Then you have to look at the Counselors. Mr. Cantino, even though he was the one that had choked-me-out, was probably the best of all I had met. He was kind most of the time; however had his ways that were sometimes very cruel. I like to think they were bred into him by the environment just as I was being changed. For all the good I saw in Mr. Cantino, there is Mr. Albright to consider; at that young age he was the cruelest human being I had ever come across, and even today, is burned into my memory as one of the most sadistic people I have ever met in my entire life. He was a brute of a man, an ex-marine, and it was rumored that he had once challenged the entire unit, which was 50 kids, and when they took him up on it, he beat the sh*t out of the whole bunch!
My first encounter with him was a Candy Call one evening. (Candy Call was after visiting hours and the staff would allow you to have some of what your visitors had brought you to use on a very limited basis.) I had chosen a bag of caramel candy my Dad had brought for me, but Mr. Albright said "No, only one Candy Bar." Well, me being new, stupid, and stubborn, told Mr. Albright that if that was the case I would take nothing. I was walking back to my seat, and before I could get there, a family size bar of Zest Soap my Dad also brought for me collided with the back of my head at an enormous velocity. Mr. Albright had thrown it at me and almost knocked me into unconsciousness. Everybody laughed, but not the usual laugh; it was a laugh of uneasiness.
It seemed Mr. Albright was in a bad mood, and fear reigned upon the inmates. A couple more kids went through Candy Call until someone else had a problem, and then I began to learn of the true extent of My Albright's cruelty. I don't remember the Kid's name, or what he had done, but Albright claimed that he had earned the "chests" punishment for the night. This was a ritual for Mr. Albright, one that appeared to give him a great amount of pleasure. Some poor child would do something wrong and Albright would proclaim the "chests" punishment, which meant that person had to take off his shirt and stand in front of the room. At that point, the entire group had to stand in line and hit the wretched person in the chest with his fist as hard as he could. If Albright felt that you had not hit him hard enough, then you had to take that person's place. Needless to say, we all pounded the kid with all we had, and there never was a child from any part of my memory that was not bruised and crying by the time the ordeal was over. It was on this night I first knew that I had to escape from this insanity. I knew that I had broken the law, but common sense told me that this was in itself against the law. Humans, especially children, could not be treated this way!
The next day we were outside playing basketball. School was over, it was about 3:00 PM, and Mr. Albright was on duty again. Well, I would show him a thing or two! The fence was about a half to a quarter of a mile from where our unit was. I was small, but very fast. From where I stood the fence looked like it was about ten feet high - nothing for me to climb and get over.
So, being very careful not to draw suspicion to myself, I edged away from the group and gave myself the greatest head start possible, and then ran like the devil himself was behind me. Finally I was doing something to fight back and I was laughing as I was running, that is, until I heard the screams of "RATPACK" and dared to look behind me. The Adam's Unit (50 kids) was running behind me, almost everyone in the Unit, and Albright was at their lead screaming "RATPACK" at the top of his lungs. I didn't know what it meant but the fear in my heart was like a hard, cold knife. Somehow I knew I was going to die.
The fence was further than I thought and I ran even faster with the fear injecting huge amounts of adrenalin into my system. I was gaining on them all and I began to realize that I was going to win; I would reach the fence at least 90 seconds to 2 minutes before the group could reach me. But, the closer I got to the fence, the greater the horror I began to feel.
The fence was at least 20 feet high, but that was not the problem. The last four or five feet of the fence, close to the top, was a different type of wire. It was so small that I couldn't get my fingers into the small grate; I was clinging to the fence near the top when the group reached me and all I could see was Mr. Albright's grinning face. The rest of the group was screaming and seemed to be in a crazed state of mind.
I was pulled from the fence by the first of the group to climb that high, and when I hit the ground the beating began. All of the other children were still screaming "RATPACK" and were kicking, beating, pulling my hair, and inflicting whatever damage to me that they could. It resembled a feeding frenzy that you see on T.V. that sharks go through when the kill begins. I simply lied on the ground and attempted to cover my face and head with my arms; the beating seemed like an eternity and I was sure they were going to kill me.
Unbelievably, the beating stopped and I realized that I was being pulled up from the ground by a couple of counselors that I had not seen before. They had come in a white van and I learned later that they were from the "Adjustment Unit", which translated is a Unit that inmates were placed in for punishment anytime that you commit an offense that warrants extreme measures for extreme behavior.
