88E469SD Ward Of The State_(1) free porn video

88E469SD
WARD OF THE STATE

By HOWDY DOODY

DISCLAIMER:
This story is not true. There is no New York State. There is no Department of Correctional Services and they do not have prisons. There is no Judge John Cline and he never sat on the bench in Albany County New York. There is no Albany County Jail and no child has ever been sexually abused while incarcerated there. There is no Albany Home for Children. There is no Danamora, Elmira, Auburn, Mount McGregor, or Phasalia. There are no children incarcerated in New York State, and they have never been sold for sexual purposes while incarcerated. There are no Correctional Officers in New York State, and they do not commit crimes of any kind. Donna Payant was never a Corrections Officer for the State of New York, she was not killed in prison and every single guard who testified at the trial of her accused murderer was not given immunity from prosecution by the State of New York before they agreed to testify under oath.

This story was not produced by any one person; it is a compilation of the memories of five of the characters in this story.

"This story is dedicated to Doc and Patty. You will be with us in our hearts always."

- Michael



THE PROGRAM

There are many programs in New York State. This story is but one of them. The Program as it’s currently operated was developed in the early 1970s by a group of employees to supplement their very meager State salaries. It eventually not only supplemented it, it made them very, very rich.

The employees were aware of the fact that there was a very high demand for young boys among some very high profile clients who had an extreme penchant for anonymity. (They didn’t want anybody to know they liked to fuck the shit out of little boys). The clients were judges, doctors, lawyers, congressmen, assemblymen, Saudis and senators. I’m sure you can understand their desire for obscurity.

Very little is more obscure in New York State than either prisons or mental institutions, and there we have our ready made product: little boys who either fucked, or could be trained to fuck. Most little boys who fucked were under the control of the Department of Corrections. Most little boys who could be trained to fuck were under the control of the Department of Mental Hygiene.

The Program got its kick-off boost when a boob of an “investigative reporter” did an expose' on a swamp called Willowbrook in New York City. The governor of New York State was so appalled at what he saw on TV that he decided to take corrective action to stop the abuse of the mental patients in the story. He took the State of New York out of the business and closed all the mental hospitals and dumped the patients out into the streets. The patients were no longer being abused; they sat in McDonald’s all day in major cities around the State.

When the hospitals closed so did the guards’ jobs. How does someone make money when all they have is an eighth grade education? Simple: you gather up little boys between the ages of 6 and 14 and teach them to lay on their stomachs. The boys had no identity, if they did, the State would have to take care of them. They had no home; the State was turning the hospitals into jails. They had no objections; you need a mind to object.

There were two kinds of boys known to the guards. There were Full Blown Beans, and there were Half Baked Beans. The full blown beans were useless to the guards, they drooled too much or they never stopped waving their hands in front of their face. But Half Baked Beans: they were the pot of gold.

The Program was so successful that it caught the attention of the prison guards and since they had a tenth grade education, they figured out even faster than their counterparts in Mental Hygiene how to get on the gravy train.

Getting the beans to cooperate wasn’t a problem, feed them, cloth them and give them a bed in a trailer with 15 other kids. Getting the prison rats to cooperate wasn’t all that difficult either. The guards had the carrot that unbuttoned their pants: time.

The prison rats usually came from upstate New York. They were almost always white, a very few were Hispanic. There was no demand among the clients for little sambos, so that didn’t matter much to the guards. Upstate New York fed the program because in New York City, a kid would get 30 days for killing or raping. Upstate, a kid would go to jail for years for trashing a school bus, stealing some candy, fucking his friends, little stuff.

To run The Program, the guards needed a place to keep the kids. They had more rooms than Howard Johnson and they had the keys.

They needed people to train the kids. They had slaves. They didn’t call them slaves, Jesse Jackson would object. They called them “trustees”. The guards needed very special trustees. The job required that the trustees train the kids to fuck. Who better to do the job than low life mother fucking scumbags who fucked kids for free? Getting the perverts to cooperate wasn’t hard: they could have their cake and eat it too.

From the trustees’ standpoint, it was a no brainer. The other inmates weren’t generally a problem: the problems almost always came from the guards. If they were in The Program, they ate well, they lived comfortably, they loved their jobs, and they loved the boys. Most were in for a minimum of 10 years and spent 3 to 4 times longer in prison than the average murderer. Most knew they would never get out, and wouldn’t bother to if they could.

They needed a place to entertain the clients in privacy. A prison is a very private place and if you wanted comfort, they had these cute little trailers in each prison that were used for “conjugal visits” for the inmates. No inmate ever stepped foot in those trailers, but there was never a vacancy! They also had the keys to friendly little bungalows tucked away in remote little corners of the State. These bungalows were only available to residents of the State of New York and you could camp there if you had a reservation. The list is something like 25 years long, so if you start packing now, you’ll be fully prepared for your vacation in the Adirondacks when your name comes up.

They needed clients. They weren’t hard to find, some of them even came to their attention when they walked out of porn theaters on Central Avenue in Albany and had their portraits taken by the local media. Naturally, they were there to do “research”!

They needed money to run The Program. They had the deepest pockets in the world. It’s called the State of New York. All they needed to do was “divert” the money from the programs from the other inmate scumbags. Like food money, housing money, commissary money, clothing money, medical money.

They needed stealth. Did you know that when you drive past two prisons that are side by side off Interstate 84 that there are over 40,000 men and boys in those buildings? Ever see ONE? The B-2 Bomber has nothing on the New York State Department of Correctional Services when it comes to stealth!

Lastly, they needed little boys who would fuck on demand. Those kinds of boys didn’t grow on trees and the guards needed guidance. They received it from the court, “SD” was attached to the files of any little boy who was caught on his knees or on his stomach. It took the guards a few months to crack the code, but they eventually learned that “SD” stood for “sexual deviant.”

Why would the boys cooperate in The Program? TIME! If they were good little boys and made the guards very rich, they were paroled, given time off for “good behavior” or pardoned by the Governor. Pardons aren’t easy to come by. They’re made a lot easier if the very influential person doing the requesting in the Governor’s ear is also the boy’s most frequent patron.

If the boys were to serve their full sentences, most would rot in prison for a minimum of 5 years. Some faced 10 or more, depending upon their age. Even by conservative estimates, a young boy in prison in the United States is 10 times more likely to be sexually assaulted than an adult. This figure doesn’t depress the Corrections Departments or the courts, to the contrary, they openly brag to the children standing before them that when they hit prison “You’re going to get your ass fucked off!” If they were cooperative in The Program, they were out in two years and had a bank account to keep them company. What would you do?

