Читать книгу A Real Goon's Bible - Derrick MD Johnson - Страница 9

On the van ride back to Federal holding at the Waukesha County Jail, Fast Eddie watched as the cars rolled by for what would be his last time in a long time. He never realized or gave much thought as to how precious driving a car was; he always took it for granted.

Once back at the County Jail the Marshals put him and a couple other Federal inmates in a holding cell with some State inmates. Everyone was returning from afternoon court. He sat and listened to them cry about facing a year or two and it made him mad. He would have taken their lives for a chance to have been facing sleeping time like them. He would have slept for two years he thought to himself. The Deputies dressed out the Federal inmates first, maybe because they were paid more to house Feds than State. Who knows? But Eddie knew he was ready to get out of his court clothes and back in that bright ass orange jumpsuit. It didn’t make sense getting comfortable in them; it would be a long time before he would be able to put on his own clothes again.

Just as he was getting changed, one of the Deputies yelled, “Hurry up Mr. Smith you have an Attorney visit.”

“Aight,” Fast Eddie replied. Michael Steinley had come to check on his client to see how he was holding up. When Fast Eddie walked in the room, he noticed that Attorney Steinley was smiling and he wondered why he was in such a cheerful mood. Attorney Steinley told him that his assistant read over his trial transcripts and that there were some things that represented several different options and legal avenues they could take. He told him that they could go with a direct appeal or a 2255 Motion. Either one would grant some type of relief from the twenty-five years he’d just been sentenced to. All that shit sounded good, but the reality of it all was that nothing was guaranteed, nothing but the twenty-five years he was just given. Only time would tell and until something happened, if it happened, he had twenty-one plus years to do with the so-called good time he was eligible to earn.

He had been told that you get credited fifty-four days a year, after the year is served. It really was less than that if you were to do the math. Eighty-five percent was just as bad as the “Truth of Sentencing” that they had in the State. Fast Eddie asked his lawyer for the burnout phone so he could reach out to his crew. He was tired of hearing all the legal shit!