"My First Time Down"

Summary

Concrete Mama: The Podcast – Episode Summary: "My First Time Down"

Release Date: April 21, 2025

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Introduction to the Episode

In the compelling episode titled "My First Time Down," Concrete Mama: The Podcast delves deep into the visceral experiences of arriving and adjusting to life inside the Washington State Penitentiary in Walla Walla. Hosted by Stephen Edwards, aka Red, and produced by Unincarcerated Productions, this episode offers a multifaceted exploration through personal narratives, expert interviews, and historical accounts that shed light on the prison intake process and the broader implications of the prison industrial complex.

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Vic's Personal Story: The Chain Bus Ride

The episode opens with an evocative monologue by Vic, who recounts his harrowing journey from Snohomish County Jail to Walla Walla. Vic’s narrative is raw and introspective, capturing the paradoxical emotions of relief and fear as he boards the chain bus to prison.

Notable Quotes:

• Vic reflects, “You know, it's amazing how much in life you take for granted, like just being outside in the sunshine” (00:45).
• In a poignant moment, Vic confronts his past, stating, “We destroyed our life together... riding the bus to prison together” (04:56).

Vic’s story underscores the complex emotions surrounding incarceration, highlighting a sense of liberation from the constraints of county jail juxtaposed with the fear of the unknown within the penitentiary walls.

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General Experiences of Intake and Arrival

Stephen Edwards transitions into discussing the broader intake and arrival processes, inviting listeners to understand what newcomers experience when entering the prison system. This segment includes Vic and another unnamed male sharing their initial encounters with the justice system, detailing their arrests, brief stays in county jail, and the subsequent transport to Shelton.

Key Points:

• Arrest details, including interactions with law enforcement and the emotional turmoil of the initial arrest.
• The dehumanizing aspects of the intake process, such as stripping, shackling, and the impersonal transfer to prison life.
• The psychological impact of transitioning from freedom to confinement.

Notable Quotes:

• Vic mentions, “This is it, I thought. Finally I could breathe the fresh air again” (00:45).
• The unnamed male describes his feelings during arrest: “As my heart thumped in my chest and my mouth became dry” (09:42).

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Interview with Paris: Second Time Incarceration

A significant portion of the episode features an in-depth interview with Paris, a returning inmate who shares his experiences during his second incarceration. Paris provides valuable insights into how previous time spent in prison alters the intake experience, emphasizing the shift in mindset and strategies for survival.

Key Points:

• First vs. Second Time: Paris contrasts his first and second experiences, noting increased awareness and the weight of previous mistakes during his second intake.
• Prison Culture and Survival: He discusses the importance of navigating prison politics, understanding gang affiliations, and maintaining mental stability.
• Advice to New Inmates: Paris emphasizes resilience, personal growth, and the necessity of not succumbing to the negative influences within the prison system.

Notable Quotes:

• Reflecting on his first intake: “I really blew it. As the second time around... my mission is different” (18:12, 23:32).
• Paris advises newcomers: “Find a way to lighten your load, man. Because it's already heavy enough” (33:58).

Paris’s narrative serves as both a cautionary tale and a beacon of hope, illustrating the potential for personal transformation even within the harsh confines of incarceration.

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Staff Perspectives: Interview with Chris McGill and Josh Lancaster

Red and Vic engage in a candid conversation with correctional specialists Chris McGill and Josh Lancaster, who provide the administrative and human resources perspective on the intake and arrival process.

Key Points:

• Adaptation for Staff: Advice for new prison staff on handling the emotional and psychological challenges of working in a correctional environment.
• Consistency and Fairness: Emphasizing the importance of stable routines and fair treatment to maintain order and respect within the prison.
• Support Systems: Encouraging staff to seek support, ask questions, and maintain personal well-being to effectively manage the demanding nature of their roles.

Notable Quotes:

• Chris McGill advises, “No matter what comes down your day, find something that you can release before you bring it home” (31:10).
• Josh Lancaster emphasizes, “Don't be afraid to ask questions when you start” (32:03).

This segment highlights the symbiotic relationship between inmates and staff, underscoring the need for mutual respect and understanding to foster a safer and more manageable prison environment.

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Historical Insight: The Bikers Club's Influence in Walla Walla

In a riveting historical account, Red explores the notorious era when motorcycle gangs like the Gypsy Jokers, Hell's Angels, and Bandidos dominated the Washington State Penitentiary. Through the story of Kelly Messinger, a key figure in the bikers' hierarchy, listeners gain an understanding of how self-governance and inmate-led organizations once controlled significant aspects of prison life.

Key Points:

• Self-Governance Experiment: The establishment of biker gangs and their takeover of prison operations, including control over the bike shop and internal politics.
• Influence and Operations: Bikers exerted authority over prison staff, managed security protocols, and even influenced administrative decisions, such as wardens' appointments.
• Decline of Power: The eventual downfall of the biker-dominated system due to increasing violence, lawsuits, and administrative pushback.

Notable Quotes:

• Kelly Messinger explains the seriousness of prison memos: “If it's on a memo, that's a word from God” (38:53).
• Red reflects on the bikers' control: “There were places I as an officer couldn't go unless an inmate with a key unlocked the door” (41:21).

This historical deep dive not only recounts past injustices but also serves as a stark reminder of the potential for inmate-driven power structures to disrupt institutional order.

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Conclusion and Final Thoughts

Wrapping up the episode, Red offers a motivational message to both incarcerated individuals and listeners outside the prison walls. Emphasizing personal responsibility and the importance of self-improvement, he encourages individuals to seize opportunities for growth regardless of their circumstances.

Key Points:

• Personal Growth: Advocating for inmates to engage in educational and rehabilitative programs to better themselves during incarceration.
• Agency and Change: Inspiring listeners to take proactive steps towards improving their lives and communities.
• Community and Support: Highlighting the importance of support systems both inside and outside prison for successful reintegration.