The guards didn’t give the boys severance because they were kind and benevolent; most boys were 12 to 14 when they entered The Program. The clients didn’t like to go higher than age 15 on their boys; that would make them fags or queers. These were very respected people in the community. Turnover required new blood and for the older boys to go away quietly and money made that happen.

Not everybody in the prison system was involved in The Program. Most had their own scams like going out chopping wood on State land and selling the wood. Or clearing land for contractors with your crew of 40 men who worked for their evening feed. Since there were a few people who didn’t have an independent source of income, the guards in The Program needed to be able to operate without some secretary in Albany trying to figure out why certain prisons needed 3 times the trustee population of “normal” prisons. Or why medical costs were so much higher, or why transportation costs were so much higher. Questions from Albany were avoided at all costs.

Anybody who has ever dealt with the State of New York knows that the place would collapse in a molten heap if it weren’t supported by its most important foundation: paper. If a piece of paper in Albany said that 50 trustees were in Elmira, 50 trustees were in Phasalia and 50 trustees were in Mount McGregor, then god damned mother fucker, that’s where they were! If a piece of paper in Albany said that 50 boys were in Elmira, 50 boys were in Rome State and 100 boys were in “Wilderness Training” guess what? Most of the guards couldn’t read or write, but some could type and luckily, when computers came along the keyboard looked just like a typewriter did.

Some dates, names, and particularly inmate numbers have been changed to protect the identities of the children involved, but it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist very long to figure out very fast that these children existed and this is what the State did while they were in “The Care and Custody of The State of New York.”

Since the departure of the boys in this story, The Program has moved its base of operation 2 times but the cash is still rolling in. The Program is made possible only with the able assistance of our Courts, Judges, Prosecutors and Social Services Departments who supply the necessary product.

For example: Mommy goes out shopping one day leaving her 8 year old son with his 13 year old baby sitter. Mommy comes home and son is fucking the babysitter. Mommy calls the cops. Who is charged by the DA with fucking a girl under the age of 14? The Program’s new product. Only in America!

Now that you know what The Program is the story begins. It would be wonderful if all the words that follow were full of love and sex and little boys romping around naked happy and cheerful. The Program isn’t Disneyworld. The trustees and the boys involved pay a very heavy price for being who they are and who they love. We all do. Please remember: no means no. That will keep the little ones away from these assholes.

Part 1

As with every other morning for the past four months, Aaron awoke to the sound of the jet taking off from the Albany County Airport that sat next to the jail and wondered where it would take the people who were sitting in those seats. It was 6:00 A.M. and he wanted to be any one of those people on that plane, even if the plane crashed into the ground, especially if it crashed into the ground. Aaron thought it would be nice to crash into the ground, if he did, his nightmare would be over.

As soon as the lights went on, the clanking of the chains began. The Albany County Jail was a pretty modern facility, but the method of opening and closing the cell doors was always kept constant. They were controlled by a system of pulleys and chains that dragged their way though the tunnels over each cell, and with each movement, every prisoner could hear the dragging of the chains. It was draconian and the sheriff liked it that way. It always took 10 or 15 minutes before any of the cell doors opened and the boys always had ample time to study the sounds of the chains dragging themselves through the system. That system is in use today (2005) if you’d like to hear it, visit the jail on Albany Shaker Road.

When the doors finally did open Aaron stepped out from his cell and stood there until the CO (corrections officer) told him to turn and march to feeding. Prisoners in New York State do not have breakfast, lunch, dinner, or meals, they have feeding. Breakfast, lunch, dinner or meals, had the implication that they were giving people food. As any corrections officer will gleefully tell you, prisoners are not people, they are animals. You feed animals.

After 4 months of being there, Aaron was used to the routine of the march to feeding, he would go through 3 cell blocks of prisoners, past rows and rows of men standing at the front of their cells looking at the boys as they passed through.

Aaron knew that there were two ways to feeding; you could either go directly down the staircase to the first floor, or, you could wind your way through the entire 3 story cell block house one tier at a time. The winding method was preferred by the guards, it gave the boys maximum exposure to humiliation and degradation. Most of the prisoners were silent when the boys passed by but none of them looked away. Some made a few very low comments while others stood there in their boxers waving their dicks at the boys or jerking off. Whenever that happened, the line was always slowed down by the guards. The guards were simply showing off the “fresh meat”.

Just before Aaron got to the last gate before he would enter the feed hall a sign on the guard’s bulletin board caught his attention. It read: IN CASE OF FIRE, THROW GASOLINE AND RUN! He had no doubt whatsoever that they would do that, and maybe if they did, he’d be lucky enough to still be there.

This day was very special to him because today Aaron was going before “Maximum” John Klein. Judge Klein had the reputation of sentencing everybody that came before him to the maximum penalty regardless of what they did and regardless of whether they could prove their innocence or not. If you came before Judge Klein, you were guilty, even if he had to stay overtime in the District Attorney’s office to ensure your guilt by instructing witnesses what to or not to say on the witness stand. When you stood before Judge Klein, you weren’t dealing only with the District Attorney, newspapers and television news; you had the judge making damned sure the jury saw it his way or they would never sit on another jury in his courtroom.

Leaving the jail that morning, Aaron was shackled by chains to his ankles and could take steps of about 4 inches. There was a chain around his waist and both hands were shackled to the chain so that he couldn’t raise his hands more than two inches down or two inches up. Going into court 4 deputies escorted the boy due to his extreme threat. Aaron was 10 years old and considered very violent. The guards were afraid he might hurt them.

He met with his guardian ad litem for the first time a few seconds before he walked into court. He was a really nice family man; a plumber by trade. He greeted Aaron in the holding cell just outside the courtroom. “Ritchie, everything’s going to be all right, just be polite and answer any questions very calmly and slowly.” “But sir,” Aaron said to him, “my name is Aaron.”

“Right,” the nice plumber said and they walked into court.

“Aaron Jerome Carter, this Court having heard the testimony brought before it, finds that you are a deviant sexual threat to society and will be remanded to the custody of the State of New York, Department of Corrections, until you attain the age of majority and that at such time, a hearing will be held to determine your suitability to remain at large,” he read.

