Doing Life on Death Row

Monday, 8 November 2010

When Death Hits Home

In all the years that I’ve been on death row, I’ve never had what I would call a positive experience with a prison chaplain. Like most others here, I have come to see the State employed prison chaplains as an extension of the corrupt bureaucracy itself and not as a religious representative or spiritual advisor. I have never seen a prison chaplain come to the death row wing and talk to a death-sentenced prisoner out of concern or genuine spiritual communion. That just doesn’t happen.

So, when the wing sergeant cam to my cell last Thursday (October 7) and told me that I had to go to the Chaplain’s office, I already knew it was not good news. Without exception there is only one reason a death row prisoner is brought to the chaplain’s office – somebody in the family died.

As with all other “call-outs”, before I could leave my cell, I had to first be strip-searched and then chained and shackled like Hannibal Lector in the Silence of the Lambs. Only then was I escorted off the wing and slowly shuffled down the long main hallway towards the front, where the chaplain’s office is located. Although I have been on death row now almost 27 years, I have never actually been to the prison chapel as death row prisoners are not allowed to participate in worship services. Still I know where the prison chapel is as I’ve passed it countless times, the solid steel double door always securely locked. As I approached the doors the Sgt escorting me instructed me to stop. Then we waited a moment and the chaplain came out, like the wizard of Oz revealing himself from behind the curtain, and then I was led through the doors and into the part of the prison I’ve never been allowed before.

As I was ushered into a small office the chaplain was already dialing a phone number. The chains and shackles that bound me were never removed. I was instructed to sit in a chair and a moment later I heard my older sister’s voice come over the speakerphone. I was not surprised to be told that my father (Donald Lambrix) had passed away earlier that morning.

Although we knew it was coming, it still is news that leaves you empty and unresponsive. My father’s health has been declining for years. After several heart attacks and strokes at 80 years old he has spent the past four or five years in a nursing home. Last month I was told that he had taken a turn for the worse and was placed on a breathing tube. We all knew that he wouldn’t hold out much longer.

Mentally I knew that this news would come. As soon as the Sgt came to my cell and told me I had a chaplain call-out, I knew that it would be the news of my father’s death. Yet in the moment of hearing the words actually spoken I felt the emptiness of its reality. Dad was gone and I never had the chance to say goodbye.

Like most others, through the years my contact and communication with family members slowly eroded until for all practical purposes I no longer had any meaningful communication with my family – even my own children have now grown and no longer communicate. That’s just how it is for most prisoners. Although I remain close to my mother and stepfather (who recently celebrated their own 40th anniversary), they are the exception. But through the years dad tried to write and we would talk about going fishing or maybe take in a football game. He always believed that I would walk out one day and we would catch up on the years lost. Even when my own hope wavered, his faith never failed. When I would get one of his letters, I would read and reread it often, thinking about where we might go fishing and what we’d talk about. Personally I never cared much for fishing – but he did and it wasn’t really about the fishing anyways. That was just his way of saying that he looked forward to seeing me get out and spend some time together. Going fishing was just a metaphor.

The phone call lasted only a few minutes and most of it was just words. All too often I’ve heard people talk about how families need “closure” to deal with the death of a loved one. Most often, it’s coming from politicians who define closure by expediting the execution of those condemned to death as if yet another death somehow ends all the suffering. But how do you come to terms with that “closure” when you’re not even able to say goodbye, or participate in the funeral? That’s just how we are wired – funerals, or memorial services, are not about those who passed, but are really about the necessary opportunity to deal with the reality that someone we love is now gone. It’s our way of saying goodbye, and the first step of moving on beyond that loss.

But for prisoners, we never have that opportunity. The most we can hope for is that someone will at least let us know when someone close to us has passed away. Beyond that, we can only retreat into our solitary cage and find a way to deal with the emptiness that flows. No matter how alone and isolated we might feel in this solitary existence of death row life, it becomes a heavy burden we return to our cell and sit alone thinking of the loved one that is now gone forever. Even if I walked out of here tomorrow, I would never again see my father.

In my world death is a frequent visitor. A few days before my father passed, another death row prisoner on my wing suddenly died of a heart attack. David Johnston was my age (50 years old) and had been here on “the row” almost as long as I have. His death was unexpected and sudden, but the death of one of us is all too common and accepted.

