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56
Connor
From the moment the judge denied me bail, two thoughts kept me going: holding Lily in my arms again… and getting revenge on Miranda.
Both were excellent ways to keep my mind off the nightmare my life had become.
My reference points for prison were Hollywood movies, so I can’t say that I was totally prepared for what came next – but there were a bunch of moments that felt vaguely familiar.
First there was the transfer from the jail in Manhattan to Rikers. They put me in an armored van for the trip.
Let that sink in for a second.
An armored van. Like a Brinks truck, the kind they transport millions of dollars in.
Why? In case I’d hired a bunch of mercenaries with rocket launchers to break me out?
I think the New York judicial system had seen one too many bad action flicks.
There was the check-in, where my belongings were inventoried in front of me and put into storage. Then there was the shower and de-lousing powder. (That was an unpleasant first for me.) Then a new orange jumpsuit, several changes of clothes, and assignment to a jail cell. My new roommate was a scrawny bald guy missing most of his teeth.
At least the prison guard who gave me the tour was respectful. He didn’t put on an attitude, didn’t try to lord his power over me. He gave me a few tips – stay away from deserted hallways, don’t cop an attitude with the guards, don’t pick up the soap – and at the end said, “Good luck, Mr. Templeton.”
He knew who I was.
In fact, I had a feeling a lot of them knew who I was. There were a lot of catcalls, some insults, a lot of people yelling out if I could loan them a couple million.
But I also got a lot of challenging stares from the other inmates.
I returned each and every one with a calm, confident, but non-aggressive gaze.
And nobody fucked with me.
One thing I have to say is, there are a couple of parallels between the world of business and prison. One is, you’ve got to be able to size up a guy the minute he walks into the room. In prison, he might try to shiv you. In the boardroom, he’s just going to try to rip your company out from under you.
If it’s me they’re after, either one of them is going to get their ass handed to them.
I don’t say that with false bravado. I’d trained with Johnny for a year. Not only that, but I was one of the tallest guys in there. I had 20-30 pounds of muscle on all but the biggest inmates. And I was in the best shape physically. I was fairly confident I could handle any threats.
Situational awareness. Identify the threat. Disarm, then disable.
Another parallel was there was a hierarchy here, just like the business world. There were the weak guys, the quiet guys, and the ones who wanted to fade into the background. The delusional braggarts without anything to back it up. Wannabes who put up a front so you wouldn’t fuck with them, but who were secretly afraid you would.
And then there were the true tough guys, the alpha males establishing their territory. Lots of displays of dominance. That’s what the stares were about.
When a guy in the boardroom challenges you, you have to immediately let him know not to fuck with you. Idiots will attack if provoked, so you don’t necessarily escalate – unless you want him to attack, so you can stomp him and move on.
But there are plenty of times where a man is just establishing his territory. In that case, the most important thing to let a rival know is that if he throws a punch at you, he’s going to pull back a bloody stump.
Same general principle in prison. The weak get preyed on, and the strong rarely need to fight. Usually just once, to establish their street cred. That’s the fight I was waiting to happen.
I didn’t have to wait long.
I was walking in the prison yard amongst the inmates. Some lifted weights; some played basketball; most just stood around and talked.
I wanted to think about Lily – of getting out and seeing her again – but now wasn’t the time. I didn’t really believe anything was going to happen, but Johnny’s first rule was ‘situational awareness,’ so I kept my guard up.
It’s a good thing I did.
