?

I would very much like feedback from any of you on this, negative or
positive. I realize this is my (a death row prisoner) perspective and
after all, I'm in societies eyes, a heartless cold blooded, beyond
redemption, remorseless killer, eh? My eyes must be surely tainted by my

own sins. We as society demand death in the name of victims rights, for
the death of a loved one. For closure? I guess BD spending the rest of
his life in prison gives no one closure. Who is heartless?

So the state of Texas will continue to set new records as a mass killing
machine in the name of justice, leaving even more victims in it's wake.
Where will the cycle of violence end?

I remain
Down & out in struggle
Richard Cartwright

Brian received a stay at the last moment ? no wonder my hair line is
receding! (smile)

CONTACT INFORMATION:
Richard Cartwright
# 999224
Polunsky Unit, Death Row
3872 F. M. 350 South
Livingston, TX 77351
rich@d...

Richard Cartwright should be taking over Paul Colella's "Uncensored from Texas Death Row" after given the word....In the meantime, he's got an introductory article here (also located at http://www.1prison.com and articles ready to be uploaded):



WELL HELLO AGAIN! My name is Richard M. Cartwright AKA (Chi-Town). Some of you will hopefully remember me from Paul Colello’s Uncensored from Death Row.” Since than my best friend (Paul Colella) has been moved to population and will fell the Free-World sun on his face and grass between his toes. Paul, I love you Dog. Keep you head up!! I just recently sent Paul a letter asking if I could take over “Uncensored on Death Row” where he left off. Once I get his permission I will start my writing to expose the extremely torturous and humiliating circumstances we on the row presently face.

I have recently been placed back on the infamous F-Pod, Level III?? Why you ask? Because I cussed out an officer? Why? Because said officer cussed me out! When I went to court in Captain W Office (D.R. Captain), he said “How do you plead?” I told him guilty, but the reason I cussed out the officer is because he cussed me first. To this Capt. W says “Well you should expect that!” WHAT? This is the man who is completely responsible for the CO’s behavior, which they claim is professional! YEAH RIGHT! He said this on tape and in front of 3 other witnesses, one of whom was my substitute counsel Mrs. J! Verdict Guilty! Move on out inmate! Now a week later December 20th, 2004, they come to my cell and tell me to “pack up, you’re going to F-Pod!!” Well, there goes my special Christmas visit with my 8 year old daughter, Ricki, just like that. So of course I’m pissed, but decide what to do! I come out of my cell. I’m handcuffed from behind and walking towards F-Pod and just as we get there, I get slammed face first into the floor! Why? Let me read the case. Quote “Reduction from Level II to Level III for assaulting Sergeant P T, with no injury or weapon by grabbing his shirt in an aggressive manner causing a use of force.” Mind you all, I’m handcuffed behind my back with an officer holding an arm on both sides of me, yet I assaulted Sgt. P. T. Once the Rouge Captain W came to Death Row the Officers do no wrong, no matter the circumstances! The level of despair and frustration this causes knows no limits, none!! They think it is a joke. Oh Well. I don’t think it’s a joke. My daughter is not laughing. It is cruel!! That is the bottom line. I lost my special visit with my daughter, 2+ years without a case!!! I refuse to “except” any of this regardless of what Capt. W says. I will now start to stand up every time I see wrong doings, every time! I’m sick of frustration and hopelessness I often feel. I refuse to give the administration that kind of control. They took my visit with my daughter. They can hurt me no more that that. Well until I hear from Paul, I’m signing off, but not giving up!

In My Struggle,

R. Cartwright December 23, 2004

I look forward to reading more of Chi Town's posts. The posts from Paul were very informative.....and told me a lot about what one of my pen pals was going through. Seems they were in the thick of it together most of the time. And all the best to Paul. I read about him a few months ago. Fantastic.

Welp we are official (or we will be this weekend if thing go as I plan). Paul Colella sent his letter and an introductory article to introduce Richard Cartwright, inmate #999224, inmate on Texas' Death Row to take of UNCENSORED FROM TEXAS DEATH ROW.

UNCENSORED FROM TEXAS DEATH ROW



THE TORCH PASSES



15 January 2005



Hello my friends; bet you didn’t think I’d ever write again, but here I am once again. It’s been some time and a lot has happened in my life since leaving the Row.



The most recent being, as many of you already know, my mother, Mary Curtis, passed away November 24, 2004. Many of you will remember her being a great courageous fighter against the injustices, the inhumane treatment of our loved ones on the Row and a voice in the darkness crying out as I sat inside F wing while 5 guards pummeled me from all sides.



Not only did the movement lose a fighter, we lost a loving and compassionate woman who was instrumental in educating and encouraging others. It has been one of my greatest trials bar none and my tears continue to fall at my loss.



But I do not languish in despair. I do not live in sadness because I know she wouldn’t want that. She would want me to continue to fight, continue to speak out about that which she was so passionate about and so I will. I will carry on.



I want to thank all of you who wrote letters of condolence and those of you on the Row who signed the card Rich Cartwright passed around; all meant so much to me and I am very grateful to all of you.



Now to the business at hand.



It seems the administration on Death Row is once again allowing the Ranking officials there do all of the things that they were doing there in 2001/2002, including humiliating, degrading and physically abusing the men there.



A Captain W has been calling men bitches, punks and other degrading names and just being all around mean. If he is doing it himself, then we know that he is allowing the Guards there to do the same things.



I was asked by Richard Cartwright who many of you know was the catalyst for the protest in 2002, if he could take over my Uncensored Column and of course I gladly pass on the torch.



I ask all of you to please, please pay attention to this; he may not write in the same style or be as articulate, but I have every faith in his ability to convey to you the troubles they are experiencing and I pray that you will show him the same encouragement and support that you gave to me.



Gloria, Dave, Nancy and all of the movement, please help them.



In Solidarity and Struggle

Paul R. Colella
1180878
Darrington Unit
54 Darrington Rd.
Rosharon, TX77583

UNCENSORED FROM TEXAS DEATH ROW by Richard Cartwright December 24, 2004





3:35 a.m. - I’m pacing my cage, 1, 2, 3, turn, 1, 2, 3, turn. It’s Christmas Eve and I pace. My emotions alternate from love to hate, pain to rage, hurt to confused. I pace trying to outrun the BEAST WITHIN. The beast made of my pain and hurt. There is no room for pity or sadness in here. No understanding of love from the powers to be….just pace my cage on Christmas Eve and keep my demons away.

I’m at a breaking point. I don’t know when I will fight, but fight back I must. One can only be pushed and cornered for so long. You either snap back and fight or break. I will not let them break me. They lost all their bargaining chips when thy took away my special visit with my daughter. Nothing else can be held over my head.

As I pace and write I think back and see how the conditions here on the row have steadily gotten worse day by day! New restrictions, more rules from prisoners. No one else has rules to follow.

We sit passively by as we wait our turn to be slaughtered. Why? For commissary? For our radio? That is what it boils down to!

Me, it was the special visits from my family, the real reason form my passivity. I’ve tried, but now I try no more! I will not be pushed 1 inch!!! Broken toilets, cold showers, nasty dog-type food! Dirty, filthy, stinking Pods that no one wants to clean.

I do not regret these last couple of years of being passive and most likely I would have been able to continue my blind-eyed-ways through the last year or so of my life. I tried, but now I pace, hoping to hold at bay my aner, heart and pain….turning all into a rage against this DEATH MACHINE they call TEXAS.

I almost feel relieved or rare I say “FREE”? I am my own destiny and I choose to take you all on the ride with me through what’s left of my life. Hold on tight and fasten your seat belt. This will not be pretty. I will pull no punches. No softened truths. Just write it raw and how I see it. My own not-so-personal diary of my little hell on earth. Do I deserve it? Some say “Yes”! Are they wrong? Who am I to say!

This is not just about me, but it is about a society called Death Row. A society put together by you the Free-World Voters. A necessity? Who’s to say?

Do not doubt that we are our own society! Upside-down and backwards as it may seem to you guys out there, be are a dysfunctional society. As motley as a crew we are.

I’ve seen far more love and compassion in here than I’ve ever seen in the free-world! Struggling in the throws of Death to redeem one-self. To come to terms with yourself. To forgive yourself. To die bit by bit slowly each day, betting closer to death. Each execution on step closer to YOU!!! Not so slowly at the POLUNSKY UNTI DEATH HOUSE though!

Prisoners kill themselves on a regular basis!! This is fact not fiction. Then there are the ones who fid escape through insanity! You think it is an act? Soam say “Yes”! Tell that to the man who cut his penis off. Or the many men who live in their cages and play in their own bodily wastes!

The guards just laugh and ignore them. Voices of the haunted. Voices of the mad. This cage is made to break ones will to live and save the State of Texas millions of dollars on appeals. Because we (prisoners) volunteer to drop our appeals and get executed! Just a state sanctioned suicide, eh? Dr. Kevorkian, anyone? However the state may want to sugar-coat it. I’m just calling a spade a spade!! ASSISTED SUICIDE SAVES THE STATE MILLIONS OF DOLLARS. GOD BLESS TDCJ! They hold the power of life or death in their hands through their chosen actions. Think about the above stqtaement…I feel like I’m playing cards with a stacked deck. I know it’s stacked, but have to try anyway. What other choice do I have? Assisted suicide? That will never happened.

Well, I’ll sign off for now….need to write some letters….

In Struggle R. Cartwright
999224
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 S.
Livingston, TX 77351

SCLcookie, thanks for sharing.
So sad :( That anyone has to live in conditions like that.

SCLcookie Thanks for sharing. I think that breaks
my Heart to know how you live in cages. You are in my prayers.

UNCENSORED FROM TEXAS DEATH ROW by Richard Cartwright </B>December 25 to 26, 2004





Dec 25

It is Christmas Day! Merry Christmas to all and God Bless you and you families. I spent most of my day thinking about my little girl and hoping she had a wonderful holiday along with the rest of my family out there.

Of course Christmas day on the row is no reason to stop the abuse or insanity. My neighbor, Donald N AKA “Lizerd”, one of the infamous Texas 7 is coming back from his Christmas visit with a 5 man extraction team wheeling him on a gurney!! Merry, Merry Christmas Donald!!!

I asked Lizard what happened. After visit policy is a “strip search” in the legal cage! Why? Who knows? You visit over the phone with bullet-proof glass between your visitor and yourself…anyway. I digress…When Lizerd was just in the legal cage and un-cuffed he asked “to speak to the Captain”! They asked “what for?” Lizerd said “personal reasons, not everyone’s business”. This place is like a damn gossip column for real. The powers to be told Lizard the Lt. Griffin was the highest rank on the farm.

Now Lizard told me “I’ve been in this system off and on since 1979 and worked many jobs that required me to be ready 24 hours a day and have had Captains pull me out too many times to count, so I know they always have a at least a Captain available.”

Anyway Lizerd refused to come out of the legal cage and the “Goon Squad” 5 man team was used to extract him by a “use-of-force.” Of course they did not use the usual tear gas and pepper spray on him because they did not want to stain the “pretty white walls” in the main hallway! They must make sure that it stays presentable for tours! (NOTE HERE: there are 6 pods on Death Row A-Pod – F-Pod. Now A-Pod is all newly painted and properly cleaned religiously. Why? Because that is the “Show Pod” for tours and media…The rest of the pods are dirty and smelly.) The use-of-force was of course dirty as they all are. They put the handcuffs on sideways so they dig into you nerve and bones. On as tight as possible. Same with the leg shackles.

Why did Donald feel the need to go to this extreme? He has been filing paper (grievances) on these people for years about unsanitary cells…(See, at first they moved all members of the Texas 7 once a month for security reasons, i.e. harassment…then it was 1 per day for 3 weeks and now it is 1 or 2 x a week!!!) Moving into cells full of human waste…..!!

He would have kept fighting with just paper, but on October 15, 2004, they violently assaulted prisoner N while he was handcuffed behind his back on the run refusing to go into a cell that was filthy.

I asked prisoner N to write in his own words what happened on October 15, 2004.

Donald N AKA Lizerd:

"On October 15, 2004 as I was brought out of the shower I saw 3 Sgt., a Lt., and a handful of COs (Non-ranking Officers). I was informed to pack my property because I was moving.

