The Ghost: Memoir of a Florida Kingpin

It’s been over 20 years and I’ve had to live in a cell with gray walls; with one barred window; with two bunk beds; with a thin mattress without bedsprings, lying atop a plate of steel; and with no pillows, only a blanket rolled into a ball to lay my head – a head filled with worry and despair. I live with a toilet and sink in the corner next to a steel door which keeps me safely inside my cell; safe from the public and safe from life. There was a time I yearned and craved to live life each and every day; to be recognized as the alpha dog; the big baller; the shot caller. Yes, now I live within four walls of cement and steel in a cell the size of a bathroom in most median sized homes. I stand, kneel, pray, sleep, eat, play and exercise in this small cell. I live my life safely from the public, and from the type of life I now regret having lived.I walk back and forth in my cell, stopping to look into that stainless-steel mirror over my sink and I see my blurred reflection. There is no glass allowed in the mirror. It’s all part of being safe; safe from hurting oneself or hurting others. Part of the reason I’m in prison is because the public needed to be safe from the life I wanted to live. I wanted to be more than just somebody.