Notable Quotes:

• Red urges, “If you can go outside, work out, or pick up a book and read something that will help you in the future, never give up” (35:01).
• He poses a thought-provoking question: “What are you doing in your life right now to make things better for you and the people around you?” (35:06).

The episode concludes with acknowledgments to contributors and a teaser for the next episode, promising further exploration of personal redemption and rebuilding life post-incarceration.

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Final Notes

"My First Time Down" serves as a poignant and informative episode that not only chronicles the initial experiences of incarceration but also provides valuable insights from both inmates and correctional staff. Through personal stories and historical narratives, Concrete Mama: The Podcast continues to illuminate the complexities of the prison system, encouraging listeners to reflect on themes of resilience, justice, and transformation.

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For more episodes and additional content, visit Concrete Mama: The Podcast or follow Unincarcerated Productions on Instagram, Facebook, and TikTok.

Transcript

[Vic]

This program contains mature language and themes that may not be suitable for all listeners. Discretion is advised. August 12, 2014 Dear Today I boarded the bus to prison. It was surreal because I feel like I should have been sad, but I was honestly so happy. After 16 months of sitting in Snohomish County Jail, not being able to go outside and feel the sun on my face or listen to music or do so many other things that make me feel human, I was excited because I knew that I could get some of that back in prison. Jail was like a giant concrete coffin that sometimes felt like it would hold me there forever. So when they called me down to get stripped out and chained up, there was a smile on my face. Crazy, right? As they line us up in a room by the garage and strip us out of our jail clothes and into the orange jumpsuits and shackled us in chains around our hands, waist and feet, I could see the bus waiting for us. This is it, I thought. Finally I could breathe the fresh air again. Finally I could see the sun. You know, it's amazing how much in life you take for granted, like just being outside in the sunshine. I thought of our old back deck at our apartment in Seattle, how we used to sit outside for hours drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes on those rare sunny days. Thoughts of you and days like that fill my mind as I carefully step up onto the bus, making sure I didn't trip over my shackles. God, I miss our old life. How did it turn out like this? I take a window seat and a handsome guy sits next to me. He looks familiar, but I can't place his face. Maybe someone I saw in passing in jail. Or maybe someone from a previous life. He smiles at me though, and it puts me at ease. The bus starts and we roll forward and oh my God, I was literally on my way to prison. The shackles begin to dig into my wrists and ankles, making the entire experience so uncomfortable. But I guess they want it that way, right? Here I was a fucking state inmate on my way to finish out my seven year sentence in prison. What the fuck? Anyway, Conversations pick up between everyone on board. I ear hustle some old prison stories. Some guys talking about their time in different facilities. Others talk about what we're going to expect when we go through classification once we get to Shelton in a few hours. Music starts and Lorde comes on over the speakers. I wonder if you've heard any of her music or if you like her as much as I do. Do you like her? I bet you do. And as her lyrics Played through my head. I remember nights we used to sit and listen to our favorites like Britney and Gaga, watching music videos for hours. Just then, my bus mate looks over at me and says, God, I love this song. I miss just being able to listen to music for hours. It was wild. It was like he was reading my mind. I look back at him and say, well, I hear once we get to where we're going, we can get those little JP4 music players and listen all we want. I can't wait. In that moment, we smile at each other and it comforts me. God, his eyes are so familiar. I have to admit, I've been so fucking lonely. Friendships in here are so fleeting. Once you get close with someone, they leave. And I really miss you. I wonder if we'll ever see each other again. We hit a bump in the road and my bus mate slightly stumbles into me and I feel a jolt, a surge of energy and memories come flooding back into my mind and they're all of you. The drugs, the fights, the degradation of our so called happy life. Committing crime, the arrest.

[Unnamed Male]

Jesus.

[Vic]

Oh my God. What did we do? I look up at my bus mate and his face stares back at me now. So clear. Are you okay, Vic? He asks. It's you. It's been you the whole time. We did this. We destroyed our life together. Became addicts and crime partners together. Was it ever happy? Or was my mind just creating a story? But here we are, once two people in love now. Riding the bus to prison together. Shackled in chains together in orange jumpsuits. Together. I sit in silence for a moment. I think of all the work I've started to do on myself over the past 16 months. Getting sober, rebuilding relationships that we destroyed. Rebuilding my body all on my own. Reclaiming a life that I thought was lost. And I turn to you and say, yeah, I think I will be okay. And I smile, thinking of the life awaiting me in prison without you. We went our separate ways when we got to Shelton. I don't know if I'll ever see you again. But I want you to know that I hope you're happy. I hope you get everything your heart desires and I hope you have an amazing life. It will just be one that will never have me in it ever again. With love, Vic.

[Stephen Edwards]

Welcome to Concrete Mama, the podcast coming to you from the Washington State Penitentiary in Walla Walla, Washington. I'm your host, Stephen Edwards, AKA Red. And you just heard from Vic and a dramatic reading of his real life experience. Riding the chain bus to prison. Pretty Powerful stuff, if you ask me. On today's episode, we take you into the process of intake and arrival and share our personal stories of what it was like for each of us to arrive at prison for the first time.

[Unnamed Male]

The summer of 2009 was the last time I experienced freedom.

[Vic]

I was arrested on March 28, 2013 at the Marriott Town Place Suites in Mukilteo, Washington.

[Unnamed Male]

November 7, 2008.

[Stephen Edwards]

I'd been robbed the day before while trying to sell some heroin. I needed the money so my girl and I could rent a room for a week. We were both living out of hotel rooms at the time and trying to pay for that was an ongoing struggle. So I was dealing with people I didn't normally deal with and I was taking chances I didn't normally take.

[Vic]

The management popped their head in because we hadn't had the room cleaned by housekeeping in a while. They got suspicious from all the Apple product boxes and computers and iPads laying around, so they called the cops on us.

