Caps

The penitentiary school of hard knocks

“I don't care about what you’ve done, show me what you're going to do”.

-Me, just now

Back in the early years of my sentence, a young man named ‘Caps’ rolled in on a transport to my joint. I had been there long enough to get a few of the stories I've written about under my belt and was doing just fine in the 'Field. I was far from penitentiary royalty at this point, but I still owned some land. I knew the people and how things worked and thought I could spare him some of the new-guy growing pains.

Caps and I went back to my door busting days. He was a few years older than me but was still a recurring guest star in various jobs I'd do. He was strapped all day, every day, which made him extremely useful when it came to keeping a room calm after I'd already gotten inside.

Caps wasn't shy when it came to heating up that barrel either. He was happy to put a round into the meat of some dope boy's leg when they'd play dumb to me yelling "Where the fuck is it?!" Referring to whatever we happened to be there to take. Dope, money, guns, etc.

1 round

*Ting-skrrrahh PAP!

They'd talk.

It might not be the guy who caught it, but someone always talked.

So naturally I had love for this man when he arrived. He wasn't doing Buck Rogers time (a lot of years), but he had enough in assault charges and gun specs running wild that his sentence was still a bit to respect. Forever arrogant I thought I could help him skip some steps towards doing easy time.

Normally the blacks would've stepped in to try him, to find out what he was made of, but I spoke highly of him on day one. Telling them some old war stories that caused them to take me at my word. Ultimately he ended up affiliating with the Crips. My good deed to appease the Thug god.

Time passed and things were what they were. Caps and I were cool but we didn't kick it a whole lot. I didn't roll with the gang he'd joined but I did enough business with them that we still got to yuck-it-up here and there. He was doing his bit and I was doing mine. As it should be.

Then came the drama. He'd snuck into the kitchen storage room to get some tattoo work done. Which was a pretty normal thing to do when your tat-guy lived in a different block than you. I was on the loading dock doing my own dirt when I heard the commotion. Sneakers scuffing on tile and grunts.

The sound of fighting was always unmistakable.

Normally I wouldn't even venture a glance towards the sounds of a beating, I had “none of my business” down to a science, but I recognized where it was coming from and I knew Caps was in there. I wasn't hearing a fight, I was hearing a jumping.

Nah son, not in front of me y'all ain't. We buckin' too.

I go tearing in there and see Caps trying to break free. Five MD's, the tat guy being one of them, against him alone. I learned later that it was about a debt but I didn't care at that moment why. A nostalgic part of me saw this man I knew from before the joint as being one of mine. Even though that wasn't how things worked, it's how they were going to work today.

Two on five? Bet, I'll take those odds all day. Especially when I'm coming up from behind ambush style like a mongoose who saw the snake first. I hooked an arm under and between one guy's legs and took him on a magic tile ride. Flipping his feet over his head to monkey dunk his skull with a Ceeerack!

They knew I was there now so I started swinging. If there's anything good about being outnumbered, it's that they have to aim in order to hit you through everyone else while you just have to fire haymakers for which there's always someone on the catching end. Keep your feet down and eyes up are the rules.

Then things went sideways. Caps works his way free as the guys trying to pin him turn their focus to me. The lone crazy white boy in the room. At least I had backup now.

At least, I had thought I did.

Caps stood, looked me dead in the eye, then broke for the door and vanished without a word.

You have got to be kidding me.

Life lessons rarely come gently. This one was no exception. Turns out that the rough-riding pistol boy I once knew was only a thug when he had a gun. That's the day I learned that many men lose their swagger when you take their heat away. Naivety. Thank God I'll never be that young again.

It was too late now to just say "my bad" and I sure as Hell didn't care about that open door. Having watched Caps bounce on me like a stone cold coward had changed the situation in more ways than one. This wasn't just a fight anymore. I had placed myself in a situation that I had to see through to the end because anything less would have far greater repercussions than just a beating. Given the chance, I would've walked over and closed the door simply to separate myself from his actions at this point.

Were this a comedy we would've all stopped fighting long enough for me to gesture a thumb in that direction while saying something like 'can ya believe this guy?" before resuming.

Instead it was the four remaining guys on me alone. The one I had dunked was still vomiting on the tile.

Unlike in the movies, four beats one. They didn't get out of control with it though. Respect can be shown even during a beat down. We threw hands until theirs were the only ones still throwing. They got out of there and I took a moment before pulling myself up to make my way back to my cell. Pleased to not be nearly as bad off as I could've been.

However that was far from the end of it. The MDs had questions about my involvement and word had gotten out about how Caps handled himself. Putting my word in a bad spot with the Crips. Then there were the white gangs who'd heard I had jumped in to help a black guy. It was just a big, unnecessary mess all around.

Even prison has politics. Whatever, I would've suffered a setback to my name however things were offset by the MDs actually showing respect to how I had handled myself once I cleared the air with them. We were good, things were fine for me. Caps, on the other hand, not only looked like a punk but a betrayer as well for how he'd abandoned me.

I think Dante had a ring in Hell just for men like that.

He was disowned and the wolves weren't hesitant once he was alone in the wild. I was the first to pounce on him. I was more disappointed than angry but the Code demanded this business be settled. I couldn't allow that to slide and not personally suffer as a result of it. If I let him get away with that, everyone would believe they could play me without repercussions as well.

I had to go after him loudly and in front of an audience. I chose the chow hall for this show to play out. I knew it was a guaranteed trip to the Hole but this had to be done out in the open for God, the Warden and every man in blue to see. Otherwise it wouldn't be an example. What followed was a proper thrashing coupled with a very loud speech explaining why. It was as much for everyone else to hear as it was for him.

I laid it down in the Hole for a 14 day stay and returned to my block. He had gone to the infirmary but not the Hole which actually made him look even worse. Dummy. By the time I returned Caps was already a part of Smitty's stable of hoes and the fellas broke out the hooch for me.

Caps was nothing more than property after all of that and I learned a string of lessons. The most important being where the Code states that you only measure a man by his worst, not his best, and we always have to be proving ourselves.

I don't care about what you've done, show me what you're going to do.