“A Tale of an American Political Prisoner”

Part 9.1: The DC Gulag; Washington, DC

–A New Chapter Begins–

by: Jessica Watkins (X: @J6ssicaWatkins)

A True Story; 100% verifiable with Text Messages, Emails, Video/Audio, Court Documents and Testimony.

Walking into E2B for the first time was an awkward experience. I hauled my cart with all my stuff to the base of the stairs and Ms. A assigned me to a cell (her actual name is a complicated Nigerian name that starts with the letter A. I can’t spell it, sorry. There were a surprising number of African immigrants running the jail for whatever reason. Life half the staff). Anyway, I hauled all my stuff up the steps into the narrow corridor that would become my new home. Unlike C2B which has a large “open room” type environment, with all the cells facing out into the Day Room, E2B had a pathetically small Day Room, with two wings leading down hallways. Each wing was split into a Top and Bottom tier, with a short flight of steps up or down to the corridor, and all the cells lined the hallways. Each top/bottom tier had a single shower stall, and 2 bathroom stalls. The cell doors… unlike C2B… didn’t lock from the inside! Plus, these cells had no toilets! This upgrade almost made me break down crying. I don’t think you understand, being trapped in a tiny box that you can’t get out of does something to your mind. It’s terrible, and fills me with a LOT of anxiety. By this point, I had spent something like 6-8 months in Solitary Confinement. Enough for it to be oppressive. So having a cell where the door DID NOT lock from the inside, well… it was heaven! I could get out to use the bathroom whenever I wanted! I could use the microwave too, most of the time. I didn’t feel trapped. It locked only from the outside, so if I closed my door after I left my cell, all my stuff was protected. Also, not having a toilet in your cell makes it feel less like jail, and more like a bedroom. There was no bunk bed however, just a single bed. That too was strange, and I wouldn’t like it. Fortunately, it wouldn’t last long.

After settling in and unpacking, I made my way awkwardly down the steps and sat next to the only person who wasn’t staring at me oddly; a stout woman with a shaved head. More on her in a bit. Well, I watched whatever was on the TV and she asked me why I was there. I told her that I was there for January 6th, and her face lit up. (turns out, she had a weird thing for January 6, but more on THAT later). Anyway, she informed me that I wasn’t the only J6er on the Unit, that there was another lady in the Unit who was at January 6th. She leapt up and called down a hallway. That was the first time I met Pauline Bauer, who would become a dear close friend of mine. She had been a solitary J6er this whole time, having lived in E2B for nearly a year. She had no idea about us singing the National Anthem, most of her research on the Educational tablet into the J6 footage was surface level stuff, and many J6 developments were never relayed to her. She’d been here in E2B all this time, a fellow J6 sister, and she was overjoyed to have me there. Soon, it was a flurry of discussions, but it would be time for Count and we had to step into our cells. When my head hit the pillow (that Bobby Gieswien had made me), I was filled with hope that maybe I could maintain some semblance of the brotherhood I had in C2B. But alas, it would be some time before she and I could spend much time together. The other woman would befriend me quickly however; Pascale Ferrier. We called her Frenchie; given her thick French accent. Frenchie was there for the attempted assassination of President Trump, and her obsession with January 6th and J6ers would rapidly become unnerving. Before I continue, let me talk about Frenchie for a second.

Firstly, she was very fond of the Law Library. Every single day (probably ALL day) she looked up J6 cases. It was weird, and uncomfortable. She’d approach me every day and say “Did you see the case law about X Y or Z?” Every time something new J6 related would come up, she’d rush to update Pauline and I. It made my skin crawl. She’d been watching us C2B folks through the window when we took Outside Rec. Second weird thing was that she knew most of the guys in C2B BY NAME… Mellis, Cressman, Lang, Pezzola, Harrelson… it was really, well… creepy. Especially given what she was there for. She had allegedly made homemade poison, and mailed it to President Trump and tried to kill him and a bunch of other politicians and Sheriffs. She used to hate Trump and Republicans, but for some reason ever since January 6th had happened, she flipped her script. Now, she saw Trump as being politically persecuted, and she told us that she KNEW we J6ers were innocent. It was all a little weird. I didn’t trust her for s***, but she hovered around us, and so we just treated her nice and watched what we said around her. Everything about her made me uncomfortable, so I just treated her well and talked as little as possible about J6 and my case. But, she was just one of the many inmates in E2B. Some were there for stabbings, armed robbery, or for drugs. Some were there because they wanted to be; being homeless addicts, they could get food and a meal in jail. Hell, their friends were there. Some, like Dwanna Cobb, treated the DC jail like a sorority house. Of the inmates in E2B, about half the Pod was there for murder. No joke, that’s a real number. The Pod had roughly 30 girls too, so we’re talking a LOT of murderers. As I settled in and met folks, I expected to be hated, with the population of DC being predominantly African American and Democrat. I figured being a white Trump supporter in a DC jail would be a rough environment, and I was ready for trouble.

Quite the opposite. Of the dozens of women I’d meet there, only one was a virulent Trump hater. Another 10-12 were completely indifferent to him, but not against him. The rest ADORED President Trump. You might think to yourself, “No way…” but I am not joking. I mean, like they would rant and rave about how much Trump did for their communities. To the point where they say that he was their “second Black President”. I am not making this up. It was startling. And that’s just in Washington DC. Here in prison? Trump has LOTS of fans. As it turns out, inmates LOVE Trump. Like, most inmates. The reason? All these women thanked him for the help he provided during COVID; they thanked him for a booming economy; they loved him for the First Step Act. These girls were EXCITED about Trump. When they found out that President Trump was my codefendant, they treated me like a celebrity. They treated Pauline and I quite well. It was not the welcome I was expecting. It was nice being around women again too. We talk about different things than men do. Men are… well, they’re crude. They’re guys so they talk about a lot of guy stuff, including women, so that was always awkward for me. But I couldn’t talk to them about any topics that us girls are interested in. That’s one thing that made fitting in with the J6 guys hard. I couldn’t talk to them about fashion, hair, makeup tips, or boys. In fact, if I had, they would have been quite uncomfortable I think. But here in a Women’s unit, it was not only normal, but expected. It was refreshing, like taking off a mask and being able to be myself again for the first time in a year and a half. Still, I missed my friends in C2B badly. So I spent almost all my time with Pauline. We would form our own Patriot community in the belly of the DC Gulag beast. Little did we know that the jail would be watching, and hate us for it.