[Stephen Edwards]

It didn't help that we'd been drinking vodka, smoking meth and heroin for weeks. This is what was driving me to steal that man's phone out of his work truck that day. I didn't even think about it. It was automatic.

[Vic]

We ran and got away when we saw them, but we were so high and out of it. Later that night we drove right back to the hotel. So stupid.

[Unnamed Male]

I saw red and blue lights flashing behind me as the state patrol pulled me over on i5 to inform me that I had a warrant for my arrest.

[Stephen Edwards]

When he seen me out of his window and started to chase after me, I pulled this gun I had started carrying since I got robbed and I fired in the air.

[Vic]

I can remember so many cop cars surrounding us with their lights on and and so many guns pointed at us.

[Unnamed Male]

As my heart thumped in my chest and my mouth became dry. Backup officers arrived to the scene and over the bullhorns directed me to step out of the car, walk backwards and then get on my knees.

[Stephen Edwards]

He called my bluff and kept pursuit. A few seconds later I fired again at the ground on the side of the road, this time hitting the bumper of an old beat up vehicle that was parked in a driveway. The neighbor of his was following in a truck that I didn't see. He watched us go to my mom and sister's house where I would get arrested a few minutes later.

[Unnamed Male]

I was arrested around midnight and transferred to the public safety building and was there until about five in the morning when I was interrogated about a shooting and Pushed to tell on my friends for something they didn't do. I eventually admitted it was me after dodging their questioning to keep my friends out of trouble.

[Vic]

On the drive to jail, I just remember thinking, this is it. I'm going away for a long time. But I'm also so grateful it happened because it saved my life and all the fast living was finally over.

[Unnamed Male]

Eventually, I was transported to the county jail where I spent a total of almost five years fighting the charges against me. This was my first time, so the experience sent me in and out of anger with self and deep depression as I navigated the stress of a new world with laws I didn't understand.

The first night in jail, I was on the second floor awaiting my intake and just asking myself, how the fuck do I do this?

[Stephen Edwards]

Now I'm back in jail with my second gun case in the last five years and seven months. I feel terrible, embarrassed, guilty, regretful as well as claustrophobic. I feel like it's the end of the world.

[Vic]

I was detoxing off heroin about a week. I felt like absolute. I had so many court appearances downstairs as they kept stacking new charges on us. The investigation lasted so long because we did a lot of damage. Even the Secret Service got involved.

[Unnamed Male]

I was also searching for adequate legal representation and carrying the struggles of trying to stay connected to my wife and my son. I knew I was in big trouble, but being young, you don't fully grasp that you're no longer in control.

I lost my grandmother, Ola Belle Mae Briggs, while sitting in the county, and I found myself trying to make the best of my situation, all the while dealing with the stress of how much time I was going to receive for my crime.

[Stephen Edwards]

See, I was arrested in 2008 for drugs, a gun, and 17 counts of identity theft. So I was familiar with spending time in jail. The feelings and regret was what I wasn't ready for. They were smothering everything that I did.

[Vic]

There's things about Saint Homish County Jail that still, still stick with me because I spent 16 and a half months there getting my case figured out. And a plea deal created the smell. I can still smell it. Sometimes in the oddest moments, certain soaps or cleaners will remind me of it and take me right back inside. It was the hardest time I did because I didn't go outside and feel the sun on my skin for those 16 and a half months.

[Unnamed Male]

Eventually, I went to trial on my case, which lasted a month.

Being sentenced to three 36 years in prison at 18 years old.

Imagine that and after a guilty verdict, I stood in front of a judge as he handed down a sentence over 30 years. I was only 21 years old when.

[Vic]

I was called down for transport to take the bus to prison from St. Homish County Jail. I was honestly excited. Even the process of getting stripped down naked and put in an orange jumpsuit and shackles didn't really phase me because I was just so thankful to be leaving jail and going somewhere that I could go outside.

[Unnamed Male]

I was put in an orange jumpsuit with no undergarments and given some hard plastic sandals with no socks to wear. Mind you, it is winter during this time and we got a six hour ride ahead of us.

[Stephen Edwards]

Even riding the bus from county to Shelton had somehow become refreshing to me until the feelings would wash back over me again.

[Unnamed Male]

We were now being removed from society. The covered windows on the bus were a symbol that society no longer would see us.

The shackles felt like icicles around my ankles and it was the first time I was uncertain of my future.

[Vic]

I did get pretty excited once we finally got into the town. I could barely make out some vineyards through the slats that were in place of the windows.

[Unnamed Male]

I remember seeing the walls and barbed wire fences and I said to myself, boy, you're going to prison.

[Vic]

Shelton is crazy because you're being processed in the receiving units to be classified and when you step off the bus, you're herded into these cages like cattle.

[Unnamed Male]

And I remember the sound of all the chains clinking away.

I arrived with 10 other men who were all split up in house based on race affiliation or mental health status.

We were all ordered to strip naked and stand next to each other and.

[Vic]

Have to all reach into a box of used underwear to put on. Then you just sit there in this nasty underwear while you get examined and answer questions.

[Unnamed Male]

You feel all the eyes from all the men on you that have been there for some time. Some are looking for friends or familiar faces, some eyes for different reasons.

We were then instructed to lift our genitalia in our arms, open our mouths, turn around and bend over, spread our glutes, turn our head to the left, cough three times and then to the right and repeat.

[Vic]

It's pretty dehumanizing, but I took it with a grain of salt because I could see the sun through the windows and I heard music playing. And later that evening we got yellow and I was able to walk outside in the sunshine for the first time in 16 and a half months. I felt reborn.

[Unnamed Male]

We were sent to medical, then to the clothing room to Receive the colors that paint a prisoner's identity. Khaki with gray T shirts.

We were stopped in the hallway by the unit supervisor, and she said, welcome to prison. This is a place where you will find more drugs than on the street, and it can get violent. If we decide to participate, we'll have a rough time. If we just did our time and went home, we would have a lot easier time.