As I was packing I showed Sgt. P the grievence I won which is GR. # 2004008074 wich clearly state the requirement of the ranking officer in charge to properly search and sanitize any cell they are moving a prisoner into! This is for disease control and also for security reasons. The above #2004008074 grievance was signed off by Warden A.” (Mr. N also has stated Death Row Warden J also signed off on 2 grievances about the same security disease threat.)

“Now as they moved me or tried to move me to FF-71 Cell I noticed the cell was filthy. Mind y’all, this is a constant battle seeing I’ve been moved 56 times just this year ALONE!!! So I stopped at the door and advised Lt. K (who is now Captain K) of the proper policy and procedures that need to be followed before moving me into this cell. Lt. K walked in the cell, walked out and said ‘Put him in the cell’. I locked my legs and refused to move.

TDCJ allows a prisoner who is in imminent fear or bodily injury or safety to refuse an order! Without repercussions. With aids, Hepatitis C, Bronchitis floating around this camp….I had good reason to not want to enter this filthy cell.

Lt. K told the officers to stop until a camera came! (Policy states: Any use of force must be taped and a 5 man team suited up in ’Combat Protection Gear’ if at all possible.) Lt. K stated ‘Warden A is not here. I’m running this and you will go.’

In the mean time Captain W come storming down the run, walked past me and told the guards ‘Put the Punk in his cell.’ (Now the term ‘punk’ in prison means a person who was forced to perform sexual favors on other men. Very degrading and unprofessional.) Now in that one statement he violated a few rules.
1) No attempt of intervention to try and reason the matter through by talking. (Work wonders Wickersham)
2) Called Prisoner Newbury a Punk. Provoking the situation more.
3) Authorized a use-of-force with no video camera and no extraction team.
Of course by the time the use-of-force (punches, kicks, arm bending) ended the camera was finally there at the very end! Convenient, eh?

Then Capt. W violated more policies and procedures by taking it upon himself to cancel my approved visit, leveling me at Level III status. A Captain alone can NOT change a prisoner’s status. That has to go through the proper channel which is (DRCC) Death Row Classification Committee. Just another ‘I’m Above the Law’ Rogue Move by out Rogue Capt. W. I grieved this issue also and low and behold, the grievance was ‘lost’ and the time frame to file ran out! (God Bless the ‘Good Ole Boyz ‘Sys. Of Justice in TDCJ.)

Now I know what it means when they wear their TDCJ issued hats that way ‘We take care of our own’. H***, sounds like something for a street gang, eh?

Now I have had 4 use-of-forces since than because I refuse to lie down for the ‘Master’ and all his puppets!

Here is a funny bit of irony for y’all. Now remember this all started with them saying they must move me every 7 days….well my first 9 ½ weeks on Level III (which is the highest security risk status there is) I was not moved at all!!! I guess they only move me once a week when it does not inconvenience them, but me. So that tells me they are just playing games with me. This is not security. It’s a dog and pony show!!!

Thanks for Reading My words

Donald N
AKA LIZERD”

Dec. 26

It is 3:00 a.m. and I just received my pathetic breakfast tray!! One spoon, yes on tablespoon of instant eggs and 1 tablespoon of applesauce and 2 hockey-pucks or biscuits and a carton of milk! I’m starving here so I have decided to jack my breakfast try.

Now policy states that they get a 5 man extraction team, gas me, run in on me and get the tray before a weapon can be made. Instead they spend 2 hours trying to talk me out. 6 a.m. come and second shift leaves and no I’m 1st shifts problem. Can you say passing-the-buck?

Now I’ve heard nothing so far and it is close to 10 a.m. Plenty of time to make a weapon out of a sharp and sturdy plastic tray, which I do no do!!

Anyway lunch comes around and they don’t feed me ANYTHING!!! Now it is a federal law that you cannot keep food from a prisoner for a punishment. They are suppose to come get the tray by any means necessary and put me on Food Loaf for 7 days! (What is Food Loaf? Well, they basically take a tray of food in a blender, grind it up and bake it into cornmeal.) Food Loaf is disgusting but the corn meal fill you up. That’s why I want it! Damn shame I’m so hungry I want to eat a nasty food loaf instead of what the powers to be claim is a well balanced and nutritional meal! Yeah because Sgt. L tells them not to.

Well, I finally agree to give them the tray and get on Food Loaf. I now wonder how long they would have starved me. If that is not cruel and unusual punishment, what is? Sounds like a Nazi Concentration Camp.

You see how this is working, we have the Rogue Capt. W who does what he pleases. All the Rank below him see this and do as they please. Now Major Nelson, sho is above Capt. W just ignores it all, I-60’s, grievances…and turns a blind eye. She knows exactly what all her ranking officers below her do. It is so frustrating to be put in a no-win situation as this but to give-up or give in is just not an option for me anymore. They are going to kill me. I can’t get my special visits….nothing else matters to me at this point!!! I’m really trying to hold it together!

In Struggle and Solidarity R. Cartwright
999224
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 S.
Livingston, TX 77351

Anyone who wants to read Richards accounts can go to, you can read all the updated versions on the website.

http://www.1prison.com/

softie

UNCENSORED FROM TEXAS DEATH ROW by Richard Cartwright </B>December 28 to 29, 2004





Dec. 28

All is quiet, like before the storm….

Dec. 29

Noon –
Knock, knock, knock, Cartwright, hey Cartwright. You going to Court? Yeah, give me a minute. I’m going to court for the “Assault” on Sgt. T and Possession of a shank (weapon) Kangaroo Court”. “How do you plead Offender Cartwright 999224?” “I plead Insanity” “You can’t plead Insanity. You can plead Guilty, Not Guilty or no plea.” “Capt. B, my plea is Insanity.” He laughs and wrights “None” in the space; 30 days cell restriction!!

Now I’m being escorted back to my cell and just stop on the run. Why? I’m just fed up!! Releasing or trying to release my frustrations. Time for another use-of-for. At this time more officers are called and a video camera is present. Sgt. H fails to follow procedures and fails to have a 5 man team suit up…..to much paperwork I suppose. They forcefully put me on the floor and shackle me legs, than forcefully lift me up onto a gurney and wheel me to my cell. No paperwork? No case? Did not happen! Convenient to say the least. No problems here says TDCJ!

Anytime they put a use-of-force, they are supposed to suit up!! They truly have no rules, but we must follow them all. No rules for them. They hold all the aces. But we must keep trying just to survive the constant injustices placed upon us…

Now as I come wheeled back on the gurney they go to get Donald N for court. Now I don’t know how or why, but Mr. N and I have seemed to be feeding off of, or into each others hopeless frustrations. Misery loves company? Strength in numbers? I don’t know, but I take comfort in the camaraderie we now share. It take a little of the hopelessness out of the frustration.

Anyway 30 minutes later and Mr. N is being brought in on a gurney! I have to laugh or else I’ll cry. I know how he feels. I know what he is going through and, more importantly, he knows how I feel. 2 men fight the entire system! Can we win? Never! Can we survive? Maybe!

What is hardest is the pain and worry we cause to our loved ones, family and friends….who I can say al least for myself, are the only reason I still have the strength to go and keep on fighting. For the love and happiness I find in my daughter’s laughter, for my mother, who has never left my side, even when given reason too, and to Melissa for stealing my heart and teaching me how to love again, my friends, Missy, Suzanne, Sandy, Y’all bring so many smiles to me, my sister and her house full of kids and the endless humorous stories you send. Thank you all for your love and support, for all your kindness.

It is 5:10 p.m. and Sgt. L just brought N a case for today’s little use-of-force, but brought me none! Oh well, just proves a point! They have no rules or regulations to follow. Two prisoners do the same thing on the same day and 1 gets a case and 1 does not! “TDCJ Logic” ? Oxymoron.

Keeping the Spirit Free R. Cartwright
999224
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 S.
Livingston, TX 77351

UNCENSORED FROM TEXAS DEATH ROW by Richard Cartwright </B>December 29, 2004 continued





“Dear Joan,

I want to say I know this is hard. You live the battle often worse than I by not knowing from minute to minute. Thank you for your strength and support and for the love I never had before you.

I Love You. Keith L.

Donald Keith N

Dec. 29 cont….

Lt. G told his officers NOT to shower me. He gave no reason what-so-ever according to CO S and SO W. Rogue Rank at Polunsky Unit Death Row is out of control Lt. G also refused to feed me at breakfast time. Punishing me for what? I broke no rules! I have a security box on my bean-slot. At no time are both doors to be opened, so where is the threat?
Here is procedure:
1) Open top of security box and place tray inside.
2) Close and lock top of security box.
3) Once top is secured open side slot for prisoner to get his food tray out.
4) Once done, secure and lock side slot!!
Yet Sgt. S refused to feed me saying “Sit on you bunk inmate!” Like I’m a freaking dog!! Sit Boy, Sit! That is ONLY Policy for cells without security boxes, than again what is a Rogue Sgt.? Capt’s, Lt’s, Sgt’s, no rules for them. Sgt. S already lost his Sgt. S once on another unit. So they bring him to Death Row as a CO IV for a couple of weeks and give his rank back. I will try my best to find out why he lost his stripes in the first place.

No shower! No food!! Man this sucks and I’m starving. Now when they refuse to feed me, Mr. N (who does not have a security box) stuck his hand out of the food-slot to prevent Sgt. S from closing it.

Now Policy states that when a prisoner has a slot “jacked” No more slots should be open and that prisoner shall be watched at all times ‘til said slot is secured. Of coarse Sgt. S just left, N, the slot, served the rest of 2 Row and than came downstairs and fed the rest of 1 Row!! Captain W has let all rank and officers under him out of control. No structure! How are we supposed to know where we stand? One day this is a rule, the next day it is something different. Chaos reins the Death Row ranks and officers all at Capt. W will. Why is Major N allowing this? I don’t know. Call her and find out!!! Please call.

Back to N and the jacked slot! N gave it back one Lt. G finally came on the pod. Still N should have gotten a major disciplinary case and 7 days food-loaf. (I’m glad he did not!!) The reason he did not is because that would mean paperwork for Lt. G shift and with paperwork, questions are asked! Why did Newbury jack the slot? Why did you not feed or shower Cartwright?

This all started when Capt. W came to take over Death Row!!! One person starts an avalanche of trouble. I have “The Death Penalty”. I really do not with so spend what little time I have left fighting these people, nor will I stand-down while they steadily screw me over. I can only speak for myself. I know many feel the same way I do, but we are all made differently and handle things differently!

Well, thanks again for “listening”. I better close her for now before Suzanne starts getting mad at me! Thanks again Suzanne and James for all your help and support. You are 2 very special people.

Until Next Time, R. Cartwright
999224
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 S.
Livingston, TX 77351

UNCENSORED FROM TEXAS DEATH ROW by Richard Cartwright December 31, 2004 to
January 1, 2005


Dec. 31

6:20 a.m.-
Once again my mail has not been picked up and processed this morning! It is
still sitting in my door where I left it. I’ve been trying to mail the same
four letters out since Monday the 27th!! Melissa, Mom, Suzanne and Paula,
please forgive the delay. It is by no means intentional!

Well, let’s see if I can find out what’s up. I hollered over the run just
now and Ivan C and Mr. N said they both had mail going out on the
31st that was not picked up. This is Bull----!! They push and push! They
want a reaction? I will give them one.

7:30 a.m.-
Shower time Cartwright. Officer W and Officer P tell me to
strip-out, do the dance, lift testicles, raise arms, run fingers through
hair, turn around spread you butt-cheeks, lift your feet, show the
bottoms….put you boxer shorts on, squat down, put your hands out behind you
to be handcuffed. The bean-slot on our steel-door is approx 2 ½‘ from the
floor so as I do this the officer (don’t know which one, my back is turned)
puts the handcuff on one hand and starts to put the other one on. I jump
forward pulling the cuffs, the dog leash and the officer with me. I end up
with the handcuffs and dog leash. This is called “Jacking the Cuffs”. Sgt.
T is called and I explain what’s up! He is not in charge of mail….so
I say right on, suit it up! We all know shit rolls down hill. So I cause
them enough grief. They will get on the mailroom too!

