I've been saying for years to the deaf, dumb and blind that America's favorite pastime is not baseball, but rape. We rape everything: the environment, definitely children, even our own future. We've created a system that derives much "profit" by it but really, people who are going to rape are going to do it regardless. The most dangerous rapists are the ones who say, "If I'm not touching you then it's not rape!" And they say this smiling even as you drink the ground water they've so profitably poisoned.
It happens in broad daylight yet the so-called outrage is highly selective. To use the example above, it's easy to find articles on people and animals sickened and killed by willful industrial poisoning but the outcry is very faint. Some lives count, some don't, apparently. Once again I ask, can someone please send me that list so I'll know! I know I'm being impractical and divisive according to the likes of our President so I need to be taught on the compromising ways of "pragmatic" rape.
Here in our Texas prisons, we're quite fond of rape. Ask any guard, it's not about rehabilitation, it's about punishment. But the man who's eager to punish is the man who's eager to hide hide his sin - which only makes him all the more motivated. Everything is the opposite of what it seems. The greater a man cries out to be tough on crime the greater the criminal he is. People is funny!
So what happens when the nightmare happens to you in prison? You find out just how lost this world is. To whom can you turn? As far as the word is concerned, your name has been removed from the book of life. Solid citizens feel free to look away. You don't make the cut for national outrage. "What's the big deal?" shrugs our moral establishment. "It's not like showing a female nipple at our great and holy Super Bowl."
Two false wars, total economic collapse and a lack of reforms.
None of that has caused the outrage of this act!
None of that has caused the outrage of this act!
That's where I was left. And yet even knowing the complete futility I faced, in the heat of the moment of the aftershocks you have to tell somebody - even if it's the foul-faced guard of Gerald O'Malley. That dick. He told me to stop whining and to suck it up. When I pressed further he got angry and threatened me. I told him he would regret that.
"Don't threaten me, you punk!"
"I'm not threatening you. It's you who does it to yourself."
"Whatever. Get back to your cell or the next time I hear about this I'm putting you in isolation."
Isolation, of course, is another rape. It's how we fix the world! Three months later after my release, I decided to put that theory to the test. Greetings, Mr. O'Malley, your rape is now ready. All aboard! We're about to make the world a better place - according to the logic of the world.
Our man Gerald lived a nice lower middle class life with his wife and daughter. One morning he came out to find two flat tires on his car. His wife and daughter left with their pressing engagements of work and school respectively. As I saw him pop back into the house for something I greeted him on his return to the front door with a snub nosed Wembley and murder in my eye. Having induced so many looks of hatred before, Gerald boy knew mine to be serious.
"Officer O'Malley! How good to see you! Should I kill you now or do it later."
I didn't really want to kill him then. That would spoil the fun. But removing this wart from the face of the earth would cause not a whit of consternation on my part. I realize that some cannot discern between a madman who chops off a body part in spite and a doctor who amputates. The act is the same, but one destroys life and the other preserves it. I was in full blown doctor mode and if the patient chose not to reform his gangrene ways, then so be it.
"Get out of here before I call the police!"
That old tired bluff. But I let my eyes speak for me. I had come prepared to shoot and walk away. Germs like O'Malley knew when you are serious or not, reading you like a pawn shop owner who refuses to give a dime more. I acquiesced to his request, raising my gun in silent terror.
"Wait! Don't shoot!" It wouldn't be the last time he'd ask me to wait.
"Recognize these? Put them on behind your back."
I got the usual protests. The man was livid and outraged. Hey, you'd think someone was raping him! He hurled useless accusations at me, terrified of not knowing which of his sins had brought me there. I took a second set of cuffs and placed them on his ankles. A third set left him hogtied as I connected the previous two. Lastly, I connected a pair to a doorknob to the one between his hands and feet, effectively hamstringing all movement.
"You boys always were big fans of the hogtie."
"Taught by the best!"
Outside the front door I retrieved the baseball bat I had stashed there. Gerald took that as a bad sign.
"You son-of-a-bitch! I'll kill you, you cocksucker!"
"My, my, how your cursing affects my Christian ears. If you continue I'll have to discipline you!"
I replied with a vicious blow to his upper arm. Then I used his own previous words against him. "You asked for it, not me. It's all about the rules here, boy!"
"I'll kill you for this!"
"Eh, assuming you survive. But I do hope you understand we cannot allow chaos to the system." Gerald's brutality was often inflicted in the name of removing chaos.
"Go to hell."
"No, that's where I'm sending you. Now I'm asking you: why didn't you report my rape? I warn you ahead of time, you get no chances with me." The "no chances" phrase was another point of pride in Officer O'Malley's reign of regret.
"You punks deserve what you get!"
"Likewise, I'm sure." The bound beast howled with a bone splitting smack to the shin, followed by a sharp pointer to the hip. That's all these people can understand!
"I can keep this up all day long. Hours before anyone gets back. I've been staking your place out. Let's make this easy. I'll keep popping your sorry ass and you can can tell me when you're ready to answer." I raised the bat without an ounce of lament.
"Wait! Wait!" See, I told you he'd be saying that word a lot! "I don't know what kind of sick game your playing but I swear I'll kill you when I get out!"
"I'm playing the Gerald game, boss! Batter up!"
"Wait! I can't stop every rape. There's no point in reporting it! Just leave me alone!"
"Sounds to me like you just need to suck it up! Hey, any point in reporting this, I wonder. All well, looks like prisoner Gerald is going to be a hard case. I hate hard cases!" A smack to his upper leg confirmed the point.
"Jesus fucking Christ! I answered your question!"
"Cursing again! Gig for Bean! Zero tolerance!" The boy wailed with another tap, his will starting to break.
