The latest update on the inmate transferred to Lumley:
“This time, the guard knocks politely and announces I’m sprung from this evil place. But alas, I’m not going home to Carlos, they are taking me to “C” yard on Lumley. How bad could it be I think to myself.

Ha! From the time I’m shown to my new roommate’s cell, I am bombarded with a string of loud obscenities. She doesn’t want me there and yells long and loud. When she starts throwing chairs, however, then I leave. The guards descend to see what the racket is. They address me, “Well, what did you do to excite her?”. what?? Then they call ME a trouble maker, admonish me with, and I quote, “You’re just a F++king inmate.”

I’m tired, I’ve had repeated asthma attacks, the latest brought on by this lunatic blowing smoke in my face. So they put me upstairs in an empty cell (why didn’t they do that first?) I can hardly make it up there, so the local inmates are instructed to move my huge load of stuff upstairs. This is my 3d move today and I’m exhausted. This time they stole my ice chest with a full load of ice in it. I’m thinking of a hot shower like at Carlos, but no, only cold water. I’ve been in 3 cells on Lumley and none of them have trash baskets! You’d think 1.1 Billion dollars would buy some.

Tomorrow, legal call with my attorney, wish me luck!”

We posted follow up information on this situation a couple of days ago (read it here). It took until today for this the first story in the saga to arrive.

By serendipity, meaning AIMS2 strikes again, a minimum inmate ends up on closed custody on Lumley. For our readers not familiar with the prisons’ terrible computer system, look in our archives for past stories. The one thing AIMS is famous for is LOOSING inmates.

“I’m waiting at the gate to be picked up in the usual van when this enclosed paddy wagon arrives. The female guard walks toward me carrying…. chains?? WTF. I’ve never been in chains for a simple transfer. So this gal motions for me to get in the back of the van. A non-padded rumble seat made for dwarfs. I could barely wad my 5’10 frame in this little box. It’s pitch black. Mercifully, it’s a 5-minute ride.

I get out of the van and ask the nearest guard, “where am I?”, he says “Closed custody yard”. “What!?” I sputter…”I only have 9 points, what am I doing here??”. Quickly I email my attorney, and she writes back that “they just realized you weren’t supposed to be there.”. DUH.

Then my attention was grabbed by three inmates descending on me in my room. They were armed with spray bottles and said they were there to “clean my room”. What they really meant was, “We’re here to clean you out of all your stuff.”. Fortunately, all they were able to swipe was a black state-owned blanket before I was able to slam the door.

I’m sitting on my bunk feeling miserable, my nose full of smoke from the vent. (closed custody only gets out an hour a day…maybe) Then I decide this is an opportunity to report on what goes on here! I can make use of my time while waiting for the cavalry to arrive.

So far I’ve learned they treat these gals worse than dogs. How can a person function without any stimulation for 23 out of 24 hours? For the last 48 hours, I’ve heard nothing but yelling from the guards, and the women being marched everywhere.
It’s a miserable existence. Then I start interviewing the officers. I ask, “What Covid cleaning program do you have here?”. (answer) ” It’s like Covid never existed here.”

“Don’t you have a deep cleaning at least once a week like on Carlos?” I ask. “Well, we can’t let the inmates clean their own room, because they might try to commit suicide with the cleaner by ingesting it,” he says. !? I think to myself that suicide is probably an ongoing problem here.

That’s what I have so far readers….I got to take a couple more hits on my rescue inhaler now.”