UPDATE---DECEMBER 1999
Dear friends,
About one week, maybe two, before November 10th, when I was transferred to the Terrell death row unit, I spoke to one of my neighbors. I told him something I´d been thinking about; you see, since my arrival on death row at Ellis Unit, Huntsville (May 1st 1992), I have never been on one wing or in one cell for more than one year. It is not something I set out to do. Sometimes I´ve asked to be moved, other times I´ve just been moved without any regards to what I thought about it. I was remembering how I have been able to tell time, to differentiate between the years – because in an environment like this – of waiting – one year runs into another and anything beyond yesterday is like one big confusing pile of time. By looking back on which wing I was on, I could remember things better. I knew I was on J-23 wing at the end of 1996 and I remember it was then I had let my hair grow, and from that particular cell that I wrote something to someone. Strange as it sounds that is how it has been for me. Many – if not most – of the men I´ve met on death row have spent most of their years in one cell or on one wing. It is difficult to imagine, to be 3, 4, 8 years in one cell, or 8, 10, 15 years on one wing.
And so as I was remembering and thinking of this I mentioned to my neighbor, it has been almost one year since I´d been moved to that cell, it was at the end of November 1998. So somewhere deep inside me I felt a change was coming. I didn´t know what it was, and was surprised when I was told on Tuesday evening that I had to pack up because I was moving to Terrell.
I must say, I felt nervous about it. I felt that excitement mingled with fear, because I didn´t know what to expect. I had heard so many things about this new prison, none of them good or encouraging. I was worried about what changes I would have to deal with and the effect of it on my family. Would it make things more difficult or would they remain the same?
There were about 66 of us moved that early morning of Wednesday November 10th. Two prison buses were used. I saw some guys I knew and had been with on other wings. We were all anxious about it, but could feel comfort in the knowledge we were all there together. In an unspoken way we could draw strength knowing this.
It was foggy and that made it difficult to see outside the bus windows. They already had some metal bars on them. I could see the caravan of police cars, clearing the way for the two buses. We didn´t stop, not even slow down, going from one prison to another.
We passed a few small towns. I saw the big trees on the sides of the highway. The movement of the bus felt strange; it had been almost ten years since the last time I rode a bus. They feel strange, especially when you´re sitting in the very back. It seemed a quicker trip than I expected. Very soon we were crossing a bridge over a lake. Two minutes after that I saw the long fence of the prison. The prison looked so much bigger than Ellis. There was so much more open space and the fences were taller. The bus was led to an entry port in the back and we were driving into the prison, like going deep and far into a nightmare. Looking out the windows we saw other buildings, cells for other prisoners, and then we stopped, getting off one by one with handcuffs and shackles, unable to move or walk well.
Into the building I was made to kneel down so they could take off the shackles from my feet and the cuffs off my wrists. I was searched and led off into the building, taking several turns, so that I couldn´t tell where I was or where I was going. After one turn there was a door. This was the ”pod” and there was a cell opened and waiting to lock me in. On the bus ride the morning felt warm, but here in that cell, it was cold. Very cold. And I was here, looking at a solid steel door closing...
Well, now I´ve been here almost one month. The most obvious and major difference is what the building looks like compared to Ellis. Instead of walking through a door to see a wing with three tiers, 20 cells each, all facing in one direction; here you walk in a door, first thing you see is a control booth with windows all around. Everything is controlled electronically from inside that booth. There are six sections, separated from each other, with 14 cells in each section. A door connects each section so that you can walk from the first section ”A” thru to the last ”F”. I´m now in the fourth, or ”D”. There are two tiers in each section with seven cells on each tier. The pod itself is in the shape of an octagon, since besides the six sections of cells there are two sections for outside recreation. In each section of cells there is an area, a dayroom, for inside recreation, but there´s only one person who can go out to it at a time and nothing to do, only a bar on the wall to do chin-ups. In the outside area only a basketball hoop, but very little room to do any running.
Inside the cell, behind the steel door, there is one metal bunk with a shelf underneath it. There is a small table (45 cm x 30 cm) and it is connected to the wall. A small shelf above it (30 cm x 30 cm) is also connected to the wall. The cell is shaped like a pentagon, but not an even sided one. One ”wall” is all steel (this doesn´t include the door), and has a large fluorescent light (40 cm x 91 cm), and a steel combination toilet and sink. There is a vent towards the top that blows out cold air and therefore have to keep it covered, and to the bottom is a vent that sucks in the air to maintain the air circulation.
Above the bunk, about two meters off the ground, is a small window (7 cm x 88 cm). I suppose I am lucky to have a good view from this window. I have to get a big stack of books to put on top of the bunk and stand on to look out. I see part of the front gate and parking lot. I see part of the highway that goes by the prison. I can see the visitors as they are walking in or leaving – also the guards. It faces towards the east, so it´s hard to look out in the mornings because the sun is shining in. I can see all the fences and the big guard tower, so I am reminded of where I´m at, constantly, by the noise or the guards passing by asking for my name and number, looking for something they can say or do to show their authority.
At this prison, besides the isolation and structure of the building – there are no televisions like at Ellis. So it´s difficult to stay current with what is happening out there. If I had a radio it might help, but I can´t have one right now. It was taken, and I may have to wait until February to get it back.
In order to stay sane, I do more reading. It is something I need to let my mind wander away from this place, from this situation. I do what letter writing I can, it´s a lot slower having to do it by hand, and unfortunately can be messy. I don´t have wonderful handwriting. :o)
I´m grateful to friends who write so I have something to read, and a life to share. I appreciate the books and magazines others send me, especially now, when it is so much more important for me. My visits are limited now to only two per month, which is sad. Well, I don´t get to see my family as often or for as long as I would like, so it´s not often I will get more than two visits in one month.
Well, now as I end this, I begin to think about the future. I get nervous because things are so uncertain. I am comforted and encouraged by the love and support I have from so many. I am grateful and forever indebted. I imagine that soon I will know the decision of the federal judge. This is the point where we rise or fall. I am anxious, but feel nervous after holding out hope for so long and being disappointed at each turn. I am grateful to my attorneys for their work, for their effort, and I pray - for their success.
It has been a long and difficult journey that brings to this point. I have grown, I have learned, I have cried and understood – I am weary, but will not give up. I believe one day I will look back to this day, to this time and breathe deeply, grateful to have survived. I will move forward, but never forget. I will carry in my heart the love, the friendship and support of each one of you. And you will know it was all worth it.
Best wishes – with much love...
Miguel Angel Martinez
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