The Adjustment Cottage
I have heard that prisoners sometimes look upon their captors with relief after a particularly frightening battle. Those were my feelings, these men driving the van, even though I was again in hand-cuffs, were somehow my friends and I warmed to them, relieved and happy to be away from Adams Unit. When I was brought into A.C., I was informed that I would attend a hearing in a few days in regard my escape attempt. Until that time, I would be placed in a room where I was to eat my meals and essentially, stay in solitary confinement until the hearing. No talking was allowed and I was advised that if I broke the rules, punishment would be swift... I was beginning to experience that eerie cold feeling again and now I knew I was in a different kind of trouble - the relief I felt was only a fleeting respite of things to come!
Oh well, there was a bed, blanket and pillow, and a speaker in the wall that was broadcasting a local radio station. Not too bad, especially considering what I had been through. Two days later this was becoming extremely boring and I knocked on the door and asked if I could have some books to read. The answer was a quick "No" and I was told to shut-up. Here went big-mouth Bill again; I was mad, had been beat-up by the whole unit two days ago and I rationalized that I was the victim rather than the perpetrator, and the anger began building again. I couldn't understand why I was being kept in solitary with nothing to read and nothing to do.
I beat on the door again, reiterated my demands and told them what they could do with their rules. The "Outer Limits" was showing its ugly face again. Since the A.C. Unit served the entire complex all of the employees tended to be on the large side and seemed to have the disposition of a wounded Grizzly Bear. They promptly entered my room, took all of the bedding and I was left with a bed comprised of metal slats and nothing else. I was also warned that if I didn't shut-up, things would get worse. As a young teenager, my pride was wounded again, and I was tired of getting the short-end of the stick. Even the radio went off.
Anyway, I was really mad now and started banging on the door again, figuring there was nothing else they could do to me. I began a verbal assault on the staff that to this day was memorable; all of the frustration, hurt and anxiety was pouring out of me. They were pissed too and but I didn't realize that I had crossed another line. My door opened and I positioned myself in the back of the cell, expecting an ass whipping or even worse, but when I saw what they had, I began laughing. One of the counselors was holding a straight-jacket, backed-up by two more burly guys. I was told we could do it the easy way or the hard way and I chose to be placed in the jacket, all the time thinking how silly it was. As soon as they left the room, I began fidgeting in the jacket, attempting to pull-off a Houdini, when lo and behold, I got out of the damn thing. I was small for my age, determined, and angry as hell. Naturally, as soon as I got it off, I began pounding on the door again. I thought I was pretty hot sh*t at the moment...
This time when they came through the door, one of the others was carrying leather ankle restraints, and a third had two bed sheets draped across his shoulders. Kincaid was the Unit's Supervisor and again told me to cooperate or they would forcefully place me in restraints. I laughed and told them to take their best shot. After all, how in the world could ankle-restraints make things worse? It seemed that I just never learned! Kincaid put the jacket on me, and much to my surprise and displeasure, dropped me on my back on the metal bed frame. The other counselor twisted the sheet into a rope-like configuration and then threaded it between my arms and over the chest - binding me tightly to the head of the bed. The third one, who I will never forget because of his enormous size, placed leather restraints on each ankle which were joined together by a small chain. The other counselor was busily shaping the last sheet into another long cord, and that one was wound through the chain on the ankle-restraints. After that was completed, the enormous guy began pulling tightly on the sheet that was attached to my ankles, and I was actually suspended in mid-air as they drew the sheet as tight as they could get it. After it was knotted securely all of them laughed as they left the room.
At that particular time, it didn't hurt that much, but was fast becoming very uncomfortable, so I began cussing the counselors again. This time they showed-up at the door, grinning from ear to ear. I was told to cuss all I wanted to; it seemed that there was something I didn't understand. After a while, and I don't mean hours either, we're talking a matter of minutes, the discomfort turned to a dull ache which transformed itself into a pain only God could comprehend - if there was a God which I am sure I defined in no less than a thousand words. I was in pain that was absolutely driving me crazy, plus I had to put up with the counselors occasionally dropping by to grin through the window; it seemed to me they were they were enjoying the immeasurable pain I was experiencing.
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