Teen in the System by Darron Jackson

Teen in the System

Darron Jackson

The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people who are at risk of, victims of or perpetrators of violence in El Salvador. In 2017, this innovative program expanded into Chicago to create tangible, high-quality opportunities that nourish the minds, expand the voices and share the personal truths of individuals who have long been underserved and underestimated. Through the process of drafting, revising and publishing memoirs, participants develop self-reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie and positive selfprojection to author new life narratives.

Since January 2017, ConTextos has collaborated with the Cook County Sheriff's Office to implement Authors Circle in Division X of Cook County Department of Corrections as part of a vision for reform that recognizes the value of mental health, rehabilitation and reflection. These powerful memoirs complicate the narrative about violence and peace-building, and help author a hopeful future for these men, their families, and our collective communities.

While each memoir's text is solely the work of the Author, the images used to create this book's illustrations have been sourced from various print publications. Authors curate these images and then, using only their hands, manipulate the images through tearing, folding, layering, and careful positioning. By applying these collage techniques, Authors transform their written memoirs into fully illustrated books.

In collaboration with

Teen in the System Darron Jackson

The bus ride to the penitentiary where I was sentenced to spend the next sixty years felt

like the longest ride of my life. Sitting on that cold bus with metal seats, shackles around

my feet and the inability to move my upper body caused by the black box.

The black box was attached to the handcuffs locking one hand facing up and the

other hand facing down and was connected to a chain wrapped tightly around my

waist preventing any movement in my arms. This made it nearly impossible for me to

eat my bologna sandwich or use the bathroom in the bucket that was provided for us

in the back of the bus.

The other inability was seeing out of any windows due to the steel plates blocking

the view. Every time the bus turned my stomach turned. Every time the bus stopped

my heart stopped, with every bump in the road I felt a lump in my throat. All this was

caused by me being blind to my outside surroundings mixed with the nervousness of

not knowing what to expect from prison.

Once we arrived at my ”final resting place” all six of us aboard were herded off the

bus to at last see a prison community with an architectural design like the wild wild

west, built inside of a pit at least 30 feet in the ground. The first thought that came to

my 17 year old mind was hell on earth.

When I first made it into the dimly lit cell house I was first hit by the stench of the

hundreds of men tightly cramped inside of the tiny cells. The tiny cells stretched down

the gallery too far for my eyes to see and the sight was an eerie resemblance to the

images of how the slaves looked on the slave ships on their way to America.

It didn’t take long to realize that prison is different from the streets, different from Juvy,

and different from the County. It was a process of learning a new way of life taught by

convicts with life sentences.

Within the first week of getting to prison I finally got a chance to get out of the small

cage and go to the yard. Feeling the sun and wind against my skin was like a breath of

fresh air. There were a few hundred men out there, some lifting weights, some playing

basketball and some playing cards. Others were either on the phone or sectioned off in

huddles talking.

I was introduced to some and I received the same greeting from each one “what’s the

demo sir?” along with a firm handshake and unbroken eye contact. This ritual was the

only familiarity in this new world.

The next few yards I spent most of the time on

the phone talking to family and while on the phone I would always see the

old tymer who I sat at the table with during chow utilizing the entire 2hr yard

period running laps.

He had been locked up 30 plus years and was one of the few C# still going

before the parole board. One day he walked the yard with me and broke

down the importance of staying physically and mentally fit while locked up.

“Remaining strong through the spirit and through the bone is our sole means of

survival,”he would say. So, I began working out every yard for at least an hour and during my time in the cell studying.

I learned a lot from the old tymer and over the years when we would end up in the same

cell house or on the same gallery he always remained the same or as he would say “I be

the message I bring,” and one message that he would always bring is that “we are men

upright independent and fearless.”

This was how I saw him until the day he died. He lost his battle to lung cancer 12 years

after I met him.

He wasn’t the first person in the system who I considered a brother to lose his life, nor

was he the last.

And each time it happened it was a somber reminder that I actually may

die in here.

Growing up in this different world not knowing if I will ever be set free caused me to

grow up fast and take life seriously.

