| Return To Paul Colella's Webpage |
Animal Instincts by Paul Colella
Yesterday is a day I'll remember for
the rest of my life; it was the day
I was reduced to an animal. But let
me take you back a little ways.
On the Ellis1 Unit where Death Row was
housed for more than 20 years, I
met Richard Cartwright. Through our
passion for tattoos, we became
friends. I being the artist and he
being the collector. On Ellis1 they
had a work program which if housed
on a work capable wing, you had a
cell partner. Rich and I became cell
partners. We shared our lives with
one another. He wrote to my mother,
I wrote to his. We became close
friends and eventually formed a bond,
some would say is closer than
blood. We consider each others brothers.
Not only did Ellis have a
work program, they also let us use
our hands and minds in a creative
manner. Through arts and crafts some
guys made jewelry, some wood
crafts, painting, drawing, model
cars, even things as tame as knitting
scarfs and hats from yarn.
We had group recreation where we could
go to the yard, (a big cage like
at the zoo) pick teams and play basketball,
handball or volleyball. Or
we could sit and watch T.V., play dominos,
chess or scrabble. Social
interaction is a human need. In all
20 years Death Row had less
percentage of disciplinary problems
than the whole system.
In 1998 it all changed due to the lazy
guards, 7 men attempted escape.
The guards weren't doing their security
checks as they were required to.
So, all the fault lies with them, yet
we were punished. We were shipped
to the terrible Terrell Unit which
after first opening, an inmate was
brutally beaten to death by several
guards and their supervisors.
Now called the Polunsky Unit, (the change
after Charles T. Terrell
didn't want his name associated with
Death Row) the brutality continues
today yet, because of international
attention the guards do not take it
to the same extremes as in the past.
They're now content with a few
punches or kicks here and there. Though
the use of chemical tear gas is
so prevalent that the walls and bars
are coated so bad that if you brush
up against them, it burns your skin.
Whenever gas is used they're
supposed to decontaminate the area.
In the 2 years of watching and being
part of the gassings, I've yet to see
them decontaminate a cell or area
that the gas was used in. The walls
have human outlines where they were
sprayed.
We are in isolation solitary confinement
23 hours a day with no means of
creative expression. We are not allowed
to partake in schooling or
G.E.D. classes. We are not allowed
to attend religious services. There
is no T.V. and no access to newspapers,
books or magazines for those who
have no one on the outside, who will
order these things for them.
The clothes they give us are often damp
and smell of the last persons
use. We are provided no winter clothes.
Food is of a quality and
quantity barely sufficient to stop
hunger. Men are looking like victims
of concentration camps.
Guards are not trained to deal
with Death Row inmates. They laugh and
joke about executions, and a
condemned mans last words. They talk about
parties held to celebrate an execution.
What little property that we are
allowed is often stepped on or drug
through the water. Basically
violated and vandalized. Our grievance
procedure is a running joke with
the guards who know that unless a Captain
or higher witness misconduct,
they can get away with whatever they
want.
On 1-11-02 my friend and brother fell
victim to the brutality and
misconduct. A guard continued to push
and push till Rich spit in his
face. When told to submit to hand restraints,
Rich refused thinking the
guards would handcuff and beat him.
Chemical gas was shot at him 2 times
and 5 riotgear dressed guards ran into
his cell and proceeded to punch
him in the face. This was the final
straw for me. I have been protesting
conditions and treatment here for 2
years. I've filed grievances, I've
written to the wardens, my letters
being passed down to the lieutenant,
who just mentioned that the warden
sent it on to him. I've written to
the Texas Abolition Movement and several
articles pleading for help.
After no reply, I lit fires, I flooded,
I refused to come in from
recreation. I refused to walk from
the shower to my cell. I've done
everything possible to get something
done with no results.
On 1-12-02, I was reduced to an animal.
I took the actions of an animal.
I put feces inside a shampoo bottle
and waited. When the guards came to
get my tray, I refused to put my arm
back in from the food slot so it
could be closed. I told the officers
(who, by the way were a couple of
the fair ones) that I wanted to see
a supervisor. A sargent was called.
This sargent happened to be one of
the more fair ones. I told him I had
no problem with him but that my brother
was beaten the night before and
I'd like to talk to the lieutenant.
A few minutes later I saw a lieutenant
and an assistant warden headed my
way. My heart pounded in my chest because
I had the rare opportunity of
making a point by getting a warden
to listen.
When the two got in range, I squirted
them both with feces. The hoots
and heckles from my fellow inmates
told me that others were just as
frustrated and angry as I am. And as
the warden and lieutenant ducked
and dodged feces, I steeled my human
heart and feelings of shame and for
those few minutes I became exactly
what they have been treating me as,
an animal!
When it was over and done, they came
with 7 guards, 5 in riot gear, one
lieutenant with a gas canister and
one guard with a camera. I yelled at
the top of my lungs that I was not
resisting and would submit to
restraints because if I had not yelled,
the sergeant would not have
acknowledged my submission and would
have shot the gas into my cell two
times and then the riot gear dressed
officers would have run in and hurt
me so I submitted. They pulled me out
of my cell and took all of my
property and intentionally dragged
it through the feces. They turned all
of my water off and left me in my cell
with only a matress and a pair of
underwear. It's January and cold.
About 30 minutes later the warden comes
to my cell to at first curse me
which is understandable. I yell and
scream my reasons while he tells me
that it is my own fault. This would
be true if I were in fact guilty of
the crime that I was put here for.
I am not! Even if I were guilty, I
shouldn't be subjected to the conditions
and treatment that's shown
here.
After it is all over, I lay on my mat
shivering in the cold and fall
asleep. In the morning when I woke
up, I was given bread or food loaf
which is basically dough with raisins
in it. A few hours later the
warden again came to my cell, this
time he wanted to reassure me that he
would not risk his career by "beating
my ass" but that when and if the
day came , he would be there to witness
justice being served as I was
executed. This is the type of person
they have to oversee us. I'm not
mad at him for his ignorance of my
case is at fault. Here we have a man
in a position of authority who has
no idea what I'm here for nor the
circumstances of the crime I am here
for, yet he, like so many others,
believe that if a person is here then
he must be guilty. I am not and I
refuse to silently accept the brutality
and mental torture which is so
prevalent here at the Polunsky Unit
in Livingston Texas. Texecution,
US.A.
Now that my humanity has returned I
feel ashamed by my actions. Here is
another human being and even though
he is a part of a system that has
taken all I have in my impulsive animalistic
behavior I subjected him to
a very degrading act. .....But does
that make me an animal? No it does
not. It shows me to be a very frustrated
and angry innocent man. ...When
you take any man let alone an innocent
man like me put me in a solitary
world take me away from my family and
friends, take all my incentive for
good behavior totally degrade me, gas
me and leave me with no means of
creative expression or social interaction
and then tell me I must accept
whatever happens to me in silence because
it is all my fault, what is
left for me to do? Who can I complain
to? Who will help me? I have filed
the complaints, I have written letters
to beg and plead. I have
protested non violently and now I have
been reduced to acting out like
an animal. What is left? Should I just
slip over the edge into insanity
to cope with my situation in ignorance
and unaware bliss? .....what is
left?.....Help me please......Paul
Colella
| Return To Paul Colella's Webpage |
