To whom it may concern

Henrickson, Trent J.



C.C. 1 of 3 C.C.= Carbon Copys To whom it might concern: December 13th or 14th in the trash can in front of unit 46, on the way to breakfast at roughly 8 am. That is the date and time and location of where I found the E-cigarette cartridges, the ones that have me “under investigation.” I spoke, really actually didn’t say any thing, but you understand what I mean, to two investigators yesterday, 12/24/18. I told them that the only way I would speak to them is if they would guarantee me a property incentive. They did not, on or off the record. Im saying now for a variety of reasons, which I will get too I would take a polygraph too. They, the investigators asked me if I got it directly from a C.O. I told them I did not and I did not. They asked me if I witnessed a C.O. use the actual E-cig. I told them that was a two-fold answer. Heres what happened. I saw a C.O. but I can’t remember which one, drinking a soda. I can’t remember which C.O. because they all had sodas. They being C.O.’s Eaton Deruso and some female. I wanted the soda can so I could use it to burn baby oil to make tattoo ink write me up for that, fuck it put it on the list. So I waited for them to throw the trash away, they would throw the upstairs bubble trash away in the trash can outside right outside the sally port door. They did this every night. So, the next day I made sure I was the first person out the door to chow. I went straight to the garbage can to steal the soda can put that on the list too! I took the soda can to my cell. There was something rattling in it so I opened it up and wouldn’t you know there were 3 fucking E-cig nicotine cartridges. I went to my cellie and told him to watch for the C.O.’s. Then I went to someone else and asked for 1 single tea bag. I brake open 1 of the cartridges and squeezed a few drips of nicotine on the tea, to smoke it like a cigarrette. On the, rather in the clear cartridge there is a cotton wick thing, shoved inside a spring that is attached to two metal prongs. I squeezed that cotton out, so I smoked that. I wrapped the other two cartridges in saran wrap, and I was going to try to use them as leverage in the future, with the thinking, if a C.O’s bringing in this, what else could be getting smuggled in by a C.O. A few days go by. I kept the cartridges in me, so a C.O. couldn't hit my house and take them. I went to chapel just to get some fucking christmas cards, I was in the building for all of two fucking minutes and left, I didnt get the cards ‘cuz they were just some christian bullshit cards. I left and some cop said what did you just do. I told him I just wanted cards from the chapel. He asked where the cards are. I told him fuck those Jesus bullshit cards. Apparently Jesus didn’t like that, because the CO asked to pat me down. I tried to skate with the E-cigs in my little pocket, but he felt them apparently. I told him that the shit is e-cig cartridges. The rest is already in your fucking report. I would take a polygraph on all that. I would answer any fucking question about any thing on a polygraph. You probably wont believe that, but I’ll give you people my reasons for telling you anyways. There are two reasons, the broad reason is that you fucking people, the NDOC and all of it’s fucking employees have made me, over the past few years, the biggest fucking cynic to ever exist. I loathe, detest, hate, am disgusted by, etc etc, every NDOC employee, caseworker, srgt, lt, nurse, free staff, maintenance, etc etc. Even the ones I have never met and don’t know. I didnt start my sentence that way, but I can tell you, from the depths of what little heart I have left, that each and every encounter I have ever had with any NDOC employee has made me feel that way, has compounded that hatred. That explains any significant prolonged disciplinary history. I made pruno years ago, because being drunk is an escape from the anger I feel, from the hell I am in. I fought so many inmates because they make me sick. Thats why I dont care about “snitching” with this. Fuck them all. I went to PC, just because I thought those inmates would be different, and all they are are different kinds of pieces of shit. I fought in PC, one time in the sally port. I was sent to the hole. I propelled shit on a C.O. because he was a shit talking ass hole and I was pissed off. I popped a shit ton of fire sprinklers, really just to piss everyone off, knowing nobody wants to deal with that fucking headache. The more they pissed me off the more bullshit like popping sprinklers, lighting fires, etc, that I did and they reacted as you can imagine, like ass holes. It was a stupid and vicious cycle, but I harbor so much pentup resentment that I just didnt care. I would make my situation worse just to get them, I was taken to ESP property room and had my ass beat in cuffs, by two cops that stoked my fire. I had so much hole time that