Author: Tony Casson

" For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope." (Jeremiah 29:11 NLT)

“D.W.B.’s and S.O.’s” Part II

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By Tony Casson

Senegal informed me he was giving me a bunk on the first floor “with a white guy. The blacks have more of a problem with my type of charge,” he said—a statement I would soon learn was absolutely not true.

He told me to get settled and go to the laundry first thing in the morning and get my clothes issued. I asked where the laundry was, and he pulled back the blinds in his office and pointed vaguely, “Over there, next to the dining hall.” Of course, I had just come from the “SHU” and didn’t know where that was, but I just nodded and said, “OK”.

When I went to the assigned cell, I discovered there was no mattress, so I returned to Senegal and he hollered someone’s name. A burly, tattooed white man with a gray ponytail about 6 inches past his shoulders responded and went off in search of one.

Once I had the mattress, I returned to my cell and made my bed and decided I wasn’t going to leave my cell—EVER!

This was the afternoon of Thursday, April 6, 2010—I was constipated, had entered 5 days before with my allergies flaring (the only negative aspect of an otherwise wonderful 10 days at my sister Kathy’s and brother-in-law’s, Larry, house amongst the blossoming dogwood’s, Bradford pears, and the ever-popular cherry trees in D.C.). The flare-up had since turned into a sinus infection; I also hadn’t had a cigarette since my entry day, I was alone, quite nervous, and wishing that I was Big John Coffey and that this whole thing was “The Green Mile” and I could somehow “take it all back.”

But my name is Tony, this is Oakdale, Louisiana, and I cannot take it back…

I prayed to God for continued calm, and silent strength; and I prayed for understanding and forgiveness from my mother, who passed away a few years ago.

Prior to coming here, I spent a lot of time assuring, and reassuring loved-ones and friends that I was up to this challenge.

The door opened, my new “roommate” (or “cellie) as they are called) walked in, and I knew the game had officially begun.

Occasional breakdown

On By Tony CassonIn Side Story2 Comments

Spring evenings in Corvallis, Oregon, can sometimes direct my thinking towards more emotional states of being…admittedly, a breeze diffuses throughout my small, college-style apartment, and I’ve already entered a somewhat depressing mental abyss.

Missing your father, at least if you’re like me and that figure represents someone more than the one who helped conceive you, is a lot like losing your baby blanket.

The warmth of its presence helps bring your mind to relaxation; its “security” wraps you in a comfortable dream—and with short warning, if any, it’s gone.

It’s rare I write on such occasions—the ones when I could care less what people think of me, and all I need to do is say what’s attached to the forefront of my mind, my heart. Please, don’t get used to it.

But I feel no less compelled to continue. The expressing is far too addicting… Continue reading “Occasional breakdown” →

Poll: Taking “T.O.C.” in a good direction

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By Anthony Casson

I’ve watched the blog views oscillate the past few weeks based on posts. Because readership is growing (steadily), I want to get your input.

There’s nothing I hate more than throwing stuff out there blindfolded!

And, please, feel free to add comments regarding the blog itself; the more input, the better (that includes aesthetics…).

To non-family readers, thank you for your interest! My dad loves it.

Chapter 4: “D.W.B’s and S.O’s” Part 1

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By Tony Casson

I’ve described the compound and perhaps given you all a rough idea of the physical characteristics. But now, I’d like to try describing for you what it’s like entering the general population and “mingling” with the rest of the “residents”.

Remember, up to this point, I have really only seen my cell-mate and the guards (called “C.O’s” for Correctional Officers). The 5 days in the SHU have certainly been confining, uncomfortable, and boring—but safe! But it’s time to meet the inmates… Continue reading “Chapter 4: “D.W.B’s and S.O’s” Part 1″ →

One month down…many more to go

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By Anthony Casson

It’s weird thinking that my dad entered prison just over a month ago, but the most important thing I can say, as his son, is he sounds good.

He has called me three times since this all started—I’ve told my friends and family that I’m very appreciative of the live-communication opportunities that come with today’s society. Quite frankly, he and I talked about that much when he WASN’T in prison, hahaha.

Since he has NO internet access, and it’s just me typing his entries, he likes hearing how the blog develops. Unfortunately, for almost two weeks I have been unable to update the posts. The reality is I have a large stack of letters from him, but with my normal writing life, I’m usually exhausted when I come around to do this.

But I’m back; my dad is counting on me to get his word to the people—even if it means I have to stare at some of his words for ten minutes, because his handwriting sucks! (Sorry, dad. I still love you!).

As far as how I’M doing, things are all right. Yes, it sucks having my dad away, and yes, I would like to talk to him more; but I’m a pretty tough guy (at least mentally), and we still talk. Of course, it costs plenty of money to make those phone calls, but he does it anyway.

