The Maximum Security U.S. Penitentiary Experience: “Bloody Beaumont”
Introduction
Not all prisons in the federal system are the same. At one end, there are Club Fed camps. At the other, maximum-security U.S. Penitentiaries. These are for the most dangerous criminals in the nation.
A ONE-WAY TICKET TO HELL
Before sentencing, offenders stay in a federal pretrial detention center. I spent about two years there. The constant warning? Avoid Beaumont Penitentiary, aka Bloody Beaumont.
Guess where I was sent? Yes, Beaumont. It was going to be a long 30 years.
A SENSE OF IMPENDING DOOM
The bus ride to the Pen was 12 hours long. Shackled and chained, I felt a sense of impending doom. As the bus approached the prison, rain poured down—an ominous sign.
My case manager was surprisingly kind. She noted my background as an investment broker and seemed genuinely worried for me. Her advice? Don’t borrow or accept anything from the "whites."
A NEW WORLD
Walking into the housing unit was surreal. It was a shock. I felt like prey among predators. Everything moved fast. Inmates were grouped by race and gangs. I was the outsider, and everyone was trying to figure me out.
My bunkmate was Rick. He’d spent seven years at SuperMax for murdering his cellmate.
THE MAYHEM ENSUES
On my way to dinner, there was a beatdown. We hit the dirt. The victim was carted away, and the mass feeding continued. This was normal here. It felt like an alternate reality.
That night, I aimed to lose myself in books. But a mini-riot broke out. About 50 inmates were fighting. At the Pen, if you don't hit the ground, you risk being shot by sharpshooters. It felt like a warzone.
40 DAYS OF BOLOGNA SANDWICHES AND SINK BIRDBATHS
After the riot, the prison went into 24-hour lockdown. This could last weeks or months. We showered in sinks and ate bologna sandwiches. My roommate, Rick, was mellow as long as he had his pills and art.
THE HOLE: A PRISON WITHIN A PRISON
I was attacked by a toothless guy with nazi tattoos and ended up in solitary confinement. My new cellmate in the hole was a lunatic. It was a tiny space, like a bathroom with two steel bunks, 24/7. He was clearly mentally ill and had a razor blade. He made threats about cutting my throat while I slept. It was terrifying.
BACK TO GENERAL POPULATION
After four months, I returned to general population. Surprisingly, I was well-liked and respected. I stayed true to myself, which earned me some respect. I made friends, including with some bikers. I even helped reduce a biker's sentence by finding a legal flaw.
HOPELESSNESS SETS IN
Life in the Pen was a cycle of violence and lockdowns. I was constantly tired. I focused on studying law, working out, and avoiding trouble. But the thought of 30 more years was overwhelming. I isolated myself from the outside world to cope.
SOFTBALL SEASON AT THE PEN
I joined the softball team for some normalcy. But a large riot ended the season quickly. My coach, a gang member, murdered a teammate and was sentenced to death. Violence was inescapable.
A PREDICTABLE NIGHTMARE
Violence became routine. Stabbings and beatings were common. It was a monotonous cycle of chaos. I questioned why I was in such a dangerous place and discovered a mistake in my custody scoring. I wasn’t supposed to be there.
I experienced the full prison experience, à la Bloody Beaumont.
