Sentence by Daniel Genis

Sentence by Daniel Genis

Author:Daniel Genis [Genis, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-02-22T00:00:00+00:00


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FINALLY THERE IS A fourth type, another dedicated box facility for those prisoners considered too crazy or violent to be double-bunked. Southport dates from before the advent of SHU-200 units and the Upstate box. Most prisoners feared this place above all others, but I probably would have preferred to remain in Southport, as every cell is truly solitary confinement. Its benefits were solitude and the opportunity to buy Snickers bars after a thirty-day period of proving yourself with good behavior. Having known hunger in the Upstate box, I regarded the possibility of obtaining candy bars as a luxury. Having a solitary cell to read and write and exercise and jack off in also seemed a hell of a lot better than being locked in a room for months on end with a stranger. Or with a madman, as happened to me after I committed the crime of buying a few second-rate prisoner souls.

To my knowledge Southport was where man sunk the lowest. The “Port” is where dudes “bust their cup”—dousing a neighbor or passerby or random victim with a sludge of shit and piss.

“Shitting niggas down” is the devolved pastime of this miserable place, where men serve their box time in increments of years and every new ticket is a tier 3, meaning that any infraction incurs a further ninety days in the box. Men who wind up there and act out in response to the culture shock of it easily earn themselves additional sentences above and beyond the initial months they had to serve. They go nuts, and it’s a mean sort of nuts. In the SHU-200 units there isn’t much trouble they can cause, but that’s not the case in Southport. There is a famous story of a handicapped woman who somehow earned the enmity of her wards. She was some kind of civilian employee, a counselor or social worker, who had a grudge against prisoners and was rude toward and dismissive of them. She achieved mobility with a motorized wheelchair, and the day that her vehicle stalled was not a good one.

The men had been waiting for their chance at payback and had ammunition ready. Or perhaps they always kept some handy, in case someone needed to be taught a lesson. As the woman rolled to a halt and started to complain, she was bombarded with shit and piss from multiple angles. The normally grim building erupted in howls of delight and laughter. She cowered on the floor, seeking cover behind her toppled chair. Cops in raincoats had to come to the rescue, and apparently they didn’t care much for the woman, either. They took their time and let the guys run out of ammunition, which made it safe for them to collect the befouled woman. She never returned, having apparently been discreetly allowed to retire early.

As hideous as this episode was, there was always a deeper circle of inferno. Neighbors in Southport who hated each other shat their foes down at mealtimes, satisfied with defiling the food if they couldn’t “bust their cup” in someone’s face.



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