Letter #4: Notes From The Inside

Dear reader, as I write this letter to you, it is January 19th, 2026.

I have been in the custody of the Bureau of Prisons for 31 days, one full month.

I figure that as a milestone worthy of penning another letter to you.

The time has simultaneously crawled at a snail's pace and raced by quicker than I can understand.

From day to day time moves unbearably slowly.

The time crawls by.

I feel as if I'm walking through quicksand every step in enormous effort.

A minute feels like an hour, an hour feels like a day, but at the same time it feels as

if just yesterday I was surrendering myself to FPC, Morgantown.

The one month milestone has been able to creep on me surprisingly quickly while I was concerned

with how slow time has been passing.

I was sentenced by Judge Dusty Cote, excuse me, Judge Denise Cote, for a period of 60 months

of incarceration, one month down, 59 more to go.

Prison is a totally alien environment.

Everything is seemingly backward and designed to frustrate you.

As many prisoners have said to me, B-O-P stands for backward on purpose.

And they really aren't wrong.

Here is a quick example.

Because the U.S. taxpayer is now responsible for my health and well-being, I have been

placed on the waiting list for a dental check, cleaning in any basic work that might be

needed, fillings, extraction, etc.

Being a logical person, I concluded that the wait would not be too long considering the

population of FPC Morgantown is low, around 160 inmates.

When well over 800 can be held here.

It wouldn't take too long for my name to reach the top of the list.

I was then informed that the waiting list included all inmates within the entire B-O-P

at every facility.

So even though our dentist here only has 160 people to see, I must wait for someone

in Oklahoma who is higher than me on the list to receive treatment before I can be seen.

Backwards on purpose.

Nothing works logically or as expected.

On my 28th day here, I received my A&O, admission and orientation, which is mostly a box-checking

operation as we all have been oriented by the other inmates in the 28 days we have been

here.

In any case, we were told that being here is not a punishment.

The punishment is the sentence the judge hands down.

The time away from family, being here at the Federal Prison, is just our home for a short

time.

They tell you this with a straight face while counting you five times a day, forcing

you to work for slave wages, and restricting the number of people you can communicate

with per month, not a punishment.

There are vaguely motivational posters placed around the inside of the housing unit.

Most are so saccharine they would make me queasy.

I could do without the HRization of prison, thank you very much.

They are all clearly printed from the internet without permission as they are all pixelated

to hell.

And there is one that is my favorite.

I get a good laugh whenever I walk by it or think about it.

There is a vignette of an iron barred cell door with the words, you are only incarcerated

by the walls you build yourself.

I would love to imagine a CEO or administrator putting that up because they found it funny,

but I know it was more likely someone who put it up because they found it inspiring and

insightful, which I suppose makes it even funnier.

Over the month I have been here I have somewhat succeeded in finding a routine, something many

people who have been to prison have told me is essential, and sticking to it.

I wake up every day at 4am, this suits me greatly because I am the only one awake at that

time and getting any sort of a lone time in prison is surprisingly difficult, at least

while you are in general population.

If you are in solitary confinement, it is very easy.

Upon waking up I make myself what I have taken to calling a prison latte, which is a mug

of hot milk made from powdered milk with two heaping scoops of Folger's instant coffee

added in.

I collect my pen, notebook, and my prison latte and find a well lit area.

Where that area ends up being tends to change by the day, there is no rhyme of reason as

to wish overhead lights the CEOs turn on throughout the week.

Usually I end up in the common room or the computer room, whichever one has lights on

or enough light bleeding in from the hallway lights.

I sit and write for the next hour.

I write these letters to you, a daily journal, or responses to any mail I have received.

I return to my bunk to await the 5am count.

At 12am, 3am, 5am, 4pm, and 9pm, and 10am on weekdays, we must be at our bunk as two

guards come by our beds and count us to make sure we are all still there.

I wait the count by beginning my full body stretching routine.

I learnt this routine many years ago during martial arts training, which focuses on stretching

every major muscle group from neck to toe.

It has been an essential part of my days since I wake up so sore and stiff from the paper

thin mattress on the sheet metal bunk.

Stretching makes me feel somewhat normal.

The 5am count usually takes place around 5.20.

Two guards walk briskly by their chains and keys jingling with their gate as they presumably

count you by shining a bright flashlight in your face.

To be fair, only one particular CEO does that.

The others seem to be a bit more courteous and mindful that people are still trying to sleep.

While stretching, I listen to my AM FM radio.

This radio is my prized possession.

It connects me to the outside world unlike anything else in here.

At 5am, I tune to the local public radio station, 90.5, which plays BBC World Service News

and Documentaries.

I look forward to these daily programs greatly.

At 6am, the telephone and computers turn on.

I check my prison email first.

The computers aren't like normal computers.

Imagine instead a 1990s PC terminal with extremely limited functionality and designed specifically

to be as frustrating as possible.

It costs 6 cents a minute to read, reply, and compose emails, so I try to be as quick

as possible without reading and responding to any emails I received from my approved contacts.

Right after checking email, I'll call my wife Lauren.

There are eight payphone-style telephones in the housing unit, but only two of them work

before 5pm.

There was no real reason for this restriction.

B-O-P backwards on purpose.

The telephone line is usually quite bad.

You often have to yell to be heard and a computerized woman interrupts you often to announce

a reminder that it is indeed a call from a federal prison, as if we weren't aware.

