Gorilla Justice – Part IIA

Every Tuesday morning at 6:00 a.m. the big white corrections bus pulls up inside the Central jail’s parking lot and loads up with those prisoners scheduled to be delivered to the correctional reception center. The process is slow and tedious as every prisoner is stripped searched, shackled and checked off a face to ID card verification process that takes time to complete. On this bus, there are two officers that ride in a cage in the back where the files are kept and two officers in the front where the driver is located. All four officers are armed with side arms and a shotgun to control any disturbances or escape attempts during the one hour ride to the reception center.

The bus, huge and capable of seating 48 prisoners has two steel shaped cages to protect the officers. This also ensures that those weapons are not in reach or accessible by the prisoners to take hostages or attempt to escape using the officer’s weapons. Whenever there is a need to enter the area where the prisoners were seated, the weapons were left inside the cages and the officer would go inside to make adjustments to the shackles or for other reasons that require them to do a checkup for wellness or safety purposes. There are no seat belts inside this bus except for the officers.

The cold winter morning was foggy and somewhat chilling. The prisoners wore no jackets and were all suited up in those bright orange colored jumpsuits. The bus had no heater and the windows are frosted telling everyone just how cold it was that morning. This morning was no different than any other morning as the routine went well and only took about an hour to finish loading the bus with all prisoners to be transported.

Cyrus, heavily shackled to another prisoner was sitting in the middle of the bus where he shared a seat with another fellow named Philip Cruz. Philip being shackled first managed to get the window seat as Cyrus tagged along involuntarily by the chains attached to him. There were no major conversations going on as everybody was minding their own business except for small talk that indicated either a good mood or a terrible mood. The sunlight could not penetrate the heavily tinted windows also covered with steel slats of bars that kept the prisoners inside the bus at all times. In addition, this early cloudy morning, the bus was dimly lit and hard to see although that wasn’t much of a concern as the trip was only for two hour ride to the center.

Officer Tucker was counting the number of prisoners before the bus departed the jail center. All forty five prisoners were accounted for and he motioned to the driver, Officer Sutton, that all was good to go. Yelling at him through the bus “44 out of 44 present and accounted for Sutton” let’s get this thing rolling.” Honking his horn in a most traditional manner, he closed the doors and fired up the big bus down the road as it made its turn through the checkpoints leaving the jail parking lot. Looking at his partner riding shotgun, Sutton smiled and told Officer Booker, “another day in paradise so buckle up and suck it up.”

It was routine for the officers in the back to turn on the lights on the bus every half hour to check the prisoners’ status. Tucker, a loud fellow would yell out loud to Sutton “44 out of 44 present and accounted for.” The routine was boring but allowed the officers confirmation that all was well in the back.

Finding nothing wrong the bus kept going down the road without issues. Entering the freeway entrance, the bus picked up speed and went down the road with no glitches.

Cyrus, thinking quietly among all the other prisoners thought he sensed something was wrong as Philip was tugging on the shackles they shared when they were seated together. Pushing Philip back as he was now crowding him a bit, he realized that Philip was drooping in his seat and that the shackles were the only thing keeping him from falling over onto the floor as his head was leaning on the window frame of the bus. Obviously, Philip was a deep sleeper and fell asleep in his seat. He then realized something warm was soaking his jumpsuit making him feel wet. Ignoring the most obvious, he played ignorant of the matter at hand and minded his own business.

Flashing images in his head caused him to think of the memories of Julie and him being a happy couple. This bus ride would give him some time to think as the ride was indeed stressful and preoccupied in nature due to the stillness on this bus. It was like a moment resembling meditation with a slight twist of being in a trance. Cyrus would have no idea how much of an eye opener this bus trip would cause him since he knew not what to expect under these conditions and surrounded by other prisoners. Firmly he shoved Philip over a bit to give him a little more space between the bodies and relax a bit. Philip, not responding to his slight shove made no noise whatsoever in what Cyrus was about to conclude he was bearing witness to what he believed to be a murder on the bus.

He could only vaguely imagine what he was about to experience as the bus was headed down the road and the wetness of his jumpsuit because of Philip sitting next to him and seemingly collapsed in his seat.

About twenty minutes before their point of arrival, Officer Tucker noticed some movement in the middle of the bus and ordered the lights back on. The darkened bus lit up with the bright lights to reveal one prisoner slumped over near the middle window as his head was resting against the steel bars covering the windows. His head was covered with blood on one side and his jumpsuit was also soaked damp with his blood.

Yelling out at Officer Sutton, he screamed “hurry it up Sutton, I think we got a body here that needs to be checked.” Sutton yelling back said “do you want me to stop or pull over?” “Hell no Sutton, never stop on a transport, that’s the first rule they teach you, keep going but push it.” Cyrus, feeling the heat of the officers looking at him as Philip was slumped up against his body, sensed this was about to get worse when he realized he just became the number one suspect for killing Philip, if he was indeed dead. His jumpsuit, covered with blood was prime evidence that would implicate him as the murderer but what really concerned him more was the identity of the real killer amongst him and the others while sitting in the darkened bus just moments before the lights turned on.