I can’t help but wonder about that paradox, I can accept the death of someone I’ve lived with in close proximity to for over a quarter of a century, and in the past year a number of close friends here have died (Henry Garcia, Jim Chandler, Martin “Big Eddie” Grossman) and with each I never was at a loss of words to express the pain of a brother passing. Yet now I feel an unfamiliar emptiness and an inability to define that depth of loss.

Even as much as I deal with the reality of death only too often, it’s when death hits home that it’s felt most of all. Even now, a week later, I still feel an emptiness I’ve seldom felt. And I’m sure I’m not alone, as most of us here have had to make that trip to the chaplain’s office at one time or another. And each time it brings the reality of death we so often must confront to a whole different level. So, here’s to hoping that my father has now found peace and is in a better place.

Michael Lambrix #482053
Death Row Florida

Thursday, 10 June 2010

Mike's book published!

To Live and Die on Death Row by Michael Lambrix, Mike's experiences, thoughs, hopes, opinions, despair and injustice during the 27 years he has been locked up on Florida's death row.

"The autobiography of C.Michael Lambrix, an innocent man who has spent 27 years under sentence of death on Florida's infamous death row."

The book can be ordered here

Wednesday, 19 May 2010

Florida Proposes Closing Prisons

I never thought I’d see the day when Florida’s conservative anti-prisoner, pro-death penalty politicians in Tallahassee would actually debate the logic of closing some of Florida’s prisons. But there it was, they were proposing shutting down three of the oldest prisons and laying off 639 guards. With the United States (and most of the rest of the world) now in the worst economic recession since the great depression, budget cuts have become common. Many other states have already confronted the necessity of reducing the cost of incarcerating millions of prisoners.

Up until now, the state of Florida had reduced the prison budget by cutting back on the food and other provisions. Last year they cut the amount of food served by almost half, completely eliminating all real meat, fresh fruit and milk. They also increased the prices of food items that can be purchased by inmates through “canteen”, which is basically a privately contracted store that has a virtual monopoly within the prison system. We must purchase food items, cosmetics (shampoo, deodorant, toothpaste etc) and even shoes and clothing through this canteen. Of course, the state gets a cut of the “profits” so by increasing the prices of these items the state makes millions of dollars a year by collaborating with the private contractors to rob the prisoners, or actually the prisoner’s families and friends, as they are the ones
providing the prisoners with small amounts of money whenever they can.

As many of you already know, the former director of Florida’s prison system (James Crosby) is now himself a prisoner after pleading guilty to accepting substantial kickbacks from the private company that operates the prison “canteen” That federal conviction was only a small part of the “culture of corruption” that became so pervasive within the Florida Department of Corrections that even the systematic assaults upon prisoners by the guards became routine (please read “welcome to the jungle)

But as the state of Florida suffered under the severe economic recession and repeatedly devised ways to “save” money by reducing what prisoners received, the cartel of conservative politicians that controls the Florida legislature, led by pro-death penalty chairman of the corrections committee Florida senator Victor Crist, vowed that they would allow the state to go bankrupt before they allowed even one prisoner to be released.

In Florida, like so many other states, prisoners have become a virtual industry and political elections often decided by which politicians would promise to lock up more prisoners – more prisoners meant more prisons, and more prisons meant more money getting pumped into the local communities. In the past few decades, Florida went from about 20.000 prisoners to now well over 120.000. Almost every county in the state now has at least one prison and each prison employs hundreds of guards and administrative personnel.

These communities then form powerful political lobbying groups that pump incredible amounts of money into the political campaigns of those that run for public office on the promise that they will build even more prisons and lock up even more prisoners. This perpetual political circus has now created a virtual industry throughout America, resulting in the United States now having the highest incarceration rate in the world, even exceeding countries like North Korea, Iran and even China.

So I was surprised when I watched the state legislature on the local public broadcasting station (PBS) and they openly talked of passing a law within the next few months to close 3 of Florida’s oldest prisons, and effectively fire at least 639 guards and prison staff.

As I listened to this debate, I then began to smile. I really should have known that these “lock em all up” conservative politicians would never propose closing even one prison if they didn’t have an agenda. Sure enough, it’s yet another game of smoke and mirrors as although they are proposing closing down 3 state prisons under the pretense of “saving money”, what they actually want is to open an even larger state prison recently built in Santa Rosa County by a private prison company.

