Chapter1
How It All Began
“It’s either your shit on my dick, or your blood on my shiv. You decide”
My father was an asshole. He was always pushing me into situations where he could bully me around. I hated that. I also stopped putting up with that bullshit long ago.
That statement from the other inmate at Jackson State Prison, a maximum security penitentiary in wonderful Michigan, is the last thing I remember.
The next thing I remember is being restrained by about fifteen CO’s as I stood over the bloody and severely beaten body of that inmate. His jaw was clearly broken and his face mutilated. Mutherfucker couldn’t even move. Probably won’t be able to for months now.
All because of me.
I guess there was one more option he hadn’t thought of yet.
That’s not how I’d prefer to live my life. But it was how I was programmed to live it. That’s what emotional abuse does to a person. My father never hit me. But abuse ain’t about physical bruising.
It’s about the mental shit that’s left behind.
And my father was the worst kind of abuser there is. A highly intelligent and intellectual man. A man highly regarded in academia as an English professor at the University of Michigan.
He's one of the worst, because people like him really know how to mind fuck someone. Plus they can always get away with abuse…
No matter what.
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
“So what you’re saying is that your father created a monster in you?” my attorney asked me on the stand.
“Pretty much” was my reply.
Here I was, on trial, yet again in my life. It seems I’m always on trial. Whether in court, on the streets, in the ring or in the media. Everybody thinks they know who I am.
But they’re wrong.
They have no clue who I am.
“No further questions your honor.” my attorney said this then turned around, walked back to the table we’d been sitting at and then sat down.
Your honor. What a crock a bullshit. There’s no honor in what a judge does at all.
“Prosecution, do you have any questions in cross examination?” the judge was trying to sound important as she said this. She was failing miserably at it too.
“Yes, your honor. The Prosecution has many questions for the defendant.”
That was the slimy prosecuting attorney. Thinking he had finally landed the case to make him famous.
And here it comes. The lies. The accusations. All to see if he can get a rise outta me. To prove I’m the monster they all want me to be.
Chapter 2
The Mafia Solution
“Listen George. I’ve got a potential solution. I know someone who’s been watching your story in the media. He’s a promoter of sorts and he wants to help you. You’ll have ta box for him if he does.”
This was my attorney’s comment as he spoke to me through a phone receiver and looked at me through the bullet proof glass. We were having one of our meetings in the prison two days after I was massacred by the prosecuting attorney in court. Mutherfucker knew every goddamn button to push on me.
And my attorney just sat there with his thumb up his ass letting it all happen.
Truth in the courts.
Yeah right.
Good ol’ Jackson State Prison in Michigan. How the fuck did I get myself into this mess, and in Michigan of all places?
“I ain’t never had a promoter before. I’ve always just boxed for fun and for protection. How’s this guy gonna help me anyway?”
“He’s got connections in the government. He’s a very well connected man, you could say.”
“What’s your cut in this? I know you ain’t doin this outta the kindness of your heart?”
“Hey man. Take it or leave it. You’re the one in the hot seat here. Not me.”
Typical attorney bullshit. Always holding their leverage over you. Pretending to be tough when they're all just pansy ass whiners.
“You’re gonna need to get control of that temper of yours, tough guy. This guy can help you with that too. He’s willing to put a major investment into you.”
Investment. Own me is the translation there. Whatever. If this guy can get me outta prison, it might be worth it.
“Set it up.” I said this with a long exhale of my breath.
“Set what up?” Attorneys are the dumbest creatures on this planet.
“The meeting with this guy dumbass. What conversation have we been having these last few minutes?” I was still in control of myself. But clearly irritated as fuck.
Attorneys are the bottom feeders and idiots of the world. Good thing their daddy’s have the money to pay for their grades and their bar exams.
“Hey! Calm down buddy. Or I won’t set up the meeting!”
There it is. The fear.
“Yes you will. Like I said. I know you ain’t doin this outta the kindness of your heart.”
I chuckled as I said this. Sitting back in my chair on the other side of the bullet proof glass, phone receiver still in my hand. I was pleased with myself now that I’d wiped this asshole’s leverage off the table and gained my own. Mutherfucker never realized it, but I’ve had the leverage the entire time.
I don’t let people hold leverage over me anymore.
Besides, It’s fun to fuck with idiots and assholes.
