I keep thinking about Tim's voice pleading to be moved out of W block. HIs erroneous temperature reading must have happened about 6:30am. The nurse was at his cell in W-block getting a normal reading at maybe 9:30am. She was telling him he needed two acceptable temperature checks in a row. He was arguing that if he really had a fever a couple hours previous then he would still have one now. Since he did not, and did not feel sick, that it was an obvious mistake. They refused to move him out and told him they would come back that night to check him again. Then, more hours of pleading to the guard on every lap through the unit. Even told he needed to wait half a day, he was so panicked that I suppose it must have been claustrophobia. The level of anxiety that would drive someone to take their own life as the consequence of the improvised security policy for covid where they don't even clean the vomit, snot, or blood off the walls.
When I first was arrested, I repeatedly asked for my families phone numbers. Two of them had businesses and phone numbers you could get with a google search. They gave me the wrong phone numbers so I couldn't contact anyone and when I complained, they just said that the people I was trying to contact weren't answering. Their phone system allows them to handle specific phone numbers special. I wonder if they didn't gather contact numbers I had requested and block them because I was fairly certain I was trying the correct numbers. Especially for one of my brothers whom I went with to get him his first cell phone and phone number which he still has to this day. My first jail nickname came in those first couple weeks. The guards would come into the housing unit which was a dorm of a bunch of bunks separated by a door to a common day room. The guards kept coming through in twos and looking at me. The other guys, many who had been in jail previous to recognize how odd it was had taken notice. The guards would look at me with wide eyes trying to soak up my image. Other inmates noticed that I was some sort of spectacle for them for whatever was in their heads. Some wide-eyes that the clerk of court, and jurors, and all sorts of other people have for me based on pre-conceived notions, fed to them by whoever else. One day I was walking away from my bunk as two guards came in. The older one was indicating to a younger one toward my bunk in the corner and I was passing him as he was looking to the other guard. The older guard was standing at the door that separated the two rooms and appeared fearful as he backed away from me and right into the wall. I was just going into the other room, but his abrupt bump into the wall while giving me a look like he was afraid I would eat him alive was witnessed by a few guys including one named Johnny who started calling me a nickname because the looks on their faces was like kids who went to the zoo. That wild wonder and excitement. I had no idea what all the interest was about at that point. I don't know that I can comment about when I heard about what, but it was all so bizarre from the start. The same guard who bumped into the wall, almost knocked the glasses off his face, was the same guard working W block when Tim was pleading to be moved to a different unit.
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aboutThese are the journal entries of Zachariah Anderson. All entries are originally handwritten by Zach and then transcribed on his behalf. Please note that occasional misspellings and grammar errors may be fixed during transcription for the sake of making the entries easier to read and sensitive information may be redacted. Archives
September 2024
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