“A Tale of an American Political Prisoner
Part 18.4: The DC Gulag; Washington, DC
–Life in the Gulag Supermax Part 4–
by: Jessica Watkins (X: @J6ssicaWatkins)

A True Story; 100% verifiable with BodyCam Footage, CCTV Surveillance Camera Footage, and Testimony.

Going to class 3 days per week gave my life a sense of purpose that I hadn’t had since I was first incarcerated. It allowed me to get out of the Unit, to be productive and challenged, to have social interactions with friends like Tori, Aisha, Frenchie and others (all of whom were in the ServSafe class with me). It had the added benefit of allowing me to “recover” my lost Rec Time. All my friends were Mediums, and I was a Max. Because the Max and Mediums aren’t typically allowed take Rec together, I was always isolated. But, when we go to class, either the Mediums or the Max were on their Rec time. When you miss out on Rec time, you’re allowed to “get your Rec time back”, and you get to take your Rec with the opposite Security classification. This gave me a chance to spend time with the Medium Security folks, instead of hiding in my cell from the Maximum Security Inmates (most of whom were certifiably and clinically insane). On the days when the Medium Security folks had to recover their Rec time, they were able to socialize with me. This made a world of difference; it cannot be understated. I played Magic the Gathering with Frenchie at least 3 times per week. Knowing that I would be able to do THAT, reliably, 3 days per week… it was not only a relief at the time, but it gave me something to look forward to! When I was separated from the Mediums, I spent my time building decks and creating new strategies for the days I was able to have Rec-recovery-crossover. Taking my Rec with the Mediums also gave me time to gossip with Aisha or to get my hair done. Tori loved to braid my hair, and it gave it a lot of volume and made it really pretty. It was all a much needed breath of fresh air. Added to that, the CO’s had actually backed off quite a bit. They must have been told to cool their jets, and to leave me alone. I was still in Supermax, and that wasn’t an ideal situation, but it didn’t have the same “Solitary Confinement” feeling that I had been languishing under for months. It did wonders for my mental health.

By this point, I had also been doing something new. I had created my Twitter and had been writing a new series that I hope YOU have been enjoying; my Gulag This! series. I wanted it to be a comedic commentary on current events, but it kinda spiraled out into so much more. I need to go back and read what date my inaugural post was, but I think that I’ve gotta be coming up on a year soon! It has been a lot of fun, and I hope you’ve been enjoying them! The Gulag This! series took quite a bit of time in my cell too. I spent HOURS reading the news, listening to 105.9 FM WMAL – to @DanBongino and @MarkLevin and @ChrisPlante. I used their reporting and commentary to craft my own posts on current events. It was a lot of fun, and has evolved from those early days to become so much more; like my series called “The Declaration of Independence for our Future Security”, the precursor to this one “What Really Happened…” and then of course this VERY long series I’ve been writing “A Tale of an American Political Prisoner”. It’s been an honor to spend every day writing things for you. Someday, this will all become a book. I intend to take these posts and expand them out to fill in a lot of the blanks and details. There’s so much I haven’t said. I think I might partner up with Guy Reffitt on that front, to write the book. He and I were two peas in a pod. I miss him. I digress. When I started Gulag This!, I never intended it to expand so widely. One of my absolute favoritest people in the world, Serena (@mamaearthusa) was in charge of making sure that it was up and available. NONE of this would have been possible without her. Because of her, Susie & AJ, Jane Febo and others… all of you… you’ve been able to hear me. Finally, after all these years of being silenced by the Democrats, my voice was being heard!

Despite all these improvements, there were people in the jail who still got satisfaction from abusing me. Corporal Allen was still a terrible human being. Corporal Asha could still be pretty nasty from time to time. But Corporal Pryor was still the worst. She took time out of her day, just to come up onto our Unit and turn my cell inside out. For no other reason that it brought her pleasure. But because she was changed to working night shift as the Transport Officer, she got very few opportunities to mess with me. Or so you would think. One night, Corporal Palmer was working (she was so nice <3) and she had to take her lunch break. Mind you, this is at 2am and I was dead-ass asleep. Corporal Pryor was her “coverage” while Mrs. Palmer took lunch. As soon as Corporal Palmer left the Unit, Pryor RAN up to my cell (I found this out later, after the CCTV Camera was watched). She came to my cell, and flipped on the light. This light switch is on the OUTSIDE of my cell, and I have no way to turn it off. She kicked my door a few times and walked away laughing. I jumped up, pissed off as f*** and I ran over to the glass just in time to see the back of her head walking back down the steps. I beat on my cell door, yelling “HEY! COME TURN MY LIGHT OFF!” She ignored me. I was PISSED. That little light is bright as f*** when you’re trying to sleep, and because I was angry, my blood pressure was UP! There was NO WAY I was getting back to sleep. I started banging on the door, but she continued to ignore me. I yelled out over the entire Unit “I’m sorry ladies! This b**** is f***ing with me, so I gotta do this!…” I took the lid from my Commissary Bin, a heavy duty PVC plastic lid about 3 feet long by 2 feet wide, and I put it up against the bottom of the door and proceeded to beat my door with it. Like CRAZY hard! I beat all the paint off the door. Yeah. **BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG** and yelled “TURN OFF MY LIGHT!” **BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG** “TURN OFF MY LIGHT!”, over and over in a manta… for an hour straight.

I beat the door until my hands were numb and bleeding. I apologized profusely to the other girls in the Unit that were losing sleep, but I wasn’t going to let Pryor get away with it. She was gonna leave the Unit with a headache, that was my mission. The girls around me KNEW that the CO’s had been picking on me, so they urged me to keep going. “You good girl! Keep doin’ it! F*** these mothaf***as! Yeaaaah!” and banged their doors in solidarity with me. I smiled and beat my door all that much harder. By the time Mrs. Palmer made it back from lunch, this had gone on for an hour. She ran up to my cell, and I stopped immediately. “What’s all this noise, Watkins? What’s going on?” I could have cried. “Mz. Palmer, who was your replacement? Pryor?”… “Yeah, she was here”…”Well, she’s f***ing with me again. She turned on my light, kicked my door to wake me up, and walked away laughing. I mean, my light wasn’t on before you left, right? I damn sure can’t turn it off or on by myself. She’s f***ing with me! I don’t find that funny AT ALL! Please, Bring me a grievance form! I need to document this ASAP!” Mrs. Palmer turned off my light and apologized to me, “No, that’s not right, I will be right back Watkins. Give me a second.” She came back with the Grievance Form, and I detailed everything that had happened. When I finished, I tried to go back to sleep. But sleep wouldn’t come. My blood was pumping in my ears and my hands hurt. But I had enough. I didn’t fall asleep until the sun was coming up. The next day, I got ahold of my friend Jenn Baker and I had her write an article for the Gateway Pundit. I was DONE with that bulls***! Sleep Deprivation is a type of torture, and it was the final straw. It was time to make Pryor famous. Jenn is a great friend of mine, she even took her personal time to come visit me in the DC Gulag. She was horrified at my mistreatment, and soon it spread amongst the J6 community; the DC Gulag was Sleep Depriving the Political Prisoners. Again. More. But soon, none of my mistreatment would matter. Soon I would be leaving the DC Gulag forever.