A sergeant standing by the door said, hey, how much time you got ashamed? I replied, a bunch. He said, you'll make it through this. It's going to take lots of prayer and change. If you do that, you'll be all right.

[Vic]

I can remember a CO named Ms. Sandow led me from the receiving area to my unit. I and told me I had a single man cell. I was like, oh, my God, this is amazing. When I entered it, it was literally the smallest space I'd ever been in. But it was mine and mine alone, and I was so grateful.

[Unnamed Male]

I want to take a moment to. To ask you a question. Could you imagine if everything was taken from you or you were placed in a totally new environment that you had no experience navigating? You couldn't plan for what's next? And each day is filled with question marks. What if you had to leave your family behind or everything you own or your normal? And now each day is filled with survival. For most of you, this is hard to comprehend because in the world, you tend to understand how each day will unfold. There's a level of control and predictability these days. You might be able to sense how reality can be shaken so easily. Think about that. That's why we wanted to talk to my friend and a man who knows all too well the struggles of traveling the prison system. Paris is a person who has experienced this as a young man and now is a mature man who is a father and a husband and also recognizes there's growth in vulnerability. We got a guest here today, man. What's your name, brother?

[Paris]

My name is Paris.

[Stephen Edwards]

What's going on this morning, man? How you doing?

[Paris]

Oh, man, I'm just cooling so, you.

[Unnamed Male]

Know, coming together, man, and talking about this intake, you know, coming through the system. That's what we wanted to kind of have a conversation about today. I think that your story is really unique. You know, you've been in the system how many times?

[Paris]

Oh, this is my second time.

[Unnamed Male]

Your second time being locked up?

[Paris]

My very first time getting locked up, I was 20 years old. I had my 20th birthday while I was in the county jail. So how old are you now 44.

[Stephen Edwards]

Okay, man, your story is intriguing to me because, just like you, I've been to prison twice. Just like you, I'm from Tacoma, you know. How much time did you get your first bid?

[Paris]

They gave me 26 years, 11 months.

[Stephen Edwards]

Wow, man. So that's crazy for me. I only got 60 months my first time, you know. Would you agree that, like, when you're out, after you get out the first time, you're like, I'm never going back? Absolutely, because that's exactly what I was thinking. What was different, your first time and your second time coming into County?

[Paris]

So my first time being younger, I was more susceptible to, you know, the pressures of my environment. When I was younger, I was more violent. Like, somebody say something crazy. So then, therefore, I would respond accordingly. However, this time coming through, the pressure, I would say was greater because I had already experienced it. And, like, there was this feeling of, like, I really blew it.

[Unnamed Male]

Like a weight.

[Paris]

Yes. My first time down at 20 years old, with 26 years, 11 months, you know, we rounded up. It was 27. My first time through, I came in with two individuals that I had knew prior to getting locked up. And we were all around the same age. And literally, we, like. We made this pact, you know, and it was. It was two white guys and a black guy. So we.

[Unnamed Male]

With each other.

[Paris]

Yeah.

[Unnamed Male]

In this land of, like, I don't know what's up.

[Paris]

Nah, we don't know how this looks. We don't know prison politics. We don't know any of those things. But, you know, we had made a pact that, you know, whatever happens is us. We get off the chain bus and, you know, we walk into this room and we go into these cages. It's surreal, man. Like, you know what I mean? Like, I ain't never been in a kennel before. You know, Like, I raised dogs growing up. So now I. I've experienced my first kennel, and there's a whole bunch of men in the kennel with me, and I don't know what people are locked up for. I'm really scared, you know, I wanna. I wanna put it out there, man. Before, I wouldn't have probably had said that, but in my fear of unknown, that heightened my anxiety to the point where now I'm really ready to respond in whatever I have to in order to be able to survive.

[Stephen Edwards]

Yeah, that first building that you get into when you get off the bus.

[Unnamed Male]

Yeah, man, I remember that building. That building is a big telltale for everyone's experience.

[Stephen Edwards]

It looks and smells the same I know both times I went, it was. It looked and smelled. But could you describe it a little bit?

[Paris]

So I'll back up a little bit when we get off the bus. Pain of the leg restraints and then being handed this paper sack with a lunch in it. And then you're funneled into this kennel. We go in the cage. When the last man comes in, you hear the closing of the cage, and they lock it from the outside. So if something was to happen in this building, like, we trapped in this cage. Yeah, you're giving orders. First man up, you're gonna go this way, give your name. Then you go over, and you get this picture. The first time, I remember having to take my hair down. You had to have your hair searched. Really? Everything is a command. It's not, you cannot do this. It's go over there or go over here.

[Stephen Edwards]

After that, you go up to the desk and you gotta talk to the guy. How does that process go for me?

[Paris]

I always felt like it was intrusive. You're asking me these personal questions about me. Don't you already know about me like that? Haven't they already told you about me? So there's a mistrust in that moment. And they then give you the instruction, hey, go down to the bottom of the stairs and then walk through the tunnel.

[Stephen Edwards]

Ooh, that tunnel, man, that was. I remember that tunnel, too.

[Unnamed Male]

We talked about that recently, man. The tunnel. Like, what is the tunnel?

[Paris]

It's like the Green Mile, and you don't know where you're going, but it's an instruction. It's underground.

[Stephen Edwards]

It's ominous.

[Paris]

It's. Yeah, there's nobody down there. You know, there are sounds. You know, if you could ever imagine being in a Freddy Krueger movie, it's something similar to that, you know? And if it's your first experience of that with a whole bunch of people that you don't know.

[Unnamed Male]

Scary.

