Tale of Johnny Ray

Insanity can be defined as repeating the same behavior over and over again and expecting different results

Albert Einstein

For reasons that were never made entirely clear, Jacob Reed was transfered to a new cell during his fifth year of captivity at the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary.
In later years, Jake came to believe that the good Lord himself had a hand in it.
His new cellmate was a former WBA boxing champion by the name of Roberto Ruiz. He generally fought as a super middleweight, staying around 165 lbs.
Prison life had bulked him up to near 180, but he was still rock solid and surely a formidable opponent for anyone foolhardy enough to challenge the champ.
His fighting record was 31 victories, 26 by KO and 2 losses, both by decision.
Roberto was serving a life sentence for choking his wife to death in a drunken rage.
He testified that the only reason he didn't kill her lover as well was that he found it impossible to strangle two people at once.
The hapless romeo was able to escape through a window during the fracas and was never found, thus leaving Roberto unable to prove any infidelity, which may have helped his case. Then again, maybe not.
Roberto was a quiet, serious man who seemed to accept his fate with dignity.
He was a devout Catholic and served as administrator for the newly formed Alcoholics Anonymous Prison Outreach Program.
This program was considered a joke by most of the staff. They believed, as many still do, that any attempt at rehabilitation was a complete waste of time and resources.
Fortunately for Ruiz, the warden was an avid boxing fan and was more than pleased to support him in this endeavor.

Roberto, however, was less than pleased with his new cellmate, not only by his slovenly appearance, but by his reputation as a moonshiner and a troublemaker.
Jake had been in numerous fights as well, none of which he seemed to win.
It wasn't his lack of fighting ability that disturbed Roberto as much as the man's inability to refrain from annoying people to the point that he was constantly getting his butt whipped.
Roberto's only fear was that this clown could bring trouble with him, the last thing he wanted.
Roberto was serving life with the possibilty of parole in twenty years. While this once seemed impossible to attain, he was halfway there now, and it was becoming a realistic goal. A goal he would not be detered from.
He fully intended to maintain his reputation as the model prisoner and let Jake know this as he explained the rules that must be followed if he were to share his living space.
Jake accepted this amiably enough, not only because of prison protocol, but because he was instantly intimidated by the ex boxer's stern demeanor.
Though he wasn't ready to admit it, not even to himself, there was some admiration there as well for the man's dignity and stoic demeanor.

Jake quietly accepted his new situation and soon settled into a routine that he began to find soothing.
He rarely saw his old buddies, but was able to avoid his old enemies as well, since he now lived on the opposite side of the large facility.
Roberto divided his time between physical exercise and reading his Bible. Jake spent his time watching Roberto exercise and sleeping.
Roberto invited Jake to accompany him to the weekly AA meeting on their first week together. Jake declined and Roberto never brought it up again.
In the sixth week Jake asked if he could attend a meeting. Sure, Roberto told him, the meetings are open to anyone who wishes to attend.
Jake brought some of the pamphlets back to the cell and began reading them. He had only basic reading skills, fifth grade level perhaps, and stuggled somewhat, but seemed determined to study the material.
A week later, he surprised Roberto again by handing a guard a requisition for a Bible from the prison library.
Jake was pleased to learn the new Bible was his to keep, courtesy of the Gideon Society. He read almost constantly, pausing often to ask Roberto for help with the more difficult passages.
Roberto was more than willing to assist his friend and quietly pleased at the change that was slowly coming over him.

 

Other changes were taking place as well. Jake had begun to excercise in the cell. Push-ups and sit-ups mostly, and his belly began to flatten as his chest and arms took on some definition.
He began to shave daily and started visiting the prison barber. Roberto never prodded Jake to do any of these things. He was wise enough to know that to do so would only hinder any progress.
Their first real conversation in regards to self improvement came on the day Jake asked Roberto about how one's release date was determined.
Roberto thought it quite odd that after being here almost six years, he was just now pondering the subject, but better late than never he supposed.
Roberto patiently explained how one accrues "good time" and how "bad time" ala screwing up lengthens one sentence.
Jake was shocked to learn that had he continued on the path he was on for his first four years he would be here about fifteen years, maybe more, on a ten year sentence.
Adversely, he was pleased to discover that if he continued to accumulate good time for the remainder of his sentence, he just might squeeze by right around the ten year mark.
Without having to be told, it finally occured to Jake that had he been living like this since the beginning, he could have planned on getting out several years early.
But had he been level headed enough to think that way back then, he wouldn't have landed himself here to begin with. Just cut your losses and move on.

