🔵💥 By David Breaux. Photo by lauragrafie.
I first met Jeanette in 1976 after I’d spent a couple of bogish months in Segregation thanks to Asst. Warden Kapture. I’d shut the visit room down twice. The first time was over them denying my mentally ill mother who was with my father to whom she’d been married to for 40 plus years; the second was over my twin sister Cheryl being denied a visit though she was on my visiting list but didn’t need to be because she’d been living and working in New Orleans, Louisiana for over 5 years and had a legal out of state I.D.
I was working in the gym at the time and had bumped heads with Warden Kapture on two prior occasions, causing him considerable embarrassment on one occasion over a bogish clothing issue; and when I was in orientation and told him to go fuck himself and “that you can’t make a slave outta me”, when he told me what the state jobs were and what they paid. He put me on “unassigned status” which was cool with me, until I decided to get my GED. I went from the school wing to the “gym detail” and then had the problems with my visits and wound up in Segregation. Despite the fact that the Institutional Grievance Committee (Inquiry Board) cut me loose from Segregation when they found Sgt. Martin (Visiting Room Sgt) at fault, Warden Kapture who headed up to the adjustment Committee came back and gave me an additional 30 days on top of the first 30 he’d given me. Lauren Gibbon who headed the Administrative Review Board heard my appeal. I was released from Segregation on my 59th day, the day before the ARB arrived to hear my appeal. Once I explained all the subterfuge, Warden and other staff had engaged in and showed her proof the Institutional Inquiry board had cut me loose 50 days prior. She simply asked me what it was that I wanted. I knew they wouldn’t pay to bring my sister back or apologize so I simply asked for my job back (in the gym) and back pay. Unfortunately they left Kapture on out by saying he could give me a “similar job”, so despite the fact the entire gym crew had been taken to Seg, he told me the only job he had was in the kitchen!
I knew he expected me to tell him to kiss my ass again but instead I took the job, and thus is how I eventually met Jeanette. We were 3 deep in a cell built for one man. 3 bunks, the top bunk literally 6 to 8 inches from the ceiling. You slept on your back or on your stomach and heaven forbid you were a restless sleeper or awake suddenly, you’d raise up and crack your head open on the ceiling.
Anyway, one of my cellies kept hounding me to write my cousin even though I told him repeatedly my “Cuz”, “ain’t gonna write no convict.” He’d say, “I’m a Mack shell answer me.” He offered me Jeanette’s name and address in exchange; I agreed and even put a note in the letter, reassuring my Cuz he hadn’t stolen the address. Back then the State gave every inmate 3 free write outs so I used all 3 of mine writing Jeanette for the next 2 months, until I finally got an answer, which came in the form of a note that said, “I don’t believe you know who I am and how old I am that you would be saying all these things to me, your cellie must have been pulling one over on you,” was what it said.
I wrote her back and told her, “Don’t judge me by someone else’s intentions, judge me by mine, and if I have one major fault it’s that I’m serious when others are not. Oh and secondly Jeanette, I didn’t ask your age nor do I care how old you are. What matters is your intentions and if you weren’t interested you would have continued to ignore my letters, so since you haven’t, get serious and talk to me.”
My response did the trick. 2 or 3 weeks after I sent that letter, I was in the cell watching my favorite soap opera “One Life To Live” laying in my bunk in my drows when someone knocked on my door and said, “David.”
I turned to see these beautiful calves (I’ve always had a thing for great legs) one thing about white women I find especially attractive is the semetree thighs to calves, back then white women were famous for having great legs and flat asses, by the 90’s they even got better asses. “Must be something in the milk”. 😉 we use to say. So, I reached for my pants, immediately put them on, stood up and said, “Hello Jeanette.”
She immediately smiled and asked how I knew it was her. My reply was simple, “No one in the joint calls me David, they call me Breaux.” (Bro) Our name and number were stenciled in Bold Black ink back then. We talked for 2 hours plus until the rest of the people she was with beckoned her to leave. The last thing she said was, “Put me on your visiting list.” And I said, “You’ve been on my visiting list since the first time I wrote you!” She smiled again and said, “I’ll be out this weekend to see you.”
