Brian Lane - Mind Games with a Serial Killer

That afternoon, he was awakened when the third shift tier officer came by.

“Listen up, you newcomers.” His voice was shrill and nagging on the ear as he yelled at the new inmates. “Let me tell you right now, I ain’t putting up with any of your bullshit! Don’t give me any grief and you won’t get any from me! And don’t ask me for nothing ‘cause I ain’t gonna give it to you!”

He closely resembled one of Lee’s brothers. He immediately thought of the officer as a short blowhard with an attitude, trying to make up for his lack of height by appearing a giant in voice and ill attitude. Just like Lee’s brother! A few minutes later this officer came up to his cell.

“Lee. You know someone named Slim Blackman on the first tier of the other side of the building?”

“I know a Jake Blackman. He was my cell partner in the county jail.” He replied. “He sometimes goes by the nickname of Slim, though.”

“That’s him. He said he’s going to send you a kite a little later. You’re also scheduled for the phone at 8:45 this evening. You want to call someone?”

Lee thought for a moment. He only knew one phone number: the husband and wife couple who had stood beside him throughout this whole terrible ordeal. He told the officer that he would like to use the phone and that he would appreciate it very much. The officer made a notation on a notepad, then left.

Dinner came about an hour later. The food was almost tasty and included one of his favorite foods: Chinese food and cottage cheese. When it came time for him to use the phone, he called his friends. They only had 15 minutes to talk, and it was a very sad conversation. Dave had turned the phone over to his wife so she could talk to Lee. She knew him better than Dave anyway. When she got on the phone with Lee, her voice started to crack badly. She sounded very sad, which made him feel even worse than he felt before he had placed the call. She missed him terribly and told him so. Dave and Flo had come to the county jail to visit with him often during his stay there. In the background, Lee could hear Flo’s children calling out to speak to him. They were unhappy at not being allowed to talk with him because of the small amount of time available. And that time went all too quickly. He could tell she was crying openly by the time they had to hang up. As he hung up, he noticed that he was crying pretty profusely, himself. It took him a couple of minutes to regain his composure. When the officer returned to take the phone away, Lee thanked him for the use of it.

“What are you thanking me for? No one else in here ever thanks me for anything.”

“Because I always thank a person when they do something for me,” Lee said, “whether it’s of their own free will or because it’s part of their job. It’s the way I was raised and I believe people should be treated with respect, regardless of their position in life or their individual situation.”

The officer cocked his head to the side slightly and said, “Lee, you’re one strange puppy!” With that said, the officer walked away, pushing the phone in front of him to the next person scheduled for its use.

When he laid down on his bunk, he just stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t think any coherent thoughts, nor could he immediately go to sleep. His mind was too active with the terrible visions that were passing before his mind’s eye. They weren’t the visions of expectant death. They were the visions of being in a situation he had no control over, for something he had not been responsible for. Those visions once again caused the tears to start running out of his eyes and only stopped when he finally lapsed into unconsciousness for the night. He no longer called it sleep. It was the lack of consciousness to the mental horrors he expected to be piled upon him. He had not yet been in the prison long enough to find out if the prisoners were subjected to the same mental cruelty that was heaped upon him in the county jail. He’d heard that mental games were played by most prison guards. So far, though, he’d not come across any of the guards that were into playing those mental games. He hoped he’d be spared that indignity.

About two weeks after arriving in the East Block condemned row, he received a letter from his mother. That letter was very discouraging. The majority of his family had left California and were fighting over his property. Two brothers, his mother and a sister were all fighting over who should get the van he owned. One of the brothers wanted to sell it to the highest bidder at a “crime afficionado” auction, so he could use the money for his own purposes. His sister, mother and another brother all wanted the van for their own use. Lee had been an amateur photographer and had raised saltwater fish before he was arrested. But now, his various cameras and marine aquarium had just plain disappeared. Everything Lee considered important to him, physically and emotionally, had been taken away from him or had disappeared. If the truth ever did come out and he was released from prison, he had no hope of ever getting any of his property back. In essence, he had effectively lost his own blood family. He believed this was a fact because he felt that all his family wanted from him was everything they could get their hands on. No matter what it would cost him, they were going to take advantage of it.

One brother was telling everyone he knew, that he was writing a book about what had happened to the family because of Lee. None of which was true, of course. This brother of Lee’s also heaped the blame for all of the other bad things that had befallen him personally, at Lee’s feet. Lee was really beginning to resent the things this brother was saying.

He was rather concerned about his safety, also. He had now gone out to his assigned exercise yard several times. Although he was very nervous at first, Lee’s old cell partner, Jake, had told him not to worry about anyone on their yard, that there were people on the yard with worse crimes than those of which he had been convicted. He was told that if anything was going to happen, it would have already happened to someone else first. That didn’t make a lot of sense to him, but he was finally able to relax to a limited degree. He had made several friendly acquaintances on the yard that promised to watch his back, as long as he would do the same for them. But that didn’t really make him feel any better. With all of the death threats he had received, he was aware that a killing blow could come from anywhere, at the hands of anyone, at anytime! He knew of incidences when friends turned against each other and one or the other was killed. It had even happened between brothers and other family members.

As the days merged into weeks, Lee began to feel like he was going mad. He had nothing to truly occupy his time. He liked to write, but had almost nobody to write to. When he finally got some lined paper, he began to write some more on a fantasy novel he had started in the county jail. He was also finally able to get books from the prison library. That helped a great deal, because he loved to read extensively, mainly science fiction and fantasy novels. He also came across an address for an overseas group that dedicated themselves to writing to condemned prisoners to give them a touch of compassion they could receive nowhere else. Lee began to receive letters from Australia, Ireland, and England, not to mention the few he got from Southern California, and Florida, Those letters were a welcome source of relief from the boredom he was experiencing. Lee couldn’t even get that from his own family.

One benevolent person went so far as to send him enough money so he could place an order for a television and a few other items. On January 12, 1996, Christmas-time came to Lee’s world. The television he had been awaiting so patiently for, had finally arrived. So did a wristwatch that was sent to him in a quarterly care package that his friends, Dave and Flo, had bought for him. Between his pen-friends and Dave and Flo, these caring people were a great assistance in maintaining Lee’s sanity, or what little was left of it. Lee was the type of person who needed to know exactly what was going on in the world as much as was humanly possible. Being so deeply in the dark, knowing absolutely nothing as to what was happening in the world and what time it was, began to be almost as maddening as having nothing to do. Now, at least, with the television and a watch, he could feed that need, the hunger that was a constant, tangible presence in his mind. Then came a day that almost destroyed Lee emotionally.