B7) Welcome to Cimarron

Cimarron Prison is in Tucson. It is a high medium yard meaning we only get out to the yard once every three days for two hours. I did the math. Twenty four hours a month outside.

Cimarron is better known in the AZ DOC as “gladiator school”

Cimarron day one:

When I got to the cell block to drop off my gear everyone was at the chow hall for dinner. One of the guards said if I wanted dinner I better haul ass up to the chow hall otherwise I would not be able to eat until breakfast the following morning.

I did as advised.

I walked into the chow hall and had the feeling of all eyes being on me. They were. I grabbed a food tray and headed to an open table. It’s better to eat alone in this scenario. I knew no one. This is the very definition of uncharted territory.

There is nothing unorganized about the seating arrangement  in the chow hall at Cimarron. The different races sit in well defined groups. Within each group was a seating arrangement indicating a hierarchy. The closer to the back wall, the higher up on the organizational chart you sat. It was political. I sat in the table farthest from the back wall which meant I was a nobody and very expendable.

Even though I ended up in prison with a ten year sentence for a nonviolent victimless crime I thought I had extraordinary management skills. I recall sitting there and thinking it’s going to take my very best management skills to successfully navigate my way through this experience. I was going to be tested here. I was certain of this.

Sitting directly across from me was another inmate. Like me he was seated alone. I did not know him and felt it prudent not to sit with someone I do not know, “wouldn’t be prudent at this juncture”

As I sat there eating, thinking, wondering, and worrying. I noticed someone walking towards the person seated across from me. He was approaching from behind. It was one of those predator vs prey situations.

Striking from behind the inmate was knocked off his seat by a roundhouse to the left side of his head. The assailant jumped on his victim and began to rain down a series of well aimed blows to an exposed face. The inmate receiving the punishment seemed to be out cold. The punches sounded as if they are crushing bone.

The guards rush over but not before a significant amount of damage was done. Both inmates were taken to the hole.

I almost threw up as I watched the violence unfold but I kept on eating. I pretended as if what just occurred was normal. A typical Tuesday evening dinner.

I said to myself, “welcome to Cimarron"