Staying Out of Prison (Episode 1)

BRETT KILLBURY: This isn't just a lesson on how to deal with prison. It's a lesson on how to deal with life. One that I'm guilty of forgetting all the time. As long as I'm not locked up, there's always hope that I might win the lotto. Or that my girl might introduce an exotic bird into the bedroom. But that ***'s never going to happen if you're in jail. I've been involved in selling drugs since I first smoked weed when I was 13. It just made sense to me that in order to have money to use the drugs, I'd have to sell some, too. I never thought I was doing anything wrong. My entrepreneurship put smiles on a lot of faces. And I did it better than most people, because I showed up on time, and I wasn't a greedy, lying scumbag. I was going to show you the suboxone, real quick. That's what I brought-- -Yeah, yeah yeah. BRETT KILLBURY: This is the biggest jail drug right now, suboxone. It's like the new methadone, basically. It costs about $5 on the street. When you break it down into jail, especially the people with no tolerance whose heads have not touched it before? One pill of this *** will get 16 heads wrecked. You guys help yourself. [SNORTING] BRETT KILLBURY: There was lots of fighting in my house, growing up. When I was young, though. But they say lots of times that's where you get formed, is like your really early years. Before you can even remember, lots of times. My oldest brother, he and my dad used to go at it. Which was weird for where I grew up in Connecticut. It was a pretty nice area. The cops used to get called out to the house and ***, for fights. And I never really had like a chance to do what I wanted to do-- which who knows what that would have been? This stuff, this is actually from my bid-- my last bid, my '06 and '07 bid. You can send anything except bondage. Anything violent is now what they've outlawed. This is the other crazy thing. I don't think anyone reads *** mags anymore, except dudes in jail. I can't imagine who else would. As a kid, I attended elite prep schools, played hockey year-round, and wound up getting accepted into Skidmore College. Where, smooth as silk, I kept selling narcotics, mostly to my fellow students. Yeah. That's my *** right there. That's my ***. -Brett. Is that the car? That's the car that they used to takes us to hockey games with. BRETT KILLBURY: Naw. We traded that one in. That was a '93. This is a '98. -Ahh. But it was a Quest, right? BRETT KILLBURY: I ain't going to lie to you. That was why I started selling drugs, to put a sound system in that ***. So y'all should probably hop in here, just to hear that *** ba-ba-bum. [THUMPING MUSIC] BRETT KILLBURY: I ignore the illegality of what I was doing, and didn't care about my well being enough to investigate or even pay attention to the laws. But as I soon learned, the law was paying lots of attention to me. Naw, this is my release, though. I come here a lot and think about my poetry. On a seemingly normal Friday night in February 2004, I got tagged by an undercover cop who looked like an upstate trailer park stickup kid. The pigs had a search warrant. And they took me back to my crib to rifle though my head stash. Which was substantial enough to get me charged with five felonies. 2004 was an election year. And the politicians in Saratoga Springs, where I was living and dealing, thought the town had a drug problem. The district attorney who prosecuted me probably figured nabbing a college student involved in a drug trafficking ring from New York City was a good demonstration that the city was tough on crime. They made an example out of me. I was sentenced to three to nine years in state prison. I was 23 years old. [GOLF BALL THWACK] JOHN MARTIN: Man, what'd they catch you with, coke? BRETT KILLBURY: Dope. JOHN MARTIN: [INAUDIBLE] weed? BRETT KILLBURY: Nope. JOHN MARTIN: ***? BRETT KILLBURY: Yeah. I started doing that ***, like an idiot. JOHN MARTIN: Buddy. BRETT KILLBURY: That's kind of what these guys have been doing with me, though. Like seeing if I can keep my act together. Hopefully it will be a happy story. JOHN MARTIN: Keep it together. -Bret, I want this to be a happy story, a positive story. BRETT KILLBURY: By the end I hope it will be, man. JOHN MARTIN: Brett and I went to school together. We went to college together, in Skidmore College, in Saratoga Springs. So you know, there's a good amount of drugs at Skidmore. And kids get into selling it-- doing it and selling it. And it's kind of funny, because most of these kids are pretty well off. So it's like, why do you need to sell drugs? We ran into each other at a bar and just started kicking around some ideas for Brett-- writing. And see what he wants to do with his fancy college education. Then I heard he got picked up again, violated parole, and got sent back upstate. Total, what did you spend? Five or six years in the pen? JOHN MARTIN: Seven. JOHN MARTIN: Well, here's