[Paris]

It's eerie. Yeah. As you walk down the tunnel, the instruction is to go straight through, right? But then you're like, well, where does that go? Because you. You pass these places where you could take a ride. What's down there? Like, yeah, where are we really being led to? And I'm willfully walking to, you know, this place that I don't know where it's at. Everybody walks, and we get down there, and you get to the booth, and then they tell you which one you're going to. Getting to R3 and then experiencing the open bars. It's the noises. You just start to hear these noises. That are not necessarily familiar, but familiar because, you know, it's just.

[Unnamed Male]

It's a prison noise.

[Paris]

People are having conversations and now you're a part of their conversation. So yeah, you don't have no sense of solace because it's always some type of noise. Even though there's a 10 to 10 when it gets quiet now you hear flushings of toilets and you know, little guy is taking a deuce. You know, like it could be multiple flushes late at night, coughs and farts and just sounds.

[Unnamed Male]

Can you explain the 10 to 10 originally?

[Paris]

You know, when you show up, you don't know about a 10 to 10. You know, when we're talking late telling war stories and it's past 10, then you have somebody like, hey man, it's 10 to 10. And most people are like, man, f that don't. What you trying to tell me is don't get in my business. After hearing, hearing that a couple of times, like, you learn there's no talking off the tear outside your bars or being loud after 10 until 10 o'clock in the morning.

[Stephen Edwards]

Was the experience easier for you the second time compared to the first time, or do you still have a lot of the same feelings and emotions?

[Paris]

So the second time for me was much different. Once I got to the bus, I knew where we were going. Some of those same pressures weren't happening. However, I was still feeling the pressure. Like, I can't believe that I'm bad, that this is what's happening to me again.

[Stephen Edwards]

I know exactly what you're saying.

[Paris]

Yeah, right.

[Unnamed Male]

So you. The roles kind of reversed when it came to. You're now the guy on the bus the second time who's got to calm about him because you know where you're going, you can see who's afraid. You can see the young dude who needs some guidance. And you're more like, I don't been through this before.

[Paris]

And I was more accustomed to having the conversations with people about literally don't allow what you hear to be the determining factor or the fear that you feel be the determining factor for you doing something that will cause you more harm in the long run. So the second time around, because I had experienced, you know, 21 years of incarceration, I was able to share with those that I was coming in with this time. Like, listen, don't buy into the hype. I even had to have a pretty harsh conversation with some people that almost tried to get me to buy into their model. And I was like, listen, I already know about that. My Mission is different. You know, I'm coming in. I have bigger fish to fry, which is learning how to be a father from this place, learning how to be a husband in this place. So, you know, the concept of allowing y'all to be the things that lead me. Don't worry about it. I know how to respect everyone.

[Unnamed Male]

Right.

[Paris]

So after going to R3, then I went up to. I want to say R5. Like, we were always in this constant hold of waiting. Right. That's all you want to know is like, where am I going? Where am I going? So back then, 20 years old, there's these sayings. You don't want to go to Walla Walla. Set a.

[Unnamed Male]

That keeps coming up. So that was going on in the.

[Paris]

2000S, and over the tier, you had people that, you know in a. In this high voice. I don't want to go to Walla Walla.

[Unnamed Male]

That was literally a mantra, a joke, a saying, and it still lives today.

[Paris]

Again, joke, mantra. What are you guys talking about? Like, what's really at Walla Walla? You know, like, it could be traumatic, man. So when I went in there the first time and we talked and that question is asked to you, where do you want to go? I want to go to debate.

[Stephen Edwards]

Yeah. That's what I said, too. Anywhere but that side of the mountains.

[Paris]

And now it's a thing that when they ask that question the second time, wherever you send me.

[Stephen Edwards]

Yeah.

[Paris]

I'm not buying into this whole, I have control. I realize I don't have control, and wherever you send me, I'm gonna be okay. That was the. The difference between the first time and the second time.

[Stephen Edwards]

Yeah.

[Paris]

So finding out that I was going to Walla Walla, I was like, all right, I'm going to Walla Walla. Like, I heard all of these things about what's happening at Walla Walla.

[Unnamed Male]

What kind of things did you hear? Even out in the community, the world, because people hear about Walla Walla in the world. Who would never have experiences with incarceration or with the justice system. What are you hearing about Walla Walla?

[Paris]

Well, you hear about, you know, people getting raped, people getting stabbed, people getting shot. If you get in a fight, you can get shot down with an AR15. Just showing up to Walla Walla, especially being affiliated.

[Unnamed Male]

Right.

Gang affiliate.

[Paris]

Gang affiliate. You meet the gang at hand, which is the DLC officers. The captain will show up and let you know, look, we run this up here. We don't care what your STG is. We don't care about none of that. We run this, and when we give you a command, we expect you to follow it. And so being 20 years old, it's like. It's whatever, right. However you want to handle this, do it. But then they give you this piece of paper that says in the case of emergency, essentially, if something breaks out, you to get on the ground. And if not, you're basically giving us permission to shoot you.

[Unnamed Male]

Right.

[Paris]

If. If you don't sign it, you got to go to the hole.

[Unnamed Male]

Oh, yeah.

[Paris]

Either do it or go to the hole. Well, hold on for a second. I've never experienced the hole. What is the hole? The whole don't even sound like a place you want to go to.

[Unnamed Male]

Right.

[Paris]

So forget it. I guess I'm assigned this under duress. You know, you sign this piece of paper, and then in your orange jumpsuit, you're immediately put in a house with somebody that looks like you. So segregation happens immediately.

[Unnamed Male]

So they culturally appropriate.

[Paris]

Yes.

[Vic]

Okay.

[Unnamed Male]

If you're a Mexican, you go with them. If you're black. Okay.

[Paris]

Even in getting in this situation, Right. If you didn't come on the chain with somebody, you know, you're in a cell with somebody, you don't know, it's uncomfortable.

[Unnamed Male]

Where's your family at?

[Paris]

My family was in Tacoma. Me being in Walla Walla, not really knowing geographically where I was, because it was my second time really out of my city.

[Unnamed Male]

What is the connection with your family at that time?

