Harvard to The Big House - Straight to Your House

Harvard to The Big House - Straight to Your House

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Harvard to The Big House - Straight to Your House
Harvard to The Big House - Straight to Your House
only a little while here
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only a little while here

Written after a year in prison, back before either all of my friends had become corpses, or I had become a corpse to them, this letter captures the last vestiges of optimism I had.

Dan Sirotkin's avatar
Dan Sirotkin
Oct 16, 2022
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Harvard to The Big House - Straight to Your House
Harvard to The Big House - Straight to Your House
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Not the prison yard


It's funny the things I remember from these past twelve months. How easily my belt slipped out of my suit-pants in court as I took it off and passed all my personal belongings to my parents - despite all the weight I'd gained the belt had still somehow sausaged me into my suit, and in taking it off there was a bit of a reassurance: Well, at least fitting into nice clothes is one thing you won't have to stress about anytime soon.

I remember how puzzled I was at how friendly the sheriffs deputies were in the holding pens in the basement of the courthouse. "Looks like we got an offensive lineman coming through, just hang tight for a few minutes Big Guy and we'll get you processed into the system," as I sat in a hard plastic chair and handcuffs clicked into place around my right wrist.

They didn't look at me with disgust or hatred or revulsion, they simply seemed curious. I realize now where that comes from now - there aren't too many bespectacled clean-cut un-tattooed white guys in our state prison system. All in all I haven't seen any evidence at all of Zimbardo's notorious Prison Experiment, where mild-mannered college students were turned into cruel and hateful guards in a matter of weeks. The guards here are largely just bored, and once they decide an inmate isn't perpetually trying to bullshit them or angle-shoot, they're surprisingly reasonable and respectful - at times even apologetic if the system screws you over somehow.

Waiting to be moved from my first stop after the courthouse, the Seven Locks Detention Center, some of us were on our way into the system and others were on our way out. A funny sort of camaraderie was palpable, we only got zo minutes for meals and an hour of TV-time out of the cells each day so everyone sought to socialize as hard as they could for what little time we got to feel human - and all of us heading into the system sought as much information as we could about what spending time in prison would be like.

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