nothing mattered to me. I would say I was suicidal, even though I was not, to get out of the loud ass hole and to make the C.O.’s work, which they hate to do. It got so bad that they, the “mental health team,” put me on forced medication. They put me on Haldol Lactate, injections that I could not refuse, I tried a few times and they cell extracted me, tied me to a fucking bed and forced the injection. Haldol is worse than any Hell. It is, metaphorically speaking, the devils blood. I don’t know why but in ESP they’ll put you on it as a month injection, even if you are calm. What it does is render you vegetative/comatose. It basically turns off 99% of your brain and 100% of your body. You will have seizures on it. Your muscles will “lock” up. I couldn’t turn my cell light on or off, I couldnt brush my teeth, I couldn’t wipe my own fucking ass. I damn near died by starving to death. Eating and drinking water were damn near impossible. I think part of that 1 percent of your mind thats not shut down is your survival instinct. My cell was a fucking biohazard, because trying to use the toilet was akin to driving with a 2.7 [illegible]. I would shit on myself and lay in it for months. Every month a “nurse” would come to give me that poison. One nurse cried, fucking tears, because I was crying when she told me I had to take a shot. I didn’t cry when I was arrested or sentenced to 6-15 years in prison. It lasts over the month. You maintain just enough function in that 1% of your brain to understand the scope of how terrible it is. Your a prisoner in your own mind and body. Thats not just me speaking, every single person I have ever met who has taken an injection of Haldol lactate will agree. I was taken off probably because they, the psych team” saw that it was going to literally kill me. I was write up free for a year because I was constantly threatened with a shot for any write up every fucking day for a year; If I saw a nurse or any C.E.R.T. I would start shaking, getting cold sweats, and panic, just thinking that they are there to force inject me Then I filed a lawsuit on Wardens Gittere, Filson, Byrns and accounting for freezing my account for 23 months. Wouldnt you know, right after I filed that suit a nurse came and told me I had to take a shot. I said I hadn’t been on any meds of any kind for a year, I said I it was an error. He said there was a court order and the C.O. Adono said “You know we’ll extract you and just give it to you anyways, so just take it” I filed 4 emergency grievances on it in two days, saying it was negligence, an error, etc etc, they responded saying it was ordered. I responded saying its an “emergency” sedative. I said I have been write up free and incident free for a year. They said thats irrelevant. It wasn’t until, by the grace of God, that two days after the nurse came that I got ahold of my mom and grandma and had them and a lawyer rain down threats of a lawsuit on fucking everybody, that oh yeah you shouldn’t get that: came from Mrs. Clay. I was, “taken off” forced medication. My mother is a nurse (RN) and told me that they can’t give me “emergency meds” if there is no emergency. I know, in my heart, soul, brain, and instinct that came only because I filed a lawsuit against ESP/NDOC. I also know that I would not have gotten to a phone if the nurse came on a Monday. He came on a Friday, and by my calm “refusal” and asking for an emergency grievance, and by them not having ease of access to be able to cell extract via cert, and tie me to a bed, that I did not get that injection. I was told that I was “off forced meds” I was also told I, “could be put right back on” It took 5 months for my parkinsons like hand tremors to go away, it took longer to “feel normal” again. Fast forward to trying to get out of ESP which every inmate/C.O. knows is a destitute God-forsaken shit hole, it was run around by the caseworker, always some circumventive excuse or delay, until I threatened to write a grievance. This isn’t a paranoid mind speaking either, I pissed every body every staff off in ESP. The wardens by lighting a fire and destroying their precious linoleum floor. The case workers by filling so many grievances. The staff. The caseworker, Castro, would “joke” “Oh you dont wanna leave ESP? Why its so nice here.” Getting any case worker to do any fucking thing is akin to threading a needle in the dark, under water, handcuffed. Thats the general inmate consensus. So finally I get out of ESP to L.C.C. My God, it was a culture shock, but thats a different story. I hope the C.O.s there would be different. They were not. I went to apply for the structure living program. (SLP) I wear prescription sunglasses and went to the interview in them. The D. I. Ball, didn’t like me having them. He made an issue. I took them off. I explained to them, him and one SLP case worker, Ms. Ward, after they asked about my history, that I have been a fuck up