Chapter 11: Jack the Snitch

Jack was a snitch. This was something I had known for years, because he was from my home town. He lived next door to me. His children were my age. He would goad them into picking on me. He would steal our gas with a water hose in the middle of the night. He would borrow items from my dad and pawn them. He borrowed my brother’s drum set and he left it in the rain. Jack had no phone in his house, so he would use ours. Incessantly.

He was a drug dealer. Whenever he would get caught, he would tell the police some of the names of who he was selling it to. He would do a few weeks, while his friends got years.

Eventually it caught up with him.

The hot chick in the mini skirt wanted coke, a lot of it. He never met her before, but there are things that a thong and a mini skirt can do that would affect the judgment of most men. He sold her some, she of course was an undercover police officer. He snitched, got a lighter sentence. While I was in county, he was in the cell over with pending charges.

He would pester me to have my parents get his wife to call or visit. He would go up to the door and scream like a petulant child.

“Mike! hey Mikie! Miiiichael! Hey! Mike!”

It wouldn’t stop. He repeatedly called my parents through the jail phone system. If you answer a call from jail, your phone bill got hit for an eight dollar collect call. The phone would shut off after a minute, then you had to call again.
He called at fifteen minute intervals. When they stopped answering for him, he started using my name. My parents could not afford to pay the bill, so their phone had to get cut off. This was right in the middle of my trial and I was unable to even call my parents.

He told the guards about my cigarette stash when I refused to share, and as a result I lost all of my sketchbooks and novels in the shakedown.

I would go out on work parties with the county. Jack never got picked because he was intolerable.

We were all tired of him by this point, so we began messing with his head. We told him we saw his wife with a younger man. We saw her hugging up on him at the gas station. He had a brand new silver Camarro. We always told him that we saw them together.

He went insane.

It was wonderful.

When he saw her at visitation a month later, he confronted his wife. Called her a bitch and a whore. She told him that it was her son who had just recently bought the car. She served him papers not much longer after that.

A few months after I hit the unit, I got word that he was being shipped here. I was playing chess with the EME spokesman when I saw Jack, shaved and carrying his pile, walk in front the adjoining dorm’s tv.

I told the EME, “That wood over there, see him?”

“Yeah, the big guy?”

“Don’t trust that guy, he is a snitch.”

I then explained my history with the man. We sent out notices to all of the spokesmen in our block.

Jack liked to talk, he liked to gamble. He did not however, tell the truth or pay his debts. He also had the bad habit of writing anything you said into a notebook.

The Woods in his dorm searched his locker when he was in the rec yard. In the notebook were names, dates, locations. Jail is a natural criminal networking location. If one were so inclined, one could get affiliated with a gang, then have a lifetime career. He had the list of Mexican Mafia members. He had the AB’s names down. I was told that MY name was on it, due to me being spokesman.

We had eight of the biggest Woods we could find unleash hell on him the following day.

Jack was on the weight stack doing a bench press. He wasn’t paying attention. He did not notice when the Hispanics and Blacks left the area.

Jack was surrounded and he had no idea. Rep after rep. huff after huff, he worked out.

“Let him get tired first.” I said.

Jack stopped the workout and got up.
An EME and a Tango faked an argument with each other about the chow hall. The yard guard was brought into it and was actively discussing the various pros and cons of hot links. Either he was paid off or too distracted about food to pay attention, but either way, he took no notice.

Jack stopped to wipe the sweat from his face with a shirt.

The hammer dropped on Jack.

There was no time limit on this one. It wasn’t discipline. It was an honest to god beat down.

Don was there. He had repeatedly hit Jack in the ribs so hard that his shoulder dislocated itself. I had to put my foot in his armpit and yank his arm to set it back into place before the guards could come. They did not stop beating him until the riot team got there five minutes later. We all had to line up and strip. The guards inspected each of us for bruised knuckles.

Since most of the work was done with boots, none of our people got caught.
When it was done, Jack looked like a leopard. He got transferred to another dorm.

They rolled him again.

He was transferred to another dorm.

They rolled him there too.

Once a month until he got out, he was dropped out of principal.

Five months after his release, he sold twenty kilos of cocaine to another undercover agent.

He is currently serving a 40 year sentence in a federal penitentiary with his two sons.

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