Doing Life on Death Row

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

Christmas in a cage - Death Row Holiday

Growing up in a large family Christmas was always celebrated in the traditional Norman Rockwell style with many brothers and sisters both older and younger than myself, the excitement and anticipation of Christmas began immediately after Thanksgiving, when dear old dad would pull out all the holiday lights from the cardboard boxes concealed in the attic and spread them out across the floor as us kids would compete with each other to find any burnt out bulbs that needed replacing. Once that task was completed, it would be an honor to hold the long strands of lights as dad balanced precariously on a ladder nailing them along the roof overhangs, then as if by magic seemingly always just at the right moment as darkness began we would all gather to watch as they came to life. In that moment of unified silence the Spirit of Christmas became one with us.

Then would come the tree. Never but never an artificial tree, not in our house. Even in the years when there would barely be enough money for food, there was always a large freshly cut evergreen tree, with the scent of pine filling the room. Boxes of beautiful antique ornaments handed down through the generations would be carefully unwrapped and meticulously placed in just the right spot with rows of tiny flashing multicolored lights accented by a million strands of silver and gold tinsel, almost each strand carefully dropped over the boughs by us kids leaving the lower part of the tree with significantly more than the harder to reach upper branches, but no body even complained.

This majestic Christmas tree would always be up no later than the first week of December and then brightly wrapped boxes would begin to appear beneath the tree. That was the Christmas tease that has tormented children through the ages… What could possibly be in these beautiful boxes? Of course, children being children, we would all find a way to ever so very carefully steal a peek in that one of two particular box with our name only to almost without exception discover that the box contained nothing more than clothes. Silly kids – we already knew that only Santa Claus brought the good stuff and that wouldn’t happen until Christmas Eve.

Each Christmas Eve all of us kids would be herded off to bed early and given a stern warning that soon Santa Claus would be near and he’d know for sure if we weren’t sleeping. Of course we couldn’t sleep but each of us in our own way did our very best to pretend to as we each fantasized about what Santa might leave us. The hours would pass slowly – very, very slowly – until the early morning hours when dad would open the bedroom doors, releasing us from our rooms with the excited announcement that Santa had come and we would all rush into the living room and stand in awe at the piles and piles of presents that had been left beneath the tree.

With so many kids all anxious to rip open these gifts, controlling the chaos was the first priority. With the barely contained excitement of a child himself, dad would reign over the distribution of the presents, picking one box at a time and loudly calling off the name of each. In that large circle all our eyes would be gleaming in silent anticipation as we each awaited our name to be called. Then quickly pouncing forward when it was, to claim our gift and retreat behind the lines to rip it open. Soon enough the living room would be overcome with haphazardly discarded boxes and wrappings but nobody seems to really notice.

No matter what each of us received in that moment of time it became our entire world. Of course there would be the obligatory clothes, which were inevitably piled neatly to the side, to be collected later. Although we seldom got the toys we really wanted – apparently Santa Claus had a cash flow problem and couldn’t afford the most popular toys – what we got quickly made us forget about what we thought we wanted and the joy of receiving those gifts overcame any disappointment.

Looking back, I can’t recall even being disappointed at not receiving what I thought I wanted, as what I got always seemed to be even better. That’s why I knew even long after other kids my age gave up that Santa had to be real; dad couldn’t possibly afford all those wonderful presents. Only too many years later did I realize how much he would willingly sacrifice each year to make Christmas special, working long hours at the steel plant and even pawning off his few prized possession as nothing was ever allowed to break the sanctity of Christmas.

Soon after all the gifts were unwrapped we would be forced to set them aside and retreat back into our rooms to dress in our Sunday best then pile in the station wagon for a drive to the Christmas service. Even the thought of resisting this ritual seemed silly – marching into church as a family each Christmas morning was as much a part of Christmas as Christmas itself even of we didn’t fully understand the spiritual implications of Christmas at that time. But even as the priest administered the solemn sermon, already our thoughts were on the fest that would soon follow.

Within a few hours we were home again. The Christmas Spirit filled the house with a joyous mood as Christmas carols played endlessly on the record player and our attention turned from the gifts we already received to plots of pilfering the table piled high with cakes and candies laid out for guests that might drop by. With military precision us kids would band together and recon the living room then slowly sneak our way towards that table and careful not to let our presence be known, our little heads would pop up quickly as our hands reached for that morsel of sweet goodness and then a quick retreat would be made.