1 hour later here comes Rogue Captain W, Lt. R, Sgt. T
and Five Man Extraction Team (i.e. 5 men in body armor, helmet, gas masks
and a shield). 1 man is Officer M (approx. 240 lbs.), 2nd man Big “C”
(approx. 300 lbs.), 3rd man Officer S (about 200 lbs.), 4th man Officer
S (another one, 240 lbs.) and 5th man Officer D (190 lbs.). They
come stomping in here like Li’l Troopers, very intimidating (sarcasm people,
sarcasm). Sgt. T gives me 2 orders to relinquish the hand restraints,
strip-out or chemical agents will be utilized! I fail to comply so they
blast my cell with pepper spray and tear gas!

S***!! I live in a cement box, the ventilation is shut off during a
use-of-force. My eyes water, breathing through a…..wet sock. Convict’s gas
mask. It doesn’t matter. Adrenaline is kicking in and I know this was going
down this way.

They spray, wait 5 minutes, then give me 2 more orders and spray again! As
soon as they spray the second shot the door rolls open, D***!! CAUGHT ME
SIDEWAYS AND FLATFOOTED. They usually wait 5 more minutes, 2 more orders and
than fun in. They got down this time!

The team gets in a few shots (That is the name of the game.), handcuff and
shackle me, pull me out the cell. M, 1st man, got my left arm. Who knows
who got what else. Now mind you, my hands are cuffed behind my back, my legs
are shackled and the weak bastards slam me to the floor AGAIN!! RIGHT ON!!!
I start yelling and cussing telling what they all have blah…blah…blah…I’m
burning, I’m sore, I’m pissed.

Nurse comes, asks how I feel! I say I feel like a teenager! They take 4
photos and put me back in my cell, lay me flat on the ground, take off the
leg shackles and than start to remove the handcuffs, telling me not to move!
You got to be kidding me! One cuff comes off, I’m on my way up and swinging.
Of course they slam me right back down and place all the restraints back on
me. Another nurse, more photos. 2 use-of-forces in 10 minutes.

Now here is the issue. I told them put me in my cell, take the shackles off,
get out and I gave them my word. I’d go to the bean-slot and give up the
cuffs, but I will not lay on the floor and be punked-out. Now Sgt. T
asked Lt. R if that was cool. R and T both know I may get out
there but my word is GOLDEN. I refuse to break it. Of course Rogue Capt.
W said “No”. So once again I’m on the floor. These fools take off
my shackles and I start kicking and thrashing and bending. I yell out “You
are gonna have to break something. F-you” and just going as hard as I can on
the floor, hand-cuffed and 5 men on top of me.

Finally Rogue Capt. W agrees to let me have my way on my word. I do
what I say. The use-of-force is terminated. Now let’s see if my mail goes
out Monday. If not, we will Rock’N’Roll some more.

Jan 1, 2005

Happy new year! YEAH RIGHT!! If you have a release date or parole, it is one
more calendar behind you. One more calendar closer to the Free World.

On Death Row, It is one more calendar closer to death. One more year for me
to watch my beautiful daughter grow up in photos. She’ll be 8 years old on
Jan. 17th. One more year to see the pain, worry and hurt in my mother’s eyes
or hear them in her written words. One more year I’ve watched the State of
Texas Kill 26 more men in the name of “BLOOD-JUSTICE”.

8 years I’ve been doing this and the effects are overwhelming. Numbness is
the best way to describe it. We live in death, facing her everyday as those
around us get executed.

Then there are those who can’t handle our private and personal hell. Those
they are finding hanging in their cells. Cutting their wrists, swallowing
handfuls of pills to bring the pain and torture to an end.

Then there are one who find freedom in their insanity! Playing in their own
bodily wastes. Yelling at their inner demons for release.

Happy New Year INDEED!!!

I know a lot of you people say “who care?! Bunch of murderers crying about
fair-play!” My penalty is Death. I accept this. At this point I embrace it.
Just leave me alone until my time comes.

2005 is the year they will kill me, unless some kind of miracle takes place.
I do not wish to be on Level III, very limited visits and an empty cell,
mattress, sheet, legal work and writing supplies. But I will not be treated
like some kind of piece of dirt to stay on Level I!! I have to be able to
look at myself in the mirror everyday and live with who I am and what I’ve
done.

Well I now have about 14 pages going to James and Suzanne, who both work and
have enough kids to start an army! HA! HA! HA! Thanks a lot guys. I mean
that. Hey James. You should thank me. Without all this writing, you and
“Suzie Q” will just be making more babies!! HA! HA! HA! Damn Right I’m
Jealous.

In Struggle and Solidarity
I remain
R. Cartwright
AKA
Chi-Town
999224
3872 FM 350 S.
Livingston, TX 77351

UNCENSORED FROM TEXAS DEATH ROW by Richard Cartwright January 1, 2005
Continued

Jan 1

4:45 p.m.- We just had another incident due to lack of professional behavior
by the 2 COs working. Officer ****and Officer ****. They are running
showers and just decided to go from my cell, 73 cell, to 75 cell, skipping
over RH, in 74 cell. Why? I guess because they can, or
they don’t like him, or for fun. I do not know.

R beats on his door asking, well screaming about a shower. The officers
laugh at him. To them this is entertainment, breaking the boredom of their
day.

R wants to speak to some rank (i.e. Sgt., Lt, Capt., whatever). Of
course said officers aren’t trying to hear it and just move on, refusing to
call rank.

R then starts a huge fire!!!! Smoke and flames everywhere. Fire alarm
ringing. Oh yeah, he is gonna get some rank now. Now Officer **** and
**** come to put out the fire with the fire extinguisher. But one that is
done, they start to shoot the fire ext. into R’s cell just for more
laughs. The fire was on the run outside his cell. Ruining personal property,
books, photos….R starts chunking p***-water on them. Oh they just
stopped laughing now. Amazing!!

Sgt. ***** comes down and asks what the F#@! is going on. R tries to
explain in his broken English that the officers are trying to jack him for
his shower. Sgt. ***** asks his officers about this and they say “we did
not V.R. (verbally refuse) his shower, we just missed him in the
line-up…blah…blah.” So all is said and done. We will shower. NOT QUITE!

Now Sgt. ***** tell H he has to let the Sgt. Search his cell
because once you throw on an officer you get put on 30 Day Container
Restriction (i.e. no cups, shampoo bottles, milk cartons). So Officer *****
and **** moves to the wall while handcuffed behind his back
while Sgt. ****** searches his cage.

Now as they escort H by my cell Officer **** jerks H’s
right arm. So H jerks his arm back and says “What’s your problem? Me
got no p---- you b----.” ***** says “Do that again and you will eat
concrete”.

Very tough indeed. Mr. H is 5’3” tall and is handcuffed wearing a
pair of shower slides (flip-flops). Harper is a good 6’2”-6’3” and 250 lbs.
What is he trying to prove? H won’t back down!

Sgt. ***** hears the commotion and comes out and brings H back to
his cage. His container-free-cage now.

About 40 minutes later Sgt. T comes back and tells H that
Warden J place him on 72 Hour Property Restriction. This means NOTHING
IN YOUR CELL. NOTHING. No mattress, sheets, clothes, NOTHING. I guess that
is the easiest way to prevent fires, eh?

The Officers sure aren’t going to be punished. Just H. If the
Officers were not messing with him, there would be no reason to start fires.
We pay no matter what. So the 2 Officers are standing behind Sgt. T just grinning and smiling like the cat who ate the canary.

Hernandez refuses to come out so now T has to go get a Five Man Team
to get him out. Mr. H does not plan on making the team run-in-on
him, but wants to aggravate the rank and officers a little bit. They have to
go suit up in their gas-infested body armor, helmets, masks. That is 5
officers, than usually one female officer running the camera. About 2-3
bystanders watching the show and Lt. ****. All with better things to do I’m
sure.

H comes out and they take all his property.

Really it does not matter. If H needs ranks, one of us down here
will start a fire for him. This is F-Pod. This is the one Pod on Death-Row
where a convict can count on Unity of Convicts around him. We care not for
commissary and will not sell-each-other-out for a radio.

Ok, another day in paradise. I hope we have a quiet day tomorrow. Thanks for
listening. If you give a damn, call up Warden J, Major N, or go
above their heads and complain about the unfair treatment.

In Struggle and Solidarity
I Remain
R. Cartwright
999224
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 S.
Livingston, TX 77351

On a good note:

Saturday, Jan. 1

10:15 p.m.
WELL OLE LIZERD HAD A VISIT WITH HIS WIFE! He came back looking like a
love-struck-puppy!! HA! HA! HA! On level III we are only allowed one 2 hour
visit a month. That is the hardest sacrifice. I just wanted to say “Thank
You” to Joan (Lizerd’s wife) for standing by him and making sure he knows he
is loved! Joan, if you could have seen the smile on his face as he came
through the gate of F-Pod-F-Section. There could be no doubt that man is
head over heels in love with you. Love conquers all.

God Bless and Good Night.

Thanks for sharing this, it makes me sick!
Respectfully,
A.

UNCENSORED FROM TEXAS DEATH ROW by Richard Cartwright January 09, 2005

Sunday the 9th

Well, we’ve come to a close on another week here in our own personal,
torturous hell. I sit here and watch as tempers flare, violence erupts, and
feel the pressure building. I see that assaults on officers are becoming a
rising answer to many who are at the end of their ropes. H**, it beats the
hell out of suicide, eh?

Suicide is also on the rise one again, not to mention the poor lost souls
being shipped out to the infamous Jester 4 Unit (TDCJ’s cruel idea of a
psychiatric ward). As soon as you get there, they strip you naked and put
you in 4 point restraints on a bed! That’ll cure what ails you, eh??

I personally (R.M. Cartwright, 999224) have been doing my best to avoid
conflict, but things keep pissing me off. I’ll get to that later on.

I had a wonderful surprise visit on Monday, the 3rd of this month. I did not
even expect it or know I could have it. All the restrictions they presently
have on me. It was a wonderful visit with a woman who stole my heart. She
traveled from out of state, knowing she’d only receive a 2 hour visit,
instead of an 8 hour special visit.

Melissa, think you my love, thank you for loving me and thank you for
caring. Your love makes such a tremendous difference in my life.

I was, or at least felt completely free for those 2 hours I spent with her.
Love on Death Row!! Who’d of thought it??

Now as the visit ends and I head back to my cage on F-Pod the first thing I
notice as I walk through the entrance is the overpowering smell of pepper
and tear gas! D***, back to reality I come! I don’t ask anyone anything. I
go to my cell, turn off my light and envelope myself in darkness and replay
every minute of the visit I just had. Trying once again to escape this
messed up reality I live in.

Later I find out Mr. N (Lizerd), you should remember him, was the one
who got run in on, and then I find out part of the reason was me, or for
sticking up for me! Damn, I feel like a heel!! Still I hold my patience and
self control and thank him for getting down.

Mr. N wrote an account of what went down and I will include it in with
this opening for all to read, in his words, what happened.

It seems the officers have decided to up the ante on their abusive behavior!
Why not?? They have Rogue Capt. W to back up their every dirty
move. I mean if 5 men in complete body armor come into your cell after they
have sprayed enough gas and other chemicals to incapacitate your breathing
and sight, need to punch and kick you so subdue you, well something is
wrong.

The following is Mr. N account as stated per Rich about what
happened:


“On Monday, 01/03/2005, once again fed up with the deplorable conditions
here, including the often inedible food, sleep and sensory deprivation and
now, food deprivation, as myself, Donald N, and Richard
Cartwright, 999224, were denied trays.

First I jacked the bean slot so they couldn’t close it, then I jacked the
cuffs at shower time. The officer involved, Christopher L CO II, told
Cartwright ‘You don’t want to do that when I’m on the team. I’ll crush your
bones!’ This guy is big and muscular, 6’1” or 6’2”, about 280 lbs. I told
him to not take it personal, to just do his job as I was doing mine. Lt.
Richie came to talk to me and told him I was all through talking. It was
time for some action.

They suited up a 5 man extraction team (AKA ‘Goon Squad’) and came to
‘run-in’ on me. They gassed me twice with the strongest (10%) pepper spray
they had.

As I was choking on this, they then sprayed my cell with another gas called
C/S or ‘Mace’. This ‘mixing’ of chemicals constitutes an excessive use of
force, is strictly prohibited by UOF Policy, State and Federal Regulations
and Laws as well as the MSDS sheets on use of these chemicals.