This is the nature of the beast – with billions of dollars used to fund the prison industry and countless “Fortune 500” multi-national corporations anxious to get their cut of the profits, a number of huge private corporations now specialize in building and operating private prisons and then charge the state and federal government per prisoner, per day.

Florida has long embraced the concept of “for profit” prisons and privately owned prisons operate throughout the state. With the projected growth if this prison industry substantially outpacing any other segment of the financial markets, these private companies pumped more and more money in into the political campaigns of the conservative politicians in exchange for their support to build even more private prisons.

Several years ago one of the largest private “for profit” prisons in the country was approved to be built in rural Santa Rosa county, way out at the eastern edge of Florida’s panhandle. This massive complex now known as Blackwater Correctional was completed just a few months ago. But with the economic recession suffocating Florida’s budget, there was no money in the state budget to open this new complex. That means that this politically powerful private company that spent over a hundred million dollars to build this complex would now face a substantial loss that could easily even force the company into bankruptcy.

As coincidence would have it, this is an election year. That means that all these politicians must raise incredible amounts of money to run for office and although individual contributions to political campaigns are limited, “special interest” groups such as the company that owns the new private for profit prison in Santa Rosa county can pump virtually unlimited amounts of money into ‘political action committees” to support the election of politicians willing to help them.

That is what this is all about. These politicians now want to close 3 of Florida’s state-owned state-run prisons so they can come up with the money to open the new private for-profit prison in Santa Rosa County. These politicians claim that by closing the 3 state prisons and using the money to open the private Blackwater Correctional prison in Santa Rosa County, they can save about $15 million a year.

Some of the politicians argued against effectively firing 639 employees when Florida is already suffering from a record unemployment rate of over 12 %, as not only would it be unlikely these state employees could find work
Comparable to what they now have, but with these state prisons located in mostly rural counties, closing these state prisons would have a substantial “ripple effect” on the entire local community, resulting its small businesses in the area dependent upon the prison money to also be forced into bankruptcy.

But so what if what amounts to thousands of people being negatively affected by closing down 3 state prisons? Don’t they get it? This is not about what is good for the taxpayers of Florida, or the state employees that have built their homes in these local communities, as the communities themselves that are now economically dependent upon the revenue generated by their share of this prison industry. That’s not what it is about. Rather, what this is really about is twisting the issue about to justify opening a private “for profit” prison for no reason but because the multi billion dollar corporations that wants to open the prison can pump large amounts of money into the political campaigns of the politicians running for election this year.

This isn’t about confronting the inevitable reality that our contemporary prison system in which almost one out of every one hundred citizens in America is now imprisoned within this insatiable beast of a prison industry. This isn’t about the common sense conclusion that America simply cannot sustain the cost of incarcerating so many without compromising the quality of other public services such as the public education system and general infrastructure (roads, highways, bridges etc) and many other services provided for by the state.

Rather, this is really about the fundamental truth that the entire system has become politically corrupted by the private interests. Perhaps now these prison employees who have believed these conservative politicians are their “friends” will finally wake up and realize that they’ve been sold out as when it comes down to it they are just as expendable as the prisoners. Myself I’m convinced that both America’s and Florida’s prison industry represents a substantial threat to the survival of our constitutional democracy itself and politics have corrupted this virtual prison industry. When imprisoning our citizens through for-profit ventures becomes accepted practice, then America itself can never again be “The land of the free”

Michael Lambrix
Death row Florida

Saturday, 6 March 2010

Florida's Death Squad

As many of the regular readers of my blogs already know, on December 18 I was abruptly transferred from the main death row unit at Union Correctional to the old death row unit at Florida State Prison, where all of Florida’s death row prisoners used to be housed before they built and opened the ‘new’ unit at Union Correctional in 1992.

Coming back to this old prison was not something I anticipated as the last time I was housed at this old prison I was brutally assaulted by the guards in an attempt to silence me as I had witnessed the gangs of guards physically assault many other prisoners, leading up to the deliberate murder of another death row prisoner by the name of Frank Valdes. His own brutal assault and murder is graphically detailed in the federal court ruling Valdes v. Crosby, 450 f.3d 1231 (11th cir. 2006) and anyone who might doubt that violence against prisoners in American prisons doesn’t happen should read that case as it describes the systematic assaults and even murder of countless prisoners at this prison. I would strongly encourage you to read it so you can see how Florida often treats death sentenced prisoners.

