It was Easter Sunday today. I drove down to Killeen to the federal prison where my cousin Arturo is being held. I try to visit him once a month. He’s been locked up for over a year now on federal drug charges and conspiracy to distribute. He has served 1 year out of 5 he was sentenced for. He was busted in his home with a kilo of heroin and 14 thousand dollars.

As I drive up to the prison I feel butterflys in my stomach. This place makes me very nervous simply because a part of me knows I should be in here. A part of me knows with just a few minor choices I could of ended up in here easily. I walk around to the gate and sign in. The officer looks at me suspiciously. You ever notice that cops have a way of sorta seeing through you. I feel like a criminal in front of cops wether Im guilty or not I always feel like I’ve done something wrong. He glances me over and asks who I am there to see. I say Arturo Cruz. He asks my relation to him and I say he is my cousin. He asks for id, so I give it to him. He tells me there are 4 people ahead of me and writes my name down. He says it will be about 30 minutes. I take a seat and wait for my name to be called. I have my cell phone with me and use it to call my sister Maria. She didnt want to come with me today. She’s never visited Art here ever. She’s angry at him for being in jail. Angry he threw his life away. We talk a bit but avoid the subject of Art. I ask if Joel and Daniel (my nephews) I ask if theyre going on an Easter Egg Hunt. And she says yes theyre invited to Rachel’s house where she and Lupe are cooking out and having a hunt for all the kids. I say its sounds like fun, we chat for a bit then finally my name is called. I say I’ll call her later and I enter the steel door the gaurd is holding for me. As I walk down the white hallways its cold and dull. I hear the hum of the central air cooling system. I come around to this glass circle and after a few seconds a steel door from within opens and inmates are allowed to enter. There are 5 subsections each inmate take a section. I go to where Art sits down.

He puts his fist to the glass and I respond. It is the closest we can come to actually shake hands. He takes the phone and I pick up my reciever.

Art: Sup homes. Thanks for coming.

“I promised I’d come. And I will come every month till you get out. “

Art: I know homes, but many of my friends and our family promised the same thing, you’re the only one who came through. I wont forget that when I get out.

I nod my head not know what to say.

“How are you Art?”

Art: Im ok man, been working out, planning to get my GED in here so you know just keeping busy and shit. Hey man I saw you on Slaughter, you won a shot at the US title. Im proud of you homes.

“Thanks but Im not taking the shot.”

Art: Why the #### not?

“Cause my heart and my head aint ready for that. Its complicated I just dont want titles.”

Art: #### man you are a ####ing loser. Thats why everyone makes fun of you, even when you walk to the ring the announcers laugh at you, aint no one got respect for you homes.

His words sting. Probably cause theyre the truth. The truth always hurts the most.

“Well if im a loser what does that make you? You’re the one behind bars.”

Art lowers his head. I think he’ll get angry.

Art: Your words ring true little bro. You and I are two snakes from the same nest thats for sure. Are you staying clean?

“Yeah just got out of rehab a few months back. I smoke a lil pot but thats it, im off the horse for good this time.”

Art: Good, im happy to hear man. Maria blames me for getting you hooked on that shit. And it is sorta my fault I guess.

“you never stuck the needle in my arm man, I did that myself”

Art: Still I should of looked out for you. You’re family. And we dont have allot of family left.

“Yeah well.”

Art: Listen man, I dont give a #### what the commentators or our family, or the whole ####ing world thinks. To me little cuz, to me.....you’re a champion. You’re my champion. And when all this shit is over. You and I are gonna start over again. We aint gonna be ####ing losers anymore. And from what I seen of you. You’re not a loser homes. You’re on your way to making something. So dont ever stop, you hear?”

“I promise.” I want to say so much more, but we're men of few words, hard to express feelings especially to each other. He is my cousin and we grew up together. That is something not easily broken or destroyed.

The gaurd comes around my way and says my 15 minute visit is over. So I say my goodbye to Art and I see a tear in his eye. I pomise to come next month and he only nods. As I leave the compound I give the gaurd an envelope. It is 30 dollars and a paper that has my cousins name on it. Family and friends can give money to the gaurds who in turn give it to the inmates. It is for the commissary. The inmates use it to buy ciggarretes, toilet paper, chips, and any other type of foods they may allow. Its not much but its all I can afford at the time.”

I go to my car and drive back home. They say Angels cry when one of their own die. I wonder if the same holds true for demons?

It is now that we fade out.