Unlike many of my fellow inmates here in Sugarland I admit I did it, and then again, I didn't.
A barroom brawl on Houston resulted in me being charged with drunk and disorderly, assault and battery, and resisting arrest. No one was seriously injured and the resisting arrest consisted of no more than a clumsy attempt to escape through a tiny bathroom window. Normally I would've received a fine and a stern warning from the judge. Not so for me, as I'd a previous conviction for artifact smuggling in Liberty and also happened to be the number two man in the Junkers Congress at the time. The latter was what "sealed the deal" as they say. What did the prosecutor call me? "Public menace, vermin, scumbag". So here I sit doing a six month bid for my crimes against the good people of Liberty. No worries. I did the crime, I do the time. At least that part's true.
Several months into my sentence something happened. Not sure what. Sugarland's particularly hard time. Sixteen hour shifts on the smelter, time off only to eat and sleep. No contact allowed with the outside world.
The guards call us mushrooms. They like to say "Keep em in the dark, feed em garbage, it makes em grow".
A riot broke out in the prison over who knows what. I know these things never go well for the inmates so I just stayed out of it. Took the chance to catch up on some much needed rest in my cell while the guards restored order.
That's when it all went South.
I woke being dragged from my bed and roughly hauled down to solitary confinement. I had no idea what was happening until two weeks later when I found myself in court again.
This time the charge was murder. Seems a guard was killed during the riot and I was being set up to take the fall for it.
The public defender given my case never even spoke to me until ten minutes before the trial. He assured me the evidence was circumstantial at best and I had nothing to worry about. The government's case hinged entirely on the testimony of three inmates whose stories were so convoluted and conflicting they'd be laughable if not for the one fact they all agreed on... I was the one what killed that guard. Feeling confident things were going my way I relaxed and waited for my lawyer to tear their "testimony" apart. To say I was surprised when he repeatedly said "no questions, your honor" would be an understatement. When he "rested" my case without so much as an "objection" I was fit to actually commit a murder right there in the courtroom.
You know what a hundred lawyers being slowly fried by radiation in the good ol' Pequena Negra would be? A good start.
I always knew dying in prison was a possibility. The life I've chosen makes it just another "occupational hazard", right up there with a knife in the back, or drifting aimlessly alone in the black, slowly suffocating in an escape pod.
But this... this just doesn't sit right. It wasn't clever or even particularly devious. I still don't know who, ...or what, ...or why.
I've no idea how long I've been away from the world. Years? Time has no meaning here. One day is the same as the next. One long, endless day. I remember filing an appeal after the whole court debacle. I've not heard a word. That's the worst I think. Not knowing anything but day in, day out just surviving. No idea what's going on in the world outside Sugarland. What's become of my crew? My brothers in the Junkers Congress? Do they even know I'm here? Does anyone care?