After that 1999 incident I was transferred to the main deathrow unit at UCI which is just a short distance down the road from here. The state then paid me a substantial amount of money to drop the lawsuit, and I agreed to ‘settle’ the case- but only on the specific condition that I would not be transferred back to Florida State Prison. By now transferring me back here they’ve deliberately violated the specific terms/ conditions of that federal court settlement, so now I fully intend to reopen that federal lawsuit and this time I will demand a public jury trial to fully expose this prison’s long history of violently abusing prisoners.
But although I certainly do not like being here, it’s not too bad as by coming back over here I am able to see many old friends I’ve known for years, including Paul Johnson.

I’ve known Paul for many, many years, and of the many hundreds, if not thousands of prisoners I have known in all these long years, Paul is one of the very, very few who I would gladly welcome in my own home. He’s as straight as they come, and that’s a quality that is very rare in any prison. But a few months back Florida’s governor ‘Chaingang Charlie’ Crist eagerly gave in to a political campaign to try to expedite Paul’s execution, even though he was not ‘death warrant’ eligible, and signed a death warrant to schedule Paul’s execution in an attempt to obstruct and circumvent his pending appeals.

But the Florida Supreme Court then stayed Paul’s execution, publicly condemning Governor Crist’s politically motivated attempt to deny Paul a fair review of his appeal by insidiously pushing for an expedited execution. The court’s senior Justice, Barbara Pariente, made it very clear that Gov Crist engaged in improper misconduct when signing Paul’s death warrant while his appeal was still pending.

As coincidence would have it, once I was transferred back to this zoo, I was placed in a cell on the same floor and in close proximity to Paul, even though he remained on ‘death watch.’ And I enjoyed many long conversations with him, especially when we went out to the recreation yard for a few hours twice a week. Paul sends his thanks to all of you who have sent him cards and letters of support.

One of the conversations I had with Paul really shocked me, and believe me, after a quarter of a century on death row there’s not a lot that shocks me anymore! I have been on death watch myself and even come within hours of actual execution, not just once, but twice (please read, Doing Life on Death Row) and so I’ve been through the Phase 11 of death watch, which is when they come down to measure you for the suit the state so generously provides to kill you in, and you order your last meal and write down your ‘last will and testament.’

But when I went through all of that the state still used the infamous ‘Old Sparky’ ~ the electric chair. They’ve since switched to lethal injection as the means to which to now put the condemned to death after numerous prisoners quite literally burst into flames in the electric chair and challenges of cruel and unusual punishment were pursued ~ somehow they think injection is more ‘humane.’

So, of course I asked Paul how they do it now. Although it may seem a little morbid for two condemned prisoners to compare notes on how the state intended to kill them, when you’ve lived in the shadow of death for as long as me and Paul have, it is just part of ‘normal’ conversation.

But not even I could not have anticipated the horror that Paul described. Apparently the state is now concerned about reaching that hour of execution only to find that the prisoner’s veins are damaged and then there may be a problem in killing him, as there have been numerous executions, such as that of Angel Diaz, who were slowly and deliberately tortured to death two years ago here in Florida, which they claimed was his fault as his veins were damaged from years of drug use.

So now they’ve come up with a new procedure which to my knowledge has never been publicly exposed before, and should certainly shock the conscience of any person of conscience. Here’s how Paul described it to me ~ about a week after he was moved down to the bottom of Q wing, where Florida’s death house is, suddenly the back door that leads to the actual execution chamber opened. From personal experience, I know that this solid steel door is only a few feet from the cell they keep you in while on death watch.

Through this door walked in at least four, perhaps even 6 people who were fully dressed in plastic ~ like suits and a full helmet/mask over their head like we have often seen in the movies ~ such as those who handle nuclear waste. Slowly they marched single file only to stop in front of Paul’s death watch cell, then facing him they demanded to examine his veins. Paul says that even the small widow in the front of their uniforms was concealed, so that he could not see their faces.

As if he were nothing more than a piece of meat, without showing even the slightest semblance of humanity, this state sanctioned ‘death squad’ coldly examined Paul’s veins on his arms and talked openly among themselves about how his veins seemed to be alright. Paul was ordered to stand there as they took turns examining each arm, agreeing with each other that they would have no problem inserting the lethal chemicals to deliberately put a man to death.