a *** idea. Don't do ***. Don't get caught. When you get out of prison-- I've never been to prison, but I would imagine. When you get out of prison, it's like starting over. And you're starting over, and you're 30 years old, 31 years old, and you're 10 years behind everyone else. Like, that's got to suck. BRETT KILLBURY: I had a *** resume. I still got a resume somewhere. It's pretty ***. Yeah, here's my resume. This doesn't really exist, is the problem. Being like 32 years old, and I'm still talking-- most of my space is like what I was doing in high school. -Well, yeah. This is going back to '97. BRETT KILLBURY: Yeah, it's pretty ugly. JOHN MARTIN: At work one day, I get a letter in the mail. And you don't get too many handwritten letters at work these days. And I looked on the back and it was like Ogdensberg Correctional Facility, or something. And was like, oh. I know who this is from. HARRY CHEADLE: John Martin threw this big old letter, and he was like, I think this guy could write something for us. BRETT KILLBURY: Writing my little stories, little articles and ***. And I think, as long as I make it decent, I bet they'll put it in the magazine. On Friday an article posted from "Vice." An article where I wrote a letter, like a penpal-style letter to some female inmates. Just like an introductory letter, like hey, how you doing? Want to be a friend? And it was like funny, it was kind of like tongue-in-cheek kind of ***. And I guess he read that one, this guy named Paul Stewart, who got Over the Edge books. And he basically hit me up on Twitter, saying your *** got me open. Let's do a book or something like that. Um, yeah. The cameras are on. I can turn them off, it's no big deal. BRETT KILLBURY: Thank you so much. BRETT KILLBURY: All right, take it easy. BRETT KILLBURY: Bye. Hmm. Well, I still don't believe that ***. He was saying this *** was funny. So he knows I'm kind of a clown with it. To me, that's the most important to me. I like to put a smile on people's faces, but also realize that this is a *** up world. Where I can get put behind bars for so long, for like basically farting in public. Since my first arrest, I've gone back to jail four terms. I got caught doing things that the paroled are not allowed to partake in, but ordinary non-offenders take for granted. And they all sent me to prison, no questions asked. Drinking a beer, driving a car, being out past curfew. Oh, here it is. These were my girlfriends for literally a year. I had her up, her up. It gets sick, though, you know? I refuse to be the *** dude. So I try to tone it down. But it becomes disgusting, though, because you lie down to bed every night and you look at your wall. And you're like hey baby, how you doing? Nice to see you again. -Like you literally started talking to them? BRETT KILLBURY: Me, I'm not as bad as lots of them. But like, yeah, you kind of do. Because when I was doing this, too, I didn't have a girlfriend. Like Ivana completely took my mind over. And she rode most of this bid with me. Oh, I didn't show you guys my click clicks. -What's click clicks? BRETT KILLBURY: ***. I didn't see none of them. Like, dudes get *** off of these. You send out click clicks and that's how you get ***. Now there's me and my girl. When this bid started, you can see how short my hair is. I had a two year sentence, and you know [BLEEP] and I made it through it. It sucked, but you know? She went and did what she had to do a little bit. And I just had to sit there, like-- well, I would've done the same thing. Let's get this party started. We'll learn some things about how to do *** in jail. Getting ready to make some jailhouse ***. Some prison liqueur, aka pruno, aka get the *** up. In upstate New York prisons, lots of people will put it into bottles and it'll just make little personal batches. Really, all you need is some fresh fruit. On your tray, you might get an apple a couple times a week, or an orange a couple times a week. So you save those up. Obviously a knife works better. But we're a bunch of criminals. So we can't get away with that ***. You can usually buy some pineapple chunks. Fruit cocktail comes on your prison trays, so you save that up. Sugar is the most important ingredient. That's really what cooks it and gives you all that alcohol and makes it taste delicious. As far as juice goes, you might get some OJ, cranberry juice. They come in little jailhouse cups and you just save them up. So you get some bread like this and you toss it in there. There's a couple vehicles to get it in there. But we're going to go with a sock. That was my preferred method back in the day. And I know yeast is for beer, but this is just something that they would always tell me to do. Now we have all these beautiful ingredients combined, and it's ready for showtime. It'll take about a week. I think ideally, you would want to be two weeks. And of course in jail we don't have patience. We want