[Paris]

It was broken.

[Unnamed Male]

Because you're young.

[Paris]

Yeah. I was 20 years old, and because of some of the things that I've experienced in my life, like my family structure was broken, you know, and had been since my grandma passed away in 95. So I was alone. The only thing that I had was a. A girlfriend. You know, I had thought I had a child and, like, literally didn't. But that's the only thing that I had as far as the support was a girlfriend. Again, second time. Backing up. The difference between. When I showed up to Shelton, instead of me going with the regular people to the. The kennel, they took me to the infirmary and then put me in a. A smaller kennel due to some of the things, you know, the pressures of, you know, what I was experiencing in the county jail, there was a serious heaviness about the people that I felt like I let down.

[Unnamed Male]

Right.

[Paris]

That I left here. Like, I really mourned when I left Stafford Creek in 2017. Like, I had been with a group of individuals for a long time that.

[Unnamed Male]

Wasn'T going to get the opportunity that.

[Paris]

You had to ever get out. Right, right, right. So going to camp and doing all of those things. Right. So now I'm, I'm back in the same situation and it was heavy. So my mental stability wasn't where it needed to be. Right. So in coming to Shelton, they put me on observation. I'm here now. Right? Like I'm here now. I understand that in order for me to move forward, I have to move forward. Observation was for my mental health and literally to, to question if I was suicidal or not. Right.

[Stephen Edwards]

I didn't know that, man.

[Paris]

Yeah.

[Stephen Edwards]

Sorry to hear that.

[Paris]

Absolutely.

[Stephen Edwards]

That's a rough spot to be in.

[Unnamed Male]

I mean, and I respect your truth, man, because, I mean, you know, you're an amazing person and there's a lot of people around you that, that grow from you. And so we can see clearly, you know, you, you've recovered from that.

[Stephen Edwards]

I gotta say, it was crazy to get a perspective from someone else that came back to prison with even more time than I was facing and to see how many similarities we had between our stories. Demar and I want to thank Paris for his time. I know it isn't easy to be so honest and vulnerable, but that's what you can always expect from us here at Concrete Mama, the podcast. But on a more serious note, most people think they'll never go to prison, but what if you did? How would you handle it? Recently, Damar and I sat down with Chris McGill and Josh Lancaster. You may remember them from the ghost stories in episode four. Chris and Josh are correction specialists here at WSP and run the sustainable practice lab where our podcast studio is housed. Chris and Josh offer their own unique perspective on new arrivals and how best to navigate the prison system. Whether you're newly incarcerated staff, a first time volunteer, or even family coming for a visit. Let's listen to our conversation with him now.

[Josh Lancaster]

Josh Lancaster, program facilitator in SPL and.

[Chris McGill]

Chris McGill, correctional specialist in SPL.

[Stephen Edwards]

And today we're going to be talking a little bit about intake and arrival. So we're just setting the table for what it's like on our end and what it's like on administration's end too, right? Say the staff side. Staff side people that, the people that.

[Josh Lancaster]

Work in these places. Everybody's got a first day in prison, be it you work here, you work your eight hours and then you go home or you're here until the end of your sentence.

[Unnamed Male]

So let me ask you guys this as staff members. What is your advice for new staff members when they come in and it's their first time being in this space.

[Chris McGill]

You've heard me tell this, I was giving a little speech, but like a recommendation, like, I mean, you're going to see some crazy stuff and it's how you deal with that. I mean, you got your prison friends and you got your non prison friends. So when you're, when you're out with your non prison friends and you tell a story about what happened to you today, they're like, what the hell just happened? And then you realize like, oh, it's not really into that. Like, but you're trying to look for that release point. You're trying to do that. So I always tell them, no matter what comes down your day, find something that you can release that before you bring it home to your family or hold on to it personally. And so with that, some release, is it by working out or going for a walk or, and cooking a meal or what like that. It's always important to take care of yourself after this. And you know, I think that's what we're doing here now with the new staff members as it wasn't before like that. So we're trying to take care of each other. We're trying to create a different vibe.

[Paris]

Yeah.

[Josh Lancaster]

Find a way to decompress.

[Chris McGill]

Yeah. Right.

[Paris]

Yeah.

[Stephen Edwards]

What about you?

[Josh Lancaster]

Something that I've always told new people is don't be afraid to ask questions when you start. And I always offer up, if you ever have a question, shoot me an email. You can find my, my desk phone number. If you ever have a question, send me an email, give me a call. I do not mind answering a question. If you have a question about anything in the facility. And I know probably 3% of what there is to know in working corrections. Having worked here eight years, there is so much to know and you'll never know it.

[Unnamed Male]

It's a culture shock.

[Paris]

Yeah.

[Josh Lancaster]

Yeah, it is absolutely a culture shock.

[Unnamed Male]

You're coming to a place where everything is gray, white, khaki, drab.

[Josh Lancaster]

You don't know what to expect.

[Stephen Edwards]

It doesn't matter how many times you, you come through the, the smells and the feelings and it's all always going to be the same, man. It never changes.

[Chris McGill]

When you come into this space, you.

[Unnamed Male]

Got to be, how have you guys survived?

[Chris McGill]

You got to be the same, right?

[Unnamed Male]

Consistent.

[Chris McGill]

Yeah, you got to be, you got to be very consistent of how you can't be wishy washy.

[Paris]

Right?

[Stephen Edwards]

Absolutely.

[Josh Lancaster]

You got to be fair.

[Chris McGill]

Yeah. And I think it comes to the fact of, like, if someone knows your work Habits or like that, or who you are and like that. Then you, you get that respect in that line where like, oh, this guy's always like that. I can count on that. So it's a sense of stability.

[Paris]

Yeah.

[Josh Lancaster]

Don't be afraid to be consistent. I think would be a good piece of advice.

[Chris McGill]

And you know you're going to have your own individual of how you deal with issues or situations or like you got to keep it very, very consistent.

