Settling into The Big House

I found myself alone, somewhere in Port Coquitlam, British Columbia, just standing there in the middle of a room barefoot, surrounded by people I didn’t know.

I had no idea how I got there, who I came with, why I was there or where my shoes were.

The environment slowly started coming into focus. Almost like I would imagine teleporting myself would be like. I just became conscious of it, is more likely, out of nowhere. I was at a house party, I started hearing the music, it was loud and aggressive. Everyone was high on acid. I was standing there barefoot.

The next thing I remember Is sitting in the passenger side of a car with someone I knew years before from Montreal, Quebec, Danny McLeod!! Like WTF? I was still barefoot. I guess I knew at the time, but I’d forgotten how we met up in the first place, and other than Danny explaining to me many years later when we found each other on Facebook, I still wouldn’t have had a clue!

He told me that he’d moved to B.C from Montreal shortly after I had, and he just happened to end up at the same party as me all the way across the country, where he, BTW didn’t know anyone at the party either, other than me!! That was the first time I realized how small the world really was.

I have a fuzzy memory flash of stopping at a store and loading up Danny’s trunk with cases of Kokanee Beer. I guess our plan was to bring our friends back home in Montreal a good beer. At that time Kokanee beer was made and sold only in BC.

Danny said we were home sick, so we left the party, hopped in his car with his dog and started the long drive back home to Montreal.

The last memory flash I have of that trip is passing a road sign that said Indian Head, Saskatchewan up ahead 3KM. I can remember saying to Danny, “Like fuck! We ain’t stopping there!” Even the name of the town sounded scary. I don’t remember the ride at all up until then, which was 1,773 KM from where we had started.

I can’t be sure, but it seems like the same memory flash, seems like instantly after I said that I saw flashing police lights behind us. I can still see the police lights flashing in the dark.

The next thing I know for sure, is that I was on a small prisoners’ plane being brought to a provincial women’s jail called Pine Grove Correctional Center in Saskatchewan.

For many years I wouldn’t know what I had been charged with, I don’t even remember going through court; but today looking back at my criminal record, I know it was for being in possession of a narcotic; although, I’m still not sure for what kind.

I have a few memory flashes of Pine Grove Correctional Center. I don’t remember streams of events that took place. When I walked into the jail, everyone stared at me. It was a small room, dark and dingy, everyone just sitting around. I was 19 years old, blonde hair, and the only white woman for many miles, the rest of the women were native.

I didn’t want to stare at anyone, but I didn’t want to show that I was a scared little girl either. It’s a good thing the little kid system prepared me a bit for this. I now see I was raised for it.

At mealtimes, the food was brought from the kitchen placed on the table and all the inmates in the wing would just grab a plate and serve themselves. I lost some weight that’s for sure! I made sure I didn’t offend anyone by being too greedy, but at the same time not wanting to look like a scared kid who wouldn’t eat, so I took small portions of whatever was the closest to me.

I didn’t have any problems while there, because of my past I was used to the institution life, but juvenile detention centers were nothing compared to this prison. This was the real deal, rough looking women sitting around, some of them with scars running down their faces. Some of them were waiting trial dates for all kinds of misunderstandings like robbery, murder, prostitution, theft, drugs, and assault.

I found myself belonging in a world so full of violence, hatred, misunderstandings. I found myself once again locked behind bars surrounded by nice people who had turned hard over time, I was “home.”

Box #3 on home page, leads to writings page read more button..called

Welcome to The System Kid, you’ll fit in just fine.

I woke up suddenly in a panic. I could hear the sirens outside; I could see the red and blue lights flashing outside my window. I jumped out of bed fully dressed. I was upset with myself, I guess I fell asleep before the riot started.

Whenever the older kids planned a riot at Mount St Patrick’s Youth Centre, they’d tell us younger kids what to do. We always went to bed fully clothed under our bed sheets on riot nights, that way we could just jump up and join the riot when it was time. We were not supposed to fall asleep; we were expected to stay awake and wait for the signal the riot had started.

I ran to my bedroom door and opened it, just enough to poke my head out and look down the hallway to see what was going on. The screaming from the staff and the kids could still be heard over the fire alarms that had been pulled earlier as the official sign that the riot had started. I wanted to just close my door and go back to bed, riot nights were scary, anything could happen. But I knew if I did that the next day some of the kids would ask where I had been, and I didn’t want to go through that humiliation again. Sometimes I was allowed to be a kid, but other times I was expected to toughen up fast!

Just as one of the kids ran by my room a hand reached out and grabbed his hair, I jumped back petrified! The staff grabbed the kid’s hair to try and hold him, (that was their strategy, stop one kid at a time anyway you can.) The problem with that was when we saw a kid get caught, we would all attack the staff who had the kid under their control trying to free the trapped kid.

I could see smoke down the hall coming from the multiple fires that had been started by the other kids. The hallways were covered in water that had been thrown down to trip the staff as they ran. I turned just in time to see one of the staff slip and slide into the wall on her side.

The next thing I know I’m being held down by a few adult staff members. My throat is sore from screaming, I’m crying and starting to panic inside. my tummy is hurting and it’s hard to breathe. My head is rolling back and forth trying to fight the staff putting something into my mouth. I start to go in and out of consciousness, maybe tired? I woke up in my bed the next morning. It was my 10th birthday,