Stolen items included a pandora charm necklace and an ipod, as well as nickels, dimes, and quarters from a change jar (they left the pennies behind). They also stole.45 caliber pistol. Usually, the homeowners werent around, though one time john encountered a 9-year-old boy. John later said he was drunk during the break-in. When John returned to his grandmothers house, he was so scared of the gun that he tossed it into their backyard and told her he had found it there. She called the police, who came and picked. Eventually, they found Johns fingerprints on one of the windows from the mobile park, and figured out the gun had been stolen from one of the houses. John decided to plead guilty, figuring he would only get a short stint in a juvenile facility.
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She would wear a backpack and put stuff in it and have me walk out with it, he recalled. As she struggled financially, he tried to help her by stealing from other students at school. He was caught with another students music player, and along with fighting and truancy, he developed a record that would get him sent to alternative school for his senior year. Things continued to deteriorate at home. He was charged with domestic violence after his grandmother wouldnt let him leave the house and he threw a small fan against the wall. She later convinced prosecutors to drop the charges. On a summer evening before his senior year, john says he got a ride after karate from an the older male member of his extended family—he still wont say whom, an omission that has never looked good for him. They drove to a mobile-home park just beyond Detroits northernmost suburbs, and pulled up to one that appeared empty. John propped a metal folding chair up against a window, climbed up, popped out the screen, and made his way inside. This happened several times.
One night, john drew a bath and tried to drown himself by taking sleep aids and falling asleep in the tub. His grandmother managed to revive him. As he entered high school, john attempted the makings of what we call a normal teenage life. He was close with his two sisters. He studied art books from the library. His grandmother couldnt afford to buy him gear to play soccer, but he found a karate studio that real would let him take classes in exchange for teaching, and eventually he acquired a green belt. During his freshman year, john reconnected with his mother. She still took drugs and worked as a prostitute, and she convinced him to help her shoplift.
(His story, in which names have been changed, is based on interviews, documents, and a deposition in an ongoing lawsuit.) he had a hard time bonding with his grandmother. I kind of got a feeling that she didnt want me, he said, but she took care of me because i was my mothers child. He started seeing a psychologist, who diagnosed him with bipolar and post-traumatic stress disorders and urged the family to enter therapy together but, as he remembers it, his grandmother refused and instead asked for him to be put on medication. He started taking Adderall, a stimulant, that made me feel like i was wired and that I couldnt sleep or eat, and Seroquel, an anti-psychotic that was the complete oppositeIt put me to sleep. I was like a zombie. Around this time, while john was in middle school, his grandfather died. He was devastated: I felt like he was the only person that wanted.
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John obeyed; though still a fish, he had been down long owl enough to know that snitches suffer fates worse than rape. I n 2003, while john was still in elementary school, congress passed the. Prison Rape Elimination Act, now usually known as prea. It was intended to make experiences like his far less likely. But like many ambitious pieces of legislation, its promise has proved difficult to realize.
The law required studies of the problem that took far longer than initially intended, and adoption of the guidelines they produced has been painfully slow, resting on the competence and dedication of particular employees. Prea has not been a complete failure, but it is also far from delivering on its promise, and Johns story illustrates many of the hurdles that have impeded the law and still lie in its path. There is a toughness about John that evaporates into shyness the moment he opens his mouth. Though hes short and muscular, with hair he sometimes keeps in cornrows, his voice is soft, high and wheezy. He often runs out of breath after long sentences, so he speaks in clipped, self-conscious bursts. This comes from his asthma, which, in addition to several long scars that run along his legs and stomach, is the result of a moment that defined his childhood: When John was 4 years old, his single mother decided that she couldnt take care. Johns mother went to prison, and he went to live with his grandparents in a northern suburb of Detroit.
He settled into ged classes and shifts serving breakfast and lunch. From the prison library he pulled volumes ranging from the poems of Langston Hughes (Theyre so simple, but they explain so much) to thriller paperbacks by dean koontz and James Patterson. His new cellmate, whom well call david, had already served a little more than a year out of a minimum of eight for robbery. He was in his early 20s, over six feet with a tuft on his chin and a thin mustache. They talked about their families and the crimes that had gotten them locked.