[Josh Lancaster]

Consistency is key.

[Chris McGill]

There's three shifts, man. Right. You got to see everyone, you know, three times a day. I can't take longer in the shower. Or he doesn't like it when you know, this happens or this happens. Like you know, those people with that. So to make it easier for everyone, you guys adapt. And Zo staff, right.

[Josh Lancaster]

What's something that you wish you could tell somebody who's made the mistake of whatever it was they did or going down the road of behavior that leads to making mistakes that result in a prison sentence. That 18 year old kid, the things.

[Unnamed Male]

That you feel so strong about today, when you become 30, it literally won't become a thing. And don't take yourself so seriously. Like when you first come to prison arriving, a lot of men, things go bad because we take ourselves so seriously. Like, lighten up a little bit, man. You know, communicate, get involved. Find a way to make yourself a better person. Because on top of being sentenced, that's already hard. So it's like, find a way to lighten your shoulders, man. Because they didn't ask for your mind, they just asked for time. Yeah, some people give them both. Don't give away your mind and take full responsibility for where you're at as a person because it's already heavy enough. Waking up every day and carrying the load, being away from your family, being away from your mom, your daughter, your dad, your son, whatever that may be. And sometimes that manifests itself in different ways.

[Stephen Edwards]

Yeah, dealing with the stress, dudes choose.

[Unnamed Male]

To fight and do. And I, you know, some dudes choose to just send me to the hole. That's their way of dealing. But I would say, man, just find a way to lighten your load, man.

[Stephen Edwards]

I would say spend your time working on yourself and taking care of yourself and your family. And don't worry about what other people think or pleasing other people that you know, or work on you, yourself and your family, your relationships with, with your family, your close friends, people that actually care about you. You know, when you get in here, if you have to do some time, make sure that you have A program and that you, you're busy, you're constantly busy and you got something to do and just stay out of the bullshit.

[Paris]

Yeah.

[Chris McGill]

I think we're always looking at like your punishment is your sentence, right?

[Paris]

Yeah. Yeah.

[Josh Lancaster]

That's what the Constitution would say.

[Chris McGill]

Yeah. Your punishment is your sins. And to being in prison as a staff member, we're not here to punish anyone. Right, right.

[Josh Lancaster]

You're here as punishment, not for punishment.

[Chris McGill]

Yeah. Like, that's why we're working on programming and rehabbing and getting things better and.

[Josh Lancaster]

Making opportunities for people finding things to make you busy.

[Chris McGill]

Yeah.

[Josh Lancaster]

Keep your mind busy, keep your hands busy.

[Unnamed Male]

Thank you guys, man.

[Josh Lancaster]

Yeah, thanks you guys. It's always fun sitting down with you guys.

[Stephen Edwards]

Appreciate it, man. Thank you, Chris and Josh, for everything you do for us. You guys have been instrumental in getting this program off the ground and keeping it going. We definitely couldn't make the podcast happen without your support every single day.

[Unnamed Male]

For real now, for the moment you've been waiting for. You know you love them. Here's Red's history piece on the bikers club.

[Stephen Edwards]

So in our last episode, I told you about all the different clubs that existed during the Concrete Mama days at the prison here. And as promised, I'm going to take you deeper into the bikers club, which was for sure the most famous. It was even talked about outside the penitentiary. And to hear the wild stuff people say in county jail about the bikers from that era, you'd think that it was total. But today, let me take you down memory lane to a time when the Gypsy Jokers, Hell's Angels, Bandidos, Free Souls and other outlaw motorcycle gangs ran the prison. Vietnam veteran and author of Walls of Secrecy, Kelly Messinger, who had already been through a lifetime at a young age, talks about showing up at the prison at 24 and feeling more mature than the other guys. Right away he came in on a first degree murder charge for the killing of his young wife, which was later found to be false. And after several years, the charges were reversed and he was let out on a full pardon. But in the meantime, he was sent to prison here in Walla Walla where the self governance experiment gone wrong was well underway. He also had a reputation as a bad dude because a lieutenant told the entire morning shift that Kelly was an extreme escape risk, had bomb building skills, was a highly decorated Vietnam vet with experience in naval intelligence and ties to outside radical groups. He said it was basically all exaggerated or false, but had helped to cement him as being a guy you shouldn't with but let's hear from Kelly in his own words.

[Kelly Messinger]

So we go out there into the, like a courtyard and there's guys are heating their coffee up and stuff. Couple cardboard shacks off in the corner. There's all these guys standing around. So I asked, I asked the sergeant, I said, what are all these guys just standing around for? What's going on here? He said, oh, probably half of them are here to see you. Because I had this Wawa Union bulletin had enhanced my reputation. And then Lieutenant Henderson and A.J. crawley, the associate superintendent lieutenant, had put out a memo saying that I was a grave escape risk because I was at oni, the Navy Office of Naval Intelligence. I did have a secret queen. That's true. So I had gotten all this publicity from the prison itself. If it's put on a memo, it's true. It's a word from God. If it's on a memo, that's, that's.

[Paris]

The way it is.

[Kelly Messinger]

So it's on this memo that I'm an escape risk. Maybe belong to the Weatherman organization. Bomb maker.