They were really eager to hurt me bad when they came in the door 60 seconds
after spraying C/S on me, immediately started throwing blows with their
fists instead of merely trying to subdue me in accordance with UOF Policy.

Since I had now no choice but to defend myself I managed to rip the crash
helmet off of Loop and got his gas mask, then pinned him to the bunk belly
down and pounded him in the back of his head just like the other 4 of them
were at my back beating me in the head, lungs and kidneys.

Finally they got me down on the floor where they cinched leg irons on me so
tight it cut into my Achilles tendons to where I could not even stand or
barely walk after being removed from the cell.

In the meantime they rubbed my face all in the gas on the cell floor, busted
open my head in 2 placed by ramming it into the concrete repeatedly after I
was cuffed, shackled and totally subdued.

Then they began punching me in the head and kidney a few more times, for
added measure. Because they opened a 1/2“ gash above my eye I was taken to
medical and brought back on a stretcher.

They dumped me into the empty cell (#82) next to mine (#81) and told me I
couldn’t go back to my cell until it was decontaminated. In #82 cell the
toilet leaks and there was sewage all over the floor so I demanded to be
taken back to my own cell and told them I would decontaminate it myself!

In the meantime they refused to allow me to shower and decontaminate myself
so the gas stayed and kept eating on me, drawing water blisters on my skin
all over my body.

Finally they got the SSI’s (Prisoner Porters) to clean up my cell and moved
me back into it at close to 6:00 p.m. This Use of Force (UOF) occurred at
about 12:15 p.m. after lunch, but I was written major disciplinary case
#2005016731 alleging that I ‘assaulted’ CO II L on 01/03/2005 at 1:40
p.m. ‘using the open end of a hand restraint (hand cuffs) by swinging and
striking the officer repeatedly during a Use of Force.’ The assault resulted
in injury (to L) which required treatment of first aid’.

I’m at a loss to understand how/why they charge me with assault when they
are the ones who were the aggressors. They came into my cell assaulting me!
Because I jacked their cuffs they had a reason to ‘run-in’ on me and subdue
me, but not beat me senseless for no reason! I wasn’t resisting until and
after they started beating me!

The purported objective of UOF is to pin the prisoner using a capture shield
and to subdue him without injury. Five of them on one little ol’ me standing
there in my shorts yet I assaulted them?!?! This sort of thing is typical of
Warden James J, who graded this case.

I was left in #82 Cell over 6 hours covered in pepper spray and C/S mace
gas. It took me an additional 2 days to get a mattress to sleep on after I
was finally moved back to #81 Cell. My mattress was confiscated because it
was so contaminated with pepper and C/S mace gases.

These are the conditions which drive people to insanity, suicide or death by
dropping their appeals as did James P (Executed on 01/04/2005).
R.I.P. BRO! This one was for your!).

We’ve had five attempted suicide in the last 2 ½ months, 2 of which were
ultimately successful and 2 others very nearly so. When you consider that
this is a relatively tiny population (445 Prisoners) perhaps you can
understand how onerous and oppressive these conditions are.

Weekly cell moves for harassment, starvation, Level III punitive placement
with no disciplinary case and no due process at all. Currently Hank S, is on Level III and food loaf for merely requesting a copy of a
grievance he’d filed on Captain David W for retaliating against him
earlier last year. Every time Hank writes a grievance for one of us or
himself the Captain siccs his goons on hank to take his property and tear up
his cell. Currently they’ve go half his legal property and religious
material, refusing to return it and four parcels of his outgoing legal mail
addressed to Attorneys which they refuse to return or mail out.

Hank is one of those guys who believes in following the policy and using the
grievance procedure but since they’re now openly retaliating against him for
using the grievance procedure and formal channels of redress, I wonder how
much more abuse he’ll take before he takes the route I did……

I’m no angel, but I must defend myself and do whatever it takes to make them
leave me alone and quit harassing me with their ‘frequent cell move’,
destructive cell searches, 24 hour per day isolation, denial of food, etc. I
was sentenced to death by lethal injection, not years of physical and mental
torture.

Donald K. N

My aggravation builds. I’m pissed, it is now personal. They make it so!!!

These officers have no rules. They cuss, they get mad at you, refuse to feed
you… They rattle the cage, but never think about facing the lion inside.
Well, that changed for Officers Brenda T and Officer Rachel B on
January 5th, 2005!

I personally do not like or much agree with violence towards women, but
truth be told, around here the female officers start 80% of the bull-shit
with their mouths and actions. It is like they get off on trying to
humiliate and insult us. Prison is a world unto itself. In here if someone
calls you a b---- or a punk…it’s time to fight. Prison is not a friendly
place and we all know the rules, even the officer. So when you step up to
another, expect to pay the price.

I know I probably sound like some macho block-head, but I did not make up
the rules that rain my insane world. Prison has its own rules, and like I
said, we all know what they are and if you cannot understand that you should
be very thankful. Nobody should have to live like this and very few enjoy
it, but it is what it is and has been since the beginning and will be in the
end.

Note from Suzanne Cookston: Before reading any further, I have to put in my
own statement in defense to Rich’s statement. I’ve never been to prison and
I know what he’s saying is true. Woman or not, I hope I would never be
stupid enough to call any inmate a punk or bitch. Anyone with any common
sense knows that.

You adapt, or become pray, it is that simple.

Anyway, Robert C (AKA CHILI RED) was the lion who’s cage door
came open! Accident? I prefer KARMA instead. You reap what you sow. What
comes around goes around.

The following is Mr. C account of what happened to him:


“On January 2, 2005, I called Officer Brenda T to my cell to ask her
could the porter wipe the outside of my cell door. But instead she stated
‘What the f--- you want?’ So I asked ‘Who you talking too?’ She said ‘I’m
talking to you b---’. So I said ‘nah, you ain’t’. So they left.

The next day, Monday, January 2, 2005, I’m standing at my door talking to my
neighbor, Officer T came halfway up the stairs and asked me ‘what the
f--- you looking at b----?’ So I cursed her back. As she was leaving she
gave me a ‘f--- you’ sign!

The next day we went through the same thing, she calling me b***** and
hoes!

The next day, Wednesday, January 5, 2005, I was in the dayroom, Officer
T and Officer B came on our section to escort some people to
court. As Officer T was staring at me, so I asked her do she have a
problem. She said ‘yeah’ me. So I told her to come solve it then!

So they take one guy to court. At that time Officer G and Officer
S rack me up in my cell and told me get ready for shower. So Officer
T and Officer B bring the other guy back.

Now they are coming up the stairs to get my neighbor, Tony D, to go to
court. Officer T is standing in front of my cell looking at me. I said
‘What the f--- you looking at?’ She said ‘You, b----’. So we argued ‘til
they were gone out the door.

Then they, Officer T and Officer B, brought my neighbor back.
She’s looking at me again, instead of paying attention to the Officer
B/M in the picket to tell her what door to roll. But she didn’t
and Officer B/M rolled my cell door. I stepped out and said
‘What’s that s--t you was talking’. And she said ‘I wish you would’. So I
hit her, and we starting fighting Officer B sprayed me with her gas.
But it was knocked to the floor by Officer T, who was kicking at me.
Officer B picked it up again and tried to spray, but I knocked it out
of her hand.

Then Officer B picked up the food slot bar which is steel all the way
through, which it weighs about 7 to 8 pounds. And 18 inches to 2 feet long
and hit me across my back 3 times. The 4th time, I hit her and knocked the
bar away on the floor. I turned back around and started fighting with
Officer Traylor some more.

About 30 seconds later Officer G and another Officer came running up
the staris. I got up and went back to my cell and closed the door. They came
back about 15 minutes later suited up and stuff and ordered me out of my
cell, which I came out.

They took me into the hallway and took pictures of me, which I have a bruise
on my right rib cage and marks across my back. They then escorted me to
F-Pod Level III. I’ve been here 3 days now and I don’t have nothing. No
toothpaste, deodorant, soap, nothing to write with.

They put me on food loaf and I’m not supposed to be. The only way you get on
food loaf is if you disrupt the feeding procedures or jack the food slot. I
didn’t do neither on of them, but they still got me on food loaf.

I asked about my recreation. They told me that Captain Wickersham called
down to F-Pod 3 times and told Officer W and Officer M that I was on
cell restriction. Now how am I on cell restriction and I haven’t went to
court yet?

They got me in this cell that is broke. The water don’t cut off. Every time
I ask to speak with some rank, don’t none come down!! I know that I was
wrong for hitting a female, but she was wrong for calling me b--ches and
hoes ‘cause I never called her.

I asked the Sgt. about my property of what I’m supposed to have while on
Level III. He told me I was on property restriction! And that I can’t have
nothing, no soap, toothpaste, deodorant, legal work, writing material!

I don’t have nothing to go shower with and they know this and they refuse my
shower. I haven’t brushed my teeth in 4 days. I don’t have a toothbrush or
toothpaste. I don’t even have a jumpsuit to wear. It’s freezing cold and all
I got is a mattress and a sheet and one boxer shorts!

After I left E-Pod to come to F-Pod, Lt. R went back to my old cell and
started tearing up my property. He through away my socks that I bought from
commissary. He through my commissary cup out and then stepped on it and
broke it. He through my commissary shorts out. He through my tennis shoes
away. He was supposed to pack my stuff up, not through it away.

Robert J. C

Of course the powers-to-be, Capt. W and Major N did not like
this at all and went above and beyond the stated rules to punish Mr.
C. Really, they have nobody to blame but themselves. They let their
officers walk around and do and say what they want. Let me give you a very
personal example:
On Saturday, the 6th, I was “fishing” (we make links by braiding string
together and slide it under our doors and down the run. The next fella
throws his line out to catch yours and that is how we pass things) with
Hernandez down the way for a pen because mine ran out of ink. Now officer
Stain (6’3” about 280 lbs.) sees this, comes in the section and snags my
line and breaks it!!
True we are not supposed to have lines, but what the f---! I’m on death row.
I’m on level III status, can’t get no lower. I’m locked in my cell 24 hours
a day, with only one hour of recreation a week. I need to fish to get by.
Anyway, I say “What are you doing M***** F---er??” He said “Who you calling
a M.Fer??” I said “you b****.” He walks over to my steel door, with its
totally secure splash shield…and says “You should not be fishing.” So I just
laugh and tell him what a b---- he is. He makes some comment about me being
a tough guy or some shit. I tell him “I ain’t tough, but roll this door and
we can box”. He says “No Cartwright, I don’t have to worry about you, that
needle will take care of you!!” (TALKING ABOUT THE OLE LETHAL INJECTION).
Now I know I said the first insult, no doubt, I won’t sugar coat my actions.
I gotta mouth on me. I’m no angel, but that last comment was way out of
line.

I look at the picture of my family, my mom, my daughter, my heart stealing
Melissa and know when they do kill me, it will hurt the ones I love most. It
won’t hurt me. I’ll be done with this h***-hole, so that professional
officer throwing that is my face broke the resolve I’ve been hanging on to.
I no longer respect or obey their rules!! I’m at the end of my ropes and I’m
sure not trying to kill myself or head to Jester 4, but I need to unload my
frustrations, my aggravation. Let me move on.

We have another addition to our Level III, F-Pod crew. His name is William
B. His version of his little adventure will also be
enclosed with N and C. Seems they found a ½ a joint in his
cell. He just moved into that cell and said it most have been in there
already! Who know, but once again proper policy and procedures were being
followed, the officers would know for sure.

Before moving a prisoner into a cell, they are suppose to clean, sanitize
and shake down (look around for weapons, drugs and contraband), but they
NEVER do this. I guess it is too much work.

Even if they caught Mr. B and then proven of smoking a joint, it is
still not a level III offense, but a level II! Level III according to TDCJ
Policy is for assault behavior, weapons or a repeated offender of the same
offense. You can’t tell that to Rogue Capt. W, though. He does what
he wants to do; why shouldn’t we? I mean at any give time an officer can
write you up a bogus case and you lose your level!

The following is Mr. B account of what occurred:

“I just got moved from D-41 to B-81 on January 7, 2005. I was moved real
late so by the time I got to my new cell it was about 10:30 – 10:45 p.m.