Despite the frustrations of the phone system, I live for that 6am call.

You only are allowed 510 minutes per month, and the most you can spend on the phone in

one session is 15 minutes.

You then need to wait 30 minutes before you can use the phone again.

However, 510 minutes means you can only make a single 15-minute phone call per day and

be left with 3 15-minute phone calls extra for the month.

So I call Lauren once per day for 15 minutes and place 1 15-minute call to my mother, my

father, and my grandmother per month.

Rationing the phone minutes is stressful, making sure I have enough minutes left to make

the calls I want to make is something I check and double check every week.

But not to worry being there is not a punishment.

Rationing my connection to the outside world must be one of those walls I built in my mind.

After my 15-minute call concludes, I change into athletic clothing in head towards the

recreation building which usually opens around 6.30 to 7am most days.

I have made a friend in here and we play handball together most mornings for about an hour.

He does good exercise and a fun game to play.

A nice way to kill an hour.

If we don't play handball I try to spend some time doing cardio or strength training

in the gym, depending on the day.

By 8am I am back in the housing unit getting ready to make breakfast.

Usually make oatmeal with dried fruit and honey, but sometimes I will opt for a vanilla

protein shake.

I purchase all these items from the commissary weekly.

I choose to make both my protein shake and my oatmeal with powdered milk instead of

water.

For extra protein and because it tastes better and creamier than just using water.

Since I no longer go to breakfast in the chow hall at 6am, I do not have access to any

milk cartons.

Instead I buy the powdered milk and either add hot water to it for oatmeal or cold water

for the vanilla shake.

I prefer to cook for myself whenever I can now.

For this time I have turned off the public radio station, the BBC World Services Offair,

and has been replaced by NPR, which is so self-important and out of touch that I cannot stand

to listen to it.

I switched to 101.9 FMWVAQ where a fun and casual drive time radio show is airing.

Josh and Nikki in the morning offers a casual and funny morning show that is easy to listen

to.

They play whatever the hits of the day are, which I do not recognize at all, but most

of what they play is quite catchy.

There is one song performed by a female singer going on and on about Ophelia.

I am not 100% certain but I suspect it may be Taylor Swift.

I enjoy the song, which I guess makes me a swifty.

Maybe someone will write me a letter telling me who sings that.

After my breakfast at around 9am I like to start my job.

I actually have two prison jobs, but one is only on weekends.

The one I do daily at 9am is bathroom orderly.

Orderly is a fancy board for janitor.

At 9am I close the B-wing bathroom and begin the grueling and frankly disgusting process

of cleaning up after 80 men who seemingly are incapable of cleaning up after themselves.

I am provided two rags, a spray bottle of disinfectant, a straw broom, and a musty mop.

I have come up with a system that seems to be efficient and the most sanitary.

I sweep the entire bathroom and shower first, trying to get all the pubic hair and dust

into piles I can sweep into the dust bin.

Afterwards I spray and wipe down the shelf and sinks using one of the allocated rags.

I wipe away any hair or soap scum left in the sinks and ensure they are spotless.

I then move on to the showers, spraying the shelf, bench, and faucet handle and wiping

them down.

Again I am aiming to remove the errant hairs and dust.

Sometimes there are other things I must wipe up that is not fit to discuss in this letter,

but you can use your imagination.

Once the showers are complete, I wash out the rag and move on to the urinals.

I wipe the top, how on the world is pubic hair, get on the top of a urinal, please dear

reader I cannot figure out, and sides, and most importantly the rim.

It is not very nice but it doesn't take too long and it is satisfying when it is done.

Once the urinals are done I move on to the toilets, spraying the bowl, the rim, the seat,

the flush handle, I wipe the underside of the seat, and the rim down.

I use a toilet brush to scrub inside the bowl, finally I take the one unused rag and first

wipe down the handles of the flusher and then the top side of each toilet seat.

Once all that is complete I mop the entire floor including the showers and each bathroom

stall.

It usually takes about 45 minutes to an hour.

I work up quite a sweat but I try to do a good job, and I also use that bathroom and

I prefer my bathroom to be clean.

Once finished I take a shower.

One of the only perks of the job of bathroom orderly is that I get to use the bathroom while

it is freshly clean, before anyone else has the opportunity to desecrate it.

By 1030 I am done with the shower and the rest of my day is free.

I am still working on how to fill this part of my day into my routine.

Right now I mostly read and nap, and then read and nap some more.

I hope to become more productive with my time soon.

Maybe I will take some classes when some become available to help fill the time.

I try to avoid the several TV rooms as it seems mostly filled with people who do nothing

else but watch TV, and get quite territorial about the remote.

Many times each of the TV rooms will be playing the same football game, which I have no interest

in watching.

No TV is not a reliable or desired way to pass the time.

I cannot believe it has been one month already.

It often feels like I am stuck in a bad dream I cannot wake from, an unending nightmare that

me and many others here with me are living.

The most we can do is figure out a way to make the time go by as quickly as possible,

so we can go back to our families and our lives.

One month down, 59 left to go.

Thank you for reading, Keone Rodriguez.

You can write to Keone at Keone Rodriguez, K-E-O-N-N-E-R-O-D-R-I-G-U-E-Z, 11404-511, F-P-C,

Morgantown, Federal Prison Camp, PO Box 1000.

Morgantown, West Virginia, 265-07.

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