“You are also advised, that a hearing having been heard by the Family Court of Albany County, the court has approved a petition by your mother to award you a ward of the State and she has severed all ties as to your care. You are in the care and custody of the State of New York, and under its protection. Bailiff, get this piece of garbage out of my courtroom,” With that his gavel hit the pad on his desk and he went back to his porn magazine.

The next morning two deputies had Aaron shackled to the back of their patrol car with two other boys and he was traveling up the Northway to Danamora, New York.

On the ride, the deputies never talked directly to the boys but their conversations were never out of the boys hearing either. The boys heard how the department had instituted new rules regarding body searches and that some inmates were trying to bring in drugs by putting it into their asses or even their dicks. The new rules meant that searches would be very extensive in those areas. Then they heard about how the department no longer gave injections against tetanus in the arm, they injected it directly into the dick because it was more effective. The boys also heard about the new rules concerning inmates swallowing drugs for later recovery and how new technology could put a camera up a kid’s dick and go find the drugs. The sheriffs were concerned because since nobody knew which kids were trying to bring drugs in, every kid got a camera stuck up his dick and they heard it was really very painful. Aaron didn’t know if the deputies were telling the truth or just trying to scare him. Was it possibly true? Aaron didn’t have any reason not to believe it. Conner, the 9 year old boy sitting next to Aaron believed it. Aaron and Alex, the boy on the other side of Conner were getting wet from Conner’s urine.

For those who have never seen or heard about Danamora, think Dracula. It is supposedly an adult prison very close to the New York State border with Canada. It’s operated by the State of New York with people who would be on welfare if not for the fact that they are State employees working as correctional officers. “Supposedly an adult” comes from the fact that most New York State prisons also contain children. At any given time, most New York State prisons have boys within the walls. Some are there for their “crimes” while others are there to service the clients.

Entering through the three security gates the boys were led into a room with about 6 guards in it. The sheriffs handed the guard sitting at the table three files concerning the boys. “SDs!” said the sheriff. The eyebrows on the guard sitting there rose. “We’ll leave their belongings in the storage bin,” said the sheriff and after the Albany County deputies took back their cuffs and chains and said their goodbyes to their buddies, the boys were left standing there against the wall. Aaron was happy to hear about his belongings, they were the only things he had left in the world and they gave him great comfort. He never saw them again.

There were two other boys already in the room when Aaron, Conner and Alex arrived. The other boys were delivered from Kingston. Kingston is a city about an hour below Albany.

“Strip!” said one of the guards. None of the boys thought about it, when they were told to strip, they either got naked very fast, or a foot, flashlight or hand was coming at them in a very short time. Demonstrating any form of modesty whatsoever was the ultimate taboo. Aaron once balked at getting undressed when he first went to jail and he stood for 2 hours in cell block 3 standing by the guard’s desk holding his penis and testicles on a plate. The floor show was very much appreciated by all the prisoners on cell block 3. Aaron always got a round of applause from them on the walk to feeding.

Standing there now were five boys. Conner was 9, Aaron was 10, Alex was 12, Jimmy was 14 and Mark was 12. The guard that had the most hash marks on his sleeve (3) stood up and took out a pair of gloves and put them on and then reached back into his drawer and took out a tool with a handle. Aaron looked at the tool. It had a trigger and a pointed end. It looked like a garden hose end that sprayed water on flowers to the boy. Then he took out a black flashlight that was always carried by guards night or day. If there was an electrical blackout, the guards always wanted to be prepared. When no blackouts occurred, they could always use the flashlights as a club to swat flies with or maybe even hit a prisoner or two.

Albany would never dream of allowing guards to walk around with steel pipes in their hands breaking prisoners ribs or hitting them on the back and head. They are certainly not barbarians. Now if you put 5 batteries, some wire and a bulb in the steel pipe, you have a “flashlight.” Isn’t that cute?

“Turn around and face the wall and bend over touching your hands on the floor. If anyone’s hands leave the floor, you’ll be laying on it!” the guard said. “Spread your legs out as far as they’ll go”. Aaron knew this position, the guards liked to call it a “cavity search”. Sodomy was such a crude term, and they would never ever do anything like that!

All five of the boys did like they were told and Aaron started to remember what the Albany County sheriffs were talking about on the ride up. His legs started to shake and he knew that would only encourage the guards even more. He concentrated on keeping his feet flat on the floor to minimize any shaking. The CO moved to Conner and put the tool up to his rectum. Then he pushed it in. The CO pushed it in as far as he could go and Conner started to cry. Aaron knew that was very big trouble for Conner. “Shut up kid, or I’ll go and put on the bigger tip,” the CO said. Conner’s audible cry subsided, but his body language told Aaron he was being ripped open by the tool.

With the tool inside Conner, the guard cranked on the handle and it opened the little boy’s anus. The guard shined the flashlight inside Conner’s rectum. “Jesus fucking Christ, this little mother fucker is full of shit!” he told his buddies. Conner’s legs gave out from under him and the boy fell to the floor with the tool still attached to his body. The guard released the crank and yanked the tool out. Conner felt a stinging pulling sensation when the tool was ripped out. His upper thigh started to get a little wet. Maybe he wet himself some again.

Aaron was next in the inspection and he noticed that the tool had both feces and blood on it. Aaron figured he was lucky, the feces and blood would make the tool slippery now and it would enter him easier than it entered Conner. The tool was very cold as it was put up to his rectum and shoved in. Aaron was a little surprised; the tool didn’t go in as hard as he thought it would. Was it Conner’s lubrication that caused this, or was it because he had already been sodomized 5 or 6 times back in jail? Aaron wasn’t sure. Aaron heard the clicking of the ratchet handle and felt his anus being wedged open.

With each crank, his rectum was being forced open more and more. While this was happening Aaron was remembering being a little younger and getting constipated. Trying to pass his stool was very painful and difficult for him, the feeling he now had was a little more intense. Aaron forgot about keeping his feet flat, and the forward pushing by the guard had made Aaron’s heels lift off the ground and he was standing more on the balls of his feet. This made his legs quiver up and down. “Look at this kid, he’s getting off on this fucking thing” said the guard to his buddies. The guards thought that was very funny. “He looks like Bugs Bunny getting set for a foot race,” said a guard standing next to Alex. “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,” Aaron repeated to himself over and over again.