Once again, sorry to the readers for my infrequent entering of his letters. I really do love doing it.

Oh, and he wanted me to pass along that HE WANTS PEOPLE TO WRITE TO HIM. This guy deserves attention—even if he did screw up!

If anyone wants to e-mail me, here is my address (and feel free): anthony.casson@gmail.com

Here’s my collection: Blue box for finished entries, folded ones yet to be shown
My dad’s awesome handwriting…

Chapter 3: “The Compound”

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By Tony Casson

When it was finally time to leave the “S.H.U.”, I was ready. My old bones were sore and I wanted to face whatever was “out there” and get started on what was to be my life for the next 4 years.

They took us and walked us—there were about 6 people being released into the compound—out of the SHU, uncuffed us, handed each of us a bedroll (2 sheets, a pillowcase, and a thin, porous blanket), and told us what unit to go to.

The best way to describe the facility is this: Continue reading “Chapter 3: “The Compound”” →

Chapter 1: “I Surrender!”

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By Tony Casson

April Fools Day 2010—irony?

To begin a day so pleasantly and take a pretty drive through the Louisiana countryside with the intention of voluntarily allowing myself to be incarcerated was difficult – unfortunately, no one popped up and said, “April Fools!”

When my brother drove me to Oakdale, I just wanted to smoke my last few cigarettes and talk on the phone. But wouldn’t you know it—with all of Verizon’s much-touted 3G coverage, there was none in Oakdale!

We pulled into the visitor’s lot at the prison and I smoked another cigarette – you’d think I was a condemned man or something, but I guess I had finally gotten a tad nervous.

Jim, my brother, insisted on going in with me, and we sat in the lobby for the final few moments of freedom. We hugged, and he walked out to make the long drive back to Dallas, Texas, where he lives.

Someone asked if I was going to throw out my clothes, and I realized they were keeping NOTHING of mine, except my glasses. I ran back out to grab Jim so he could take my clothes after they stripped me.

The visitor’s lot was about 300 yards away from the office, and I was afraid Jim was going to pull away, so I ran towards him. I’m probably the only person to run away from a federal prison with no people chasing! HA HA HA! YES!

I got him, though, and I handed him my wallet and ID, so at least I would have an identity when I got out—they were actually just going to toss the thing!

We said goodbye, and they led me into the back—to “R & D”, or Receiving and Discharge.

Unlike the movies, there was no cavity search, head shaving or spray-downs with the fire hose. Oh, and no de-lice powder! Nope – just a simple change of clothes.

I’m grateful to my brother. That had to be hard for him.

A few hours, a few questionnaires, a mug shot or two and some fingerprinting later, I was off to the “S.H.U.”

Foreword: “The Oakdale Chronicles” by Tony Casson

On By Tony CassonIn Foreword3 Comments

June 11, 2015

An article under the title “Foreword” was originally posted on April 21, 2010. My dear friend Diane Woodall replaced the original with this version on March 26, 2013. The original seemed rather ‘flip’ and amusing, and I realized there was nothing remotely ‘flip’ or amusing about what had led up to the creation of “The Oakdale Chronicles” (“TOC”), and I felt this revised version was a better reflection of the seriousness with which I viewed this work and the events that led to its being brought into existence in the first place.

March 26, 2013.

To My Readers:

The writings contained herein are the result of many hours of reflection, self-examination, and prayer. In the end, the complete ‘Oakdale Chronicles’ may only really mean something to me, but it means an awful lot to me. These ‘Chronicles’ have helped me to grow, to feel and express pain and remorse, and to help me declare my faith in God and to grow in that faith. God, in turn, has helped me to open my heart, my eyes, and my mind to the things I have done wrong with my life, and what I can do right with what remains of it.

I feel that I must dedicate this work to the three FBI agents who heard God whisper to them that day in August 2009 when they came to arrest me for possession of child pornography. Faced with the reality of what I had allowed my life to become, and filled with self-loathing, contempt, and anger for myself, I viciously struck at the veins on the sides of my neck with razor blades, opening them up in an attempt to solve a problem that my self-hatred had convinced me could only be solved by bringing about my death.

As I lay on the floor of the shower stall in a cheap motel in south Florida, certain that death was imminent, I did something I had not done in 40 years: I reached out to God. I asked for His forgiveness, and almost immediately the FBI agents listened to the frightened pleas of a toothless older black man who lived and worked at the motel with me. They went against all FBI procedure and protocol and breached the locked door to my room.

I apologize to them for the bloody scene that awaited them.

I have to believe they were affected by what they saw. After all, they are human beings simply doing a job. I am grateful to them and I thank them from the bottom of my heart.

And I thank God.

Tony Casson