One of my pen pals, Randy Miller, who is locked up at Indiana State Prison just wrote me a letter and enclosed an essay that he titled: “This is Prison.” In his letter to me, he explained why he wrote the essay:

“This last week, for some reason I kept finding prison movies on television. After briefly watching those movies I got rather upset at the way they portrayed prison as humorous or a right of passage for some. I couldn’t help but feel like this contributes to the lack of fear some kids have about coming here and increases their risk of coming to prison.“

Here’s an excerpt of what he wrote in “This is Prison:”

Life in prison starts in a room with 15 to 20 other men, where you are simultaneously stripped of all your personal belongings and searched. Guards look in our ears, mouth, through your hair, under your feet and between your toes. They tell you to lift your penis, then your sack and have you bend over and spread your cheeks and cough, to ensure you’re not hiding a weapon, drugs, or other contraband up your ass. You then shower with a special soap to stop the spread of lice and other critters, and then you get dressed in state clothing that is intentionally given to you a size too small to prevent sagging. You are then shackled and cuffed, one hand palm facing your head, the other palm facing your feet, with a box around the cuffs to keep you in this uncomfortable position (top hand palm up, bottom hand palm down), loaded on a bus and driven to whatever prison they decide to put you in. For me, this was a four-hour ride and I had cuff marks and bruises on my wrists for two days.

Once you get to your new home, you are stripped and searched again. You are issued your clothing, which consists of 3 shirts, 3 pants, 5 undershirts and 5 pairs of socks and boxers. Laundry is done once a week, if you’re lucky, so you have to find a way to stay clean. You are given one 2 by 2 inch square bar of soap, a three inch toothbrush (it’s travel sized), and two single blade razors, to last a MONTH! Once they run out, nobody cares. You’d better have people to send money to you. They give you two sheets, a blanket and a mat about two inches thick and take you to your cell.

There is not a more isolated, intimidating, lonely place on earth than a prison cell. The cell house is five tiers high, 50 cells per tier, with two sides, for a total of 500 prisoners. There are three guards per cell house. Three guards to control 500 men. I have gone hours without ever having seen or heard a guard anywhere near my cell. Each tier is 5 feet wide with a fence from top to bottom to prevent guys from being thrown off. It is impossible for guards to see down those tiers during chow times or recreation time. You are on your own with a cell house full of predators and prey.

The first thing you learn in the cell house are the sounds and screams. You learn to hear guards and shakedown crews coming in the building. You hear sneakers screeching on the floor and the thud of fists hitting face, as fights happen several times a day. You learn to tell the difference between screams. The screams of someone who has been stabbed or had boiling oil or water thrown on them. The haunting screams of a man being gang raped in the shower or trapped in a cell, begging for help and knowing there’s no help coming. Then there’s the yells and screams of the guards, as the discover men who have been stabbed, raped, or beaten and left in a pool of their own blood.

He wrote so much more in his essay. He shared stories of violence and torture and most importantly he wrote directly to some of the young men that I work with imploring them to stay out of prison. Here are some of his concluding words addressed directly to those young men:

You are all young enough, smart enough, and have the opportunity to correct any mistakes you’ve made, or take the steps necessary to prevent mistakes in the future. Whatever your situation is out there, trust me, it is better than any situation you will find yourself in here. I have an out date as of right now, but I would gladly spend the rest of my life in prison, if it meant just one of you would never have to see the inside of a cell. I mean that, but if you choose to ignore my warnings, if you choose to take the easy road and not take advantage of the opportunities you have, then I will see you soon, because this is prison, and there’s always an open cell.

I will share Randy’s words with the young men we work with. I will share his words as a way to open up communication between those on the inside and those on the outside. I will share his words as a warning. I will share his words as a gift.