I cleaned off my bunk because it had chill or potted meat all over it and
squeeze cheese all over the desk. By the time I got all this cleaned up, it
was 12:45 at night, so I said screw it, I’ll do the rest tomorrow.

I woke up about 11:00 a.m. I usually wake up early, but I went to bed late.
I cleaned out the storage container and mopped the floor, then took a break.
There had been at least 10,000 years of dust under the bunk. I don’t think
the person before me even swept or cleaned under the bunk.

Now I shouldn’t have to be doing this because it’s TDCJ policy to clean,
search and sanitize, and make sure everything works in a cell before they
move an ‘offender’ into a new cell. I started to draw and said I’ll clean
the sink and under the bunk later.

I have 3 bags, 1 personal (which is ½ a bag), 1 legal and 1, I put my
clothing in. I had 1 bag unpacked when 2nd shift started doing shakedowns.
They pulled out my neighbor and did a little 2 second shakedown.

Then they came to my door and this guard starts taking her sweet time. She
closed my door, not all the way but closed it so I couldn’t see in.

Then all of the sudden, she says put him in the shower. I’m going to go
through his cell thoroughly.

So I said ‘H*** no’ and asked for rank. I refused to give the cuffs back and
stepped through the cuffs. Rank came and I complained about harassment and
discrimination because she pulls one person out for exactly 1.23 seconds (I
time all shakedowns in my section with a stop watch from the moment I hear
or see the door open, until I see or hear the door close.). She wants to
take a quick scan of one dudes stuff, but go through mine with a fine tooth
comb.

The thing that struck me as odd was she did not close my neighbor’s door.
She was bent down at my storage box and kept looking back at me. I was
turned sideways because I was talking to my neighbor. Then all of a sudden
she gets up and closes my door. No guard has ever done that before.

Then she walked toward the desk area where I couldn’t see and comes running
out talking about ‘put him in the shower. I’m going to go thoroughly through
your stuff’.

When rank got there I politely explained my situation. He walked to my cell
(I was still in the shower.), came back like 10 minutes later holding a
folded up piece of toile paper, my bottle of glue and my sewing needle and
asked ‘is there something you want to tell me about?’ I said ‘What, my glue
and sewing needle? You found it, so….’ He said ‘Anything else?’ H said ‘No,
no, no, is there anything else you want to tell me about?’ I said ‘No’. He
said ‘What about this?’ and held up a piece of bunched up toilet paper. I
asked ‘what is it?’ He said ‘You tell me.’ I said ‘I got no clue’. He looked
at me, paused and said ‘It’s marijuana’. I said ‘Oh, h***, no, that s***
ain’t mine’. He said ‘It was in your cell’. I said ‘b*******. That ain’t
mine. I just got hear yesterday and ain’t even had time to unpack. Plus I
don’t fuck with that shit because I know you do random drug tests. Give me a
drug test’. He said ‘You’d really be willing to submit a drug test?’ I said
‘Give me the cup. I’ll piss in that m***** f***** right now!”

He looked at me for a second and said ‘you said you just got here yesterday.
Was your cell clean?’ I said ‘H***, now. There was chili or something all
over the bunk’…and explained the rest.

He stood there for a second then said ‘Alright, this is what’s going to
happen. We’re going to take you to level III, because a guard claims this
was found in your cell. We’ll give you a drug test; if it’s positive, you’ll
stay level III; if not, you’ll get moved back to level I.’ And here I am.

Yesterday, he told me it tested positive, that it was marijuana and asked me
my statement. I told him that it wasn’t mine. I will take a drug test to
prove I didn’t smoke it because the ‘roach’ Sgt. R showed me was a
partially smoked, not full, joint.

William B

Can you imagine living like that? Bad enough we are waiting to be murdered,
but we try to be good. We try for our families who want to come visit us,
but when you do not know what the rules are anymore, you never know, you
just don’t ever know.

Hell, up until about 3 weeks ago, I hadn’t had a case in over 2 years!!! I
was waiting on special visits from out of state for January, February and
March, but all that is now gone over some B.S. case. My daughter, who will
be 8 years old on the 17th of January, was suppose to be brought to see me
by my mother, who lives in Chicago. Awful expensive trip for a 2 hour visit,
so I get no visit with my Angel Ricki. That hurts, that is painful.

But hurt and sorrow don’t work in TDCJ! Rage, hat and anger, those get you
action. Those get us attention in here. So I just turn my pain and sadness
into anger and rage trying to hold onto my sanity. Now I must try and
release it…damn it, I hate the way I feel right now. I hate the hurt and
pain I’ve one again caused my mother and my daughter. My daughter will only
turn 8 years old one time…and now I will miss seeing her on her special day.
They can’t give me that back. All they do is take and keep taking.

Well, I will end this one here. I’m getting more aggravated the more I
write. They call me an unrehabilitatable, heathen killer, but I do have a
heart and it feels love, along with pain…they just don’t know.

I will close with a live from Baudelaire: “I have felt the wind of the wing
of madness.”

In struggle and solidarity,
I remain
R. Cartwright
Chi-Town
999224
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 S.
Livingston, TX 77351

UNCENSORED FROM TEXAS DEATH ROW by Richard Cartwright January 15, 2005
Well another week in paradise has gone by. Well, it has been 11 days, a
whole complete 11 days without a state-sanctioned-murder! Wow!! Is that a
record? Seems like it should be.

The last (execution) murder was James Porter, 999378 (Bones) on 01/04/2005.
I guess we officially should call his death an assisted suicide for James
chose to drop his appeals rather than live in a cage. I do not agree with
James’ choice, but I do respect it and even understand why! Hell, why not?
We live in a cage and get treated worse than animals. We eat sub-poor food.

Our prayers go out to James’ friends, family and loved ones. At least he is
finally at peace.

Three more murders are set to take place this month. Jose’ Briseno, 999043,
Troy Kunkle, 000784, George Jones, 999147, please keep them and their
families in your prayers. Jose’s date is for the 20th, Troy’s the 25th and
Jones’ the 27th.

I do not want to lessen the impact of Mr. Briseno’s and Jones’ dates by
focusing more on Mr. Kunkle, but I’ve known Troy for almost the entire 8
years I’ve been on the row. Troy was born on 5/27, 1966 and ended up on
death row on March 2, 1985; he was 19 years old. When he was arrested, he
was 18 years old and had no prior criminal record. At this time, 2005, Troy
has spent 20 years on the row. He has spent more than half his life on the
row in a cage. Troy is not the 18 year old kid they brought to this death
house. He has grown up; he is a different person, for one, he is now a full
grown man….older than his years for the life he has lived for sure. They say
the death penalty is designed for the worst of the worst. Troy is by far not
that!!! 20 years does change a person, any person.

For instance the Green River Killer, this man killed at least 50 women and
brutally raped them, he has a life sentence! How is one to make sense of
this?

It is wrong to kill, no doubt, but how do you fix it by killing?? That is an
oxy-moron, eh? It is wrong to kill and we are going to kill you to show you
and the world it is wrong. There is absolutely no logic in this way of
thinking.

Troy, I don’t even know if you will read this before they kill you, but I
want you to know that I’m gonna miss you, Bro!! You will live on in the
hears and memories of those who’s lives you have touched, which is many.
We’ve had our ups and down, but I’ve always considered you my friend, and
I’ve bee praying for you, your family, your wife, Christi, along with all
the men on “death watch”. Man, Try, we had some good times together, eh?
Remember all those “cement wrestling matches” we used to have? Ha!Ha!Ha! The
“Finger Take Down” in the commissary line?? Hey, Troy, I’m gonna miss you
Bro. Keep your head up and Ride the Lighting into you next life. Love and
Respect, Your Bro, Chi-Town.

Just like that people, I’ve had to say goodbye a hundred times and more in
the course of my 8+ years on the row. It does not get any easier either.

Let me go back earlier in the week and talk about some of the thumb-screw
tactics of our fin administration here on the row.

Monday, the 10th, seemed to be the days of days. It started with D
N (Lizerd; his spelling, not mine) as he refused to give his
lunch tray back. This is a major security threat because the food trays are
extremely heard plastic and on can break ‘em down and make shanks out of
them. Actually, you could make quite a few and pass them around to others.
Of course Lizerd has no intentions of doing this, but they do not know that.
Lizerd is just trying to get his point across. He is sick and tired of being
moved once a week, sometimes twice a week.

See Lizerd is one of the infamous Texas 7 that escaped TDCJ a couple years
back and showed hoe truly incompetent this system is. They move him, or say
they move him as a security precaution, but it is just plain old harassment
or better yet, let’s call it revenge. Hell, if they are worried about him
digging a tunnel, shake his cell down, eh? Hell, that’s policy and correct
procedure calls for anyway. This place is stressful enough without the
administration adding more s--- to the game.

Now the powers-to-be that want to move him for “security reasons” once a
week just let him keep the tray. 2 different Sergeants and 1 Lieutenant came
to talk to him; they cannot see in his cell because he has his door and
window slots covered, trying to talk him into giving the tray back! Lizerd’s
only response is “You know what it is, suit-up!!!” The rank leaves and
Lizerd is up in his cell waiting for the team or “Goon Squad” which does not
shop up.

Approximately 4 hours later (Lizerd could have made 3 or 4 shanks and passed
them out) my neighbor W B went to shower and when he came back
to his cell, he jacked-the-cuffs, as they went to remove them.

Jack-the-cuffs…it means as you reach you hands through the door slot behind
your back, if you time it right, as the officer removes one cuff, you yank
your other arm in the cell as hard and fast as you can.

Well, Mr. B was successful and got the cuffs, one on his wrist and one
free swinging.

Now you might think Mr. B did this to just join in with Lizerd, but
that is not the case. B or AKA, GHOST, is a very mild mannered skinny
young guy. He weighs about 140 lbs and always says “yes sir” or “no sir”,
“thank you”….very well and proper in the manners department. For 4 days,
Ghost has politely asked all the guards and 2 different Sgt. to get him his
property. He has been in his cell 75 cell F-pod, F section without so much
as a TOOTHBRUSH!!! Why? I’ll tell you why. Because politeness gets you
nowhere in here.

I gave Ghost some toothpaste, but I’m not trying to share my toothbrush. I
got limits. Well,10 minutes later, Sgt. H and Lt. R are down
here talking to Ghost. Ghost says “Sir, I’ve been trying for 4 days to get
my property and I get no response.” “Sir, I will not give you the handcuffs
back until I get my property.” Sgt. H says “Well, you won’t get your
property this way and we will come in there and get the cuffs.” Ghost says
“Sorry to hear that you feel that way sir.”

I’m laughing my a-- off at this point. The Sgt. is totally p---ed. I guess
he is also not used to politeness.

Now for 4 days the officers and rank say “we are short-handed, we don’t have
the staff...to get your property”… Typical B.S. Remember this comment.

Anyway, now Lizerd is still upstairs with the tray and I tell Ghost “Hey,
dude, you’re a little to small to feud the team in that cell.” He says
“don’t worry Chi-Town, I’m not stupid. I will feud the team if I have to,
but I’m gonna try something else.”

Here comes the team and they are huge, the 5 men in body armor, helmets and
gas masks are well over 800 lbs. combined weight; easily if not closer to
1,000. The first 2 alone make up more than 500 lbs. (Y’all can get these
tapes to confirm all of this!!) Sgt. Hsays “Inmate B, I’m
giving you a direct order to relinquish the hand restraints and submit to a
strip search or chemical agents will be used.”

At this point, Ghost, ha!ha!ha! takes the free hand-cuff and locks it to the
screened window slot in the door! Now they can’t come in. They can’t open
the door. Now Sgt. Hsays “Inmate B, I’m giving you a direct
order to relinquish the hand-restraints and submit to a strip search or
chemical agents will be applied.”

Now I start screaming “How’s he gonna do that. He is handcuffed to the
door.”

Sgt. H puts on his gas mask, tells the camera “At this time, I’ve
given Inmate B 2 orders to relinquish the hand-restraints and he has
failed to comply. I will now use chemical agents.”

He does spray Ghost! I’m kicking the door screaming!!! “What the f---. He is
handcuffed to the door…he can’t relinquish…S---….” I’m irate. This is a
totally excessive use of force!!!