for 22 years. I fucked up over and over in ESP. I said I was trying to do that program to actually try to change to learn to deal with all my anger and frustration. They told me I would be accepted. I really actually wanted to go, to try to get better action with the parole board. I told them the only thing I care about is seeing my grandmother before she dies, getting out to be with her. I told them I would go through hell and back to complete their program if it gave me hope of getting parole. Then I wore sunglasses, my prescription approved sunglasses to chow. Ball called my unit C.O. and informed me via him, that I was, “no longer” going to SLP. I talked to Ball who called me a liar for, “wearing my prescription sunglasses without approval”. I said I have my approval from ESP Warden Revbart, and my medical approval from ESP. Apparently, according to him, I wasn’t approved to wear the sunglasses indoors in LCC. I said medical appliances dont require per facility warden approval. I called him a punk and said he didn’t possess integrity or honor, and from him I could not learn to be a man. I gave it a week or two and wrote a kite apologizing. I said I was beyond furious for being kicked out of a program I obviously needed for some thing so petty as glasses. I said I was doubly pissed because I thought I found 1 person in the entire NDOC that would give a single fuck about me, but obviously did not. I said I would either end up dead or with a life sentence if I did not get help, and by him not caring, I was just broken. I said fuck it all then. I never made it to that program. I had a “yard TV” a tv I bought from an inmate who was going home. TV’s to us inmates are almost a lifeline. Its hard to describe, but not only are they baby sitters, but they are a connection to the real world. You can’t imagine sitting in a prison cell 20 hours a day without a tv. It’s just background noise at times, but that noise gets you out of the dark thoughts that creep up on you in the silence. It blocks the noise of other inmates screaming, rapping, pounding, etc. When your detached from the world, prison corrodes your soul and mind, it becomes an overwhelming burden because it can’t be tuned out. Sure you can read a book, or draw or what ever, but your acutely aware of being in prison. You dont focus on rehabilitation, you focus on all you lost and your lost family and life, and the fucked up prison your in. Just seeing people on tv, a commercial even, being humans, not in blue or green, that takes the burden off watching some shit garbage like Modern Family, it keeps you out of thinking everybody is a piece of shit with ulterior motives of scandalous nature, as all inmates are. I could go on and on and on, but my points made. So I bought a yard tv because I can not purchase one on my own account for various reasons, one being financial. I had an acquaintance (I have zero friends) that had his property “rolled up” The cops took it for what ever reason. He too had a “yard” tv. It wasnt on his property card either. We both had our names engraved into the tv, but I did my own, I un-engraved the previous guy’s name, opened the security screws, and pulled out the serial number stickers. I replaced the stickers with very good counterfeit I made, that did not correlate to anybody. I had that TV for a year, I didn’t however, have it listed on my property card. So this acquaintance, Joe, his tv was seized. He went to speak to property srgt., of LCC, Linberg. After a few weeks Joe came back with the TV engraved with his name, I was in shock. He said Linberg also put it on his property file. So it was officially his TV. He said all he did was be honest with Linberg. So I spent 2 months in an internal struggle of deciding to ask to get “my” TV put on my card. One day I went to property. I told Linberg that my tv broke and that I opened it to solder on a new fuse. I said I had to take the security seal off, the tamper evident seal. I asked if he could do anything for me, implying put on a new seal. He said he could. I said to him, honestly, it is not “officially” my TV. I told him I bought it for $50 from a guy who went home. I said I engraved my name in it, and put counterfeit serial numbers on it. He joked saying how he could seize it. I said I’d bring it down if he wanted to confiscate it, or that its in my cell and he can go get it. I said that because, I figured him to do the C.O. thing, and take it, even though I hoped he would be a compassionate human being. He said bring it down and don’t worry, he would help me. So, against my better judgement, I took it to him. He said don’t worry, I’ll get it back. Thats what I get for trusting and having faith in a C.O. So I found the nicotine cartridges a few days after and was hoping to use them as leverage to get “my” tv back. That brings us full circle, explains my hatred of C.O.s. He could have just been honest and said I was