[Stephen Edwards]

Because of Kelly's rep, plus the fact he was a local who had been living in the town of Walla Walla and knew more about the area and the people that worked here, he was made part of the prison Motorcycle association without hesitation. Back then you had to prospect for three months as a newcomer to prison if you weren't already part of an outlaw biker gang. But Kelly's situation was different. People thought highly of him. He was a good worker and skilled tradesman, and he said he provided a lot of useful information to the club's leadership. These things combined quite quickly earned him a high ranking spot in the bike shop. And he ended up being the vice president. This meant he was personally involved with helping make the club a force to be reckoned with. And this was in large part due to Kelly being a great community organizer. They formed a public relations committee and contacted people and groups on the outside seeking sponsorship and help. Kelly became head of the public relations committee and since he could type, he hand typed letters to every motorcycle shop in Washington and Oregon asking for donations to help with teaching prisoners motorcycle skills. They even wrote politicians at the state and federal level. And within six months, donations were coming in from congressional members, judges, attorney generals, the sheriff's department and bike shops all over the country. Then president of the motorcycle club, Mike Abrams, started teaching prisoners how to repair motorcycles. And on Fridays during 4pm Count, when everyone else had to be in their cells, they took the Harleys out on the yard. Prison officials permitted up to five bikes and 10 bikers to take test runs in the empty yard. I can't imagine what that would have been like, riding a motorcycle while everyone else was stuck in their cell. They must have felt like kings. The bike shop even became so powerful that it couldn't be searched by prison staff without authorization from the club's leadership. There was a lieutenant at the time named Dodd, and he said that because of short staffing, the prison didn't have the manpower to conduct cell or clubhouse searches. If a guard was pursuing an inmate for an infraction and a clubhouse door stopped him, there was no going beyond the locked door without the club's permission. But don't take it from me. Hear it in Dick Morgan's own words. We heard from Dick in a previous episode about Dr. Hunter's third floor mental health program. Back then he was a corrections officer, but later became secretary of the Washington doc.

[Chris McGill]

There were places I as an officer couldn't go unless an inmate with a key unlocked the door, for example, couldn't get into the Lifers club unless a lifer RGC member was there to open the door. So that's kind of how I thought it slid off the rails was through the. This democratic principle of managing prison policy and negotiating with the inmates over what was appropriate policy and what wasn't.

[Stephen Edwards]

That's crazy to me. These guys actually had keys to buildings that officers didn't have. There's no way that would happen today. And check this out. The bike shop even had to approve of the prison guard's application for promotion. So if you were a guard and you wanted a better job, the bikers had to give the okay. When the warden, B.J. ray, was replaced, bike shop members also sat on the panel that chose the new warden. Kelly said that despite popular belief, bikers weren't supposed to use drugs. Apparently they ended up losing a lot of their members because they couldn't leave the drugs alone. He said it made them unreliable. However, they found another way to make those ex members useful. President Mike Abrams decided they'd make a secret secret police modeled after the German secret police during World War II, making Kelly the head of it. The Black Prison Reform Unlimited agreed to support this effort because it would help rein in some of the prison violence. Senseless violence was bad for everyday business. So if a mentally ill person was making threats against somebody or some rogue prisoner was planning a murder, they wanted to know about it. That way they could try and stop it before it got out of hand. So they paid Dragons, drug dealers, users and other people who were privy to underground info to tell them anytime something that wasn't sanctioned was going to happen. This was about as crazy as it sounds. And you might be wondering why the Washington State Penitentiary wasn't known as the worst in the country at the time like Attica or San Quentin. And it really boiled down to two reasons. One was because of the smaller population size compared to those New York and California prisons, but also because a lot of murders were ruled as suicides or just swept under the rug. Anyone who was around back then would tell you the same thing. The motorcycle club continued to run the penitentiary for Most of the 70s until administration and the state of Washington had had enough. In 1979 alone, an officer was murdered, a cell house was destroyed, and a group of the incarcerated were forced to sleep on the big yard for over 30 days because of a riot. A prisoner even said he was sodomized by staff with a night stick. And a major class action lawsuit was filed against the penitentiary. But that's all a story for another episode. The point is, the bikers club and the whole self governance experiments came to a screeching halt. Long gone are the days of riding your bike on the big yard and having keys to your own clubhouse. You'll be lucky to get a job driving a golf cart for a few minutes and having a key to your cell that lets you in and never back out. But the good news is, there are a lot of other opportunities to do stuff to make your life better while incarcerated. Sure, you can sit around the day room and play cards, or sit in your cell and watch TV all day, but you're never going to become a better person because of it. Follow the lead of those people around you who are making the most out of their time by taking classes or learning a trade. If you can go outside, work out, or pick up a book and read something that will help you in the future, never give up. And speaking of not giving up to you out there in the free world, whether you're driving your car right now, walking the dog, or listening to this on your break at work, your life can always get better as well. What are you doing in your life right now to make things better for you and the people around you? You might feel like you don't have any agency right now, or you're overcome with fear and anxiety about what you can actually affect to make things better for your community and the world. But here's the thing. We can all become better people. We just have to put in the work and not expect someone to give it to us. It's real easy for us on the inside to get stuck, but if we can get proactive and push through, so can you. We want to thank you for listening to this week's episode of Concrete Mama, the podcast. And stay tuned next week to hear more of my life story and how I worked on putting my life back together from behind bars. Here's a sneak peek. He passed away in my last year at OCC in 2011. I was trying to get out of there so I could see him in person one last time, but he didn't make it, man. He got cancer and he couldn't make it until I got out. You know, that's another reason I'm so hard on myself about this prison. Don't miss it.

[Rachel Check]

We would like to thank Paris Miller for sitting down with us on this episode and also to Nina Shapiro and Erica Schultz of the Seattle Times for their cover story of the podcast. That's it for this episode of Concrete Mama, but before we go, here's who makes it happen. Zach Bentz is our editor, audio engineer and graphic designer. Megan Sanchez handles our social media content and audience engagement. Vic Chopra and me, Rachel Check are the showrunners and executive producers. Washington State Penitentiary in Walla Walla and Washington State Doc have made this project possible. For more info, check out our show notes and you can write us with questions about the podcast at the email and address listed there. We will read and answer some of them on future episodes. You can also subscribe to support us and get extra content. Concretemama is more than a podcast. It's a platform for voices that need to be heard. If this episode resonated with you, share it, support it, leave us a five star rating and keep listening. You can find unincarcerated productions on Instagram, Facebook, TikTok and various other social media platforms. Thanks for listening.