It was Wednesday; true to her word that weekend she was there. Saturday we talked about family, her job with the Illinois Prison + Jail Project a monitoring group for Prisons in Illinois she founded. She was considering accepting a seat on the John Howard Associations Board and I asked if our relationship would pose a problem and she said no. She told me about her previous relationship with an inmate that had been killed in Joliet. (AKA the Old Joint.)
She then asked me what I intended to do once I got out. I said to her, “Ain’t no see and chances society ain’t that forgiving and you know this. I intend to put me a hustle together and work for myself.” (I’d been painting apartments since I was eleven years old. “What kind of hustle?”, she asked. Weed business, some bootlegging to start. “What do you think you’ll need?”, she asked and I said, “Realistically to do it up right, about 5 grand.”
She looked me dead in the eye and said, “I can manage that! Anything you need while you’re here just ask, don’t ask me to bring any drugs.”
“Never”, I said!
She then said, “If you want some weed, I’ll pay for it but won’t bring it.” We changed the subject and started discussing her being married; next thing I knew the 2 hours was over, you got 4 during the week and 2 on weekends if it wasn’t over crowded. She saw the disappointment register on my face when we were told our visit was up, she’d return it the next day. I took her hand, walked her to the steps and leaned in and whispered, “Tomorrow when you come down those steps be prepared to be kissed.” Her eyes lit up, she put her arms around my neck and said, “Why wait until tomorrow?” We kissed and she said, ”See you tomorrow.” and left. Next day as soon as the count checked, she was back.
She came to my first parole hearing which was denied “Seriousness at the Offense”. Despite the fact that I had 2 offers from 2 different colleges NIU and Eureka College, I heard Ronald Reagan attended Eureka. We’d played both Colleges and beat them in football. Their coaches asked me when I was getting out; I told the board I could get a scholarship and this would be the best time and opportunity to turn my life around. “Parole Denied” was their response.
When I went back for the 2nd time in 1978, I told those bureaucratic bullshit artists they could kiss my ass. “You had a chance to really help me and you chose not to so it’s fuck me bitches, it’s fuck you too!”, and I got up and left. Parole Denied!
Just before Christmas 1978 I received a “disciplinary ticket” for supposedly threatening a Counselor. She claimed I was “usurping” her duties. What I did was having Jeanette helping inmates, doing her job. So when I wrote her back after she sent me what I deemed an indignant note, I told her, “There are legitimate ways to have you removed from the cell house.” For this I was given what was affectionately called “bus therapy” which meant a transfer to another joint, in this case Menard Correctional Center.
Before leaving on January 4th 1979, I was taken to Segregation in Statesville to await transfer. On New Years Eve the “Klan Krew” (Racist White Officers) were tricking inmates out of their cells under the pretense of showering them, then beating them down for sport. Luckily Asst. Warden Mary Hall was notified and she eventually came in and put a stop to it.
Now upon my arrival at Menard I discovered each gang/mob had a shipment, shipments arrived once a week. Since I wasn’t hooked up this could have been a problem but I was in good standing with most of the mobs because their main chiefs knew me from the street, and I had an impeccable reputation among most of the mobs.
This is how and why I met my first wife Mable. Her brother was put in the cell with me, and the mobs were after him because he was gay. He only had 3 years and shouldn’t have been in a Maximum Security Joint. I wrote his mother and Jeanette and helped get him transferred. His sister Mable read the letter I wrote to his mother and she demanded to speak to me the next time he called home. I did talk to her, told her I had an old lady, but she insisted on talking to me again. I gave her my home phone number, never expecting her to call, hell I had 9 months before I went to the Parole Board for the 3rd time.
I went to the Parole Board late August, early September, checked their asses again, told them about the Supreme Court decision saying, “Parole by definition meant early release and that the Chief justice of Cook County’s Circuit Court had promised to throw out the parole of anyone the Parole Board Maxed out.” So I told them again to kiss my black ass, bureaucratic cocksuckers that they were, “Max me out so I can get the Chief Justice to tell you where to stick your parole.” By the time I got back to my cell my Parole Papers were on my bed. “Parole Granted.”
Jeanette came to pick me up. Our first stop was Pizza Hut; turned out to be the nastiest pizza I ever tasted; we threw it in the garbage and went straight to the hotel, where we wasted no more time. We kissed, undressed one another, I laid her back on the bed, kissed my way down her body; sucked on her thighs before licking and sucking on her pussy lips and clit. Jeanette was the first woman I’d ever performed oral sex on. I’d been doing a lot of fuckbook readings and of course white women supposedly loved this!
