“The truth kills.”
The truth kills: how ironic this kind of statement is for me. I filed a grievance that exposed officer corruption and was a witness for fellow prisoners, and then this all hurt me ultimately.
I should be dead right now. I should not even be able to record this. How did I survive a knife attack? Two people against little old me. A set up–ambush–orchestrated by correctional officers. Retaliation at its finest. I fought my attackers off for over a minute as all the officers watched, hoping I’d die. “Go on, n—-. Go on, n—-, corner him off.” I can’t even remember everything shouted on behalf of my opposition. Time slowed down, the walls closed in. I can’t lie. I knew I was dead.
I had a chance to recant my statements and grievance I submitted against these corrupt officers. My attackers, the ones who tried to murder me, continuously approached me, ordering me to change my statements. [Inaudible] And these attackers are locked up just like me, suffering from officers just like me. But yet, they’re trying to take my head off for these cops.
They’re coming at me relentlessly. They had fell in love with their captors. They suffer Stockholm Syndrome. I was so surprised when I punched one of my attackers so hard, he flew in the air and his back met the ground. Miraculously, I still didn’t even get hit with prison shank yet. It’s 30 seconds elapsed. The second attacker begins to backpedal. I’m unarmed but yet dangerous. Now, seemingly, I look to the right at the spectators, the officers who set this up, and they look disappointed now. And then, finally, I feel the blows to my rib from behind. I guess this is what being stabbed feels like. I mean, really, I couldn’t feel nothing. I turned around and countered the attack and protected myself. My attackers were keeping their distance. Seemingly retreating to their cells, I pursued, but thought twice about entering behind, they continuing to stand refusing, to come out. I checked my wound and almost panicked. Will I die now?
I was unsure at the moment. But now, I’m here still alive, surviving for now. There’s a long road ahead, and, when I leave this current medical facility going back to prison, I know it’s not over. At least I die going against my oppressors and stood up fighting for what’s right. The truth kills [inaudible].
These commentaries are recorded by Prison Radio.