FCI Allenwood-Low was divided into four units and the SHU. The units were named after the surrounding areas and James “Dope” Bezel was housed on Brady Unit. He had returned from his job cleaning the rec yard and stopped in the CO office to see if he had any mail. He did. There was a note left in the mail box for his cubical that indicated that he had legal mail. He headed through the TV room and passed 30 or so inmates crowded around the TV watching 106 and Park. They had nothing else to do with their lives and Dope hated that.
They were all relaxed and seemed to be very comfortable with where they were. He hated it and didn’t ever act different. He was a feared inmate because many knew that he was known for wrecking any one’s day that created a problem in his world. That related to staff and inmates. He had calmed down and made his way down from the penitentiary to a medium prison and now a low, but he was that same ol’ ferocious man that was first admitted into the BOP. He had not changed much from the day that he was locked up and housed at the Philadelphia Federal Detention Center. He had since been in all sorts of federal jails. Until he had had enough of being locked in the SHU and being shipped from jail to jail, he did what he wanted. He still did just smarter.
After he passed through the TV room, which had 12 TV’s to accommodate the idiots, he was on the A-Side of the block. He bypassed a bank of telephones, a game room and a smaller news TV room. He walked up a short hallway to his counselor’s office and asked for his legal mail.
“Sure, Bezel,” the counselor said. “I don’t have it. It was accidentally delivered to the lieutenant’s office. Here’s a pass to run up there and get it before count.” The man handed him a paper pass after he wrote the date and time on it.
“Oh. Okay,” Dope said. He was confused. How was there a notice for him to pick up legal mail, if the mail was not on the block?
I ain’t ever been a dummy, Dope thought as he left the counselor’s office. He walked to the community bathroom and dipped into one of the stalls. He reached into his boxers to the briefs underneath and pulled the sandwich bag of weed that he carried there out. He palmed it and knew that someone was going to tell on him. He did not smoke, so he would pass a urine test if they tricked him to the lieutenants office for a piss test.
“Hey, youngin’ lemme holla at you,” he said to a young buck from DC as he passed his cube.
“What’s good, OG?”
“Lemme see you bout something. I need you to take care of something for me.”
Dope led him to the last shower stall in the shower room. That was where everyone smoked when the guards were occupied.
“Yo, OG, I don’t smoke.”
“I know, that’s why I need you to hold this package for me until I come from the LT office. They just tried to get me up there on some other shit.”
“Ok, I can do that,” the kid said apprehensively. He tucked the weed in his left sock and said, “Is that it?”
“Yeah, man. I got you when I come back.”
“When is that going to be?”
“I don’t know. Just guard that and I got you,” Dope said and left the shower room.
When he passed the large TV room he bumped into one of his cube mates.
“Yo, man, you got legal mail,” his cellie said.
“Come here, Yo,” Dope said and pulled him in the corner. “Yo, they say my legal mail is at the LT office. I am about to head up there. Make sure they pack all my shit if I don’t come back. You got that?”
“Yeah, I’m not going to let ya shit get stolen. What’s up, though?”
“Man, I don’t know, but there’s no way I have legal mail up there in that office.”