Tuesday 11.13.17

Tuesday 11.13.17. I sit in the dayroom on B pod and write this entry. I think about the insane trip back to Polunsky Unit. At 6AM I was put in shackles and had a belly chain put around my waist with my hands cuffed to it and loaded onto a Dallas County Transport Van. Two officers rode in the van and we had a lead cop car and a chase cop car in front and behind us. The moment we pulled out in to the road, the wailing sirens came on and the flashing blue and red lights. I thought about the spectical we must be – three police vehicles, six police officers (2 cops per car!) with lights flashing and sirens blaring , people probably thought Hannibal Lector from the “Silence of the Lambs” was in that van. And it was just me. And at that moment, I was grateful no one knew who I was.

The police proceeded to go about 95 miles per hour the whole way back. At some point, it began to rain, that’s when things got scary! I was in the back of that van sliding up and down and side to side. It was insane. The speed up then sudden stop and the go again was very unpleasant. The only good thing about it is that we made a 3 hours trip in 2 hours. By noon I was back on Polunsky Unit Death Row and was put in a section on B pod that has 4 people in it. I am the only person on 2 rows – and I love it. No distractions, I can focus totally on my task at hand – write about what’s happening to me. So write I will and ask questions like this: how much money do you think it cost the citizen/tax payers to send me back to DR? Ten thousand dollars? How much to send me back? All because of a mean hateful prosecutor lady who has a personal vendetta against me?

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