A number of years ago, the old Captain ran afoul of his Uncle Sam and was given a 6 month, all-expenses-paid vacation at Club Fed. I was managing a small business, and I worked for a chap who wasn't fond of paying his taxes. Not an uncommon thing mind you, most small businesses cheat a little bit...it's just that most never get caught. Well, WE did...it's a long story that involved a pretty simple, but efficient, cash-skimming/under-reporting revenue routine, and the Feds initially thinking we were somehow connected to international terrorism. For real...it was post-911 and we got caught up in one of the provisions of the Patriot Act, I'm not making this shit up. It didn't take them long to realize that we weren't Jihadists, just good old-fashioned American tax-cheats, but by then they had their claws in us and they weren't about to just let us off the hook.
The investigation and ensuing court case dragged out for five incredibly long fucking years. The Feds invested hundreds of thousands (perhaps millions) of dollars and countless man-hours into this shit. They tailed our cars, tapped our phones, staked out our business...it was fucking incredible, and it was all over taxes. As God is my witness, they once buzzed our shop with a helicopter at tree-top level, we actually felt the rotor wash in the parking lot and saw the two guys staring down at us (smiling behind their RayBans), and the very same chopper (it had NO markings whatsoever, just a distintive blue/silver paint job) swooped over my house later that afternoon...it was like something out of Goodfellas. Most of it was just "psych-op" I think, the Feds wanted to intimidate us and hoped it would make people talk.
Ultimately, after the five years of living hell, the government sentenced me to 6 months of incarceration followed by two years of probation. They said that I was the "cohesive bond that facilitated a criminal operation that defrauded the government", whatever the fuck that is. I did my stint in a minimum-security joint in the hills of Pennsylvania...lovely scenery, though you had to view it through rolls of razor-wire and electrified fences. It was a very short stretch by Federal standards (my boss got 8 years), and it was pretty easy time; not exactly a luxurious "Club Fed", but not a violent shit-hole like a state prison. The biggest threat was boredom, and I combated that with lots of reading, writing home, jerking off in the shower, and playing cards with my newly-found criminal friends.
In hindsight, the whole thing was rather enlightening...small town boy goes to the big house. I survived without once being shanked or raped, and I met a lot of very interesting people. We had a little bit of everything in Loretto...big-time crack/heroin dealers from NYC, hillbilly meth-heads from Virginia, politicians from Rhode Island, mafia guys from all over New England...I guess you could say that it was "culturally diverse". I want to write a book about it one day, something that would give the perspective of the average guy like myself getting sucked into a shit-storm over tax money and ending up in fucking prison (ironically at tax-payer's expense!). I've got a million interesting (and often humorous) stories about those 6 months...maybe someday you'll see my book on Amazon.
Until then however, I'm wasting my talent with a new feature here at captaincaleb.com; Fast Times At Club Fed. Each update will feature a short, educational story about prison life...the food, the prison black-market, dealing with the CO's, jerking off in the shower, etc. This segment is not only intended to be entertaining, but it's also meant to be a tutorial for those of you who may one day find themselves locked up.