Now, Lt. R, Lt. G, Sgt. H, Capt. W, Major
N, a camera operator and a five man team are here along with 1 or other
observers. So we have about 13 officers! Now, why is it they cannot find any
available staff for 4 days to get Ghost his property, yet we have 13 people
standing in line to kick his a--, or watch him get his a-- kicked.

Now everybody is screaming how can he relinquish the hand restraints…. After
another 20 minutes of negotiating, Ghost agrees to let ‘em pop his door
open, it can only open about 1” with him cuffed to the door, and let Sgt.
H reach his arm in there and un-cuff him from the door. This is
done. Now they strip search Ghost, re-handcuff him and open his door and
take him to the picket area for medical examination and 4 polaroid pictures.

Anytime a UOF (Use of Force) is applied, they take 4 photos and a nurse
looks at you! Yeah, that will help a whole lot, eh?

After they are done, Ghost sits down on the run and refuses to walk. “Sir,
I’m sorry, but I want my property.” Anyway, they pick him up and carry him
to the cell.

Now to give credit, where credit is due, I actually heard one of the
officers on the good-squad, I don’t know which one, say “Hey, be careful,
man. This dude is small.” What shocked me, they seem to get gung-ho on me!!
I guess being 6’2”, 205 lob is a little different. Still I gained much
respect for Mr. B for standing up for himself.

Oh yeah, Mr. B did receive his requested property, later that night!!!
AMAZING, NO??? They also moved him off the Level III F-Pod-F-Section to
Level II E-Pod! Congrats Ghost on you level 2 status.

See the worse you act, the better they treat you.

Well, I’m getting ahead of myself here. Let me back track….remember ole
lonely Lizerd upstairs with the tray? Now let me mention something
here…Lizerd is no “spring chicken”. He is 42 years old, I’m sure he’d much
rather be sitting in his cell writing Joan and drawing dirty cards! Ha!Ha!

The camera lady, the 2 Lts., the team, and Capt. W, Sgt. H,
all head upstairs to deal with Lizerd. Capt. W at this time tried
to talk to Lizerd. Lizerd said “I tried to talk to you on Oct. 15, 2004 and
you disrespected me by saying ‘pt the punk in the cell’, remember? No more
talk, let’s rock!!”

Now Lizerd has his cell light covered, door blocked off, his cell is pitch
black. They open his bean-slot shinning a spot-light in there trying to see
where he is. Lizerd had a sheet up ½ across his cell, plus he was hiding
behind a homemade shield of newspapers and towels, so now they still have no
idea if he has a weapon or not (one again, he does not and never had). Sgt.
H gives Lizerd 2 direct orders to submit to a strip search and hand
restraints. Of course Lizerd says nothing. Sgt. H sprays this new
kind of gas, it’s white and called CS #587 and it is very costly, but very,
very aggressive, also. It actually seems to suck the air right out of your
cell. This is the 1st I’ve heard of them using it. It also causes your eyes
to close. Actually, they used the same stuff on Lizerd last time. My bad!!

The last time they sprayed him twice with the regular CS 10 and sprayed him
with the CS # 587 on the 3rd spray. He was ready for it this time. Though.
Old-School Lizerd knows how to adapt. He had plastic over his eyes and socks
over his mouth. It is not much, really it’s quite sad when you think about
it. You in a cement and steel box, no circulation with all these burning,
blinding and breath taking chemicals.

Anyway, back to Lizerd. After Sgt. H sprayted the 1st burst of gas
in the cell, it was apparently no enough for Lt. R so he says “oh no,
go ahead and load him up.” So they sprayed 3 more seconds in his cell…1, 1
thousand…1, 1 thousand…1, 1 thousand. They wait 10 minutes for the CS # 587
to take full effect and now Lt. R give 2 more orders “Inmate N,
I’m giving you a direct order to submit to a strip search and
hand-restraints or a second burst of chemical agents will be applied”.

Lizerd says nothing! Lt. R sprays Y seconds of this CS # 587 in
Lizerd’s cell, now that’s killer people. That CS # 587 ain’t not punk!!

Well, they wait another 5 minutes for the chemicals to have its killer
affect to weaken Lizerd as best it can before the good squad comes in. I
hear the cell door slam open. I hear banging, more banging, Capt W. yelling “get him down, get him down,” Lizerd is chunking the team. Point man
is thrown to the bunk.

Now remember Lizerd has a plastic eye cover, 4 socks and a jumpsuit, while
the 5 man team has gas masks, helmets and body armor. It is a no win
situation, you can’t win, why try??

Because when you reach that point, you either break or fight back. They push
you and push you and keep pushing you. They take and keep taking. You let
‘em break you or fight back. Hell, this is the only human physical contact
we are allowed. Think of it like this, if you ignore your kids, they will be
bad, because even negative attention is better than no attention.

I know I probably sound crazy, but we live in a total sensory deprivation
environment and the physiological effects are truly devastating. You can’t
understand the full impact without leaving it for a couple of years.

Just look up and see how many people have tried to kill themselves or gone
crazy here in the last few years! Damn, can I ramble on…back to Lizerd…

They finally are able to wrestle him to the floor and put on leg-shackles
and hand restraints. They carry him out of the cell and drop him on the run.
30 seconds later Lizerd is talking trash to the team and Capt. W
:). Venting his frustrations and why and how this all started, saying “I
just want to be left alone, stop harassing me with these ridiculous weekly
moves” (NOTE: Amongst all the body armor…the point man comes in with a huge
plexi-glass type shield, ouch!!!).

Now, the team picks Lizerd up by his jumpsuit and carries him down the stars
to put him 71 cell. Once again no sanitizing or cell search is done as TDCJ
policy and procedure requires.

After they put Lizerd in the cell they cut off all his clothes! Why? Just
because they can.

So now the team removes the leg restraints and leaves the empty cell. Lizerd
goes to the door and they remove his hand restraints. Now Lizerd is
butt-naked and in a totally empty cell with no soap to wash off the killer
gas.

Captain W, to his credit, then came to tell Lizerd that he wants to
talk to him either later today or fist chance in the morning. Also to Capt.
W credit, he kept his word and had 2 officers escort Lizerd to
his office at about noon the next day.

Now Capt. W had done his research on Mr. N and all his filed
grievances about all these moves and how the cells were never cleaned. He
actually won the grievance filed on not cleaning and inspecting the cells
before they move him in, yet they still do not. Lizerd was moved 56 times in
2003 and approx. that many times in 2004.

Of course the mailroom, commissary, legal library, book library….could never
keep up with his location. He’d miss store, receive mail late, no access to
books of legal works. The whole time, 3 years, Lizerd has been filing paper
work and following the system and nothing was ever done or even attempted to
be down in all that time.

Now after Lizerd has been feuding the good squad since Oct. of 2004, Captain
W and Lizerd have had a private talk and came to an agreement. If
Lizerd stops fighting the team, they would reduce his moves to one a month.

Now in accordance to TDCJ policy he is not supposed to be moved, but every
90 days, but he was willing to meet ½ way with Captain W.

I will close this bit about Lizerd with a quote from Lizerd:
“So, with all this said and done, I find it shamefully said and positively
sickening that the only way I was able to obtain my goal was by violence,
not by following proper procedures.”

Well, you’d think that was enough excitement for one day, right? Hell no!
I’m still totally p---ed by how they gassed Ghost, even though Sgt.
H gave him an IMPOSSIBLE order to comply to. Once again how does one
relinquish the hand-restraints when he is handcuffed to the door.

Now I was planning on jacking the dinner tray, but 1st shift fed us and
second shift picked up the trays, not 1st shift. So I gave them my tray.

After a few minutes of chasing around the thoughts in my head, I was still
pissed and decided to let them know about it. They came to show me at about
7:15 p.m. or so. The officer put on handcuff on my wrist and I jacked the
cuffs just like Ghost did earlier. The 2 guards tried to talk me out of the
cuffs. I said “it’s not personal, go suit it up.”

Finally, a relief team of rovers came to watch me (Once you have the
hand-cuffs, there must be an officer watching you the whole time). The pod
rovers got everyone out of the showers.

At around 8:45 p.m. Sgt. H came around to talk to me. Trying to
resolve the situation without a UOF!! It’s too late for that now. Sgt.
H leaves and comes back with a gas mask and some gas CS-10.

Now here comes the 5 man team stomping in. My adrenaline takes over. Again,
Sgt. H tries for about 20 minutes begging me to lay it down.

Finally at 9:20 p.m. they spray a long burst of CS-10 gas after I refuse to
give up the cuffs in my cell. Damn it, it’s been awhile and the gas hits me
hear, but I keep composure and I’m just happy they are not using the CS-57!!

Lizerd is down the run giving me a play-by-play on what’s going on because I
have no plastic over my eyes, because I don’t use it. Dumb-a-- that I am.
Eyes watery, breathing labored. I wait, pacing my cell like a cornered lion,
just not that tough!!

5 minutes ass and Sgt. H give me an order for the cuff. I refuse.
He sprays another long shot of CS-10 and closes my bean-slot. Once again,
the chemicals assault my eyes, skin and breathing.

About 10 minutes pass and no I‘m tripping, what’s going on?? Why are they
not coming in. S---, I’m on fire. Sgt. Honce again says “Inmate
Cartwright, relinquish the hand-restraints and submit to a strip search or
chemical agents will be applied.” I laugh! He sprays, but shortly there
after about 2 seconds the can is empty.

So at this point they have used an entire can of CS-10 on me...and I
wait…Another 10 minutes go by, s--- according to Lizerd it has been close to
30 minutes at this point. The gas is kicking my a--. I’m thinking I’ve
feuded the worst of the gas and as Murphy’s law would have it.

I hear Lizerd yell down the run “Hey Chi-Town, he just got a can of
CS-587!!” Just what I needed to hear, right.

The Sgt. gives me the orders to relinquish the cuffs….I laugh…They spray a 4
or 5 second burst of CS-587 in my cell, as they do it, my wet rag over my
mouth (my gas mask) tied on with a piece of sheet falls around my neck. Man,
CS-587 stole all my breath! I could not breath, just cough, choke and spit.
Now it’s a waiting game…I want to lay it down. I can’t breath. I’m 90%
blind, but my stubborn pride or “stupidity” pulls me along.

5 minutes later the team comes in. They came in hard and fast. Lizerd said
it sounded like thunder and he felt his cell wall vibrate. He is in 71 cell,
I’m in 76!!!

By that time they folded me up and restrained me, face smashed into a liquid
puddle of gas. I can’t breath or see.

Now I will quote Lizerd’s description of me since he has put it so
eloquently! Yeah, right!!! Lizerd’s words:
“Chi-Town looked like he was painted orange with CS-10 gas and than
dog-piled by the whole Chicago Bears Football Team. He was not able to walk
properly with the leg shackles put on to tight and no eye site. The gaurds
would walk him 3 feet to the left than to the right /\/\/\/\/\ to keep him
disorientated on his where-abouts. Mind you he is in full restraints”.
Alright Lizerd, thanks a lot! ~Smart-A**-Smirk-Here~

Anyway, they lead me off the pod and out to the hallway and lay me down on
the floor in the steel box. As I lay down my feet stick 3 feet out the box.
It is extremely small. They take off my leg shackles and fold me into the
box and lock the door.

I stand up and allow them to remove the 2 sets of handcuffs off my wrists. I
was than ordered to strip-out. I did so. My eyes just started to open.

After stripping out, I was given back my boxer shorts and nothing
else…handcuffed me behind my back through the bean-slot and opened the box.

They than put my leg shackle back on. I told the Sgt. “What about my shoes?
I’m not walking barefoot on this dirty ass floor. You want to carry me?”

They give me my shoes and escort me back to F-Pod F-Section, but not to 75
cell, but to my new cell 72, right next to Lizerd! Ha!Ha!

They lay me on the floor and take the leg restraints off. They go to remove
the hand restraints and tell me not to move. I say “Oh, no. You take them
off, we are gonna fight. I’m not gonna lay on this floor face down like some
punk!! Not gonna go down like that. Just get out of the cell and I give you
my word. I’ll give you the cuffs back through the slot” and they agreed and
I kept my word.

They left me in my new empty cell with nothing to decontaminate myself with.

