DECEMBER 16, 2019 – You’ll be shocked to learn that I’m currently in . . . prison. Or maybe you’re not surprised. As some of you already know, my wife was sentenced a few weeks ago.
Our crimes? “Circulating among humanity.” Yes, I know, it’s hard to believe that such an offense could be a felony leading to indeterminate sentences in the proverbial slammer. So much for the Constitution and any semblance of “due process.”
As it turns out, the offense has gone viral, at least in Minnesota, though the process–charges, trial, sentencing–varies considerably from one accused to another. My wife’s case, for example, was processed soon after she deplaned after a flight from Houston, TX. She accepted her fate rather stoically, in my judgment, complaining little in the course of serving her sentence. She was recently paroled during the day, but is still serving a light night sentence.
My case is different. In the first place, a little over a year ago, I’d been sentenced for a similar infraction. After I tried to escape, I was subjected to terrible torture and tossed into solitary confinement, where I shook and shivered until I was delivered to the prison infirmary and all drugged up. A short time later, my sentence was inexplicably commuted, as if Minnesota were Kentucky.
The experience had a profound effect on my psyche. When my wife was recently convicted and sentenced, I took every measure, reasonable and unreasonable, to avoid a repeat of my own incarceration last year. I lived in constant fear that the authorities would again arrest me and haul me off to prison—no trial, no chance to defend myself.
For the longest time, I alluded the fate I’d so much feared. But then earlier last week, charges were brought—“Coming in contact with other persons harboring a rhinovirus” was the official version. Full sentencing was delayed two days.
I’ve now been in prison since Friday. For the most part, it’s a self-service, “honor” system. As incarceration goes, the accommodations here are quite comfortable. The library is well-stocked, the kitchen is always open, and every prisoner has access to a laptop with 24/7 wi-fi access. You can even watch Netflix and Amazon Prime. On two occasions I’ve been sent outside on snow-shoveling detail, for which I was thankful, since I’m quite allergic to the prison cat. Plus, the guard showed me leniency and let work double as recreation. When I was returned to confinement and chained back to a box of Kleenex, I was reminded that as posh a prison as this is, it’s still a prison, and if you get caught in an escape attempt, you could be looking at harsh solitary confinement.
Among the perks is a full subscription to The New York Times. In the comfort of the main prison lounge, yesterday I read an article about African migrants in Lyon who live as squatters in an abandoned school. By the description, their sentences are a lot more severe than mine.
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© 2019 Eric Nilsson