Faced with the harsh realities that had become of my life I could always find spiritual

encouragement from my family. I have a family who is deeply rooted in the church and

every conversation with my mother would always end with”keep your trust and faith in

God, he’s going to bring you through.”

As I navigated through the system my family was also my escape mentally. They

would travel the 6 hour drive nearly once a month to visit me, giving me some time to

somewhat get away from it all. The length of the visits never seemed long enough and

I always hated when they ended saying the goodbyes.

I can still remember my first contact visit in the penitentiary like it was yesterday; the

visit had to be split into two because only three adults are allowed in at a time. On this

particular day my mother, father, brother, and sister showed up.

Having the ability to finally hug and console them was the one thing that I needed after

being haunted by the images of grief and sorrow that showed on their faces when the

judge announced my 60 year sentence. That is a visual that will forever remain with

me, but it helped ease my pain to show them that the baby of the family is strong and

standing firm in this grown man world.

As much as I worried about them they were worried about me, so we gained strength and

comfort from one another and lifted each other's spirits by the joy of being together even if

it was only the length of visiting hours. These moments are what got me through, especially

during my younger years. After the visits were over it would always make me focus harder on

getting out.

One particular day on the weight pile during a conversation someone mentioned

guys putting all their faith in lawyers and not putting forth any effort in their

own freedom and it resonated with me because I didn’t know much about the law.

So I began reading legal books.

At first reading legal books felt like reading a book in a foreign language and at times

I felt like it was too complicated for me to ever fully understand.

My frequent trips to the Law Library

and conversing with guys who were litigating on their own behalf eventually

helped bring clarity to the basics. I started filing petitions on my own behalf

and received denial after denial from state court to federal court, but as years

progressed I got better with experience and better with age.

Also with age I evolved from just reading any book to reading books with a direct focus

on contributing to my success in the future. Many of the books were self help books

pertaining to investing and real estate, and small business planning for the future was a

seed planted in my mind when I ended up with a celly from my neighborhood. He had

been locked up 16 years and was on his way home in 2 so his mindset was different from

everyone else I encountered.

He would encourage me to focus now on what I wanted to accomplish after

prison instead of waiting until that time comes. He would also speak about

the importance of living a life beyond the organization, and no matter what I

do in life always make sure that my good deeds outweigh my bad deeds on

the scale of justice which is a common thread of all religious doctrines.

Although it was a lot of knowledge and information for my young mind at the time that

the seed was planted, it took root and blossomed into action over a course of time to

the point where I really began thinking about my future and planning for it.

I began taking classes through mail correspondence and finally received my high school

diploma, and I also began taking various rehabilitation courses in the prison and working

prison assignments.

It felt good to spend each day actually

doing something productive opposed to how I spent my days in the beginning, just

trying to survive each day.

I went from thinking about living or dying in prison to thinking about living a

successful life beyond prison.

While in class, at work, or on the yard I would talk to the young guys I

encountered about focusing on their future, living a life beyond the organization,

staying in the legal books, staying physically and mentally fit and all the other

useful teachings I learned over the years.

At this point is where I began to realize that I made the transformation from a teen in the

system to a man in the system.

That bus ride to prison took me on a long journey literally and figuratively and although

my sentence was vacated, I’m back in the county for resentencing, and in the

meantime my journey in the system continues…

I Am From Poem Darron Jackson I am from Aldis every payday From watermelon and banana pudding I am from the brickhouse that’s lowkey Westerns on T.V., blues on the radio, and the smell of cooking in the kitchen I am from the bushes in front of the house Covered with snow and christmas lights during the winter I’m from bidwist and dusties and making our presences known From the tribe of Jackson and Mccloud I’m from the big family that always roll deep and stand united From money don’t grow on trees and be in the house when the street lights come on I’m from going to church on Sunday, and getting dressed up every easter I’m from the West side of Chicago to the western suburbs, and Greenville, Mississippi.

Pinto Beans, and Cornbread From the family that stuck with me during these two decades in prison The immediate family to extended family checking in when they can and always lending a helping hand The flicks in the property box is your most prized possession when your in the can Because cherishing the memories is the plan

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