CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
2003 – Fort Dix
In July of 2003, true to my plea deal, I was downgraded to a minimum-security risk and transferred to FCI Fort Dix. My first day there I gave myself a level-set.
‘You have three and a half years to go,’ I thought. ‘Keep your head down, see if you can take college courses, and don’t fixate on the calendar. Kouche.’
By kouche I didn’t literally mean, ‘Lay down.’ I meant, ‘Stay still. You’re here to get right with yourself and your lwa. Eventually you’ll get your release.’
Routine at Fort Dix was regimented. The day started with morning count at 5am and ended with lights out at 11:30pm. In between there were multiple counts, meals, work assignments and leisure time. Every day was a full day, which worked in my favor because I preferred to keep busy. On the flip side, the facility was laid out more like a work camp, so I was housed in a dorm and the grounds were fairly open- so, in between the constant calls to line up, move out and disperse, there was plenty of space for me to breathe. And leisure time offerings at Fort Dix were far superior to what was available at Fairton. There was a real gym with decent equipment, and every other motherfucker was a chess grand champion, so my game got even better.
As soon as I was processed, I received my work detail- Food Service. I spent the first six months washing pots and pans. I didn’t hate it, mainly because the mindless repetition gave me time to think.
After that, I was able to transfer to the education department where I was assigned to tutor inmates studying for their GEDs. I managed to hang on to that assignment until I finally enrolled in a full-time master’s program and got close to receiving my degree.
Shortly after I’d been transferred to Fort Dix, I confirmed that I’d be allowed to enroll in a full-time master’s correspondence program. I then immediately asked Hopeton to reach out to Mr. Henriques to see if he’d agree to pay my tuition. I’d decided to apply to University of South Dakota’s Master of Public Administration program- the coursework seemed easy and a master’s from USD wouldn’t scream “PRISON DEGREE” on my future resumé. Hopeton got back to me within a week and said that Mundo’s father would be delighted to pay my tuition.
“Delighted?” I asked. “Did he actually use the word delighted?”
“He surely did,” Hopeton replied. “I think you’re the son Mr. Henriques always wanted.”
“That’s a fucked up thing to say, Hopeton.”
“But it’s true,” he said. And then dropped the subject.
I was able to apply in November, which would allow me to matriculate in 2004. USD had a rolling admissions policy for incarcerated students, so there was a decent chance that I’d be able to fully complete all of my coursework before my anticipated January 2007 release date. But worse came to worst, I’d finish up on the outside. That would probably make things like researching my final thesis paper easier.
I wasn’t gonna sweat every single, little detail. I was in prison for another few years. Someone was willing to pay for my master’s. I would leave here better educated than when I’d arrived. Things would work themselves out. I had to believe that.
