To whom it may concern....

Tyree came to me last week and he asked me : "If you could write anything about anybody, who would you write about, and what would you write ?” I told him that I would have to think about it, He said “Take your time, but when your figure it out, write ! Whoever it is... Whatever it is about, because I have a few friends who would love to hear it.”

I must confess that I lied when I said I would have to think about it, because I already knew; If I was to write about anybody, it would be about “Bumpy”. He was the first person I met in prison. He saved my life in more than one way.

I came to prison in the early 80's back when a white boy didn't stand a chance down here. I mean, us Caucasians did not stand a chance back then... we were often the victims or rape, merciless beatings, and extortion. It wasn't nothing to see a white guy who was perfectly fine one day and the next he was the property of some gang. I came back when killing in here was just as normal as eating.

I was 17 back the, I had no idea what to expect in regards to prison life, and I so naive. I trusted too many people, and it almost cost me more than I was willing to pay. See, in here, back then, it did not matter who you were, you were expected to fight, and if you did not, you were labeled as a “girl”, and treated as one. Your opinion, your wants... they were nothing. Once you got labeled, there was no turning back you had to be with someone, girls could not stand alone, and if you tried... lets just say that you would not last long.

So, when I came in, and people told me that “I” didn't have to fight... that I would be : “taken care of”, I believed it. I thought I had friends. Because I did not have money, people bought me hygiene and food. If other people tried to start a fight with me, my “friends” would step in. And man, I was so grateful because I was scared to death. I had never had a real fight before, and truly watching the way these guys fought, it was like watching professionals. So, I did what I was told, and I never asked questions.

But as I soon learned, not too many people in here do something for nothing... my “friends' started asking me for things I wasn't in to, and when I did start saying no, they said : “you owe us !!! The only reason you haven't been beat to death is because we protect you... the only reason some niggas ain't got you selling your ass for them is because of us ! At least with us, you won't be treated badly and you will be taken care of. You ain't got no money homeboy, you are going to need somebody.” I didn't know what to do, I felt trapped and scared beyond words, because I had seen how a lot of the younger guys were being treated, I wanted no parts of that. I felt that letting them “have” me was better than being beat half to death, or having to sale myself or taking a chance on being killed.

Bumpy was my cellmate, he never said much. He was real quiet, but he was well respect in here. I guess that he saw what was going on with me and my situation, because he asked me : “Say slim, why you just don give yourself away like that ? You know once you in, you cannot get out ? You will forever be known as a girl ?” I told him “Yeah, I know, but the truth is I'm scared. I don't know how to fight, I don't have nobody or nothing to lean on. I gotta survive !é He said : “See, why yall young kids think you know it all, think you got it all figured out, until you get some where that it's too much for your little asses to deal with. It's only then that you realize that you are just a kid who don't know nothing about life, or sacrifices, or survival. * I got half a mind to let you learn the hard way....”

But, he didn't, he stood up for me... he talked to me... he saved me, because I know that I would never have been able to live a real life if I had been made to live my life that way.

Bumpy taught me everything, he taught me how to fight, he taught me how to read and to write, he fed me, he bought me shoes and t-shirts, and he made me a birthday cake every year. He use to tell me “Hey white boy !! I hate you !” I always smiled, and responded :”I hate you too black boy!” He said : “You better”. I learned so much from him, because he was the very definition of leading by example. He always kept his word, he was very meek and gental. So much so that if you did not know Bumpy, you wouldn't believe that he was one of the greatest boxers to ever come out of a penal system. He wasn't violent.... He always told me : “You train to fight so that you won't have to fight. Never raise your hands for combat as long as there is a chance for working it out verbally. If you ever abuse what I have taught you, I'll come get you myself. Every man I ever looked up to wasn't a fighter, he was a thinker”.

Bumpy was here because he beat a man to death. I asked him why he did it, and he just cried... it shocked me, because he was never a very emotional person. In truth, he scared me. But he finally answered me, he said :”I do not remember doing it. I swear on God's very life, I do not remember doing it. I know I did it because they told me I did” I was thought that he was drunk, but he wasn't, Bumpy was never a drinker. He use to tell me how he would lay in bed at night and try his hardest to remember what he did. I think that is what hurt him the most, he could not “see” what he did. He wrote the victim's mother every year, always expressing how sorry he was... always saying that he knew he could not bring her son back, but he would if he could. And even though he did not remember, he never used that as an excuse, he just wrote, to express himself to her, and to let her know that he had not forgotten. He told her :”I owe you my life. I know I am not half the man your son was, but I am willing to try. I won't ever forget, on my life...on my very blood, I promise you I won't ever forget.” And he never did... all the years I knew him, he always wrote.

He was amazing to me because I learned about life from him... a black man in prison. I am able to write this very thing you are reading because of him. He showed me how much life can hurt you, how big of a responsibility it really is, if you really care.

For all the times I have heard people speak badly of inmates... for all the times I have saw distain on a person's face when they look at an inmate, I always say none of us are above mistakes, no matter how big or small. But even more important, no one is beyond hope. Look at me, I can read and write now

Lastly, if I could say anything to Bumpy, I would say thak you... thank you for everything. Good or ba, I am everything you taught me to be. I still write to your victim's mother, I finished college, and I never raise my hands in combat. I go home next year after 19 years, and I have a young lady whom I am going to marry in 6 months. I know you will never understand, but you gave me the world. I think about you everyday and it hurts me so much. It is as though you just died and ten years have not passed. I have all your photos, the day I have kids, they will know about you. You're still my best friend, and the only father I ever had. Just in case your forgot, I HATE YOU BLACK BOY !!! I HATE YOU WITH ALL MY HEART !!!

Love and respect,

Tyree

January 8, 2011

* Author's note : Dominique Rodes wrote this story, all I did was “arrange and edit” it so it's content is readable for all whom visit my site. Most stories are told to me, and I put them into the words that jump into my head. While I am the writer, the real credit goes to those who spend days telling me about some of their most private/intimate details of their lives. There's something to be said about a writer, but we can say ten times more about his/her subject. I would like to thank everyone who has spoken with me, you are not forgotten just because the story is done