"What kind of monster are you?"
"And how many times have you caused that question to be asked! Let's try this again: why didn't you report my rape?"
"I don't care about you! I don't care what happens to you animals!"
"Now there's an honest answer! You do know, of course, that beating the truth out of you is the only way?" Gerald boy almost let loose with another curse but stopped - he was learning! Who says you can't rehabilitate? "So now tell me why it was wrong for you not to report it."
"I already said! There's no point! No one's going to do anything about it. It's just the way it is."
"An enlightening conversation! Here's your last chance to answer. Make it as painful as you want it to be!"
The struggle within between the physical, mental and emotional anguish was a sight to see. Like a fish fresh out of the water, Gerald twisted and turned, inflicting even more pain on himself. Instinctively he knew he was being cornered. Far more than the mere life in his body was at stake. He faced losing his religion, his right to claim a family.
I paid him no mind, rubbing the bat as if it had been bruised. Was a thing of beauty watching the words be forced out. I knew the psychology of the guarded: no matter how hopeless, the prisoner will turn to you for support. The feeling of abandonment refuses all reason.
"Because why?" I prompted as a grade school teacher coaxing a student.
Again, the mammoth struggle between life and death. Finally, life won.
"Because no one should be raped..."
"Bravo! Give that retard a prize!"
I knew Bound Boy was furious with himself for the feelings of gratefulness he was now feeling at having received my approval. But that was his only refuge in the storm and he had too much at stake not to want to live. Time for the trial.
"I now stand before you as your judge, jury and executioner. If you feel outraged by my gall then you've never been in the wrong end of a courtroom. Let us look at the evidence you presented. You admit I was raped. You admit no one should be raped. You admit you did nothing about it. Just how do you think you should be punished!"
With the truth forced out, defiance had vanished. Officer O'Malley knew he was guilty as charged. He'd lived in secret fear of this conviction his entire career.
"You can't blame me for everything! They're all like that! I can't fix the system. I've got to feed my family!"
"Nothing to be done, huh?"
"That's right! Not a damn thing will make any difference. It's a sorry state of affairs."
"Aren't you even sorry for what happened to me?"
"Of course, I am!" He looked up at me with a phony pleading look.
"OK, time for your sentencing. I hate to do this, but nothing can be done - not a damn thing! And, of course, I'm sorry!"
Poor Gerald knew fear like he'd never known before. Once he'd let back in the desire to live it had wiped out any resistance. He was ready to commit - and for a fleeting second he thought it was all over with scott free. To have that hope crushed broke him as a man. How many countless times had he relished bringing a prisoner to that point?
"There's only one possible sentence. I'm heading out to your garage and getting the broom stick which should make for a perfect fit right in your arse! Remember, don't struggle! Only makes it hurt more!"
Now Gerald knew true fear. Fear of a life being irrevocably changed, altered to a course against his will. I took great satisfaction in him screaming out his protests. He'd often bragged at having listened to such screams before and laughed. Sunshine was not happy with my return.
"You can't do this! I said I was sorry! What more do you want! I got a wife and daughter! Please help me!"
Instead, I took a pair of scissors to cut off his guard pants.
"You know something, Gerald boy, this is really hawt! Bet you're gonna like this. I know I will! But what I don't understand is how you'll ever be able to look your wife in the face again."
"Oh, God in heaven please help me."
"God doesn't help sinners like you, convict. I so cannot wait to see the look on your face after you're half a man. You're going to have to squeal too or it won't come out!"
"This is madness! It's all madness! What do you hope to accomplish? Oh God, please don't!"
"Are you saying you don't deserve to be punished? Think before you answer!"
Surprisingly, he did. "Yes, I deserve to be punished. But please don't do this. Just don't do this..."
By this time both his pants and boxers had been cut off and removed. Not a pleasant sight. I'd left the broom propped against the wall in direct sight of the convict, letting imagination have its effect.
"Well, damn," I drawled. "I'm such a contrarion that just to hear you say you deserve to be punished makes me not want to do it. And just between you and me, I bet that broom handle is grateful too."
"Oh, God, Jesus, thank you." Gerald collapsed. The fist adrenaline rush had worn off allowing the full effect of the bruises to be felt. The mental anguish of having to admit his sins was even worse. To be presented with promising daylight of a way out left him woozy and listless.
"Tell you what I am going to do, though. This is Thursday. Your daughter comes home in the afternoon early this day. Boy, will she have a sight to see! But don't forget, the only way out is the truth."
"No! No! Let me out of here!" Dazed life tried to force a return but the energy was gone.
"I'll be looking to read about this in the paper. Know what? Bet this becomes a viral thing! Here's a picture for posterity." My phone camera flashed its light. "I'll be sending this up to the big house. Warden Patton is going to love it!" Feeble words of protest were attempted. "Remember what you guys always say: anyone who's raped actually wants it? All I can say is, so glad to give you what you want!"
CODA: Time for my prophesy, for Gerald to become his own jailer or a freedom fighter. If he kept the truth inside it would rot him to the core. Over time, even the most outrageous of accusations would torture him in doubt as he'd begin to believe he really did wish for a raping. But if he came clean on my motives, admitted his horrendous behavior and stood tall for prisoner's rights and lives he'd be a free man.
Officer O'Malley never did return to the prison unit. The warden gave him leave but encouraged his quitting. The guard who'd been his best friend turned on him, call Gerald a "fucking fag". Many former prisoners took wild glee in the photo of the handcuffed hypocrite and their online taunting forced Gerald to realize what a trail of hatred he'd left in his cocooned existence. For every person he'd meet for rest of his life, Gerald's first and always thought would be, "Do they know? Do they know?"