But then david said something that struck john as strange. He asked him if he would ever get involved sexually with a man. John knew himself to be heterosexual; he had lost his virginity to a girl the year before. I just kind of laughed it off, he recalled. And then it happened. One night after the last count before bed, john says, his cellmate suddenly attacked him, pulling down both of their pants and wrestling him onto the bottom bunk. John tried to resist, but he was less than 140 pounds, and next to davids bulk of more than 200 he stood little chance as this powerful man forced his way in, slowly and painfully and in silence, without a condom or lubricant. John would later estimate that it lasted seven minutes. When david was finished, he told him to keep quiet.
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His second cellmate was also a paper lifer, and friendly enough, but after a few days the man asked to be paired with another lifer, so john was moved again. It was around this time that the letters started sliding under his cell door. John would get a lot of letters from other prisoners over the next few months, and while they were not always explicit, some certainly were. You are one sexy nigger, one read. You need a white man to show you how to act. When the opportunity comes I want to sneak in your house and hit that. Another letter said he had a fan club. John didnt take these letters seriously; he threw many of them away.
Over the next few days, while bringing trays of food around the blocks for his new kitchen job, john would learn that he loops had been placed in one of the nicer units (another he saw looked like a basement, with the lights busted out). But he also noticed that he was one of the youngest prisoners on the block. The other prisoners noticed too. He was what they called a fish. His first cellmate was an older man, black like john, who was serving a life sentence, and he didnt say much. Something about him seemed a little off, and that night, john says he awoke and saw this man sitting at a desk, wide awake, and staring right at him. John requested and received a new cell assignment.
five prisons, and over the years, it has earned the nickname i own. John, who was 17, had already gotten over the initial fear of going to an adult prison—he had spent several months at a county jail near Detroit and an intake facility in Jackson—but he also knew he would be spending longer at this lonely outpost. It was still wintery in April, and his state-issued jacket was poor protection against the drafts coming through the broken windows, shattered by men who had passed through before. It was pretty ragged, he recalled recently, a tear down. The rituals of intake were familiar. Standing in a line with several dozen other men, john stripped off his navy blue scrubs, squatted, and coughed to prove he wasnt hiding anything. Once inside, he could try grimacing to look tough, as he had in his early mugshots, though he couldnt hide his skinny frame or his high-pitched voice.
Paris had escaped from the jess Dunn Correctional Center in Muskogee, long oklahoma back in October 1981 when he was just 22 years old. He went on the run after serving about 19 months of a nine-year sentence for drug possession and distribution. Paris had been featured on the oklahoma department of Corrections' 'most Wanted' list during his three decades on the run. Us marshals investigators started looking into his cold case again about six weeks ago. Paris went on the run for 37 years after escaping from the jess Dunn Correctional Center in Muskogee, oklahoma back in October 1981 when he was. Paris had escaped from the jess Dunn Correctional Center in Muskogee, oklahoma (pictured above) after serving 19 months of a nine-year sentence for drug possession and distribution. Authorities had found a newspaper obituary for his mother that listed a son in houston named Stephen Michael Chavez. Authorities managed to track the name and found that Paris had been working and living in houston with the surname Chavez. Paris was arrested without incident, according to authorities.
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Prisoner who escaped from an Oklahoma jail 37 years ago is finally captured in Texas after his mom's newspaper obituary listed a mystery son living in houston. Stephen Michael Paris, 58, was arrested on Thursday at an office in houston. He had been working and living under the pseudonym Stephen Michael Chavez. Marshals Service said fingerprints confirmed his identity. He escaped from the jess Dunn Correctional Center in Oklahoma in 1981. Investigators london started investigating his case after finding a newspaper obituary for his mother that listed a son in houston. Published: 20:33 bst, updated: 21:09 bst, 11 shares, an Oklahoma prisoner who has been on the run for 37 years has finally been captured in Texas. Stephen Michael Paris, 58, was arrested on Thursday at an office in houston where he had been working under a pseudonym. The us marshals Service said fingerprints confirmed his identity.