As all the dishes of cookies, candies, and cakes would slowly disappear the smell of Christmas dinner would fill the house. Without exception Christmas dinner would be provided with abundance in the traditional style with all the trimmings and the family would gather around the expanded table and eat. This was the one meal when no matter how dysfunctional the family was the rest if the year, we were truly family for that one meal. But then it would too soon be over and that one special day became only a memory.

These memories continue to be my Christmas and have become my ritual. Merle Haggard once sung a song about a man turning 21 in prison doing life without parole. My own ballad would not be that much different. I’ve never had another Christmas since leaving home. At 46 years old, this is now my twenty-sixth Christmas in a cage; the past 23 Christmas’ have been spent condemned to death in a cage on death row.

It is the Christmas of the past that remains my Christmas of the present. Being condemned to death I am not allowed to celebrate Christmas in any traditional sense. In the early years I would anxiously await the Christmas cards from family and friends, then hang each upon my cell wall and share the Spirit of Christmas with the few who chose to remember me. But as the years slowly passed the cards became fewer and fewer, even most of my brothers and sisters have now long forgotten me and given me up as dead. Although I remain blessed by a few special friends who make a point of sharing their Christmas Spirit with me, the friends too slowly drift away and become fewer and fewer.

Many years ago when I first came to death row we were allowed to celebrate Christmas and it was something we looked forward to. Each December we would be allowed to receive two packages from the outside world containing various necessities such as winter clothes, a pair of shoes, cosmetics and toiletries, and even a nice watch or ring. Then the Christmas meal would be traditional style, real turkey with all the trimmings and various pieces of cakes and pies. But then conservative politicians found out about the “special treatment” given to prisoners at holidays and made political careers by campaigning against these things. One by one every holiday privilege was eliminated and out of vindictive malice and spite the Spirit of Christmas was banned from prisons.

Where I once proudly displayed the few cards I’d receive on my otherwise barren grayish beige wall, I am now prohibited from doing so. Up until a few years ago I had a photo of a beautiful Christmas tree I’d tape to my back wall above my sink until one Christmas Eve a guard made an issue of it. I was ordered to remove it, but refused. A few hours later as I was taking a shower that guard went into my cell and removed that picture – ripping it into small pieces then throwing it into my toilet. That one small semblance of Christmas I so cherished was lost forever as that Spirit of Christmas was overcome by malice and spite.

Now each Christmas becomes more depressing as I become even more isolated from that world outside. Too often my thoughts now turn to my own kids and grandkids and wishing I could spend just one Christmas with them. All my own children are now grown, but I can only imagine the joy on my grandson’s face as he anxiously rips open the brightly wrapped box containing the small gift a friend so generously sent in my name.

Then I think of all the others here and in prisons across the country who like me can only think of Christmas’ past, as the Christmas of both present and future no longer even hold the hope of what the true Spirit of Christmas is about. I remain blessed by the few cards I will receive, but know that many others around me won’t get a card at all. There will be no Christmas sweets and treats. There will only be the same cold, barren walls and the sound of silence as each of us retreat into our own dreams of what once was and most likely will never be again.

So, this Christmas I ask you to remember what the true Spirit of Christmas really is as we gather to celebrate the birth of a men condemned to death for our sins, that through His condemnation each of us equally were given the gift of Hope. If those of us who claim to be Christian cannot actually be Christians on Christmas, then when can we be?

What would Jesus do of He were to celebrate Christmas today? I’d like to think that He would reach out to the lowest of the low and share hope with those condemned to death; that in the true Spirit of Christmas, in the true Spirit of Christ. Especially those condemned would not be forgotten.

To both friend and stranger equally the same, I say… Merry Christmas!!!

Michael Lambrix

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

Tuesday, 3 November 2009

Message from Average Joe, a Death Row inmate on Florida´s Death Row since 1977

Hey Guys,

Average Joe is back with you! I've been absent for a while due to not having someone to post my site. A lot has happened since I last wrote..