burnt and he took it, at least then it would not be such a slap in my face, make me feels stupid. So because of how these “people” these C.O.’s are such liars, Im gonna be honest just to spite them. I want to lie, so bad, to say Linberg was the one who gave me the cartridges, to say he gave me drugs or a phone, etc, but my honesty, the honesty of a 22 year old criminal fuck up is spite enough, not just to him, but to all NDOC employees, because I can go to sleep easy in knowing, that I may be a thief, I may be a criminal, and I occasionally will lie, but I am not a tyrant, or a C.O. which to me is worse than a child molester serial murderer. I won’t be a habitual liar who thrives off their infliction of misery of another human being. I look at myself, and know, I break laws and rules, I am a criminal and have harmed people, but I try and do whats humane and human. Sometimes theres gray in whats right and wrong, sometimes whats right or humane isnt exactly allowed or legal. Its like if somebody is a child molester, a sick depraved individual and they get hurt. I dont believe that is wrong. I wont be the one to do it, but you see my thinking and how its gray. Anyways, you can put this in your “investigation” I would love to take a polygraph on any of this or any thing. A CO smuggled in nicotine/tobacco products on to LCC yard, nicotine is highly poisonous in concentrated form. What else are they doing, how big is that security breach? All good questions. Trent J. Henrickson 12/25/20218 Sworn statement under penalty of perjury: Pursuant to NRS 208.65 For the record – I did the “right thing” by telling the truth, even if I did have ulterior motives. So with me doing the right thing – I was put in administrative segregation, the hole, as in reality it’s known. I had my property “rolled up” by a C.O. (Spinella) whom “lost” my beard trimmers and radio. There was a significant amount of property in my old house that was not on my property sheet. I was not present for inventory. Thats a very common NDOC practice, for a C.O. to “roll up” an inmates property and leave items in the cell or more common even to mark legitimate property as altered or hobby craft and in violation of policy, throw it away right there. I had $100 in hobby craft yarn, thrown away as well as the $8 box it was in, once again in violation of policy. I was crocheting a unicorn to send to my baby cousin for christmas, and a few beanies to send to my family. I have been locked down for almost two weeks, and transferred to a different prison. I have had extreme limited access to a telephone. I could not call my family on christmas or my mother on her birth day. I was threatened with write ups, and told I blackmailed a C.O. into bringing me contraband or that I bribed a C.O. into bringing me in contraband with my thousands of dollars in debt. There is a reason inmates do not do, “the right thing”; actually many reasons. Again, I did not start my sentence with this cynicism and contempt. It was years of the systematic cruelty and tyranny of NDOC and employees that corrodes my mind, heart, and soul. Years of oppression crashing like tsunamis/waves upon me that turned me into a subject fitting of my punishment. By my long suffering my nerves have been so frayed that now I tremble at the sight of another human. I have had zero rehabilitation and minimal contact with people. I do not like crowds and I have a negative balance of respect for any person in a position of power over myself or anybody. I have within me this raw visceral hatred for my species that weighs upon me every day. I am pretty sure I have PTSD and I can not be around C.O.s without getting panicked. I no longer desire even getting released, the torture that is being alone, being utterly alone, being hopeless and being in a cage, have been so abrasive that they deadened my nerves to the point where my numbness over powers any seed of hope I once possessed. My light at the end of the tunnel burnt out and my tunnel collapsed around me. I think that all hope for me was lost a long time ago and now I’m aimlessly playing out the string. I have 5 people in this entire world that I care about and 1 person that I can depend on. I have zero friends. Two people, so far, that I love have died and I didn’t even get to say good bye. I have two brothers and a step father that I don’t know, and as much as I want to know them, or be around, I have an insidious feeling that it’s best to never meet them or be around. I have burned, financially, my grandmother for years. I have broken her heart time and time again, just by being here. I lost the only girl I have ever loved and I love the only girl I have lost. I am selfish. I am unable to support myself. I am 22 and know nothing about anything “real life.” I do not know how to drive, I dont know anything about mortgages or renting a house. I have never voted, I cannot possess a firearm. Getting a