🔵 By Don Lusietto. Photo by lauragrafie.
I’ve been in trouble with the law almost as long as I can remember. I wish this wasn’t the case but when I was young it was almost like I had a reputation to keep going because my dad was a biker and a badass and I didn’t want to let him down. I was wrong but I didn’t know that then.
I was always trying to be as bad as I could. From fighting with rich kids, to getting in trouble and skipping school. I once found a bunch od nails. I didn’t like my 4th grade teacher so I stood them up, behind her car tires os when she would back up, she would have flattened all her tires. Stupid! Thankfully one of the kids at recess saw me doing this, and told on me. I got in some big trouble but she could have gotten hurt or worse.
That’s just a little background into who I am. I’ve been sitting with this letter for months wondering what to write. Then it dawned on me to write what I knew and tell you about the first time I went to I.Y.C (Illinois Youth Center). St. Charles. There’s a movie called “Bad Boys” with Sean Penn? It was filmed there. It’s a BAD place. My dad had been there when he was young so I thought I had to go too. Plus I hang out with kids older than me and some of them had went there too.
My first time was when I was 12 years old. 1997. I had went to every juvenile detention center in 3 counties surrounding my county. Mary Davis in Galesburg, RVDC (River Valley Detention Center) in Joliet and my local D-Home in Ottawa. They were trying to scare me straight by sending me to these bigger D-Homes but they didn’t know I loved this shit at the time. Stupid!
So when I was 12 years old and had already been to the D-Home 3 to 4 times from anything from truancy to petty theft of cigarettes and alcohol, the state sentenced me to a 90 day court evaluation in IYC St. Charles. It was fucked up but I knew it was coming. On the morning I was to be shipped, I was sitting in a hold cell in the county jail, because they did the transfers, and I was cracking my knuckles. All of a sudden I heard my dad say “Stop fucking cracking those knuckles!” I said, “Dad?” … “Yeah, they got me for driving. I’m doing two weeks here in the county. I’m the trustee. Be strong boy, and I’ll see you in 3 months ok?” … “Yep, love you dad.”
So then the county Sheriff came and got me. He was cool with my dad so he didn’t make me wear handcuffs or nothing and let me write my dad a little note. Since he was going back to the jail when he was done. The ride took about an hour and a half to get there. I’ll never forget when me and Jim pulled up to the gate and looked down the fence line, it looked like it went forever.
We pulled into the sally port and guards came out to take Jim’s gun and searched the car. Then Jim had to drive me into the prison. It was like a small town with buildings all over and streets. There was probably at least 12 different houses that housed inmates. There was the chow hall, rec center, school, segregation house, gymnasium. There were old houses still standing from the time when my dad was there as a boy, that were closed down but still standing. There were people walking all over. I saw two people walking with a C.O. They were huge, with beards and giant muscles. I asked Jim who they were and he said, “Those are prisoners, bud.”
When I was 12, I wasn’t very big. I was just a little dude. At that time you could be in St. Charles until you were 21 years old. That max age changed to 19 in 1999 but that’s still pretty old. These kids were the worst of the worst from Chicago, Joliet, Rockford, Aurora, and all over Illinois. They were here for armed robbery, rape, murder and all kinds of heinous crimes. And here I was for skipping school and stealing cigarettes. I am not going to lie, I was scared. I was wondering what the fuck have I got myself into.
Jim took me to the receiving section and turned me over to the guards. All I could think to myself was I was sorry and I wouldn’t do it again. But it was too late for that. The C.O got my paperwork and led me inside. We went into a room with rows of chairs. Some were already filled with other kids. A lot had beards, tattoos, on their arms and faces. All staring at me, this little 12 year old KID! They told me sit down and wait until I was called. This was probably 8:30 I the morning. I sat for an hour or so, more people coming and filling up the chairs. Finally my name was called and I went up and set across from a C.O. He started asking if I had tattoos, was I in a gang, what my charges were, where was I from, age, race, all kinds of stuff. When I was done he told me to go back and wait to be called again.
Then an hour or so later, a different cop came and took me and 5 other inmates back to shower. Of course I was the only white one. Out of the 30 or so kids there, there were only 3 or 4 white kids because so many are coming out the inner cities of Chicago. He stripped us all down, naked, doused us in lice powder and made us stand there for 5 minutes. Freezing and naked. Then told us to shower off and put on the jump suits he gave us. They were either too big or torn up pretty much rags. Underwear too big, socks and shoes didn’t fit. After we were dressed he told us to sit back down and eat our sack lunch. A bologna sandwich, an apple and bag of chips. And a warm milk. Then we sat again. We ended up sitting in those damn chairs until 5:30 at night before they sent us to our units. Now there are 3 receiving units. Robinson, Kennedy, and King. Robinson is for younger, less aggressive minor charges or smaller inmates. Kennedy is for slightly older, a little more aggressive, or moderate charged inmates. Then you got King which is for oldest, biggest, and for murder and the such. I didn’t know this at the time but figured I would let you know this now. I found myself in Robinson. It was the first and last time I was there.
When I came on deck you have to go check in with the C.O. on the unit. I had my property (Laundry bag with 2 boxers, 2 socks, 2 shirts, toothbrush and paste, toilet paper and receiving handbook. Towlet and wash cloth and soap). The C.O. told me to go ahead and sit down in the dayroom. They didn’t have a room for me yet. So I did. The dayroom was packed and everyone was sitting in rows of chairs watching something on TV. I sat in the 3rd row. There were 4. I wasn’t sitting there for 5 minutes when one kid jumped around, over the row of chairs and started beating up the guy sitting 2 seats down from me. I was thinking to myself “What the fuck?” The C.O.’s didn’t even do nothing. I just sat there, stunned. Finally the cop said enough and they stopped. They cuffed the two of them up and sent them to Seg. We all ended up setting the chairs back up and finished watching TV.
At 8:30 the C.O. told everyone to lock up. Now this place was so crowded that after everyone locked up there was still like 25 or 30 of us who didn’t have rooms. When this happens they put us on boats in the dayroom. Well they only had 20 boats (pretty much like cots. Big, plastic tubs that you put a mattress in to sleep) for the deck. So the rest of us had to go to Taylor deck (segregation) dayroom and sleep on boats there. People from Robinson, Kennedy and King that didn’t fit went there.
When we got there, we all got our boats and made our bunks. I was wore the fuck out so I went right to sleep but everyone else was talking and playing cards. Next thing I new I heard some weird noises, like a slurping sound. I woke up to 4 black guys getting head from a young, slow white kid. I didn’t know what to say. One was like, “You want in?” I said no, I just wanted to sleep. I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. I couldn’t wait until the morning so I could get away from that situation. I wish I could say that was the last time I was around that type of shit but it was far from it! I’ve heard people get raped. Seen people get stabbed. Head split open. Jail and D-House is extremely rough and I hope my sons never have to go through the things I have.
I’m so proud that my 17 year old son is going into the armed forces and has never been in trouble with the law. He isn’t talking to me right now but that’s just another thing the system has took from me. He’s upset because I’ve spent more time incarcerated than I have with him and I understand. My other son who is about to turn 11 is with my sister because his mom and the love of my life passed away from a drug overdose 8 months before I came back to prison this time. That’s a story for another time though.
Detention and jail have made me who I am. I’m not proud or happy about that but it is what it is. I’m trying to change and recover from all the things I’ve seen and been through but I need to do it one day at a time.
I hope this story will help you understand what kids and young adults are going through. Life is tough for all races and ages. It took me a LONG time to learn from my mistakes and hopefully I can help others to change before they go through what I did.