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My name is not important, at least for nearly the past 10 years it wasn't. I was indentified by merely 1 consonant followed by 5 numbers. Although if you'd like to count all the creative names the "correction" "officers" had called me, well, then I guess Inmate, Convict, Piece of Shit, or Fuck Face might suffice. I was incarcerated on December 18th, 2004 for D.U.I. Manslaughter. Was I drunk? NO! I adamantly deny that. I did, however, have alcohol in my system which was above the legal limit. I say that not as an excuse because I accept full responsibility for my actions. I say that to lessen the devilish image that most people associate with people that make terrible choices with tragic results. I'm now 40 years old and spent nearly all of my 30's in prison. I come from a good, middle class family in Wisconsin. We were completely normal, until that fateful morn.
I'm not sure if a story like mine is unique, but it's not told enough. Especially all of my experiences, encounters and confrontations that I went through during my 3,475 days of being locked up.
I was released on June 25, 2014 and was much more fortunate than the regular person being let out into the wild again. As crazy as it sounds, I found love in prison! No, not that kind of love you sicko...(not that there's anything wrong with that). I met a woman at the prison visitation area...
If you'd like to read more about my story let me know. I have tons of stories!