Approximately 2 or 3 yours later, they brought my property to me. Man what a
night.

While I was in the hallway, they did take their 4 photos and the nurse
checked me out and noticed a cut on the back of my head! I’m told I was ok,
that was an old injury! Wink!Wink!!

The rest of the week’s been pretty quiet. Us old men, Lizerd and myself, are
licking our wounds.

I’m happy to say Lizerd is done…he got what he wanted and is going to do his
best to get back on level 1! I don’t blame him. He misses his weekly visits
with Joan very, very much. Don’t worry Joan, I’ll make sure he behaves
himself. Hey, Joan, why are you laughing at me. I’m serious!! Not that he
needs any help. He love you and that is all he needs.

Now, on the 11the they had a team escort prisoner R G
from Level II F-Pod E-Section 65 cell to Level III F-Pod F-Section 82 cell
because of a staff assault.

Let me explain, on January 5th, 2005, Mr. G made his Level II from Level
III. A few days after, they moved Mr. G to 65, his toilet broke, could
not flush it without it over-flowing.

Now Mr. G kept telling them about it and asking to be moved. He is
living in a d*** out-house for crying-out-loud.

Now after 2 days of trying to do the right thing, they are taking him to 64
cell periodically to use the restroom throughout the day and night. Of cause
64 cell has no light, so he can’t move there, but there are other open
cells.

On the 11th, they took Mr. G out of 65 cell to use the toilet in 64
cell. Mr. G gets on the run and sits down. Now he is handcuffed behind
his back and 2 guards are there.

Now Sgt. H comes to try and resolve the problem. He tells Mr. G
“You’re going into 65 or 64 cell”. Mr. G says “I’m not going into my
cell ‘til you fix the toilet and 64 cell doesn’t have a light”. Sgt.
H tells Mr. G “You are not going to stay on the run until they
fix the toilet.” Mr. G says “Do what you gotta do Vato, I ain’t moving.”

As Mr. G sits on the run, here comes the plumber with a “toilet snake”
to try and fix the toilet. He pulls up toilet paper…getting soiled and 2 day
old water al over the floor, but still cannot fix the toilet.

At this time, Lt. S is also on the run. He tell Mr. G “they are
going to have to fix his toilet through the pipe-chase. Go back in your
cell.” Mr. G says “Vato, I ain’t going in my cell with a broken toilet
and shit water all over the floor”. (NOTE TO THE READER: Lt. S came to
Death Row about a year ago from another Unit. He did something wrong at this
other unit, lost his rank and was sent to Death Row as C.O. 5. Before long,
he got his Sgt. S back and just recently, became a Lt. again. I do not
know why he lost his rank, but I ca guess. Anyone able to get this info to
me would help me out incredibly in showing you the Row gets all the
throw-backs and rogues working here.)

Now Lt. S goes into Mr. G cell and starts packing his property. An
unjustified action. Mr. G asks him “what are you doing?” Lt. S
ignores him and is just whistling.

Mr. G says “You can’t hear me, Vato?” Lt. S looks down at Mr. G
and says “nope”. Mr. G spits right in Lt. S face!!! Now, Lt. S
turns to the lady with the camcorder and says “Turn it on. Inmate G just
assaulted me.”

First of all the camcorder should have been on. As soon as Mr. G sat
down and the officers put there hands on him to keep him there, it becomes a
UOF!! Maybe Lt. S did not want the camcorder picking up the fact that
Mr. G has been living in a cell for 2 days with a broken toilet, he? Or
his unjustified actions of taking Mr. G property. (NOTE: POLUNSKY
UNITIS IS ACA or American Correctional Association approved which means this
unit gets extra funding for being in compliance with the states rules and
regulations. Maybe the fact that the ACA states that an inmate should be
moved or the toilet fixed within 4 yours of reporting the problem kept the
camera off. Who truly knows.)

After that Lt. S takes out his can of gas and says “Inmate G, I’m
giving you a direct order to allow the officers to put you back in your cell
or chemical agents will be used.”

Now Mr. G, who is sitting on the floor and already hand-cuffed behind
his back, looks up at Lt. S and says “do whatever you gotta do, Vato.!!”
Lt. S gives another similar direct order and Mr. G says the same
thing.

At this point, Lt. S puts his gas away and leaves. He comes back in a
few minutes with a Captain. No one knows this Captain’s name. The Captain
finds out all that happened and tells Mr. G “You’re going to Level III
for assaulting Lt. S by spiting in his face.” Mr. G says “That’s
fine. I’d rather be on Level III with a working toilet than on Level II
living in an outhouse!”

The Captain asks if Mr. G is going to walk over there. Mr. G ways
“What about my property?” Captain says “If we give you your property back,
will you walk over without resisting?” Gsays “yes!”

They move his property into 79 cell and he follows. What a damn shame that
Mr. G had to drop back down to Level III just to get a working toilet.

This is another week in paradise. Man, can you see the daily B.S. we all
must face? We are treated less than human. It’s frustrating as hell. I don’t
know the words to use to try and relate how we feel. Do you care? Should you
care? That is your individual choice.

I will leave with a quote from The Book of Counted Joys
“Hope requires the contender
Who sees no virtue in surrender
To the cradle to the bier,
The heart must preserve.


In Solidarity and Struggle
I Remain
R. Cartwright
999224
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 S.
Livingston, TX 77351

P.S. Any info about CS # 587 would be greatly appreciated. Do they need a
special license to use it? Long term affects? Is it for tightly enclosed
areas? What is it’s chemical breakdown?

Lizerd learned this about the gas by talking to an officer who wished to
remain anonymous:
“CS # 587 has an antidote for its effects and you must have a license to
carry and use this gas and also to get the antidote.”

It was also mentioned by Lizerd “this gas is always retrieved by a Captain
or higher rank. I guess the powers-to-be just don’t think a 5 man team in
body armor with CS-10 gas is enough; what a bunch of sissies!!

Also, I would like to add that if there is an antidote, I know it has not
been offered to Chi-Town or myself….maybe it is just for the officers, eh?”

FYI: Anyone can get these UOF tapes to check the above written facts. Anyone
not representing me (I.E. my mom, sister, girlfriend…), strangers can get
them at $3.59 a tape. Just to let people know, they have a way to check the
facts in my writings.

God bless Troy and his wonderful wife Christa !!! (be strong i´m always with you dear)

God bless Chuong and T-Rock !!!! (c u soon)

This story made me laugh!! I am proud of these guys and their gutts. In reality it is a sad sad situation and I am so sorry this crap goes on.

UNCENSORED FROM TEXAS DEATH ROW by Richard Cartwright January 17 to January
18, 2005

Jan. 17

12:35 p.m.-
My Daughter’s Birthday…I planned on sleeping the day away in a funk
depression. I stayed awake all night, rolled-up mattress on my bunk starring
out into the sky, thinking of My Lil Ricki, searching the sky for stars,
with the perimeter of the prison lit up like daylight, stars are often not
able to be seen, but I know they’re up there and I know if I stare long
enough, I’ll see a few.

I saw 2, or at least I imagined 2, I don’t even know. I needed to see stars
so I wished them into existence and wished my Lil Ricki a happy 8th Birthday
filled with love and happiness. She is so special, so sweet, so loving.
D***, I want to hold her, kiss her, give her tickle bugs….

Anyway breakfast was served and after they picked up the trays, I covered my
window, to black out my cell and sleep my depression away. I have a bad
habit of turning my sadness and pain into anger and rage. So I sleep, just
let me sleep. I guess I was just asking too d*** much, eh?....

9:30 a.m.-
I wake up to the sound of someone beating on my door! I say “go away!” The
“someone” says “get that stuff out of your window Inmate.” I say “who the
f--- are you?” He says “It does not matter who I am. My job is to tell you
what to do and your job is to listen!!” Talk about dumb-luck!!!

I get up and who do I see standing at my door, but Population Warden A,
Death Row Major N and a Lt. B who I’ve never seen before. I’m
standing at my door and Warden A (He’s a big ole dude too) tells me
“take it out the window” which is in the back wall of my cell “or I’ll get a
team to take it out”.

I laugh and than hang a towel over my door window, so he can’t see! Warden
A talks a little trash about “I’m from population. We do things
differently…blah…blah…blah…” I’m too pissed to care about threats, damn, I
just wanted to sleep, one day, that’s it.

Warden A tells the Major about using CS # 587 gas. Major N points
to my cell and Lizerd’s cell and says “the gas don’t bother those 2.” Warden
A says “That’s because y’all don’t do it right.”

Now there is a big plexi-glass window covering the 2 steel window slots on
my door to keep prisoners from throwing boiling water, piss and sometimes
even fecal matter. They leave!

At 9:56 a.m., Sgt. F and Lt. B came back with CO M and CO
D and some tools to take the plexi-glass off! I guess Warden A
thinks that spraying gas through my bean-slot will not saturate me enough or
cut off my breathing, what an ego!!

So as they do this, I take my towel down to watch. Lucky for them, I am a
prisoner, who doesn’t like to throw urnes and fecal matter on the officers,
yet anyway, never say never. They treat me like an animal, I will act like
an animal.

I then put a piece of clear plastic over my eyes and tie it to my head with
a sock. I than wet another sock, fold it over 3 x and put it over my mouth
and now and tie it secure with another sock around my head. I tie a sheet up
from my wall to my light so they can’t see me too well, bad thing is I can’t
see them either.

My neighbor, Lizerd, is my eyes, giving me the play-by-play! Thank you dog,
I mean Lizerd! You are on hell of a sireeeeen! Ha!Ha! (Inside Joke).

10:08 a.m.-
Team arrives along with Warden A . Lizerd says “Chi-Town, here comes the
team and they’re huge. I don’t recognize anyone.”

I put 2 and 2 together, it’s a team from population, Warden A was not
bulls****** when he said population does it different I guess.

10:09 a.m.-
Warden A sprays a 7 second burst of CS # 587 in my cell, a long 7
seconds!! This stuff attacks, oxygen, it steals your breath, it is scary.

Now procedure is wait 5 minutes and spray again, so as I’m trying to see how
long I can go without breathing!

Let me back-up. Before they sprayed, Sgt. F did give me 2 warnings. He
said “Inmate Cartwright, I’m giving you a direct order to submit to a strip
search and hand restraints or chemical agents will be applied.”

Then Warden A did the 7 second spray at 10:09 a.m.

At 10:12 a.m., Sgt. F give me two more order and uses the rest of the
can of CS # 587.

Once again Lizerd is letting me know what’s going on and keeping the time on
all this. Thanks dog!!

10:13 a.m.-
Hellooooo goon-squad!! They rolled my door and it was on. 5 men, point-man
with a double-shield, point man goes sideways as the shield meets my
shoulder, we both flew back onto the bunk and I’m swinging and they are
swinging.

Finally, they drop me, face first, on the floor, rip my jumpsuit, boxer,
socks and gym-shoes off of me and get the shackles and hand-restraints on
me. Now this is where I get p---ed. I’m on the floor, hand-cuffed, leg
restraints, 5 men in body armor and this big sissy point man starts kneeing
me in the head (now this is with shin-guards, hard plastic on the outside)
about 4 or 5 times.

I started calling him all kinds of b----es, hoes and punks. Yeah, not smart,
but at this point who cares.

10:17 a.m.-
(D***, it felt like 20 minutes in there…) Anyway, 10:17 a.m. they carry my
naked ass out of my cell and drop me on the run. I’m steady talking trash to
this point-man! (I do not know his name or anyone on the good-squad and no
one else did either) That was the whole point I believe! How do I pay back
the point main?? I guess I don’t now!!! I digress! Now this all took place
in 72 cell.

10:19 a.m.-
The team picks my naked a-- up and carries me to 76 cell and places me on
the floor, my upper body under the bunk (I gotta say something here…It is
not a nice feeling to have 5 men rip off your clothes and strip you naked by
force. I felt violated, I really did! It was not a nice feeling at all. Just
trying to be honest with y’all. I’m embarrassed by this feeling, but I try
to keep it real!! Don’t get me wrong. We will be doing this again.)

Now Sgt. F says “Inmate Cartwright, we are going to remove the leg
restraints and hand restraints, don’t move or force will be used.” I tell
Sgt. F “f--- you, y’all ain’t gonna just take all the restraints off and
expect me to lie here naked on the floor and let these officers out of my
cell. Man you got me f---ed up!!”