Once they all agreed that Paul’s veins would pose no problems when they were called to kill him, then they turned and filed back through that solid steel door that leads to the execution chamber.

I cannot even imagine this utterly surreal scene that Paul described ~ nor can I imagine how unconscionable such an act is. Never before, other than the infamous death squads of third world countries, have I heard of a group of deliberately concealed and masked men approach a condemned prisoner and without even a hint of humanity, coldly examine him with the intent to put him to death. This is America, we don’t have masked death squads that serve the government and it shocks me that they would do such a thing. But I have also to wonder- am I the only one who is shocked by the use of death squads in the USA? What does it say about the society we have become that a state government can act in such an unconscionable and inhumane manner? Equally so, what does it say about our so-called civilized society that others are not as equally shocked by this?

Well, the good news is that this cold blooded state sanctioned death squad will not inflict deliberate death upon Paul Johnson as this past week the Florida Supreme Court has thrown out Paul’s death sentence upon finding that the state deliberately engaged in misconduct leading to his death sentence. Within the next few months Paul will be sent back to Polk county for a new sentencing phase trail and I pray that he will then be sentenced to ‘life’ rather than death.

As for me, I remain in this zoo hoping that my own nightmare will soon end. But just knowing that the Florida Supreme court was willing to stand up against the immoral politically motivated attempts to have Paul expeditiously executed gives us all hope that the courts will still recognize state misconduct and throw out death sentences obtained illegally. And we should all now pray that the lower court that will review Paul’s new sentencing will show its own compassion and humanity and sentence Paul to something other than death.

Please check out my website http://www.southerninjustice.net

Michael Lambrix
Death row Florida

Tuesday, 26 January 2010

Imminent Threat To Lambrix’s Safety

Please read Mike's letter to Governor Crist that has been pubicly posted on his website http://www.southerninjustice.com/

Sunday, 10 January 2010

Freedom is just another word

How is this for irony? Even after over a quarter of a century in a concrete cage condemned to death, I still find myself looking out that dusty window and beyond the razor-wired recreation yard and the fences beyond that, to that faraway distant world- the real world. When I stand at the front of my cell, I can see a road with cars and trucks passing by and I wonder where each might be going. Sometimes I even wonder what if I was in that vehicle, where would I want to go at that particular moment.

Lately I have been thinking a lot more about freedom than I have in many years as now I am once again confronted with the very real possibility that within a matter of months I could once again be “free”. After so many years of fighting against a completely corrupt judicial system (please check out my case on www.southerninjustice.com )and trying to prove my innocence, my capital case has finally been heard by the Florida Supreme Court on November 4, 2009. Typically it takes from 3 to 6 months, maybe less, for the court to issue an opinion- either granting or denying relief.

Although I am not a lawyer, I have been forced to play one in here as I fight for my own survival. I am familiar enough with the law to know that my pending appeal is exceptionally strong and that it is more probable than merely possible that the court will finally throw out the capital convictions that have condemned me to death. Collectively this appeal substantiates what I have adamantly argued for over 20 years that an overzealous, politically ambitious but completely unethical and immoral prosecutor (please read “Anatomy of a corrupt prosecutor”) had deliberately collaborated with their sole “key witness” to deliberately fabricate wholly circumstantial theory of premeditated murder, with the intent to wrongfully convict and condemn me to death. (The appeal briefs are available online at www.southerninjustice.com/hearing-briefs )

My claim of innocence has been repeatedly argued before the courts for years, yet each time the courts have disingenuously side-stepped addressing the issue, conveniently finding cause to “procedurally bar” my claim or simply just ignoring it altogether. Sometimes I smile when someone will ask me why only now my innocence is an issue – why wasn’t it raised before? But I understand their ignorance as most people out there do not give any thought about just how completely corrupt our judicial process is- and they just do not know that it is actually only too common for the politically corrupted courts to just ignore a claim of innocence. When it comes down to it, our courts would rather put the innocent to death than risk the political backlash of seeming to be too ‘liberal” by admitting that the legal system made a mistake.

