The new cubies and I are chopping it up before our unit is called to chow, bitching about the retarded line workers. We’re still getting to know each other, so we go around talking about what we’re in for. Junior, at this point, tries to quietly fade into the background of the conversation. The two others have attempted murder charges, and mine is similarly serious; I wonder aloud if we’ve all been grouped together because of that.
Matt cuts into Junior about his crime. Junior, who looks about 40 years too old for that name, and resembles a garden gnome on meth, black nubbin teeth and all, just shakes his head and looks away in pain. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen that response to that question.
When Junior walks away a few minutes later, I remark, “Wow, he must be a monster chomo.”
Matt laughs, and jokes, “I wonder how young he was.” He explains he already ran Junior’s plates and knew he had one of *those cases*, but not the exact details. I figured as much–anyone wearing transition lenses in prison has the “professional diddler” vibe.
What was so unusual about the interaction was the complete silence in the answer. Chomos learn early on that this particular conversational thread is fraught with peril, but an inevitable one. During Prison Rush Week* in the higher levels, chos are frequently made the target of thefts, beatings, and other kinds of violence that are the requirements to join certain organizations. If chos are not grouped together with their own kind, their store bags and TVs are at constant risk of “disappearing” unless they pay for protection. If they didn’t have their own issues with consent, I’d actually feel bad.
This being so, they typically devise a cover story (e.g. “breaking and entering” is they’ve a dark sense of humor), or offer a long, convoluted explanation that always involves a crazy ex and a corrupt prosecutor to have at the ready for this exact scenario. But to say nothing? That forces me to assume the worst.
*In reality, a never ending, yearlong affair.
I’m glad you’re settling in. Hang tough. You’ve got this.
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