Last time I wrote I warned not to be fooled by the Secretary of Prisons they appointed McDonough. He was stricktly PR there to give the impression of prison reform, untill all the dirt was swept under the carpet from the previous secretaries of prisons and their illegal dealings. That and the death of Frank Valdez. I said: once the press was no longer interested, things would go back to same ole, same ole. Just like the The Who's song - "Meet the new boss - same as the old boss". And that's what we have now. Which is reflected in the rash of officers being fired or under investigation for prisoner abuse. And it's just the tip of the whole attitude. With that said, I'll switch to Death Row...

An execution occured here in August, John Marek. Which is unusual is how quietly it was done. I watch the news for such things, and I could have missed it but I did not see the coverage of it. I did not know they had re-signed his death warrant until the day before he was scheduled. Many did not. And I did not hear it had been carried out until the day after.
Usually all the local news stations are all over an execution, hard to miss. Maybe it is just not as newsworthy these days??

As for myself, I've had a change of mind on the system as a whole. I always believed if you fight the good fight long enough the truth would prevail. If the truth would come out - you would win. I don't believe that anymore. It's really just a matter of luck or chance when someone wins. Sometimes based purely on politics or a question of "will this hurt my career if I rule for his case?". Maybe it is due to the George Bush appointees in Federal Courts and the US Supreme Court. A trickle down of Republican type of law. Whichever, I now believe, you do whatever you have to do to win. Because that's how they play it to keep you from winning! I came to this mind set after my last trip to Florida Supreme Court.
Everyone involved in my case believed I had won a new trial at the least - or freedom period, after 32 years. We even had the prosecutor say: other than a statement I had given the police after when first arrested there was no other evidence. This came when Justice Perlente asked him what other evidence was there that I did this crime. He said: That's easy - Nothing!" But instead of winning, when they ruled it was the worst decision I have ever received. Even after we proved and the state prosecutor stated there was no further evidence they ruled that there was substantial evidence. Where they found any? - no one knows. It was just a bizar ruling!

Suffice to say all involved were shocked. I was at first, but now I see it as that's reality. That is the system. You know, I've never had any help legally except state appointed counsel. Not that I have not asked or tried to get help. Just never received any. And I understand some of it. There are only so many pro bono cases that can be accepted. And I will not say that those who worked on my case did not care. Many have and believed in me. I do however wonder if I would still be here if I had the financial means to hire a really good attorney. Someoen who isn't working on general cases all at the same time, overworked and underpaid. But that is just a "what if" and "what if's" change nothing.

I thought it over and asked myself "what do I need to win my case and freedom?" You know, the answer was simple. I need one person who has the means to come and go as I need, the mindset to take care of and do what needs to be done, who only cares about the results not the method, who is sharp enough to handle whatever needs to be done. That person need not to be an attorney, just someone who is ready to help me win my freedom. I know what needs to be doen. Together we would walk me out of here a free man. Now that is important. Because every time a man is found not guilty - and walks off death row it is a step closer to ending the death penalty. Imagine after 33 years - if i were to walk free!! Now as I read all this, that is what I need.

I'm 53 years old now. I'm still in good physical condition and mentally as well, which is unusual probably. But it's part of what I've become here. I refuse to give up. I refuse to allow this place to break me. Not in body or spirit. But I still believe with all the support that you guys give, the death penalty will end. The only question is - when. And that efforts are yet needed to end it.

But we know - nothing comes quickly nor easily. Lives will be lost along the way. Hearts will be broken. Tears will fall. But because you guys are there, there will be less of each. And isn't that what the struggle is all about? Anyways, I can not even ask for help - by law. But no law says someone can not volunteer! For me all I can do is state what I need. OK enough for now, I shall talk to you again soon. Till then, take care of eachother and yourselves.

Sincerely,

James Hitchcock # 058293
P- 5127
Union Correctional Institution
7819 NW 228th street
Raiford, Florida 3202-2600
USA

For more writings of James Hitchcock see http://againstdeathrows.blogspot.com/

Doing Life on Death Row

Wednesday, 2 December 2015

Clemency denied and execution date set for Mike Lambrix!!

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

Christmas in a cage - Death Row Holiday

Tuesday, 3 November 2009

Message from Average Joe, a Death Row inmate on Florida´s Death Row since 1977

Innocent and Executed - Please Read

MIKE'S LETTERS FROM DEATH WATCH

To Live and Die on Death Row

Mike's Book

Who is Mike?

Mike's Story

Michael Lambrix

Mike's Essays

Links to Mike's site and blog

Mike and daughter Jennifer

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