Trembling with concerns that he was about to be falsely accused of a murder, he stared at the top of the bus as Sutton called for help on the two way radio that communicated with the reception center to have medical staff respond and look at prisoner Philip as soon as they arrive.

The bus was unusually still as it made a hurried turn off the freeway exit where they were met by a highway patrol cruiser with lights on to escort them all the way to the reception center. Shackled, in trauma and soaked with another person’s blood, Cyrus knew this bus ride was not going to end well for him as there were no other suspects at the moment except him. Killing a fellow prisoner was not as serious in the joint as it sounded. One could be a hero once they found out that Philip was a child molester and got what many thought he deserved for abusing children.

The heat inside the big white bus was becoming stifling as the tension grew and lingered like a heavy dark cloud waiting for the thunder and lightning to happen. There was an ominous silence as if the calm before a storm. Officer Sutton, applying a heavy foot on the accelerator and propelling the big diesel engine bus into overdrive, lulled Cyrus into reflections of the past as his mind was trying to cope with the stress inside that bus.

This incident however, was far from over as he was instantly jerked off the bus by two husky correctional officers and slammed down on the ground face first, as they checked him for a weapon and reapplied the shackles to his feet. Swiftly, he was taken away to an isolated area where he was told to sit and shut up while waiting for an investigator to arrive. About two hours later, and another hour after the interview, Cyrus had heard the investigator tell the escorting officer to take him to the “hole.” Not knowing what he meant he asked the officer, “what is the hole and why am I going there?” The officer laughed slightly and sensed a fish [new prisoner] and checked his ID card.

“Yup, you’re a fish alright, welcome to Aspen Correctional Center where the good die young and the bad live forever.” Never in his life did Cyrus ever fear this confusing existence between the reality of being in prison and the normal meaning of life he knew once before.

Talking to himself he said quietly “I have come face to face with the Devil himself and am suffering a fate only known to God Himself.” Suddenly, Cyrus possessed the fear of death, the fear of the dark and the fear of being alone as he was trying to rationalize his existence within this deep dark culture he had entered when he stepped off the bus and entered the darkness.

Gazing at the three cement walls he sighed as he realized that he was totally isolated from anyone around him. The silence was threatening and the darkness hid from him the truth and reality he left at the parking lot of the Central jail he came from. In any case, his fears were becoming more and more of his thought process as he dealt with the adversities of being imprisoned for a crime he felt he did not commit. In just the short time he has been held inside the hole, he has realized that this place was symbolic to represent death in a spiritual way and not in a physical sense.

Realizing the here and there of his situation, he found his confinement inside this extremely dark and cold concrete box not just scary but terribly frightening for a former army ranger who has seen combat almost daily for several years. The impact was stunning as he came to the realization that he had lost everything and everything was lost.

Cyrus also realized he was surrounded by demons and evil. The mere presence of the darkness and the cold floors and concrete bed he was sitting on reminded him of how he had lost touch with the outside so quickly and so unmercifully. Doubting his own ability to survive for the moment, he had to ponder awhile and face the fact that he had nowhere to turn to as he found himself isolated and closer to the thoughts of the phenomenon of death.

Struggling to hold on to his most sacred inner memories of Julie and his family, he fought hard to keep the sanctity of their hearts and slowly realized that his life as he once lived it was over and this nightmare he was experiencing since his incarceration is something he had to get used to for six long year.

Cyrus realized his personal experiences outlined what is best described as the tip of the iceberg as his own account of personal misery would soon be a collective experience of what prison had in store for him. Slowly he became drowsy enough to close his eyes as the fluorescent lights inside his cell were buzzing irritably as he reached for a light switch to turn off the light. Suddenly he recognized there was not light switch and the light would remain on until somebody down the hall turns it off, if ever.

The morning after was not much better. The food tray slipped through the hole in the front steel grill fell on the floor spilling what looked like powered eggs and pieces of bacon onto the filthy floor. Looking for a container to drink some water, he yelled out for something to drink. Hearing footsteps he turned to see a man in uniform standing there asking him “what’s your problem mate, you thirsty?” asking the officer for a cup or container the officer laughed and threw a small plastic cup through the hole in response to his request.

The lights were still on as they were all night long. There were no windows and the sunlight never made it all the way where his cell was located. He sensed there were others there but could not hear or see them from the view of his front cell door. Open spaced bars that allowed air to move freely in the winter cold, he shivered a bit as they had forgotten to bring him a pillow, a sheet and a blanket the night before when he was tossed into the hole.

Having no idea what time it was, he heard voices down the corridor and peeked around to see who it was. Strangely, he saw a familiar face as the investigator had come down to the hole to ask him a few more questions about the bus ride and what he could recall about that trip.

