The old saying, “just because your paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you” could well apply to War Machine in the latest installment of his blog from behind bars.

WEEK 15:

“I now know for sure that the “higher-ups” in this jail have it out for me. One of the cool cops here, and big MMA fan, just came by my cell and let me know what’s up. He said that he doesn’t know if the order is coming down from the judge or some Lieutenant or someone, but it’s been passed along to make it as uncomfortable as possible for me. He said that the regular cops that work my module like me because I cause no problems and mind my own business, but to be careful of new faces and random Sergeants that come through. I told him I’m not surprised and not worried because there’s no way I’d get mad enough to hit a cop here or do anything else to catch a new case. But then he said that I don’t need to catch a new case – that the way my sentence was written up, if I get in a lot of little trouble and lose all my “good time,” the judge has the option to send me to prison for 2 years instead of releasing me on probation. “Watch out for lil’ annoying shit and just be careful, I wanna see you back at it, you don’t belong here.” He leaves and my brain gets going a million miles per hour. This one Sgt. keeps coming into my module and talking to the cops at their lil’ station. (Same Sgt. who took my commissary away for 30 days over nothing) I keep catching his eyes wandering to my cell… Nobody else’s eyes wander this way when at that spot; why do his every time?

Now I’m thinking of an odd occurrence a couple weeks back. This one cool Chamorro cop moved me to my current cell so that I could have a shot of the T.V. The very next day they removed the T.V. from the module. I put it off as a shitty coincidence, but now… The next day they even removed the T.V. in our recreation room AND our lil’ library of books. Today I got called for a visit and when I sat down at the booth, I looked at the screen and the timer was at 15:22. This means that my boy, who drove all the way from San Diego, visited with himself the 1st half of the visit. (visits only last 30 min.) How many times have I witnessed inmates get into physical altercations over a screwed up visit? At least 3. A verbal confrontation resulting in a write-up? Shit, 50? Is this a technique that the jail uses? Bait?

How about this one cop who every time he searches my cell, enforces the 2 book maximum rule? At least 20 cops have searched my cell this stay and only he brings the book thing up. Funniest part about it is that he doesn’t say anything to the others about their books! He one of them? All this reminds me of the time the bailiff, who worked my court case, covered someone’s shift and worked my module. I think I even mentioned it in a previous blog. He told me that the day I turned myself in at the court the judge had like 6 extra bailiffs present. Once I was taken away she said, “Wow, I’m surprised he went peacefully, I thought he’d go nuts.” Do they really believe I’m so stupid? Just because I’ve been in a few street fights, that I’d jeopardize my life/free by attacking court officials? Are THEY that stupid? Are THEY disappointed that I’m behaving myself and now, are resorting to these underhanded measures to provoke me into screwing up? Man, I may be addicted to fighting and have made some poor choices but I’m no arch criminal! I swear they’d like to see me hanged or locked up for life… I wonder if all this is the reason they won’t prescribe me my psych meds?!

It’s the next day now, and they just full-on raided our module. I’ve been here almost 4 months now, and this is a first, and keep in mind that they search our cell twice each day, so I don’t see why it was necessary. It was crazy, they even threw in a flashbang grenade before entering the module. Why? We are ALL locked in our cells, a flashbang serves no function in this type of situation, except intimidation. Dude, try going from sitting on your bunk, reading a book, to a huge BOOM followed by 20 cops in SWAT gear with shotguns, storming in, yelling. Damn heart beats through the roof! Damn WWIII going on, anyone say overkill? Next thing I know that same weasily sergeant is at my window, “Take off your clothes and sit on your bunk in your boxers.” They eventually enter my room. One SWAT guy has me get naked, lift my dick, lift my balls, and bend over spreading my cheeks and cough 3 times. All the while, another jerk points his shotgun at me, muzzle no more than 3 feet away. Tazers aren’t enough anymore? Are you even allowed to fire a rubber bullet via shotgun at an inmate at that distance? They cuff me and lay me on my stomach out on the dirty module floor. They “search” my cell, not really, they did that twice yesterday and once today. They destroyed my cell, not looking for shit. I’m 100% terrified that someone is gonna “find” something, that is, PLANT something of course. It’s really jacked up that I legitimately have a fear of that, isn’t it? But how hard would it be for one of them to plant a vicodin pill or something? Not hard at all and I’d be a goner, see you in a few years.

I don’t think this intimidation search had anything to do with me, but either way it was a horrible, degrading experience. Let me tell all of you that I will do nothing to break a single rule here until I leave in October. If you even hear of me being caught with a knife or drugs, or anything illegal in my cell, just know that it was PLANTED there. Hopefully this blog will have been posted before something like that were to happen and serve as a small piece of evidence to back me up. Anyway, all this negativity makes me appreciate all the cool cops in here all the more – the ones who treat us as humans and go out of their way for us when they can. These guys are just as much victims of this screwed up system as we are. I try to remember that each time I get into my “hate the government, hate the judges, and hate the cops” mode. If ALL of them were out to get us and straight assholes, it would truly be unbearable in here.”