[Story] Drugs in prison pt 1

So to preface: some people might remember me, I’m a long time poster on this sub. My old account got banned for calling a scammer the f word in a chat after he hit me with the classic “I have a plug with runners everywhere”. I kinda stopped posting here in favor of other forums because I dislike how this sub has become a hugbox of reinforcing delusions instead of keeping it real about drug use. Anyways I figured some people might like this, I typically get good feedback about prison stories.

Fun fact: these prison stories take places at REDACTED, the same prison as the dude whose brother posts on here updating his blog. Can’t remember his username but he sold coke to an undercover then they got him for a delivery causing death.

So I’m stuck on mobile. I was writing a really long piece about drunk driving along with video but my hard drive overheated (I think, I get an error when I boot windows now).

I’m going to try to make the prison build up as brief as possible.

I had never really seen true drugs in county jail. Sometimes people will cheek their garbage psych meds, which I have bought before. There was one guy, a former prison guard ironically, who got Vicodin and Xanax and cheeked a 1mg football for me once.

Once I got to prison I was in a handicap unit, but there was still plenty of healthy young dogs in there. One of my first friends, Trevor chagnon, was in my cube. He told me about all the heroin he had done over his couple of years. At this point I was kind of iffy about doing drugs in prison. I was new and didn’t yet understand how little supervision and drug testing there was.

I would smell tobacco occasionally at night after count. I didn’t smell weed until maybe a month or two into my sentence.

I’ve talked about this before, but I broke into a chomos locker (Earl Thompson, google OTIS and look him up if you want. I don’t think he’s an “active offender” anymore) and found his paper work and posted it in the day room, fuck em.

I presume he told on me because I was transferred to A unit so after and I stayed there until I paroled 2 years later. I remember the first night I was in A unit. People were smoking weed, running tattoos, fighting and drinking. “My kind of unit,” I thought.

My cube mate, Christopher Raymond, was brewing big time hooch for about 3 or 4 months before he got popped. I would wake up with him every morning at 5am to go to the chow hall to procure the orange juice needed to make hooch. Most breakfast trays give you oatmeal/grits/ralston, a cake, butter, orange juice and sometimes peanut butter. We would trade everything on the tray for orange juice and dump it in an empty whey protein powder bag and smuggle it out. It was pretty obvious what we were doing, two dumbass honkeys with a dozen of empty orange juice cups in front of us. Nevertheless, we never got caught doing it.

Once you get a batch of hooch going you can make “starter bottles”. Instead of fucking with yeast you just put a tiny bit of hooch in a bottle full of fresh orange juice and it will start cooking right away instead of taking 3 or more days with yeast. You have to dump sugar in the hooch every day to keep it going. MDOC limits inmates to buying 2 bags of sugar every 2 weeks but this is easily circumvented by trading to other inmates. Also we had another dude in our cube, Chris Moomy, who worked in the chow hall. He would steal bricks of sugar like it wasn’t against the rules.

One time he stole an entire bag of the orange juice they serve in the chow hall. This was the BIG BATCH. Chris Raymond stole a trash can and lined it with a trash bag and put all the orange juice in it. The vessel had to be sealed so he tied it off at the top. Twice a day you have to burp your hooch or else the vessel will explode. Some people will hide their bottles under their locker and in a vent, and due to the difficulty of reaching the bottles they will often explode.

I remember that batch ended up filling over 30 bottles, which sell for $3 each. Depending on the quality one bottle can get you pretty buzzed. Chugging 2 good bottles would get me to the point where I would just lay down, press my rack and watch movies so I didn’t get in trouble. One night i got hammered and started crying during “Pretty in Pink”. That’s three things you don’t wanna get caught doing in the joint: being drunk, crying, and watching a John Hughes movie.

Eventually through helping my friend with hooch I met some people who were higher ranking in the gangs running the yard. TimTim was finishing a 15~ year sentence for a murder he committed when he was a teen. He’s a Latin count member with juice on the street in prison, every Latin Count I’ve met has known him. Most people I’ve ever met from south west REDACTED have known him. I’m not going to use his real name because he’s under federal indictment right now with the rest of his gang.

TimTim and his gang was in control of the heroin trade at the time. I don’t think he was smuggling it in, but he was controlling the sale. The smuggler almost always uses an organization to sell for him to distance himself from the heat. At this point in prison I didn’t really want to be a dope fiend again, nor did I have the ability to have money sent on the streets (or so I thought).

Usually you pay for expensive drugs (heroin, meth, bulk tobacco or suboxone) “on the wire” which means western union. Green dot cards came into prominence when I was there. The dealer has baby momma or fat bitch get a personal green dot card in the free world. Then the buyer calls their girlfriend/mom/whoever and has them buy a reload card for green dot. Then you exchange the numbers to the dealer and they have their person load their personal card with your reload numbers. I haven’t been to prison in years but from what I understand it’s all cashapp now. When I got out prison I was going through a junk drawer at my grandparents house and found a stack of green dot cards the size of a fucking pinochle deck.

I came into prison right after New Year’s Eve 2012/2013. I didn’t do anything other than drink at first. I smoked weed for the first time during a snow storm, so it just have been maybe February or March. Stump and I threw down $5 on a dime. The amount of weed you get for $10 is embarrassing. Think of what you wipe off your shirt after rolling a joint. We rolled up a pinner using the packaging from a roll of toilet paper, which actually closely resembles zig zag paper. We sat on a bench leading up to G unit because there were no police in the area. I remember it was so fucking cold that the tiny bit of smoke we blew out came out thick as milk in the cold air and seems to refuse to dissipate in the freezing cold. Despite being so obvious we didn’t get caught. After this I just tended to smoke in the unit. There’s 159 other people in there so they can’t really pin it on you. I probably smoked over 100 joints and cigs and never got caught, others did though.

The first time I did suboxone in prison was summer 2013. I got it from a Latin count manlet name “Little Man”. This is already long so I’ll save part 2 for when I get my laptop back tomorrow. I ended up getting strung out over and over and intertwined in “the bullshit” from involvement in the drug trade.