Sitting down across the table the investigator introduced himself as Lance Hendricks. Motioning at the escorting officer to allow him to remove the cuffs on his wrists, he then motioned Cyrus to sit down and listen. The first thing that Hendricks said was “I was able to read your file and realized that you may not be the main suspect here in this investigation so cooperate with me and I will see what I can do to get you out of the hole, got it?” Cyrus nodded his head and said softly “yes, I understand.”

Hendricks then took a piece of paper and shoved it in front of Cyrus with a question directed at him firmly and with no hesitation said “draw me a sketch of where you were sitting and who was sitting in front of you, beside you and behind you.” Puzzled at first, Cyrus said promptly “I don’t know their names and I kept my eyes from looking at anyone most of the time.”

Hendricks did his homework and was about to laugh when he realized Cyrus was serious and said “look, I know you are a fish, you’re new so I don’t expect you to be able to give me names but let’s work on this, give me descriptions of those that were sitting around you on that bus.” Taking a deep breath he says to Cyrus “can you do that for me as we can work here to get you off the hook.”

Cyrus, curious why this man was being so polite unlike the day before asked calmly “did you find the murder weapon and did you find out why they killed him?” Hendricks, reluctant to give out information said “we are still studying the crime scene and the autopsy will tell us a lot of what we don’t know yet but we suspect you are not the killer. Does that help?”

Expressing a little bit more confidence in his response, Cyrus said “yes, that helps but what can I say, it was so dark and I didn’t see anyone get up or move around Philips. Whoever did this was very quiet and came up behind him without me seeing or feeling him back there”, showing Hendricks the same respect he appeared to be giving Cyrus. The two appear to be establishing a rapport as Cyrus was thinking hard about who was where and what they looked like.

Hendricks, very professional and setting aside his personal feelings for Cyrus being a criminal asked him if he knew Philips was a person who preys on children. “No, not at all, he never said a word to me. I never heard him mention anything about his crime.” Making eye contact with Cyrus Hendricks said, “look, you don’t fit the profile as the killer, you have only been in the joint a few days, you didn’t know the victim, you didn’t know he was a child abuser.”

“You didn’t know he tortured his victims and you come away as being a decent guy that got a bum rap by an overaggressive prosecutor stacking his numbers for political gain so here is what I need you to do, draw me a sketch of everyone you remember and give them numbers and face characteristics, color of eyes, hair etc. the best you can.” I will come back in about ten minutes to check on you.”

This approach used by Hendricks made him look like the good guy to Cyrus as he was thinking real hard about the bus seating arrangement. He was trying to use some of the thinking patterns the army had taught him in ranger school on how to remember important details of the task and closed his eyes. Slowly, he was trying to remember the events and replayed it inside his head.

Then as he was thinking out a pattern of recollection, he realized several things he didn’t remember before. Cyrus was about two feet from Philips when they boarded the bus. Philips scanned the bus and saw someone he appeared to be trying to avoid and took the middle of the bus instead of the front that was still empty. His behavior appeared to trigger a sense of recognizing someone that was walking ahead of him as they were boarding. Reconstructing the boarding process Cyrus felt Philips tug on the shackles as they passed a couple of prisoners already seated as if he wanted to run away from them.

Then Cyrus also remembered how Philips looked away from a bearded prisoner that was staring at him from the moment he boarded the bus. It was coming together and slowly he could remember and sketch a drawing of three people who were seated close by but not next to them.

In his reconstruction phase, he could picture the bearded one; the skinny one with pox’s on his face and another long haired fellow that Philips would avoid looking at for an instant moment when they boarded.

Ten minutes later, Hendricks came back into the room and saw the sketch Cyrus had made from the reconstruction in his mind. Hendricks, obviously impressed Cyrus was able make it come alive in his memory and place the characteristics in his head down onto the sketch paper; the investigator was able to put faces and names of those three individuals Cyrus had identified by comparing his notes of others he had already interviewed including the officers that were on that bus.

Happy with the results of the interview, he motioned the escorting officer to take Cyrus back to the cell and said to him “you should be out of here by tonight, if not no later than tomorrow morning, thanks for helping.” The heavy grated steel door slammed shut as Cyrus sat down on the steel bed and finished his meal they left inside his cell while he was out there with the investigator.

The view of the wall was no different this time around as it was the night before. Staring at the walls, he became cognizant of how such an environment would sap the strength right out of a person’s heart and mind as if captured by the devil himself and forfeiting every right to exist and be among others. It appeared that Cyrus’s first impression of solitary confinement was a most humbling experience that sent chills into the deepest parts of the mind and penetrating the heart and soul of a man imprisoned for what appeared to be an eternity and struggling to maintain his own sanity twenty four hours a day and seven days a week.

This time around however, he found a set of linen on the steel bed, a pillow and a blanket to keep him warm tonight as they also gave him a shower and a fresh orange jumpsuit, compliments of the investigator that visited him this day and having gathered enough clues he didn’t have the day before to help solve the murder on the bus ride. Thinking of home, Julie and his family, he was anxious to leave this hole and get a phone to call home and talk to someone to cure this loneliness that was setting into his cold bones.


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