I was jumped on by a man

Hughes, Chris

Original

Transcript

NO TITLE I was jumped on by a man while I was too drunk to defend myself with my hands. I was at a homeless camp off the side of Highway 85 in High Point, N.C. There was no help. I warned the man to stop! as I tried to walk away. He continued following me, punching and pushing me. He got me down and continued beating me- I felt I had no choice and I pulled my knife and cut him. It didn’t stop him. He kept on. I ended up in the hospital bleeding from my ears. I awoke in the hospital only to be taken to the police station and booked for 1st degree attempted murder. You can imagine my shock. I had only defended myself and they knew it. The other guy who attacked me, wasn’t charged with anything. So I sat in jail awaiting trail. The jail had a policy that meant if you were ever on maximum security then you stay on it if you come back- period. So I was on 23 hour lock-down 24/7/365. A few months into my incarceration there was an escape. After this every day the guards came in our cells at 6:00 a.m. and beat on our windows and demanded to see our identification bracelets. Then around 10:00 am they did it again. Then at 6:00 p.m. and at 10:00 pm. Non stop it seemed. That’s when I got fed up and started raising hell. I busted a fire sprinkler and they put me in a “drunk-tank” cell. This cell had no bed, no running water or toilet. The only “toilet” was a hole in the floor that I had to urinate in. It could could be flushed only from the outside of the cell. All I had was a mattress. Whenever I would use the “piss-hole”, as the guards called it, the urine would splatter all over the floor. The cell smelled worse than a Porta-John. This cell is located right beside the booking desk at the High Point Detention Center’s intake. The window to the cell was covered with a black mat so I couldn’t see out but I could see through the cracks of the food port on the door pretty good. I remember watching the nightly, and daily, drama of people being locked up wanting to call home. I saw this for 8 months- that’s how long I had to live in that little torture chamber. People would come in and ask over and over, politely, to use the phone. Of course eventually they’d see politeness was getting them nowhere and attempt the opposite, which only got confrontations started and I know for a fact that this was the guards intention from the beginning. I later would sit and listen to them laughing about what they had done. In particular I remember a young lady who begged for a phone call. She was very small and no threat to anyone. She told Corporal Doub she needed to use the phone. She begged “please”. He told her that if it wasn’t a High Point local number then she couldn’t call. She explained that she wasn’t even from High Point! Then she slammed the phone down in anger and frustration (justified in my opinion). Then Corporal Doub came and grabbed her, pushing her down the hall; right as they got in front of my cell door she said “get your hands off me!” At that point Corporal Doub slammed her to the floor. The girl couldn’t weigh but 100 pounds. He was a 180 pound man! When she was down she just squirmed around trying to get loose but he had her down, she wasn’t going anywhere or giving him any real trouble or posing any real threat. Corporal Doub pulled out his taser gun and shot her with 50,000 volts point blank. At that point I went crazy. I started kicking my door, daring the sadistic asshole to come in my cell and try that with a man his own size. I kept kicking. By their own policy he was supposed to come in—he didn’t. I told him what a punk he was. I saw these dramas play out on a daily basis. Most were over their retarded overly strict phone rules. At one point I was breaking out real bad with a rash and a giant boil popped up on my left elbow. I begged to be treated. All they did was keep telling me it would be OK. My whole arm swoll up twice it’s size. I finally saw the “Doctor” who looked at my elbow up close and said he’d give me some antibiotics. He said he could see no “head” on the wound. I returned to the cell and I looked closer and felt a lump and could see a white head. I squeezed it and white infected puss literally shot 4 feet across the cell onto the wall. It drained for about 10 minutes straight. I hate to think about what would’ve happened if my immune system wasn’t strong. There’s still a lump on my elbow and where the worst swelling was the muscle is gone—it literally ate up part of my arm/muscle. I suffered in that 6 ft x 7 ft cage for 8 months. Then, when I went to trial after 15 ½ months of jail, the first day I was informed that the sole eye-witness in my favor just happened to be in the hospital. What a coincidence huh? That the D.A. just happened to pick a week when my eyewitness who could prove my innocence was “unavailable” in legal speak. He had 15 ½ months to pick a trial date. 15 ½ months! A bit funny the judge wouldn’t grant a continuance either. In the end the jury only saw a lot of blood and gore (photos of the “victims” injuries) and heard ALL of the victim’s testimony and his lying wife’s. Even by myself I still beat the absurd charge of attempted murder, but was convicted of assault with a deadly weapon inflicting serious injury. But they were mislead. They never heard the lies that the victim and his wife told the police. I have the police statements here. His wife told police that I “ran” and “jumped on top of” her husband. But in another cop’s report he said that I was “unable to stand up” due to my apparent level of intoxication. See, the pieces fall together. Then you add the cop car dashcam video and you see me collapse to the ground while the “victim” continued to run around in circles—he was NOT too drunk, and this was after he’d beat my head in, and he only stopped because he heard the cop car sirens—I can remember that detail. Much of what happened I can’t remember and I believe the jury took that as a reason to doubt me. But they never heard my eye-witness, which I know would’ve changed their minds. Nevertheless I was convicted and my only option was to appeal. I came to prison and only later learned that if I “won” my appeal my charge went back to 1st degree Attempted Murder, I went back to that horrible jail and I went back to the same awful court with the same judge and D.A. What’s worse is that it would take 3 or 4 years. By then I’d be on my way home. But if I “won” I’d go back to jail! There’s no justice—just-us. So now I sit in prison back on solitary confinement simply because I was on it when I was released the last time. Now I recall that I was ordered to pay restitution for the “victim’s” injuries and “suffering”. I can’t see it happening. I’ll sit here and suffer, and suffer and… then I’ll be expected to pay for his suffering, which he brought on himself! If a man pulled a knife and told you to leave him alone would you continue trying to assault him? What would a cop do if he was being assaulted? He’d do worse than I did and he’d get paid to leave and a medal of valor most likely!

Author: Hughes, Chris

Author Location: North Carolina

Date: October 19, 2016

Genre: Essay

Extent: 6 pages

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