Alex’s turn at bat came and Alex prepared himself to be dragged through the mud of shame and degradation he was sure was about to come. “This one’s got stretch marks all over his ass!” It was true; Alex had received abundant rectal tears which began when he was 5 years old. The machine did its job and Alex held his breath straining against the pressure on his anus. “Old hat huh kid?” the moron said. Alex said nothing; what was the point?

Jimmy’s turn came next and when the tool was inserted, the guard had another amusing quip for his pals “This boy’s been down this road more than a few times.” The guards thought that was very witty, and laughed heartily. “No sir, I don’t do that,” Jimmy pleaded. “Sure kid and you don’t fuck your sister either.” Aaron never saw a 14 year old boy cry before. Jimmy gave Aaron a very good demonstration. “His own fucking sister?” said one of the guards. “Yea., and he’s going to be a proud poppa,” said laughing boy. “Sounds like job security to me,” said another guard who wanted to demonstrate his comedic abilities.

The last boy to enjoy the guard’s attention was Mark. The tool was inserted with the appropriate force and Mark’s head hit the wall in front of him. “Back up you little scumbag,” the guard told Mark. Mark followed the guard’s order which greatly amused all the guards. “He looks like a crab on the beach!” guffaws all around. “It looks like this puppy’s been around the block too! You really like to fuck, don’t you kid?” Mark didn’t answer; he joined Jimmy in tears.

In the care and custody of the State of New York, each boy was ritually rectally raped within 30 minutes of arriving. The guards loved their job and made sure they did it thoroughly and with a sense of humor.

After the “inspection” the boys were told to go to a box standing off in a corner and get a pair of underwear. Aaron’s spirits were picking up. He wouldn’t be naked for very much longer. The boys went over to the box, it contained white boxer shorts; at least they used to be white. The boys thumbed through the box looking for the smallest pair they could find. Label after label Aaron saw read size 38, 40, 42 and they were all men’s sizes. Aaron wore size 10 boys. The boys were also looking for the cleanest pair they could find. Every pair Aaron saw had urine and/or semen stains on the front and the rear was usually brown with feces stains. After about a minute of fishing through the box with no boy putting anything on, a guard came over and told the boys to get the fuck out of the way. Then he reached in and threw a pair of boxers at each boy’s feet. “I ain’t got all fucking day to play around with you assholes,” the guard said. Aaron felt like he was going to be sick, but he knew there were no choices. He bent down and picked up the boxers and with his eyes closed, put them on. The only way they would stay up was by holding them, and that is what each boy had to do. Just as the boys got the boxers on, the door opened and another guard came in. This one Aaron knew was an officer because of his uniform. “What the fuck is this Charlie, Romper Room? he said as he came in and looked at the boys. “No captain, judge Klein wanted these kids transported here in transit to Elmira to show them their future” said the CO. “You’re fucking kidding!” the captain said. “Charlie, compared to Elmira, we’re a fucking Country Club. What’s wrong with that stupid fucking moron in Albany!”

“Ain’t you never been to Elmira?” asked the captain. The man shook his head no. “Listen asshole,” said the captain, “I don’t want to see any paper trail concerning these fucking scumbags, and if I do, you’ll be back at Rome State cleaning shit out of retards diapers again. Do I make myself clear?” Again the CO nodded without saying a word. “If any of these little pricks gets an ass fucking, you better make damned sure they’re a hundred miles away!” “Yes sir!” said the CO and the captain slammed the door behind him as he left.

“Fucking stupid jerk!” said the CO when the door slammed, and he whirled around and sent Alex crashing to the floor with a slap to the side of his head. Alex’s crime was that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The CO didn’t give a shit who he slapped, he slapped the closest one to him and that was Alex. “Pick the little motherfucker up!” He ordered Aaron and Jimmy. The boys picked up Alex who was bleeding from his nose and his ear. Alex didn’t pay too much attention to his nose bleed but he was cupping his ear with both hands. Aaron felt very sorry for Alex, but he was glad it wasn’t him who got hit.

“Get these assholes up to C block and lock them down. I want them out of here first thing in the morning,” said the CO. The boys left holding up their pants with one hand and holding up Alex with the other. Crossing the courtyard from Administration to C block was like running the gauntlet again to Aaron. There were hundreds of men in green uniforms standing around, and as they passed, Aaron felt like he was being visually raped.

The boy’s cells were on the third floor in “special housing”. The boys would sleep that night with inmates who were being driven crazy by prison or those who would be murdered if they were in the general population. One by one, the boys entered their cells and were told to stand there facing the wall away from the front of the cell until they heard the door close behind them. The last order the boys got from the guards was to “drop your drawers and kick them out of the cell. If you want to hang up, do it at Elmira, not here”. said the guard.

AARON’S FIRST NIGHT

Doors never just close in prison, they slam. They slam with a loud bang and then the noise reverberates for a few seconds afterward. It’s made to be that way to remind Aaron of exactly where he was: in hell.

Once the door slammed shut, Aaron turned and looked at the cell. It had a small table attached to the wall and a seat. It had a flat metal bed also attached to the opposite wall with no sheets, blankets or pillows. It had a metal toilet with no seat and no toilet paper. That was it. Aaron knew that this was the same thing all the other boys were looking at too. He sat down on the slab in a fog. He was in a nightmare, and it didn’t stop. It hadn’t stopped now for more than 4 months for him and he didn’t know when it was going to end. There were no tears; he didn’t have any left inside him.

“Hey kid!” the man in the cell next to him said. He looked up and could see a man’s arm reaching around from the cell next door and he was holding a mirror in his hand. “Kid, don’t be afraid, come over here and I’ll give you some stuff from the commissary” he said. “I can’t hurt you”. Aaron hadn’t eaten since that morning and was hungry and thirsty. If he was to get anything to drink, it was going to have to come from the toilet bowl, so he got up and moved closer to the arm. When he got closer, the man’s mirror moved up and down. At one point, Aaron could see part of his face, but most of the time, the mirror was too low for his face to come into view. The mirror was locked onto Aaron’s genitals and he knew it. The boy covered his body with his hand and asked him if he had anything to drink. “I’ve got soda and milk and some chocolate bars if you want to have them, but it will cost you” he said. “But I don’t have anything,” Aaron said. “I’ll give you the soda and candy kid, you just have to stand there while you’re eating it.” Aaron knew that what the man wanted to do was to look at his genitals. His throat was burning and he agreed. He passed Aaron the soda and the boy drank it as the mirror moved up and down in the man’s hand. Aaron could hear him jerking off in the next cell. Aaron finished the soda and the man asked him if he wanted another one and a chocolate bar. The boy was starved and still thirsty. “Yes,” said the boy. “OK, you come over here to the corner and let me touch your dick and balls and I’ll give it to you,” the man told him. Aaron thought about it. “I won’t hurt you kid and I’ll give you the soda and candy while I’m touching you.” Having someone touch Aaron’s genitals was nothing new to him. Being in jail for 4 months, he had been molested and raped more times than he could remember by some of the older boys there, by trustees and by guards.