But what if the Florida Supreme Court does rule in my favor in just a few months? Whether they only order a new trial, or order my immediate release, I would still suddenly be facing the almost certain reality of walking out a free man after spending the past 26 years in a solitary concrete crypt condemned to death. There is just no way that the state of Florida can take my case back to a new trial as the evidence now shows beyond any reasonable doubt that they did fabricate the entire case of alleged premeditated murder. Whether they like it or not, the state would have to drop all charges and release me.

In just a few months I will be 50 years old. I was only 22 years old when they arrested me on these fabricated charges and threw me down into the very bowels of a hell few could even begin to imagine (please read “Bowels of the beast”) All 3 of my kids are now adults and I have numerous grandchildren. That whole world out there has moved on without me and it has become a completely different world, one in which people now communicate on “cell phones” and get money from “ATM’s” and listen to music on mp3 players, or I-pods, and virtually every element of the life I once had has now been changed completely by this “electronic age” as when I left that real world none of these things existed.

For me, it will be like awakening from a long coma and realizing that everyone I once knew has grown old and become a stranger, although I have a large family through the many years they have drifted away and become strangers. My kids have grown now and I have grandchildren I have never seen or met.

It is actually not that uncommon for death row prisoners to win an appeal and walk out a free man. On average, it happens about once a year. When you live in a relatively small community of less than 400 even the release of one person gives the rest of us hope. Each time one of us walks out that front gate a free man, everyone else here can not help but wonder what they would do if it was them.

A few years ago a guy on my floor had his turn. The court had already ruled in his favor and he was not sure if they would send him back down to the country jail to stand trial again, or the state would drop charges. Just after Christmas that year they came to his cell and told him that the captain wanted to see him up front. He was then told that the state decided not to pursue a retrial and he was to be released that day. Then he had to go back to his cell and pack up his property. But like many others here, he did not even have a pair of shoes to wear when he walked out. I gave him my own shoes, and he went from cell to cell saying goodbye to those he had lived among for 16 years. And we were all glad to see him go- each of us wishing we were in his shoes, too.

If they came to my cell today and told me that the court granted my appeal and ordered my release, I would not even have clothes to wear. The state gives prisoners a pair of pants and a shirt when they are released, so I would have to wear whatever they gave me…and my own shoes. The prison also gives each prisoner 200 dollars upon release - but only to those who are released after expiration of their sentence. Those who are released because the court threw out their conviction are technically not entitled to that money and so I would get nothing. Like others who were suddenly released I would have to phone a friend to come and pick me up and just hope that someone would. Otherwise, I would just walk out to the nearby state highway and start walking in no particular direction as long as it took me away from this prison. But where would I go?

A friend recently asked me what I would do if I suddenly found myself free. The truth is that I really don’t know. That is the paradox of it – after having the court deny so many appeals in the past I am almost afraid to think that far ahead. In a way it seems like I might be jinxing myself if I make any definite plans.
I am actually blessed with a small group of genuine friends who would want to help me in the small way they might be able to. But they all live either out of the state, or out of the country. My mom lives here in Florida, but their health is not good and more often than not they are no longer able to even visit anymore. The last thing I would want to do is impose upon them, even though they would welcome me “home” with open arms.

But how does a man walk back into a world he no longer knows, and start over at 50 years old with nothing – not even the shirt on his back? After living in a solitary concrete cage for over 26 years, with virtually every element of your life micromanaged by your captors, how do you just step out across that thresh hold back into a world you no longer know? Sometimes I wonder whether after so many years in solitary confinement I would ever be able to be “comfortable” in the real world where people are all around me.

I think my thought and worries are reasonable. If and when that front gate opens and I do walk back into that free world, then I will adapt as that’s just human nature. Many, many years ago as a much younger man I walked into this world when they condemned me to death and although at the time it seemed impossible, I did learn to adapt to this environment and survive in spite of it. And although I do worry about what might lie beyond that front gate, if I were to walk back into that world beyond it, although I don’t know how I will adapt, I know that I will.
When it comes down to it, freedom is just another word and it is really all just a state of mind. Like this man-made hell I once walked into, if my freedom does come in the next few months, then I will walk out into that world I once knew and once again, it will come one step at a time.