News travels through a prison like in no other place. This can be beneficial if an ally is giving one a heads up concerning an adverse situation.
Such was the case when a fellow AA member slipped Roberto a note during that weeks meeting.
The Atlanta facility was utilized as a transfer point for Federal prisoners enroute to other destinations.
In this case, a Hell's Angel biker, known as Bongo, was spending a few weeks here on his way to Chico, California.
According to the gossip, Bongo had a score to settle with Mr Ruiz. Bongo claimed he lost $5000. in a bet involving one of Roberto's pro fights.
He said he found out later the fight was rigged and Roberto should have lost. The way he saw it, Ruiz may have just well stolen the five grand from him personally.
In his book, that made him a dirty Puerto Rican thief and he aimed on settling the score.
It made no difference that the story was a total fabrication. This had to be dealt with swiftly and decisively. Roberto, as would any other veteran convict, recognized the situation for what it was.
Bongo was an alpha male to the extreme and wanted to establish dominance, perhaps establish a toehold for the Hell's Angels here.
Although a dominant force in some prisons on the west coast, they had yet to establish themselves here.
Since Roberto was once somewhat of a public figure, Bongo most likely had an idea of his size and appearance.
Roberto used his network to gather intelligence on Bongo. He was said to be six feet four inches tall. That was four inches taller than Roberto, which meant a considerable reach advantadge as well.
He was thought to be at least two eighty, perhaps more, although a fair amount of that could be attributed to a beer gut.
If Roberto Ruiz felt any fear, he didn't show it. Jake was amazed at his friends composure at what could be impending doom.
Roberto actually spent a miniscule amount of time developing a strategy. He simply knew by instinct what had to be done.
When a lion takes down an antelope, she doesn't think about how she is going to do it. She simply does it.
Without ever meeting Bongo, he knew the type. Bongo was most likely loud and boisterous. Always eager to impress others with his macho abilities.
The type to pick a fight with a total stranger in a saloon for some imagined infraction.
He was probably tough, but not skilled. Used intimidation as a weapon and always had his buddies behind him.
In other words, a bully.

Although he almost always used his free time in the gym or the library, Roberto announced to Jake the following morning that he would be going out to the yard today.
Jake asked if he could accompany him. Roberto just shrugged. Jake feared for his friend, but had confidence he would be victorious. That didn't stop him from saying a quick prayer though.

Roberto strolled through the yard as if it was any other day. He found a vacant spot at a picnic table and sat down among some familiar faces.
Nods all around. Grim faces trying to looked relaxed. No words were necessary.

The man sitting across from Roberto said simply, " Here he comes hoss, about fifty feet away"
Roberto calmly rose from his seat and turned to face his opponent. Almost exactly as he had envisioned. Long hair, beard, tattoos, facial scars and a ####y smirk on his lips. He was also accompanied by a small entourage.
After taking a quick inventory of Bongo he strode toward him with a small entourage of his own. Within seconds they would be encircled by a crowd of prisoners.
This was done as much to get a ringside seat as it was to shield the combatants' idenities from the view of the guards.
They stopped two feet apart and in a gravelly voice, Bongo said "Any last words, ya dirty cheatin beaner ?"
With that he made the mistake of telegraphing his intentions. Just a flinch, but he might as well had posted it on a billboard as far as Roberto was concerned.
Bongo's right shoulder dipped ever so slightly and the arm bent just a fraction at the elbow as the fist balled up.
His left arm remained slack, which meant he never thinks to block with his left when he leads with his right.
Roberto processed this information in a tenth of a second. Less actually. He just felt it.
Piece of cake he thought as he stepped in even closer. Although this was for tactical reasons, (Bongo's longer arms are ineffective if he doesn't have room to swing them)it also served to disorient Bongo.
Bullies are used to people backing up, not coming in closer.
Time slowed down for Roberto. He felt the first rib crack while Bongo was still in his backswing. LEFT RIGHT LEFT RIGHT LEFT RIGHT.
Arms working like locomotive pistons. Six jabs and four cracked ribs caused Bongo to stagger backwards with a wheeze, most likely from a punctured lung.
Roberto wasn't proud of what he did next. The fight was essentially over. In a civilized setting, someone would be throwing in the towel.
But he knew he had to finish Bongo. He didn't want to be looking over his shoulder from now on, worrying about getting stabbed in the kidney while waiting in the chow line.
Roberto stepped forward again and came up with the most vicious uppercut he could muster. He came off the heel, like a ballplayer going for the upper deck.
Bongo bit off the end of his tongue as his jaw snapped shut and his head rolled back at a grotesque angle.
The whole thing lasted just over two seconds. Roberto was walking away before Bongo hit the ground.
A group of guys(Jake included) instinctively enveloped Roberto as he quickly, but calmly headed toward his cellblock.

