I’ve been incarcerated over three decades now, and I can count the number of really close friends I’ve had on one hand.  It’s not that I’m unapproachable or distant, not that I’m unlikable or unfriendly even, I just have a tendency to not let too many folks in the castle, so to speak.  Three of the handful of friends shared the name ‘David’.

Dave One was a friend I made in the early nineties.  I’ve written about him and his exploits in essays and my book – his nickname was Mongo. His full name was David Alexander Ortiz, he was of Mexican American/Samoan descent – and what I wouldn’t give to see him again, outside of these walls.  He went home in 1995/96.

The second Dave was from a little town outside Dallas, Texas, Rockwall.  His name was David Sartain.  He did fifteen flat on a non-violent DWI charge and when he got home, he committed suicide.  He had a family who supported him, but I suppose he was so traumatized by the system and maybe he felt overwhelmed by what lies on the outside.  He took his own life with a shotgun.  

The third and last Dave, but not the least, was my friend David Stewart.  Dave was my heart.  He was smart, understanding, empathetic, he loved life and he loved music.  We’d sit for hours talking about our families, our friends, music, everything except prison.  There were no talks about how ‘back in the day, it was better’.  Every single conversation had meaning and substance, it all led back home.

David the Mouseketeer, as he was known in my writing, died in July of 2020 of complications due to his gallbladder.  He had done eighteen years flat on a kidnapping charge.  The Dave I knew couldn’t hurt a fly, couldn’t bust a grape in a fruit fight.  He never lost his temper, never said anything hurtful or that he couldn’t take back.  Dave was… Dave.  And I miss him almost as much as I miss my Dad, who’s been gone for over thirty years.  

If you look up the word advocate or friend in my dictionary, you’d see a group picture of my three Daves.  This place isn’t full of gangsters, bad actors and socially unsophisticated people – there are some good people here who made some bad choices.  

ABOUT THE  WRITER.  John Green has been writing for WITS from early on. He is also author of Life Between The Bars, a unique and heartwarming memoir described by Terry LeClerc, “This book is so good because each chapter is short, has a point, doesn’t whine. It’s an excellent book.” In addition, John Green was a co-author of Beneath Our Numbers: A Collaborative Memoir From Inside Mass Incarceration.

John is an insulin dependant diabetic, which has a unique set of obstacles, contributing to a loss of mobility, as well as impacting his vision, but he still finds the drive to be a part of this growing collection, for which I am very appreciative.

John can be contacted at:
John Green #671771
Jester III Unit
3 Jester Road
Richmond, Texas 77406