In memory of Justin C. Fuller.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TYLER at last”

 

At last

When you’re strapped down

Still seen thru

Tho seen

Thru a glass you can’t see thru

You’ll see

Momma’s tears flow

Free

You’ll be

Strong

Staring up at a microphone

At last You’ll go

Tho thru Huntsville*

To get there

Tyler**

Your home

You’ll go

At last........

 

** Justin was born and raised in Tyler, Texas

*  All executions in Texas are carried out in Huntsville, Texas

 

                                                                                           Dedicated to Justin C. Fuller

                                                                                           Executed August 24, 2006

                                                                                           By : D.LOC

 

 

 

 

 

 

« JUSTIN »

 

 

A soul imaged after God,

A will as strong as a tiger,

A person that unfolded like a rose,

He was,

Who he is,

In flesh                                     or

Spirit.

His presence will forever        be

One Love !

 

 By : Kenneth Morris A.K.A. K9.G

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE SILENCE WITHIN

  Within the larger silence was a different silence.  This silence was deceiving.  It slapped me in the face, vice-gripping my throat, saying, “Look ! Look ! You can(t ignore me !”  My heart raced, and I paced my cage.  I don’t know if I was having one of those vision-causing seizures, but I was suddenly in another cage with a homemade mouth-pice in my mouth, a sock tied around my face, covering my nose, with a do-rag on my head holding a piece of plastic over my eyes.  I was pacing and waiting, waiting through the silence;  waiting for the officers working the pod to suit up in full riot gear, armed with iron-knuckle handcuffs, ball and chain shackles, a battering ram-shield, and chemical warfare, stomp-stomp-stomping their way back to my cage.  After which, under the guise of retrieving the tray I refuse to give back in protest of our inhumane treatment, they’ll use the amount of force “necessary” to regain “safety and security” of their establishment, while attempting to break the Humanity that urged my resistance.  Then I realized.... it wasn’t me going up against the systems antithesis to our humanity.

 

As if slapping me back into reality, I heard to loud “beep”, signalling to the picket officer somebody wanted into the pod.  I stood at my cage-door to observe.

 

The pod is horse-shoe-shaped with the control picket, wrapped with plexiglass windows, sitting dead centre as if it was the iron post this horseshoe was tossed upon-cling !  In 84-cage, I’m the last cage on 2-row, F-section, at the mouth of one end of this horseshoe.  There are six sections that run along this horseshoe;  going backwards they are E, D, C, B and A-sections, located at the mouth but on the other end of this horseshoe.  The position of my cage enables me to see through the plexiglass of the control picket, and into portions of B  and C-sections, which are counter-cornered from me. Because of the isolated position of all our cages, (which face in one direction), one learns how to use shadows, vibrations, the direction faced by picket officers, “beep” sounds (among a myriad of others), and the red-light high on the wall before you enter each section (that comes on to notify pod officers when a cage door is ajar), to orientate ourselves to the activity in our surroundings. The pickets officer was staring into C-section intently, with excitement even, waiting for the show : Them vs. Us;  Gray suits Vs. White suits;  which is sad, because that’s not the case at all.  It’s more like Machine vs. Humanity.  Some of them get it;  yet obviously, this excited picket officer didn’t.  Then, like a black centipede, one-behind-the-other, the 5-men team stomp-stomp-stomped their way into the pod, stomping into C-section, and up its stairs to 2-row.

 

It was right after lunch.  The floor officers had just came around picking up trays;  then suddenly rushed off the pod.  Somebody on C-section refused to return their tray. Once the “team” got upstairs, I started counting to myself, while looking that sections red-light to come on signalling when the resistant prisoner’s cage door has rolled open and the team had run in on him.  If the sergeant – who shoots the prisoner through his cage door screen with these chemical agents – follow