 

Bongo was declared dead in the infirmary. Most likely he died on the stretcher while being transported there.
The medics at the scene had only rudimentary training, but they did recognize a neck injury when they saw one, and understood that improper movement could only cause only further damage.
What they didn't know was two of Bongo's cervical vertabrae were snapped like twigs and he was already paralyzed.
Neither did they know he had bitten off an inch of his own tongue, mistaking the blood around his mouth for a lip injury.
The lingual artery(a branch of the external carotid artery) was severed and bleeding copiously. However, this was not evident to anyone, due to the angle of his head and neck.
Gravity was carrying the blood directly to his lungs, quietly drowning him. His eyes were open. He was fully aware of his surroundings but unable to move or communicate.
Suffering silently in his own private hell.

 

Jake was in awe of what he had seen. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind.
If he admired Roberto Ruiz before, he now had him on a pedestal.
But the incident was never discussed, not even in the privacy of the cell. It was understood that the prison personnel would be on high alert, listening for any stray bits of information.
What was the most odd about all this, was the seeming lack of concern from up top. Fights on the yard were fairly common, but deaths were not.
Also the fact that Bongo was a federal prisoner, being held over for a big court appearance in California.
It was thought that he would be safer on the east coast. It was also thought that the feds would surely be snooping around. But nothing, all quiet.
In a matter of days, it was off the front page as new events took center stage, but the story quietly grew to mythic proportions and Roberto would surely be a legend for years to come.

The following week Roberto had an unexpected visitor at his AA meeting. The warden himself pulled up a chair and merely observed the meeting, sipping on a cup of coffee.
As the meeting broke up the warden approached him.
"Got a minute Ruiz?" he asked.
"Certainly, sir" Roberto answered.
"You been doing OK? Any problems?"
"No sir. Just fine, sir"
"You ever heard of the Hell's Angels?"
"Only vaguely sir. I try to keep to myself, my studies and all." Roberto replied, maintaining a nuetral expression.
"I know you do son. You're a good man. But let me explain. They are a buch of radical thugs from the west coast.
Started up in Oakland, California, from what I understand. Been trying to set themselves up all over.
Like any prison, we have our share of problems, but I won't tolerate gang activity of any sort.
When the Klan tried to come in, I put a stop to that. It wasn't pretty, but they ain't been back.
And I'll keep this trash out of here too"
With that, the warden gave Roberto a friendly pat on the back and walked toward the door.
He turned as he opened the door and told Roberto " You're doing a good job son. You need anything, just let me know. Anything"
It was all an act, and both actors knew their roles. The warden delivered his message and Roberto displayed the proper amount of subservience.
Now life would go on.

That proved Roberto's suspicions. He was used as a tool to do their dirty work.
Being an optimist, he reminded himself that although he may have been doing the work of others, he was saving his own life in the process.
Had he failed, they would have handled it some other way. It would have looked like an accident.
It reminded him that our lives are always in the hands of others. All we can do is live the best way we know how and leave the rest to God.

 

I kind of got sidetracked with Roberto Ruiz.
He was such an interesting character, I couldn't resist.
I don't know how much of that will remain in the final product, but I had fun with it anyway.
Glad you enjoyed it.

 

Despite his sorry beginnings, Jacob comes out of prison a new man. I know this may seem unbelieveable to many, but it does happen. Not often, but it happens nonetheless.
Not so much as a result of the penal system, but more a case of divine intervention, with Roberto being the sculptor and Jake the clay.
Upon his eventuall return home, he becomes a positive influence on Johnny Ray, even passing along skills he learned from Roberto which Johnny finds useful in Viet-Nam.