James V. Allred Unit
Christopher Walker/Time Record News
Editor’s notes: When Ray was first convicted in 2012, he served time in the James V. Allred unit in North Iowa Park, TX and was later transferred to another unit in 2014.

Where you going, kid? Allred, they say it’s hard over there…. that’s what’s up, homie? I really don’t talk much, more or less with strangers. Never trust no one, that’s law, my “G.”
Remember that! I’m just staring at the landscape of Texas, so different from Georgia. Wish I could go home, almost there. Four years ain’t shit. I’m a thug on my own. The nigga next to me is handcuffed with me, dumb nigga sleep, drooling fool tripping. I could easily catch him slipping. This is prison, sleep with your eyes open. Fuck they talking ’bout? My thoughts were corrupted by the streets. Never knew anything else. Was raised like this, it’s law, fam!

We arrive, I wake this stupid nigga up. We here, homie! Allred looks like nothing but land, middle of nowhere, max disciplinary unit. Fucking hell! GI pull up, what’s your name? I tell him.
He says, “You run with anybody?” I tell him, “Nah!” He’s like, “Says here you’re affiliated.” I tell him, “Nah, ain’t nobody.” He’s like, “Let me see your tattoos. What’s this?” I tell him, “I don’t know.” He laughs and says, “Alright, but if I hear anything, I’m locking your ass up.” Just shook my head. Three rules, that’s law: You don’t know nothing, you don’t hear anything, and you didn’t see anything (olle Mira y calla). You hear me!

G5, high security. Damn, it’s a whole another building on its own. They take me to C-Pod 202, bottom bunk. When I go in, I got lucky. Well, in my head, I’m thinking this guy, my cellmate, looked crazy. Black guy, got this ripped-up shirt on like it’s cool. Fool say, “What’s cracking?” I say, “What’s good, homie?” What they call you? Pee Wee. They call me Low Low. Solo? Nah, I tell him. He says, “Tomorrow, go to rec. I’ll point out your people.” I’m like, “Cool, what you is?” He says, “Crip.” I’m like, “Cool, I know some Crip niggas, A1. That’s fam. We chop it up, get cool. Like I say, I got lucky.

Just I walk up to window of the door, across is another two people fighting inside cell. I’m like, “Fam, them niggas catching paper.” He tells me, “Ain’t none, cuz. Just life, fam.” I’m thinking this shit here hard.
They actually get caught. Two laws tell ’em cuff up. Dumb nigga cuff up first. His cell takes off. Both laws open doors, gas both, and wrestle one down. My celly say, “That nigga Chino crazy,” cuz. I just laugh. He tells me, “6:30 am, get on rec list. I’ma pull up with you, cuz, and show you your people.” Your homie named Toro. Bull in Spanish.

Next day, Pee Wee look down from top bunk. I look up at him. He say, “What’s cracking, cuz!” He puts his fist down. I do the same, kind of like a handshake. They running rec, lace up, fam. Let’s run it.
It’s six cages, six men to a cage. They put us at the end. Pee Wee say, “That’s your homie right there, Toro. The swoll Mexican tatted up in the cage across from us.” So I hit ’em up in Spanish. He asks me
where I’m from. He says, “Paperwork.” I tell him I’m pull up with that later. He’s like, “Cool.” Asks me, “You need anything?” Nah, Mexican, I’m good. You need some? Shoot. Word, I tell ’em. That’s law.
He starts pointing fingers. I’m confused until I feel somebody hit my back. I turn around and push the nigga off me and step to the side. This blood and Crip nigga catching paper. A lot of bobbing and weaving. Crip nigga connect, split guy’s eye open. Fool say he good. They shake hands like nothing, like it’s cool. I turn around. I say, “Why you ain’t say none, Mexican?” He laughed ’cause he did give me heads up, plus introduced me to other homies. Going back to my cell, I see this white guy come out bleeding. Then they pull out a black guy laughing. Fool say, “Blood! I hit that hoe with a hot pot. This place is crazy, fam.”

Old school wasn’t lying. How I got into some shit ’cause a Mexican got into it with a Crip nigga. I tell the Mexican I’ll make sure they don’t jump. This is months later. We go to rec. They fall in, same cage.
Three Blacks, three Mexicans, all different gangs. They square up. One Mexican catch that wall. I’m like, “Pussy!” The fight starts on some real shit. Mexican ain’t got no boxing game, trash straight up!
He getting slaughtered, real talk. I’m like, “Damn, fool try to kick the guy.” That’s where the fool try to take advantage and knock him down. I rush up…I’m like, “Na! Homie, we ain’t gonna do that.
Let the fool get up, fam!” He steps back, they run it again. I look at the other Mexican like, “That’s your people. Why you ain’t step in?” He just shakes his head. I’m honestly disgusted by this weakness.
But now that I put him out there, he stands up. But the fool was straight crushing, fam, no lie. He hits the floor. I had to pull the nigga off again. So I tell him, “Try that shit again, and
I’ma put that steel in your life, real talk.” He says, “You good, run that shit.” Then he straight crushes the guy, no sweat. Mexican got two black eyes, and he just smiles like it’s cool. But this wires a whole lot of shit up.

Across the way, this other Mexican fighting this blood nigga. Story was, the blood was talking shit about the fight. So the Mexican says, “I’m Mexican, what’s up?” Thing was, the blood was no match for
this Mexican. He dropped the blood three times. Now all the cages wired up, screaming, “ESE! What’s up!” Shit done went sideways real quick.

Next day was stiff. All Blacks and Mexicans were tense. The air was so thick, you could feel it. I had to strap up. This one Mexican with me says, “Stand next to me.” I say, “I’m strapped.” He says,
“Don’t drop it and stick close to me.” We had to politic this shit and get it fixed. The issue was the Mexican wanted another round with blood because he blacked his eyes. The blood says, “If he fights him, we all gonna fight.” Bullshit! We got together and came to an agreement that shit was dead. But it was close, so close to chaos.

This is prison life, fam! Every day you see this. Some may go hard, some may be friendly. But at the end of the day, it’s prison, and anything can happen here. Niggas die in prison, fam. From suicides to riots,
to fights and stabbings. This is the fire you see. This is hell. But this is the life you chose. This comes with it. Either you die in the streets or die in prison. You have two choices in this life, two fates.
You choose, fam. It’s your life. But in the end, you will lose. No matter how much power, respect, or money you got, this life will only take from you. You can give, invest as much as you want, but it will only take from you everything and leave nothing. You choose, fam. What will it be, fam? Life or death…