Being around sex was common by now for Aaron, the last time he was in an elevator in jail he was with Conner when the trustee stopped the elevator in mid floor and told Aaron and another boy there to turn around and face the wall while the man dropped Conner’s pants and sucked Conner off. Conner said nothing, this happened to him several times a day. At 9, it had been going on for 7 years.

Aaron figured he had little to lose. The worst thing that could happen was that the man would get close enough to him and choke him to death. Aaron wondered how long that would take. “OK,” said Aaron and he moved into the corner next to the wall. The man reached back into the cell with another soda and bar of candy and took his hand back out and sat down. Now he reached back into Aaron’s cell and found what he was looking for. Aaron wasn’t particularly interested, but the man’s stimulation was making the boy erect. Aaron hated that, because it always meant that the other person would think that Aaron liked being touched. His body was doing something he didn’t want it to and he didn’t know how to stop it.

The man rolled Aaron’s testicles around for a little while and then slowly made his way towards the boy’s anus. Aaron was still very sore back there and pulled back as the mans fingers reached it. The man knew that Aaron could withdraw completely and told Aaron he would just touch his dick. Aaron moved forward again. “Turn sideways kid and I’ll jerk you off while I jerk myself off,” the man said. Aaron turned. The man started slowly, but as he neared orgasm his movement accelerated on Aaron. Aaron knew it would stop when he climaxed, and not before. He wanted the man to get up to the “stroking speed” that he was taught in jail. Aaron concentrated on stiffening his penis. The man took about 2 minutes to make himself and the boy climax and Aaron was thankful that he came just after the man did. “Wait just a second kid,” and the man withdrew his arm and brought it back a few seconds later. He dropped another chocolate bar on the ground and asked Aaron if he could have one more little feel of his balls. Aaron turned towards the front and the man’s hand found his testicles and rubbed them all over. The boy felt wet in his scrotum and moved back away to look down.

“Thanks kid, my name is David, David Berkowitz, maybe you’ve heard of me?” “No sir” the boy said. “I’m the Son of Sam! Ever hear of me?” “No sir” Aaron said. “That’s OK kid, it really doesn’t matter, but hey, just for your own information, I have AIDS, so don’t drink any of that scum I rubbed on your balls OK? I just put it there to help them grow a little.” Aaron stared down at his crotch. He knew from the boys at the Albany County jail who had already started to cum and made him suck their penises that what he was looking at was really scum. Aaron thought about it. How long does it take to die from AIDS? He picked up his candy bar and sat down on the slab. Eventually, the boy ate the candy and curled himself into a ball to try to keep warm. The boy didn’t really sleep, he turned his mind off.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Aaron got off the slab with a throat ripping thirst. The chocolate bars and soda made his thirst a hundred times worse. Aaron knew there was only one source of water available. He sat down in front of the bowl for almost an hour staring at the water. Finally, he dipped his head in and drank. Aaron was the last of the boys except for Alex to drink from the fountain provided by the State for them. Years later Aaron heard that Berkowitz had found god. If he did, Aaron was sure that the creep would be trying to fuck the lord.



CONNER’S FIRST NIGHT

With the closing of the door, Conner was now alone. He had turned 9 years old two weeks before he was arrested, and that was 6 months ago. Since going to jail he was never alone, Conner needed to be with someone even if he was being forced to suck the boy’s penis next to him in jail. At least he was with someone. As a child, he was alone more often than not. His mother was busy with tricks, and the apartment was cold and dark.

Conner was very small for his age; some people said he had what was called “Failure to thrive syndrome”. It’s very difficult to “thrive” on nothing, and that’s what Conner usually ate. His mother spent most of the trick money on beer, cigarettes and coke.

Conner tried to sit on the slab but his rectum wouldn’t allow that. When he took off the boxers he saw blood in them just before he kicked them out of the cell and he now stood there in the middle of the cell and felt his rectum with his hand. It came back bloody but the dripping had stopped, and it felt a lot better when he sat down on the toilet and washed his anus with his fingers. The cool of the water stopped some of the burning feeling and after a few minutes of wiping, his hand didn’t have as much blood on it anymore. Still, sitting on the toilet was better than sitting on the bed and he sat there until his legs started to get numb from the pressure of the metal bowl on his legs. He flushed the toilet about 3 times and stood up. His mouth was very hot and dry and his throat burned him when he breathed in. Conner needed water. There was only one source, and he drank his fill. Conner didn’t think too much about drinking from the bowl, it smelled pretty much like pee. Conner was used to pee, one of mommy’s tricks used to visit him all the time and he always liked to have Conner drink his “water” from his “stick.”

Conner saw Jimmy being put into the cell next to his, and got on the floor and called for him very quietly. Jimmy came over to his side of the wall and also got down on the floor. Neither boy wanted anybody to hear them talking, they didn’t want to be beaten again. Jimmy came from Kinston and Conner didn’t know him. He knew only Alex and Aaron, but they were in cells too far away to reach. Conner needed to be with someone, even a stranger. “Can you stay down here with me tonight?” Conner asked Jimmy. “What, here on the fucking floor?” Jimmy asked. The tone of Jimmy’s voice scared Conner and any other time, he would have avoided him. Jimmy was very big to the little Conner. Usually bigger kids either fought him or fucked him. Conner was used to both. Scared or not, if Conner didn’t convince the person next door to stay with him, who could he turn to? “What’s the difference, the floor is just as hard as the bed is,” Conner said. “OK,” Jimmy replied. “My name is Conner, what’s yours?” “Jimmy,” came the reply. “How old are you?” Conner asked. “What the fuck do you care, are you writing a book?” Jimmy said sarcastically. Conner started crying. Jimmy figured he was crying a little too hard, so he reached out and touched Connor’s hand that was hanging through the bars. “I’m sorry, keep quiet or we’re both going to get the shit beat out of us.” More than anything, physical contact stopped the flow from Conner. If he was touching someone, he wasn’t alone. He laid flat on the floor and held Jimmy’s hand in both of his. It wasn’t easy for him and he asked Jimmy to put his arm a little further out of the bars. “You ain’t going queer on me are you kid?” Jimmy asked. Conner started to choke up again and Jimmy heard it in his voice. “Please, I just don’t want to be alone.”

