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The story of my slow descent into the dark recesses of human depravity and subsequent spiral into suffering began on the hot summer’s day of June 9,1968 to be precise. Up until that day, I was a normal sixteen year old boy with nothing better in life than explore the vanity of my youth.
I had been recounting for years to both friends, relatives and anyone that would listen to my odyssey into hell. As the years started to slip by, I wondered if my story would ever become more than some old tale rehash time and again by a vanishing apparition.
It’s my pleasure to share my story; before I go the way of all humanity to finaly share my true life story with the world.
I was sixteen years old in 1968, When I entered this place once called “The Inner Most Circle of Hell” The Baltimore, Maryland City Penitentiary. I spent the better part of my childhood behind those walls. If it hadn’t been for the love of my mother and grandmother’s teachings, I wouldn’t have survived to tell my story. It’s my hope that my story will inspire tolerance and respect for what humanity hold so dear “Freedom”.
The following is a small excerpt of one of my most horrific moments as a child in prison.
Officer Michael Joseph B “1973 Riot Conspiracy”
When I saw the face of Lieutenant H. I saw a face and in that face I saw a sickness. I was now starring into the face of merciless death, ignorance and hate; I saw the soul of humanity enslaved to a creature standing before me. And this creature was not human. It was into that face the face of evil, I spit in defiance. I could feel the rage in his face piercing getting ready to burn life out of me.
It was Lieutenant H. face that had come to snuff out my life. Hate was all in the air. I knew this was my final moment. Lieutenant H. was the first man in front of me he was a giant of a man weighing well over four hundred pounds. Lieutenant H held in his hand a giant riot stick. This was the same Lieutenant H. I had made fox trot through the dining room in 1972 after he called me a Black Power Punk. Sergeant W. who had the shotgun was the same Sergeant W. in 1971 who tried to shoot me in the face when Black Chucky called out making me turn around keeping Sergeant W. from blowing my left eye out.
Lieutenant H. hit me on top my head so hard with his riot stick it knocked me out of my boots. When Lieutenant H. hit me as hard as he did it made me feel as if I was in a slow moving motion picture. It was as if I was in a dream watching my body in some surreal moment flash out of my boots. I thought I was in a dream watching my body levitate in the air! The blow to my head was such when the blood rushed out it was like water gushing out of a geyser.
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James Joseph Owens-El
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