Sgt. F says don’t move. They remove the leg restraints. They start to do
the cuffs and I go-a-kicking and thrashing. They twist me up like a pretzel.
The point man, who is standing up or else it was 2 men, puts the EDGE of the
shield in the back of my neck and leans on it!! Boy!! Tough guy, eh??

They get my legs shackled again. Sgt. F again tells me about resisting
saying “Cartwright this is the way it's gonna be done.” I say “No it is not
Sgt.!!”

I than state “Look, I ain’t no punk. I’m not laying here on the floor,
a---naked, while you take these restraints off.” I than said “I give you my
word that if you take the shackles off and leave the cuffs on, I will give
you the opportunity to take the cuffs off in the bean-slot on the door.”

He says “No!” I say “Y’all ain’t gonna make it out the cell this way.”

So once again, they remove the shackles. I don’t move. They go for the
cuffs. I start kicking, bucking, grabbing for cuff-keys and they steadily
got my legs folded down onto my upper back and wrestling with the cuffs,
they get ‘em off, but when they try to leave, I start getting up and trying
to swing….smash, we all fall down again. It sure it hard fighting while your
naked.

They get the cuffs and leg shackles back on me. Now Sgt. F sees I’m not
playing and agrees to do it my way. They remove the leg shackles and exit
the cell. I get up and walk to the door and stick my hands through the
bean-slot and they remove the cuffs.

My word is golden. I tell tem that.

10:27 a.m. is the time the team finally exited 76 cell.

10:28 a.m.-
Nurse asks me how I feel! “Just fine” I say.

10:29 a.m.-
They take 4 photos of my nakedness :). Smile for the camera!!

10:30 a.m.-
The team leaves the pod.

11:24 a.m.-
They bring me my property out of 72 cell.

It is now 3:15 p.m. as I write this and I still have no mattress or sheets!
D***, I just want to go to sleep. Now at 1:05 p.m., they brought my Bro into
F-Pod with a 5 man team and a stretcher. His name is L T. His
nickname is Tiny! I will wait ‘til he tells me what happened and report it.

They moved him in my old cell 72! He was also butt-naked on arrival! I guess
these people are a little perverted, eh?

The following is Mr. T account:

“Greetings, regards and salutations,

Whoever reads this, know I hope you and your are in the best of health and
highest of spirits!

I wanted to speak out on the violence and complete unprofessional tactics
that some of these correctional officers use. Mainly the administration in
place on D.R. at the present time.

As we all know there are good and bad in every form of organization. It
seems that TDCJ has made a mistake in putting too many bad apples in the
administration on DR, 12-Building.

Let me relay what has been happening to me and my friend…..

R P is on death row for (wrongly….) the death of a
corrections officer on another unit in population. This happened (I believe)
in 2001-2002.

Also, just recently an officer (corrections) had been escorting Robert to
the rec. cage. While they were walking past the cage (cell) doors, the
officer got ‘speared’ with a prison-made shank and pole. This is just
history information you need to understand to see why the events that
happened escalated into the ‘Use of Force’ (ass whipping!) that was applied
to Robert and I….

On Jan. 16th I was in E-Section next to F-Section where Robert was caged.
All the day long there were 5-6 correctional officers having a little social
meeting in the picket (There are supposed to not be anyone in there except
the assigned ‘picket’ officer).

That night after shift change, Robert yelled out over to me in E-Section
that Mrs. H (property officer) had been in the picket when all the
other 4-5 officers were. She had gotten on the intercom and told Robert that
she was writing him a masturbation case!

He was devastated! Because he had not even spoken to anyone all day. He was
minding his own business. The only thing he could think of was that maybe
she saw him in the coarse of pissing! But he didn’t realize everything that
was going on…..

After hearing what happened I asked a couple officers that I am pretty
‘cool’ with. I get along with most of the correction officers! I don’t hate
anyone. Like I said, there is good and bad in every organization!

I was told that there are a small group of officers that are out to get
Robert. Mrs. H is married to a black man. So she naturally feels more
comfortable talking to a black inmate…Well, let’s just say the information
she gave back to me and Robert. She said that she didn’t write a
masturbation case. Officer P did!

Now why would a male officer set out to do that? And then us a female
officer as a ‘front’ for the case? Think about this. Robert was due
to get his Level I back in two days! The administration and property officer
(Mrs. H) are the only ones who know when someone is coming up for their
level!

So here is Robert in a little cage doing his d*** absolute best to stay out
of trouble. I mean the dude wouldn’t even keep simple ‘contraband’ like food
and stinger to eat with! On level II you not allowed to eat….Well, only the
three B.S. meals TDCJ allows. But nothing from the Level I commissary list
of luxury! He wanted to see his best friend and supporter form Switzerland
for a special visit. He did try hard…I was even kidding or making jokes
about it!

So here we are on Jan 17th. I am in F-Section dayroom cage. Roberts cage
(cell) is directly in front of the dayroom. We talked about everything. I
could hear the dissatisfaction and disappointment in his voice. He said
‘s---, I just want to live in peace for the remaining few years I have to
live…!’ It p**** me off the hear and see how his emotions were running
wild. All because some few officers are upset or mad about why he is here on
D.R.

Well, Jan 17th was a holiday (Martin Luther King Day), so the only ranking
officers that were here on 12-building were Major N and Sergeant F.
If you did a survey on D.R. 99% of inmates would tell you Sgt. F is not
worth s---! I knew that but I never even had a chance. I refused to come out
of the dayroom, because even after the picket officer called Sgt. F, he
didn’t come to see what the situation was.

That is his job people! All I wanted to do was talk to the Major about why
Robert was going through all this unnecessary B.S.

Here I am in the dayroom when Sergeant F comes in. He doesn’t even ask
me what the problem is. He says ‘You come out of that dayroom now or I got a
team for your a--, and we will steam roll your a--!’

I couldn’t allow the dude to talk to me like that people! So I told him to
suck my dick.

Here comes the 5 man team. All with riot gear. Of coarse all 230 lbs. plus.
Front man with a shield. All have gas masks and helmets, knee pads, elbow
pads, vests, hiking boots, etc….

What do I have? Well, let’s see. Some tape on my eyes so I can see. And a
rag around my nose and mouth so I can try to breath!

They sprayed me 3-4 times with two cans of gas. One from either side of me.

After I was gassed good enough to let them feel good about themselves, the
door to the dayroom opens! I fight to keep form getting absolutely beat the
s--- out of. I got five grown men fighting me, with no defense. One stuck
his finger deep into my eye socket. That s--- really hurts people!

So they get me in leg and hand cuffs. Then while I am laying on the dayroom
floor in a ‘puddle’ of gas, they strip me but ass naked!

All this is on video camera people anyone can get this stuff. TDCJ sells the
tapes of Use of Force, I think. I know there are ways to get the tapes…

So I refuse to walk anywhere. Therefore, they carry me out to the hall put
me on a stretches and wheel me to the dreaded ‘F-Pod’. On Death Row, F-Pod
has the illusion of hell! Absolutely, I fight and curse them the whole
way….They reduce you to an animal level.

Once they get me in my new cage they lay me on the ground and push me under
the steel bunk. Under there with absolutely no defense. They take off the
cuffs and leave the cell.

I crawl out from under the bunk to the glorious sound of my brothers and
friends wanting to know if I am ok and if I need anything to help the burn
and cuts. They send me soap and towels to try and wash the burning gas off
my body…The burn lasts a couple of days!

About two hours later comes my friend Robert through the door. He has gone
through the same treatment as I.

As sad as all the violence and mistreatment that I just told you is, the
saddest of all is the fact that I didn’t want to do that! Neither did
Robert! All we wanted to do was speak to the Major about why some officers
are out to get Robert!

So the next day I am in the dayroom on F-Pod (Hell). In walks Warden B,
Major N and Captain W.

The warden tells me “Lee, I am surprised you’re going off”. That’s because
since I have been on D.R., I have rarely gotten into trouble.

The Captain doesn’t say anything. I have never talked to him before.

The Major and I have a conversation where she admits in front of the Warden
that Sergeant F never even told her of called her to let her know there
was a situation with me before the riot team got there! She admits that her
own Sergeant that is supposed to report all violence to her never did until
the situation was so out of control that there was no stopping.

But even though she admits it in front of her Warden, I am still on Level
III. Sergeant F is still here and has not had any punishment for
under-minding his Major.

Part of the problem is these B.S. unprofessionalSergeants don’t know their
head from their asses so they improvise. And the higher administration
allows them to run rampant. Because of the complete unprofessionalism and
utter lack of respect for me as a man, Seargent F and I are enemies
until I feel the situation has been rectified.

L T

Anyway, I burn form gas and just want to pace my cell and try to cool off
the burn. Once again, anyone can get a copy of these tapes to check the
facts. This tape will be rated R, though. I was naked. Anyway, until later.

One more note, I’d like to add. They take Polaroid pictures right after the
run-in. I guess because it takes a while for your bruises to show as anyone
who has been bruised knows.

The whole left side of my head is blackish-red from the knee-butting, the
right side of my face is bruised from being dropped face first to the floor.
My left knee is swollen. I have bruises up and down my legs and a boot print
on my butt-cheek!

Maybe we can do this again tomorrow so today’s bruises and beating will show
up on tomorrow’s tape.

It is no 4:10 p.m. and the just brought another prisoner in here via GOON
SQUAD EXPRESS. I just found out his name is R
his
nickname is Tool. I did not see him come in so I can’t say much.

The following is Mr. P account:

“Psychological warfare is routinely implemented by the employees at TDCJ-ID
to not only subdue inmates, but push them past the threshold of sanity. Some
of you may consider such a statement ludicrous, a mere delusion by some
sensory deprived death row inmate (as I once concluded after hearing similar
things very early in my incarceration), but I know first hand that it’s
truth. My most recent predicament exemplifies how some employees here, who
‘strive to operate the institution as consummated professionals’ incessantly
test inmate’s sanity.

On January 16, 2005, I sat in my cell anxiously anticipation the few
privileges I would soon have once I was promoted to Level I on the 18th.
Death Row behavioral modification system where Level I is the best you can
get and Level 3 the worst.

I was reduced to Level III in August of 2004 for aggressively protesting the
cruel and unusual way we are often treated here. I spent over 4 months
without receiving a disciplinary case, working my way back to Level II to my
radio. I decided that I would put up with the behavior of some CO’s and try
my best to live in peace in what could be my last few years alive.

Anyhow, I was happily going over the simple pleasure that Level I offers
because I was scheduled to get my Level I on the 18th, just two more days!
As it turns out, some CO’s know about me coming up for Level I and they
thought they’d play mind games with me.

Close to shift change on January 16th a female CO (who is also the property
officer) named H accused me of masturbating on her and informed me that
I was going to Level III because she was writing me a case.

I was not masturbating, but I was urinating and at first I thought maybe she
thought I was. Paranoid, I tried to explain to her that I was no doing that,
but she was adamant: I would get a case.

I couldn’t believe my misfortune! All that time I endured Levels III and II,
trying my best to get my Level I so I could see my friends, putting up with
all sorts of crap, only to lose it all for something I DID NOT DO! I was
completely devastated.

The next day, I was informed by another inmate that Ms. H knew I was
due to come up for Level I (she’s the property officer and she’s given a
list of those who are scheduled to come up because she brings them their
allowed property) and that she was seen talking to Officer P, an
officer who has made it clear that my time on DR would be rough because of
my case.

You see, most officers here did not know I was convicted (wrongly!) in the
death of a CO. After an inmate speared a guard who was escorting me in
November, that information was spread across the internet and now all these
CO’s know about my case. Some have expressed their disgust and made it clear
to me that my life would be hard here. So I came to the realization that
H and P conspired against me.

The next day, my best friend tried to help me get Major N to the pod to
talk to me about the situation. She’s rumored to be a decent and reasonable
person, so we figured she’d help if we could talk to her.

Unfortunately Sergeant F came to the pod and he wasn’t trying to talk.
He wouldn’t even let the Major know that we only wanted to talk. Instead he
used chemical agents on my friend and sent a 5 man team, suited in riot
gear, into the dayroom