Jimmy figured letting some snot nosed brat hold his hand was better than having a guard come down and give his flashlight some exercise all over his head. Besides, Jimmy thought, friends are better than enemies in jail, and maybe the kid could do him some good in the future. Jimmy laid down on his back and reached his arm through the bars and around the corner.

Conner now had a hand and part of a forearm to keep him company. He covered Jimmy’s hand in both of his and put his cheek on Jimmy’s forearm; he needed contact. Jimmy felt Conner’s face and breath on his arm and considered pulling his arm out. He also felt Conner’s wet cheek and knew them to be tears. Jimmy was the toughest little bastard he knew how to be, but he couldn’t fool himself. Conner had a security blanket and Jimmy wasn’t going to pull it from under him. Besides, nobody could see it! Conner fell asleep holding onto Jimmy’s hand like it was the only thing he had in the world: it was.

A guard came around on his rounds a few hours later and looked down at the two boys sleeping. His flashlight first moved up Jimmy’s body and then to Conner’s. His flashlight stayed on Conner holding onto Jimmy for a few moments and then the light was turned off. “What the fuck am I doing here!” said the guard, and walked on. Both boys were extremely lucky and didn’t know it. They came across a guard with a conscience. They’re extremely rare.

Sometime later, Conner got up to go to the toilet and he was sweating very badly. His stomach was giving him extreme cramps, and he had to go very badly. Just as he sat down his bowels let go and so did his stomach. He couldn’t get off the toilet because he was having explosive diarrhea, and he had to throw up, so all he could do was sit there and throw up in his lap. Conner didn’t get off the toilet for probably 15 minutes and when he did, he curled up on the floor in a ball shivering. It was 3:30 and the snow was falling.



ALEX’S FIRST NIGHT

The blow Alex received from the guard came out of nowhere and Alex was stunned senseless. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, more like the 100th. Alex was used to his “uncle” sucker punching him, he had done it since moving in with Alex’s mother and two sisters when Alex was 7. Now, he was sitting in a cell. He couldn’t exactly remember getting to the cell, he remembered putting on boxers, and then he was here. Where was here? Did it really matter? Alex thought to himself. His ear was impossible to touch without agony and there were bells and sirens going off that didn’t quit. They were so loud in Alex’s head that he couldn’t think or concentrate.

As soon as the doors shut, Alex had to sit down. The cell was spinning around and the floor was tilting sideways. Alex looked to the side and could make out a shiny flat surface big enough to lay down on. He got to the bed and it felt cold and hard. He got his body on top of the surface and closed his eyes. Alex’s first night was very brief.



MARK’S FIRST NIGHT

With the closing of the doors, Mark moved to the slab and sat down. He looked around hoping to find something to wrap himself in to stop the shivering. There was nothing.

He had been in jail now for almost 8 months and hadn’t seen or heard from anybody in his family since he first went in. Before going to jail, he was very close to his family. He was Greek and had many brothers, cousins and uncles and they were a very tight knit family. That was part of the reason he was in jail. Now, no visits, no mail, no phone calls, it was like he didn’t exist anymore and he was confused and very lonely. His 12th birthday had just occurred two weeks ago and he thought he would get a visit. Maybe from his mother. Maybe she forgot.

Mark was very tired and very hungry. He was also very thirsty. He looked around to find the sink. There was none. But there was a toilet. He got up and went over to the toilet and looked inside. Someone had used the toilet and forgot to flush it. It looked like they forgot to flush it more than a few times. The toilet was half full. Mark flushed the toilet and it almost came back clean. He flushed it two more times when a voice from the next cell said “Knock it off you little bastard, I’m trying to sleep!” Mark didn’t realize anybody was in the cell next to his and the voice startled him. Then another voice came from the cell on the other side of Marks cell. “Back off Turk, he’s just a little kid!” The other man said nothing.

An arm came out from the cell and it held a mirror in it. Mark knew that the mirror was used by prisoners to see down the corridors and around corners. Everybody had mirrors in jail, it was a necessity. “Kid, why are you running the plumbing so much?” “I’m thirsty and the water is all dirty,” Mark told the man next door. “You’re figuring to drink from the toilet?” asked the man.

“It’s the only water I have,” Mark replied. “Hang on,” the man said and withdrew his arm. The man’s arm came back out of his cell with two containers of milk in his hands. “Take these kid, but check them first. Sometimes they go sour on me.” Mark couldn’t believe his eyes. He went over and took the milk from the man’s hand. “Thank you very much!” Mark said to the man. “Forget it kid.” Mark took the milk back to his bed and opened the first container. He smelled the milk. It wasn’t exactly sour, but it didn’t have curdles in it and Mark decided that it was good enough to swallow. Finishing the first one, he opened the second. The second one had big chunks in it and there was no question that it was inedible. Mark put the container down on the floor. He was still a little thirsty, but nothing like a few minutes ago. He could live with that.

“Did they give you any blankets kid?” the man asked. “No sir,” Mark told him. “Here, take this one, but the guards may not let you keep it. If they want to know where it came from, tell them it was there in the cell when you came in. I could get busted for giving it to you, so stick to your story.” With that the man held out a blanket end and Mark pulled it through the bars. Mark couldn’t believe his good fortune. Whoever the man next door was, he was the nicest person he had come into contact with for the past eight months. “Thank you very much!” Mark said as he started to cry. “Forget it,” the man said and Mark heard him go back to his bed and lay down. Mark curled up in the blanket that he folded in half and fell asleep almost immediately. The shivering had stopped and Mark felt like the luckiest boy in the world.

Two hours later with Mark sound asleep a CO did his rounds through the cell block. Passing each cell, he shined has flashlight into it. When he got to Mark’s cell, he stopped. “Larry. Larry.” he called to the man who gave Mark the blanket. Larry woke up and sat up in his bed. “What the fuck did you do that for?” the CO said to the inmate. “What Joe?” the inmate answered. “Don’t give me that fucking shit, you know god damned fucking well that Turk didn’t give that kid that fucking blanket!” the CO said. “Come on Joe, the fucking kid was freezing his balls off!” “I didn’t see the blanket Larry, and if that kid hangs it up, you’re going to be having an accident!” There was no response from Larry, the CO didn’t expect one. He moved on. Mark was correct: he was a very lucky boy.