Mike Lambrix

Friday, 11 December 2009

Thanksgiving with Henry

Thanksgiving is the traditional American Holiday, the one day of the year when family and friends gather around the table with a feast laid out in abundance and give thanks for the blessings that have been and might yet be endowed upon us. Up until just a few years ago the prison system would recognize Thanksgiving with a special holiday meal of real turkey and all the trimmings, as well as various tasty deserts and we would all look forward to that one meal a year. Weeks and even months ahead of time we would make deals with each other to trade a favorite food such as maybe trade the turkey to someone for their pumpkin pie. Everybody had their favorite food, for me it was the turkey more than anything else.

But in recent years they’ve all but eliminated the traditional Thanksgiving dinner for prisoners. We haven’t seen real turkey in many years now. The prison system will tell you that they still serve us a “holiday meal” but it’s not like it was before and what they do serve now isn’t worth writing home about.

For this reason many of us will plan ahead and make our own holiday feast by saving up what few extra dollars we can and buy foods off the canteen. Both as a means of communion with those we live among, who have become our surrogate family, and to share costs of the purchases. Many of us will plan ahead with our cell neighbors as e must order the necessary items at least a week ahead of the time on order to get them on time.

This year me and Henry decided we would eat good. Henry’s been my cell neighbor for a few years now, and was my neighbor on another wing before that. But for awhile now Henry has been fighting liver cancer. He’s put up a pretty good fight, which is not a surprise as Henry is a natural fighter and never had an easy life. Born in Texas of Mexican descent, he grew up poor and gave in to the lure of an outlaw at a very young age. Through the years Henry did time in some of the worst state and federal prisons in the country back when doing time meant struggling to survive every day. Yet through these hard years Henry remained one hell of a man, and was quick to share his sense of humor and in all the years I’ve known him, not even once did he have a harsh word to say about anyone.

Neither me nor Henry had any reason to expect a visit over the Holiday weekend. Although we both come from large families, through the years our families slowly drifted away and that’s just how it is, and we accept that. So, when it came to planning our Thanksgiving Holiday each of us became the others “family” and we spent countless hours what we would make to have a holiday meal that was different and special.

Last week and the week before we got the packs of tuna and mackerel to make fish steaks, the Ramen soup so we would use the noodles a make a casserole, with more tuna and assorted packs of potato chips for flavor, with a dill pickle on the side. And that was just for the main course.

It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without a lot of sweets. In past years I would make up a big batch of chocolate treats for everyone on the floor. But between the elimination of many items necessary to make them and substantial increases in the prices of what is now sold, it just is no longer possible. So we pitched in together and bought a Hershey chocolate bar for everyone on the floor so that everyone would at least have a little something.

With meticulous details we planned our meal. In a lot of ways, planning out what we intended to eat was almost as good as the eating itself! First, as an appetizer we would share a box of Ritz crackers, with beef and Jalapeno cheese sticks to go with them. We planned to start at around 10 o’clock that morning, and then around noon we would make up the main course. It would take me a few hours to make the fish steaks, which were a lot like crab cakes, but made with a mixture of tuna fish and mackerel steaks, mixed with crushed Ritz crackers and then seasoned with the spice pack of the Ramen “spicy vegetable soup” and a packet of soy sauce, and a bag of crushed spicy potato chips for flavor. Then coated with a crushed Ritz cracker crust. We would each have two.

The tuna casserole was basically flavored Ramen noodles mixed with tuna fish, a lot of mayonnaise and sweet relish and poured over crushed sour cream onion potato chips, with generous slices of dill pickles.

After having the main course, we planned to each have a Bear-claw pastry for dessert, with a cup of hot chocolate. Although we can only purchase the small envelopes of hot chocolate of the canteen, by adding some coffee creamer and a Hershey chocolate bar, it made a cup of thick hot chocolate which goes really good with the cinnamon and spice bear-claw pastry.

Later in the day we planned for some more sweets and snacks as football would be on TV all day – another Thanksgiving tradition. We had bought a box of Swiss rolls – basically small chocolate covered, crème filled cakes, and we’d make up some big cups of sweet tea to go with it. For later in the day we planned to use up the last big bag of Doritos Nacho Cheese chips I still had, pouring two packs of hot chili with beans over it, then topping it off with numerous packs of melted Jalapeno cheese spread – you just can’t put too much Jalapeno cheese on anything!

Yep, me and Henry planned to eat pretty good this Thanksgiving. Although holidays are meant to spend with family, in here it’s the guys we live around that become our family and we looked forward to sharing it together.

