It was Sunday Morning and I began to worry when my friend Wendall LeRoy Archer had not shown up at E-block. That was the cell block that I was assigned to while I was being incarcerated at the Federal Prison At Lompoc, California. The night before we both had gone to the theater together to see a movie titled “Born Free”.

It was strange to me how a movie about lions could have such an impact on me. It was amazing to me that a human being could sit there and identify their situation with that of three lion cubs.

I don’t think that it was the “being free” part that mattered to me. I had never been “free”. All those terrible years in the orphanage. Never having the right to speak unless spoken to. Never having the right to get a drink of water, or use the bathroom without having to ask permission. The “freedom” part meant very little to me. I guess it was the having to survive, against all odds, that made me start tearing up during the movie.

Just as I was about to head out of the cell block I saw Wendall walk in.

“Damn good movie last night.” He said, as me approached me.

“Yea, still a little numb here. Not sure why though.” I told him.

The two of us headed to the library which was about half way down the quarter mile steel corridor. Hundreds of prisoners marched past us going here and there. Their voices echoing off the steel walls as they talked. Off in the distance you could hear the slamming of cell doors as prisoners were still being released for yard time.

When we arrived I opened the door for LeRoy to enter the library. When I walked in behind him I saw that there were about twenty inmates sitting about the small room. Many were studding for their GED while others were reading for pleasure.

“An hour of free time to get one’s mind off the present day situation”. I thought to myself, as I looked about the room.

“Whats your pleasure?” Asked Wendall, as he pointed to a far wall which was full of books.

“Not for me.” I told him. “Hell I ain’t read a book since the sixth grade.” I continued.

Just about that time the library door opened and Wendall’s eyes opened wide. I turned around and I looked toward the door. There standing in the doorway were three mexican gang members. Three, or four men got up from their seats and moved against the wall waiting to leave the room. One of the gang members motioned his head and the other two members moved out of the way clearing the doorway. The four men walked, rather quickly out the door and began running down the corridor.

“Is there a bible in here?” Asked the large mexican inmate.

No one said a word.

The three of them walked over to the wall of books and began dumping them off the shelf and onto the floor. The commotion stopped when one of the men held up a bible. The leader took the bible and he sat down at the wooden table near the doorway. He reached into his shirt pocket and he took out what appeared to be a pouch of tobacco. He opened the bible and he tore out a page. He then began rolling the tobacco into a cigarette using the bible page as a cigarette paper.

Several of the men stood up in shock.

“You got a problem?” Asked the large mexican man, pointing his finger at each of them.

“That ain’t right and you know it.” Said one of the men.

The gang member, never taking his eyes off them, reached over and tore out several more pages from the bible. The room remained quiet for several minutes without anyone making a move or a sound.

I looked over at LeRoy and he looked at me. All at once he slid back his chair and he too stood up. I just sat there wondering what was about to happen. Then several more of the men stood up. With my heart beating ninety miles per hour I also stood up. One of the men at the far back table walked over to the where the three men were sitting. He reached down and he picked up the bible, along with the three, or four pages which had been torn out. He stuck the pages back into the book. Slowly he walked over to the book shelf and he placed the bible onto the shelf. Then he returned to his seat where he sat down and began to read to himself. The room remained totally silent. Almost everyone in the room sat there quietly staring at the three men. No one’s eyes moved off them. I watched as the larger man looked at his two buddies. He gently motioned his head to one side. The three of them got up from the table and they walked out of the room.

By the next morning news of the incident had spread throughout the entire prison. That incident was “the talk of the town”.

I am not sure where the word came down from; but it was put out in the entire prison population that anyone caught defacing a bible, or religious pamphlet would suffer the rath of more than just the guards. That the inamtes would take whatever action was necessary to stop such a thing from happening.

I tell these stories because these were the kind of men that I knew, and that I hung around with, when I was in prison many years. Men that I was proud to call my friends.

True stories from “The Life and Times of Roger Dean Kiser trampolineone@earthlink.nethttp://www.rogerdeankiser.com