Normally the prison lights came on every morning at 6 am. The boys were woken up at 4 by the cell doors opening and a voice down the corridor telling them to walk out onto the catwalk and stand there. The guards had thrown in more boxers and the boys put them on except for Alex. “Where the fuck is cell 26?” the voice said and a commotion started at the end of the corridor. Cell 26 was where Alex slept that night.

“Mother fucker!” said the first guard that reached cell 26. Alex was lying on his slab and blood was all over the place. His ear was still dripping blood, but it was a whole lot thicker than normal blood and a whole lot darker. The guard put on Alex’s boxers and called out. “You two get the fuck over here and pick him up!” said one of the guards to Mark and Jimmy and both boys followed the guard to the infirmary holding Jimmy up as they walked. Aaron looked at Alex. Alex was walking with them, but Aaron felt he wasn’t really there. “Alex, are you OK?, Are you OK?” Alex looked at Aaron, but not really. The nurse looked in Alex’s ear and said “His eardrum is busted, what happened?” “He slipped on a bar of soap” said the guard. Neither Mark nor Jimmy looked at each other when the guard said that. They were just turning around and facing the wall. You do a lot of that in prison.

The nurse took some cotton out of a jar and stuck it in Alex’s ear. “Have them look at it when he gets to wherever he’s going”. Before the nurse was finished, he told the boys to stand Alex back up, he needed to check for “contraband”. After a complete check, he was satisfied that Alex didn’t have a hernia, dislocated penis or any drugs in his rectum.

Following the guards the boys arrived back in the same room they were in the night before. A guard reached into a box and picked out orange jump suits and threw one at each one of the boys feet. “Dress” he said. Alex was sat down on a chair and Jimmy and Aaron put his suit on. Alex’s eyes were open and he was awake, but the boys knew he really wasn’t.

Like the boxers the night before, the jumpsuits were completely filthy. The suits all stunk like piss and Alex’s suit also stunk of vomit as well. Now, his ear was dripping blood onto it. The guards brought out chains and shackles and once again they were chained up almost to the point of not being able to walk or stand up straight.

Feeding time at Danamora was 7 am. They were on the road at 6. Now heading back down the Northway for Albany and then on the Thruway to Downstate Correctional Facility to pick up inmates for transport to Auburn Correctional. The boys arrived at Downstate at 11:00, feeding was at 10:00 and they unfortunately missed it. Pm. feed was at 1:00; the boys were back on the road at 12:00 and unfortunately missed it. The boys arrived at Elmira at 5:00 and they were 4 hours late for pm feed unfortunately. Unfortunate things happen very often in prison.

Elmira “Reformatory” was as warm, cozy and appealing to look at as Danamora was. The entire place is surrounded in 3 rows of razor wire because American children are fantastically dangerous animals and the guards needed a great deal of protection from them. The prison contains its own cemetery to house those boys who were the most dangerous and needed special reforming by the guards. If Aaron had a knife, he would have slit his throat as he entered through the gates for the first time.

Part Two


At Elmira the boys were led into a room that had about 8 adults in it, half of the men were COs, the other half were trustees. All the boys knew what trustees were: they were guards without power, but almost as ruthless as the guards. With chains clanking, the boys came into the room with Aaron and Jimmy holding onto Alex by both arms. “What the fuck is this?” the sergeant sitting at his desk asked the guards bringing the boys in. “Danamora” said one of the guards. “Those stupid mother fuckers cost us more money than everybody else put together. When the fuck are they gonna learn?” said the sergeant. “Find out the name of the prick who did this, if he enters the system, charge back 10 grand to his account!” “OK sarge,” said a CO sitting at a desk.

Aaron and Jimmy were standing there holding up Alex who was getting heavier by the minute. Alex still had his eyes open but both boys noticed they really weren’t moving or looking around much. Aaron was happy to see that he did blink now and then, but not very often. Alex didn’t speak a word on the entire trip, he just stared at his lap. “Brett, Pete, get this kid to the Doc. I want his ass back here in half an hour,” said the sergeant to two COs. The guards got up and took Alex from Aaron and Jimmy and took Alex’s chains off. The first guard who took Alex’s arm looked over directly at Alex. “I don’t think so boss, this kid looks pretty fucked up!” “Mother fucking stupid fucking assholes!” the sergeant repeated and banged both fists on his desk.

“Sir, I think I’d more helpful if I gave Doc a hand. I think there are some serious problems.” The request was coming from a trustee. The sergeant didn’t say anything for a little while; he just sat back in his chair. Finally he sat back up, “What do you think Michael?” The trustee answered “Maybe concussion.” The sergeant said nothing for a long time then just said “Go.”

All the boys knew they had a small problem on their hands. Not only were they facing a guard, they were facing a pissed off guard. Alex looked like a zombie because the guard in Danamora got angry, they were now in a very dangerous place and they knew it. “Let’s get this bullshit over with, I’ve got a Pop Warner game tonight,” the sergeant said and the guards took the chains and shackles off the remaining boys. “Strip,” was the next thing the boys heard and all four of them were very happy to comply. Once all the boys were standing before the sergeant’s desk, he began speaking to them like he was on a tape machine.

“For the next 90 days, I own your mind, I own your dick, I own your balls, and I own your bodies. You’ll do exactly as you are told, whenever you are told to do it, and if you don’t I’ll have your dick in a jar”. With that, he reached into his drawer and pulled out a jar and handed it to Conner. “Pass that on” he said to Conner. Each boy in turn received and looked in the jar. Inside the jar in a clear liquid was a small penis about 3 inches long. There was no doubt whatsoever in any of the boys’ minds that the penis used to be on some kids body. It had obviously been cut off.

“You have 90 days to get prepared to earn your living and my job is to see to it that you are ready. You will be ready, or you’ll end up with two holes to fuck: one in your ass and one where your dick used to be. Do I make myself clear?” With Conner slumping to the floor and Aaron trying to hold him, Aaron said “Yes sir, we do”. Jimmy and Mark both said “Yes sir,”

“You’re now the property of the State Of New York and when you are asked to identify yourself, you have a number,” the sergeant continued. “I’m going to tell you that number calmly just once. Remember that number, because if you forget it you’re going to have a flashlight up your ass within moments. Clear?” he asked. The boys all shook their heads yes.