This year Thanksgiving would be on Thursday, November 26. Every year it’s on the last Thursday of November. But for all our meticulous plans it’s always the unexpected that comes along to ruin them.

On Monday our floor had recreation yard and Henry went outside to play volleyball for a few hours. With his health problems, yard usually left him exhausted but he would sleep it off and be ready to go again. Monday was not different and by early afternoon Henry was joking around, as we often do. By dinner he was his usual self, and then we had the thrice weekly showers (Monday, Wednesday and Friday) and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

After showers the mail comes in and we talked a bit about that it was late on Monday as the guard who normally passes out the mail has the week off. So we didn’t get our mail until around 8.00 PM. Henry said he got one letter, but was concerned as he didn’t hear from his longtime dear friend Liz. I told him that they probably just didn’t pass out all the mail – he’d probably get a letter from her tomorrow.

About an hour later they came around for the nightly “master count” That’s the only time of the day we must each stand up and give our number – not our name, but only our prisoner number as in here that’s all we are – a number. Henry’s cell light was on and he said he was going to write a letter. But when the Sgt got to his cell he found Henry slumped over his table and the end of his bunk and Henry was not responsive. For a few minutes they yelled and banged on his door, assuming he was asleep as that was not uncommon, and the Sgt got on the radio and called for the nurse.

After several minutes Henry responded and awoke, but seemed somewhat out of it and wasn’t able to get up. So the Sgt decoded to send him to the main unit infirmary so they could check him out. This Sgt is a pretty good one and goes the distance to help us out. A few years ago he was working the floor when another guy fell ill and if not for this Sgt quick response in getting this guy out he would have died. Once again, this Sgt (who I am deliberately not naming) was quick to call for medical help.

They brought a wheelchair and Henry got on it and they pulled him out. As he stopped for a moment in front of my cell while they grabbed his photo ID I spoke to Henry and he seemed a bit out of it. But said he’d be right back.

A little while later I caught the Sgt making his rounds and asked how Henry was doing. By that time, he should have been back. The Sgt said that after they pulled Henry out, he started to cough up a lot of blood so they decided to keep him over at the main unit infirmary for the night.

But in the early morning hours just before breakfast the midnight staff came and packed up all of Henry’s belongings. If they expected him right back they would not pack up his property so I knew something was up. Throughout the day I asked others how he was doing and they said he’s not too good and would probably stay over at the main unit infirmary for a few days just to keep an eye on him. But they said they’d save his cell next to me, so I didn’t think much of it.

By Wednesday afternoon those I asked started saying that Henry took a turn for the worse and didn’t look good. Anxiously I squeezed all the information I could from those I knew would know.

Early Thursday morning, Thanksgiving Day, I was told that Henry had died at 2:30 AM, but that he didn’t suffer. I try to tell myself that at least his fight is over and he’s now in a better place and that at least his suffering was not prolonged as only too often it can be with cancer. But somehow it isn’t much of a comfort as he was a good friend and neighbor – he was family.

Just that quickly on Thanksgiving there isn’t much to be thankful for. The plans we made for weeks for our holiday feast now meant little as Henry was gone and so was my own appetite. Instead I spent the day just pacing my floor back and forth, four quick steps to the front then four quick steps to the back, listening to the radio and trying to get my head out of this place.

Then a song came on that made me smile….maybe even a message from Henry to a friend and brother who already greatly misses him. Bob Dylan’s “Knocking on heaven’s door” a song that not so long ago me and Henry sang together. Hearing that song brought tears to my eyes – but I smiled, as just hearing that song, at that particular moment, let me know that Henry’s alright and is now in a better place. Here’s to knocking on Heaven’s door – I will miss you my brother.

Mike

Doing Life on Death Row

Wednesday, 2 December 2015

Clemency denied and execution date set for Mike Lambrix!!

Monday, 8 November 2010

When Death Hits Home

Thursday, 10 June 2010

Mike's book published!

Wednesday, 19 May 2010

Florida Proposes Closing Prisons

Saturday, 6 March 2010

Florida's Death Squad

Tuesday, 26 January 2010

Imminent Threat To Lambrix’s Safety

Sunday, 10 January 2010

Freedom is just another word

Friday, 11 December 2009

Thanksgiving with Henry

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