This was in 1983. I was the youngest inmate there, and all the black prison organizations tried to recruit me. They targeted young guys with career-criminal potential, so that they would always have members in prison to carry on their legacy. I was first approached by the Vanguards, a semi-militant black-awareness group that aimed to educate and organize black inmates.

I also spoke with ranking members of the notorious Black Guerrilla Family (BGF), a militant and politically motivated black-power prison organization. They were founded in 1966 by incarcerated members of the Black Panther Party, and they were arch-rivals of both the Mexican Mafia and the Aryan Brotherhood white-supremacy gang. They routinely engaged in wars.

I eventually became the sergeant-at-arms for the newly founded Consolidated Crip Organization (CCO). It was an organization where all the Crips in California united as one. The Bloods had a similar organization called the United Blood Nation (UBN). They operated under the same general rules and guidelines that we did.....

In 1989, when I returned to prison, the order of the black-inmate structure had been lost. I was at Chuckwalla Valley Prison this time, and there were no more Vanguards, no more Consolidated Crips. The Black Guerrilla Family now operated more as a private sector. This was a result of the new-generation gang members who refused to follow orders. Even the Mexican Mafia and Aryan Brotherhood took hits by their new generation, but not as bad as the blacks did. As a result, black inmates became the target of unprovoked racial attacks, which were previously unheard of. Race riots were previously declared by council, but now they were random, and they always involved the blacks versus others. I eagerly took part in every war that I could. On one occasion, I attacked five Southern Mexicans alone. It wasn’t intended to happen that way, but the control-tower guard failed to electronically open the cell door of the Black Guerrilla Family member from Oakland, California, who was going to help me. I was shot three times with a riot gun and drenched with pepper spray by guards who ran in to break it up, but I felt good that I had made a statement.

After an early-1990s race riot, I was deemed unsuitable for general population and sent to open the new Pelican Bay maximum-security prison for incorrigibles. I spent my time in isolation, working out to maintain my sanity and reflecting on my past. This prison trip ended my gang life.

The race wars had given me a stronger sense of black awareness. Whether Crip or Blood, I would always be judged first as a black man. At this point, I knew I could never return to the community as a Crip fighting my own people. So I never committed another gang act. I would like to give special thanks to the Aryan Brotherhood and the Mexican Mafia for enlightening me......

In 1993, I returned to prison a loner. The new generation had taken over, and it was a madhouse. I stayed clear of prison politics and stopped volunteering in racial conflicts. It was all a bunch of bullshit. I realized that I didn’t really have any racial issues. It wasn’t the Mexicans and whites that I disliked. I stayed clear of my own people, as well. It wasn’t about race. It was about ignorance. Ninety percent of inmates that are locked up for murder are there for killing one of their own. There are many Mexican, black, and white families in the community that have been victimized by the same ignorance that I was dealing with. Suddenly, when they get behind bars, they all want to show off their so-called “unity”? Crips or Bloods, Mexicans or Skinheads: they should all be here trying to better themselves. They should all pay for the senseless shit they did on the streets — to their own people — instead of taking it out on others.....

I started to write about my past and associated with only a few inmates. One was a guy named Ghost, a former captain of the Consolidated Crips Organization. On the streets, he’d been a founding member of the Venice Shoreline Crips in Venice, California. We talked about how the prison structure had changed. We pitied the new generation.

I was a maximum-security inmate and served time in places like Salinas Valley, Tehachapi, and Lancaster Max. At Lancaster, I had only one regular associate, Michael “Harry O” Harris. He was a former drug kingpin and the original founder of Death Row Records. From prison, he signed over $1.5 million to his partner Suge Knight, to run the company. Harry O gave me lots of literature to read regarding the history of his record label, as well as other educational materials. We worked out together at least three days a week on the pull-up bars in the prison yard. He also reviewed my manuscripts, and I made changes based upon his advice. Although Michael Harris was “approachable,” he was discreet with his associations and spared little time for outsiders. Sometimes inmates would interrupt our workout to audition rap songs. It was hilarious. We were eventually separated when Harris transferred to San Quentin.


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