He spoke to Conner first. “You are number 88E468SD.” Moving to Aaron he said “You are number 88E469SD,” moving to Jimmy, he said “You are number 88E470SD,” moving to Mark he said “You are number 88E471SD.”

The boys repeated the number in their minds over and over again. Aaron and Jimmy felt that they could remember theirs. Mark was already feeling that he was in trouble because he had learning difficulties: he kept repeating the number in his head over and over again hoping that he would soon have access to a pencil and a piece of paper and write it down. Conner was confusing the number in his mind on the second pass. He reached over to Aaron and grabbed his hand. Aaron looked at Conner and pretty much figured out what his problem was. “I know it” Aaron said to Conner very quietly. Conner’s eyes filled up. Nothing more was said.

The New York State Corrections Department has a number given to every inmate. You were never a name, you were a number, like cows or pigs or sheep. The numbers told a lot about the body behind them. This is the system: 88E469SD tells a guard that the prisoner entered prison in 1988, he was admitted into the system through Elmira, he was the 469th prisoner to enter into that prison that year and that he was a sexual deviate. They didn’t tattoo the prisoner’s numbers on their forearms; they wear it on their clothing.

The trustee who went out with Alex then came back and the sergeant looked at him. “Doc says he’s going to be deaf in one ear. They busted his eardrum and its wild with infection. Doc’s shooting him with antibiotics to try to contain the damage,” said the trustee. “He may be lost.

Doc is in Code Red, he wants me to return.”. “Go,” said the Sergeant. “Cock sucking stupid mother fuckers, how could they possibly be so fucking stupid!” said the sergeant as he picked up his jacket and hat and slammed the door behind him. Aaron and Jimmy looked at each other not saying a word. They knew Alex was in deep, deep shit.

“Michael, put these guys down before you go back,” a guard said to the trustee. “Yes sir” said the trustee and he opened a door and said “Move out,” pointing the boys up the corridor.

“Guys?” thought Aaron. He hadn’t been referred to anything human in months. He could come up with a hundred descriptions of himself over the past 4 months, but nothing that could be repeated in church. Being called a “guy” to Aaron was like being called a Prince or Your Highness. Aaron wondered what price he would have to pay for the compliment.

Following the trustee down the hall, Aaron noticed that he had long flowing hair. The trustee’s hair ran down his neck and was tucked under his shirt, but Aaron knew that it stretched way beyond the neck. He saw lots of trustees in jail and more at Danamora, but none with really long hair! It intrigued Aaron, and he wanted to know more. Aaron was also surprised by the conversations between this trustee and the sergeant. Most trustees he had ever been in contact with were regarded or talked to by guards only mildly better than prisoners were. This one seemed to be talking to the guards as equals. That didn’t make any sense to Aaron. “What do you think Michael?” Since when did a guard care about what a prisoner thought? Aaron was confused. Not only did the guard listen to the trustee, he didn’t challenge his opinion. Who was this trustee? Aaron wanted to know.

The trustee came to a door and stopped. “You’ll be staying here tonight. You are under constant video taping in there, if there are any problems, you’ll have a squad of COs in there within seconds. Keep that in mind. There are six beds inside. Tomorrow will be a very full day for you and you need to sleep. They’ll be back for you very early in the morning, so go to sleep as soon as you can. I know you haven’t eaten all day and there are sandwiches and milk inside. Take care of each other, you’re all you have.” The trustee then opened the door and Conner, Aaron, Jimmy and Mark all filed in. Closing the door, it locked behind them.

Conner saw the food first. It was sitting on a table in the middle of the room. Peanut butter and jelly, tuna fish, egg salad and cheese and bologna sandwiches along with a refrigerator that was full of small containers of milk. Conner had no problem with opening the sandwiches and scoffing them down.

Aaron and Jimmy weren’t so sure. It was a dream come true but what was the price? Both boys looked all around. There were six beds in the unit; all of them were made up with sheets, blankets and pillows. There was a toilet, it even had toilet paper. There was a large shower stall with 4 shower heads in it. In one corner stood a water cooler and it had water in it. Aaron, Jimmy and Mark headed for the cooler and left it half empty. There was a camera in each corner of the room and the red light on the top of each camera was on. Aaron and Jimmy were very confused. What’s the catch?

Aaron decided whatever the cost; he was going to take a shower. He picked up a handful of sandwiches off the table and sat down underneath the shower head. His first sandwich was tuna, and he ate it as half the sandwich disintegrated under the force of the water. An egg salad sandwich was next and he gobbled it down before half of it went down the drain. Aaron threw out the bread from the next sandwich; the water couldn’t wash away the cheese and bologna no matter how hard it rained down on it! Aaron finished the sandwiches and sat there in the bottom of the shower stall with the water raining down on top of him. His stomach was now full. He lifted his face up to the shower head and closed his eyes and let the water wash over his face for a long time. His mind was now free to start concentrating on other issues now that his stomach was full and he drank all the water and milk he possibly could. He sat there staring down with water pouring down around him. He thought about Albany, he thought about Danamora, he thought about Alex. Sitting under a shower fall of water is a great place to lose it because no one near knows what’s happening. Aaron could let loose without anyone around him knowing he did it. Aaron lost it burying his face in his hands.

“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, can I come in with you?” Conner asked. Conner was standing next to Aaron by the shower when Aaron realized the boy was standing there. Aaron knew that the water masked any problems that he may have been having and he also knew that Conner wasn’t quite up to speed in the development department. To Aaron, Conner was nine going on six. He didn’t think Conner was a bean, but he didn’t think Conner was going to be a rocket scientist any time soon either. “OK” said Aaron. With the water flowing down, Aaron washed Conner sitting in his lap. The other boys now joined Aaron under the shower heads, and all 4 boys sat there until they all had wrinkles on their finger tips from the water.

Conner was sound asleep before he left the shower. With Aaron shampooing his hair, Conner’s head moved closer and closer to Aaron’s chest until it rested full on it and he was out like a light. Aaron finished rinsing off the little boy’s head and Aaron sat there for a long time just holding onto Conner. Aaron didn’t have a teddy bear to comfort him, he had someone who was living and breathing instead. Aaron