it now. So usually, I don't think I ever let a batch go more than 10 days. This is the sock with bread in it. I know it's strange, but that's going in there, too. It's been a week of fermenting and tender loving care. This is the big payoff. It's delicious. Overall, it's quite sweet. If my name was Robert Parker, I would give it an 82. Yeah, I think it's a Monday. It's a Monday or Tuesday. -What is it? I forget. BRETT KILLBURY: That's my court date. -Oh, got you. BRETT KILLBURY: And it could be a really, really bad day. And even the case manager, who is kind of a ***, he was like, yeah, if you come in clean on the 30th, we'll just do outpatient. But you're on basically, like thin, thin ice. If you *** up once, you're going to go to this rehab. And that to me is just a nightmare, man. Like I can't even describe to you guys. You've seen it in movies, how therapy groups go like that. I just don't understand how that's supposed to help people. I really don't. When I want to stop, I'll stop. It's pretty much that simple. And then they'll always say you can't do it on your own. You know, willpower's not enough. Which, ***, might be true. GEORGE DELEON: Drugs don't interfere with my life. Drugs don't impede me. Drugs are not a problem for me. That's one statement, versus I've been through it. Or I tried things, nothing-- doesn't work or it doesn't matter. Nothing helps, or it's all ***, or something like that. It's not uncommon for addicts to have gone through a number of options. And they're cynical about it, you know what I mean? They think it's either *** or it hasn't been helpful. But the fact that they have actually, for one reason or another, have gone through those options-- is information. Is data, to say, wait a minute. There's something we can do with that one. BRETT KILLBURY: I'll be in it, though. I'll be in this rehab *** for a long time. But like, the bottom line is, just don't do drugs. And I won't have any *** problems, you know? Seems pretty simple, right? GEORGE DELEON: Is it better to live life in some psychoactive state or is it better to live life in some sober state? With the raw nervous system suffering, the way it does? The brain suffering, the aches and pains of living suffering. I happen to be on the side of you can live it raw, because then I'll never know what life I've lived. BRETT KILLBURY: But this could be a blessing, me getting arrested a couple months ago. Because it's really going to make me stop. GEORGE DELEON: Because for me, my value system, I got to live and die. I want to make sure I've lived and died with this life-- with my eyes wide open. BRETT KILLBURY: I find it odd that people always say that the first telltale sign of a drug addict is denying they have a problem. From experience, I can attest that this is *** annoying. Because you can't win, even if you really don't have a drug problem. The counselor calls you a drug addict because you're in prison for drug charges. And if you say yes, I am an addict, you're a good addict. But if you say no, I'm not addicted to drugs. Then you're still an addict. But now you're a troublemaker, too. BRETT KILLBURY: I don't know, man. I really don't-- it's tough. I like drugs. BRETT KILLBURY: Very recently. But, I mean, I'm going to do it again, too. I've put in my head, though, that April 25 is my last day. I'll probably get a bag of coke, too. I'll probably get a bag of weed. And just gets *** up. BRETT KILLBURY: Yeah. All right, will do. See you later. That's always nice, when a lawyer actually calls. -That was your lawyer? BRETT KILLBURY: Yeah. -What did he say? BRETT KILLBURY: He just said go check in at probation first. Basically like, get *** tested. And hopefully they'll say all right. That's cool, we'll just recommend the outpatient. Then I go up to the court, and probably the judge will say that's what it's going to be. I drank quite a bit of water, just to be safe. But I should be good. BRETT KILLBURY: Yeah. I still probably cut it close. But in the past I've got it a lot closer. I figure, giving myself 100 hour is pretty safe. But, yeah I'm about to go *** now. BRETT KILLBURY: I feel pretty good. -No. No doubt , dude. This will be good. BRETT KILLBURY: All right, cool. -All right, Brett. Good luck, man. Call me later. BRETT KILLBURY: Before I pissed dirty, my dad had been pleading with me to absolutely, 100% always follow the dozens of strict rules parole had placed upon me. And told me to consider the difference between courage and toughness. But no dice. They slapped the cuffs on me then and there and took me to jail. I sat there with unpleasant reality setting in. I ruined everything again. Now I had to spend weeks, or months, replaying the unwise choices I made to end up back in jail. I pray I finish parole soon, but I probably won't. I made a million promises and broken them all. It's an all too familiar reality that's the result of my disease-- the disease of dumbness.