job will be an up hill battle. I do not have any trade skills, I do not have any education past high school. I will leave prison with $200 and no place to go, I will leave prison worse than I came in, with a ten year old understanding of life from the vantage point of a 17 year old delinquent. The only person I love, really, love, the only person in my life who has always been there for me might possibly die before I get out. I haven’t given her a hug in 5 years. I have missed 5 christmases, 5 Halloweens, the birth of my brothers, my moms wedding, my grandfathers dying alone in some shitty studio apartments. I live in that, every day, every night. Not a single person in this system cares or has helped me help myself. That is prison. The mentally ill, truly crazy people get locked in a cell 24/7. They get harassed by C.O.s. You can tell when people are actually schizophrenic, and I have seen a person eat his own shit and punch himself in the face get called a retard by staff and told he should kill himself. If you ask to speak to a psychologist, they will just give you a sedative. They hand out bullshit like buspar like candy. If you misbehave, they label you a psych patient inmate, they will chemically restrain an inmate. They blur the line between behavior problems and mental health militia. I have witnessed C.O.’s (plural) throw away mail, in-coming and out going. I have been called every name in the book by C.O.’s, faggot, bitch, child molester, PC, rat, etc. Filing a grievance is, honestly, is ultimately pointless. Grievances are always denied, no matter the validity. Also, the NDOC implemented a policy of one grievance per week, which is beyond my understanding because there are so many things that happen that should be addressed. I had my visiting rights taken away for 2 years for having 1 bottle of pruno. I have been found guilty of disciplinaries that I was not invited to attend. C.O.’s will just note, “refused,” “refused to sign.” The NDOC systematically fucks over every body in its system. There is a reason why there are so many lawsuits and grievances against the NDOC and its employees. Emergency grievances are routinely refused by C.O.’s until a person feels that they must do some thing drastic to speak to a srgt. or supervisor. I would stake all my worldly possessions, that statistically speaking, that is a major percentage of why people start fires, flood, etc, due to refusal by C.O.’s of emergency grievances, which are also laughable. Also, I filed an emergency grievance regarding the nicotine cartridges I found, in L.C.C. Srgt or lt. Clark told me, “that I shouldn’t make allegations like that because one can’t guarantee my safety, can’t stop my door from opening at two a.m.” He said, some of the C.O.’s are friends and if you say some thing about a guys friend . . . The next day I was transferred to NNCC. My inmate account has been frozen for two years, unfrozen, and refrozen. Some times I think its hot wired to a light switch some where, but it’s obvious to any person than an inmates banking canteen account is highly significant. So freezing an account is very detrimental to an inmate. Also, the Administrative Regulations, the Operational Procedures, they are a fucking joke. I would bet my life that 1 out of 10 inmates, any inmates, would agree with that. Grievances go to case workers, and wardens. An NDOC employee is not going to oppose another NDOC employee. It’s reality and common sense. The A.R.’s and C.O.’s are all mutated to obstruct grievances. It’s all pointless. Cell intercom speakers, also a joke. It’s common practice for a C.O. to ignore our intercom for hours and hours. Most of the time you can look out of your cell and see the C.O. just turn your speaker off. I have seen C.O.’s clear the whole board if people mass press their buttons. And, again, I am not schizophrenic, I do not hear voices or see things, I am not psychotic, I am not bi-polar, I am not depressed. I am not a psych patient. I am not suicidal. I am angry, and in the past, I have reacted to such anger by acting out, as I have said. It was childish to do such, but I am a human being under stress and by nature have been overwhelmed by my emotions. I write this missive now to make an account of the misery I have lived. I would hope, as a human being with just a little seed of empathy and humanity, that I can spread this account now in attempt to make life for my fellow, inmates, human beings, even fractionally less burdensome, in the NDOC. Because compassion and humanity, dignity and empathy, are wilted in the NDOC; I am going to spread this as far and wide as I can, and hopefully someone will be a siren. Sworn declaration under penalty of perjury pursuant to NRS 208.165 Trent Henrickson 12/25/2018

Author: Henrickson, Trent J.

Author Location: Nevada

Date: January 15, 2019

Genre: Essay

Extent: 16 pages

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