Jeffrey P. Frye
murderslim.com
Bank Robber's Blog
bankblogger.weebly.com
@bankblogger2

--- SURVIVAL 101 ---
12th February 2013

"Shhh. Why don't you stop running that dicksucker and come in this shower and see if you can't break MY legs...bitch."
This was the last invitation I gave to somebody to come into the shower and fight (there's no cameras in the showers). This happened about six months ago when this guy on my tier caught a bird that had flown in and he broke its legs and then threw it out the window while he laughed about it. I didn't think it was funny. Even a little bit. He very well may have the right to hurt animals, but I also have the right to hurt him. I may be a criminal, but my mom did not give birth to me for me to stand by and watch people torture animals. I'm not having it. Ever.

I will tell you this though. I'm sure glad that the guy who maimed the bird didn't take me up on my invitation and come into the shower because he is one big son of a bitch. I'm going to let you guys in on a little secret if you promise not to tell anyone. I don't really know how to fight. I hope this doesn't make you want to start reading some other Bank Robber's blog, but I just never learned how. I didn't grow up dancing around in meat lockers sparring with slabs of beef like Rocky. I grew up riding motorcycles, skiing, and playing golf. But this doesn't mean that I won't fight...because I will. I used to box when I was in the navy. When we'd be in port overseas the captain would let us set up a ring on the fantail of the ship where we'd have boxing matches. My record was 0-13. I never won a fight. But I was never knocked out either, and strangely enough, I became a crowd favorite. I learned a couple of things in those boxing matches. The first thing I learned was that I have a hard head and that I can take an absolute ass-whipping while still looking like an absolute champ. The other thing I learned is that boxing is a lot like life in that it's not so much how much you can dish out as it how much you can take.

One of the first things you learn when you come to jail or prison is that you'd better be willing to fight. All kinds of despicable things happen to people who won't stick up for themselves and fight. You don't necessarily have to know HOW to fight; you just have to be willing to swing. It's not about form. It's about heart. Prison is filled with every kind of asshole you can imagine. It's like you have a boundary as a human being and every now and then some jerkoff comes up to test it. Same as it is out there in The Free World. Back here I can solve 99% of my problems using social skills, but there's that 1% of the time that there's no talking and I just get busy.

When it comes to fighting, it's a different deal in a maximum security penitentiary than it is in lower custody prisons. It's more about killing than it is about fighting. It's like the coliseum in Rome; the crowd always wants blood. There's so many different races, cultures, and gangs all shoved together and forced to live with each other, and most of the guys back here are never going home. They ARE home. So what do they have to lose by killing somebody? How many LIFE sentences can a person do? Last week at a federal pen not too far from here a guard was killed. He was locking down cells for the night and some guy's rage boiled over and he exploded and stabbed the guard over 100 times. That type of violence is the norm back here, not the exception. And even though the violence isn't directed towards me it still has a residual effect on me and all those that are constantly around it.

There's certain ways that I live back here to account for the violence and/or the constant threat of it. Whenever I go into a space I immediately become aware of the exits and my eyes scan the room for things I could use as a weapon if I need to; When I sit on the toilet I take off my pants and underwear before sitting down and I make sure that I have my shoes on so I won't ever be caught with my pants down...literally; I never leave my cell with any footwear on except for shoes or boots; I pay attention to the vibe of my surroundings at all times because when something is getting ready to go down you can feel the energy of it and it usually gets quiet, not loud; if a fight or stabbing kicks off within my immediate vicinity I don't look at it, I look behind me and around me to make sure that it's not some type of diversion to catch me or my friends off guard. And lastly, if I decide that somebody needs tuning up I make sure that my boys are posted up to keep me from getting ganged by the guy's friends. I also choose the time and place to get my man and I strike first and strike hard because I have a little age on me and I don't have the wind (or desire) to go toe-to-toe with some 20 year old. I'd much prefer to just club him in the head and knock him out and win the fight. There is no such thing as a fair fight in prison. The only thing that matters is winning. I'm not concerned with getting points for style.

Let me tell you what else is a major factor when it comes to fighting in a federal penitentiary. Politics. Back here everybody rides with somebody. It may be your set or mob from the street, guys from your same ethnicity, or it may be guys from your hometown or state. The upside to this is that there's strength in numbers. If you decide that you want to hurt me you're also going to have to figure on dealing with the 20 or so gorillas in my crew who are going to hurt you if you hurt me. The downside to this though is that you're also subject to get yourself in some shit when one of your crew does something stupid and you have to back his play and fight behind his bad decision. So let's say that I have a beef with a Bank Robber from Boston. More than likely I won't just jump on him or I'll end up getting mobbed by 50 or so Irish bank robbers from Boston (because if it's a white guy from Boston you can pretty much count on the fact that he's Irish and is a Bank Robber). How I would handle it is that I'd go to the shot caller for the Boston crew (or "Car" as it's known back here) and I'd tell them my beef and give them a chance to straighten their boy out before I have to. That's politicking. You always have to consider the politics of a situation (such as race) or you could easily start a riot. And it's prudent to be Machiavellian about situations like this and try to think three steps ahead. It could mean the difference between living and dying.

We tend to clean up our own trash back here; for the most part the herd tends to correct itself. We don't ask the cops for help with solving our problems. We're not the kinda guys who called the cops on the street and we don't do it back here. If a guy from your crew is running wild and doing things to put the safety of the whole crew in jeopardy then he has to go. He's told to "Check in" to protective custody and get off the yard (where he'll wait in the hole to be transferred to another prison). If he refuses to go then several guys from his own crew will "Put the boots to him" and beat and stomp him down and run him "Up top." It's the same way if a guy's coming to the yard that we know has testified against someone or who has harmed a child. It may be a system with over 200,000 people in it but there's only 17 pens and it's a very small community. There are no secrets in prison. If a guy whose cooperated with the government or who has harmed children tries to come on the yard and this is known, he won't last the day before he's beat down and/or killed. In the federal system they have special prisons for the super snitches that are called Witness Protection Units. These are prisons whose entire population is made up of rats. We call these places "Cheese Factories." Then there's a couple of "Chomo" yards where only child molesters live.

But there are exceptions to every rule...even politics. Like the scumbag who broke the bird's legs and threw it out the window. There are those rare cases like that where somebody does something so blatantly disrespectful that it calls for immediate action. If someone makes me shift into that gear then they deserve whatever they get. It goes without saying that all of this is certainly no way that anybody would want to live, but it's all part of the ride. This is my life and for a while longer I have to make the best of it and survive. I don't ever have the luxury of taking a day off from being strong.

Jeffrey P. Frye
murderslim.com
Bank Robber's Blog
bankblogger.weebly.com
@bankblogger2

--- BANK BLOGGER IN BONDAGE ---
10th March 2013

I haven't heard from Jeff this week, and received news on why from Alexius Rex this afternoon:
"Jeff is in lock up. On the 4th they raided everyone's cells, found 2 cigarettes (contraband) and took him to G Block where they held Al Capone in 1939. He said if they hold him for more than a couple weeks he will write to you. Of all the things to be written up for, this is the least but the only heat he has is a pipe running through from ceiling to floor and he has to heat water for coffee by tying a plastic bag to that pipe!"

In the meantime, I've got plenty of other stuff from Jeff that I'll continue to post on the blog.

Just send your favourite bank robber - and Bank Blogger - your best thoughts. Thanks.

Jeffrey P. Frye
murderslim.com
Bank Robber's Blog
bankblogger.weebly.com
@bankblogger2