I had asked her about it, if she was okay with oral sex and she had said yes. She was 62 so I had to ask. At age 24 and having had no pussy for 5 years I was good to go and go down on her I did for at least an hour before we fucked; and we fucked at least 6 more times after that before daybreak the next morning. We showered together and she said to me, “David I never made love that many times or cum that much in my life.”
“If you’re happy and satisfied Jeanette that is all that matters.”
„Oh hell yeah David I’m beyond happy.”
We went to the lake/pond inside the SIU campus, found a secluded spot, a bench, I took her panties off, bent her over the back of the bench and we fucked again, ate lunch, went back to the hotel and fucked some more. Sunday morning we got on the highway early. Once we were on I57, she pulled over and told me to drive; I said, “You sure about this?”, and she said, “This is the best time for you to get the feel back.” I said okay and we switched seats. She then told me to take it up to 55 to 60 MPH which I did and she showed me the cruise control and said, “Now you don’t have to worry about a speeding ticket.” She said this with a mischievous smile. Then she said, “Don’t you think it’s time we make your fantasy come true?” as she unzipped my fly, pulled out my dick and put it in her mouth and started sucking. She stopped, looked up at me and told me to relax and keep my eyes on the road. “I got this”, she smiled and went back to sucking my cock. When I came she didn’t stop and sucked down every drop. When she came up for air she said, “I enjoyed the hell out of this!”
“So did I!”, was all I could say. She never took her hand off my dick but just kept gently stroking me as we talked. About 20 miles or so later she was back at it again. She’d also never been on top which we remedied as soon as we got home. I been with someone between 50-75 and believe me when I tell you that all they wanted was to feel desirable, attractive and be treated right. All that too old, dried up bullshit is a myth. They enjoy sex at 50,60, 70 probably even more than when they were younger. I learned a great deal from older women.
Unfortunately Jeanette had what was commonly called Jungle Fever. She just wanted some Black dick as she immediately shied away from any public display of affection. Jeanette had “promised” we’d get our own place but decided to help her sister, which though extremely disappointed I forgave her breaking her word. However, her sister turned out to be a supreme hypocrite, she had a half Puerto-Rican daughter and was shacked up with a brother (Black man) but had a problem with me being with Jeanette. Compound that with my recognizing almost immediately how Jeanette would behave around her colleagues whenever I showed up or out in public, the “Jungle Fever” became increasingly apparent.
So when Mable did call and said she wanted to come up and see me, I readily agreed.
Mable was a beautiful woman; you’d find it hard to believe she had 8 children. She was shacked up with an older man as well as was unhappy. We discussed him, Jeanette, her kids, the fact that I didn’t have any, my hustling, her hustling, and we came to what I thought was a clear understanding but Mable had her hidden agenda like most women. We spent the weekend fucking, morning, noon and night and in-between, talked, ate and fucked some more. Mable gave me 3 grand and a title to a car before she left at the end of our first weekend. She’d come up once a month for a weekend after that for more of the same and by the summer of 1980 I’d paid my brother to use his apartment so I could cook for us and take care of my business on the block. (Marijuana business.) I’d met her children by then. We were in my brothers bed fucking when she opened her eyes and said, “Marry me David.”
I stopped, pulled out and said, “No! No Mable!” Empathetically NO. She started to cry, and I said, “Mable, I’m hustling, this ain’t about your kids, hell I wish they were mine but I’m no role model so No.”
She swore up and down that my hustling wouldn’t and didn’t matter and it would never be a problem. Of course I said, “You say that now.”
“I mean it David, I promise!”
King David was dead 5 years and the new breed of Disciples were at it again, pushing on the younger brothers of my homies and their friends and of course they turned to me for help. I tried talking to the Disciples Godfather but it didn’t help so I took action to put a stop to it. Action that cost him so he put a hit out on me. I decided to get out of the city, so I married Mable and went to Champaign. Mable broke her word, cost me a boatload of money and I wound up back in Chicago having to deal with the gang bullshit once more and that is how I caught my second case. I left Jeanette when I married Mable.