If I were to end up in jail, I would most likely be looking for a protector – twigs like me don’t really last long in the heart of prison hell. Fortunately, my few incartades never brought me before a judge, who would probably have ignored my fear of dropping the soap…
A little while ago, I spent the night with a boy, the handsome tortured artist type. His apartment looked like an obscure cabinet of curiosities, a kind of gothic cabaret between the Crazy Horse and Interview with a Vampire. Alcohol being the third guest of this evening, we quickly indulged in a few confidences — and other things that decorum forbids me to tell you. During the conversation, he thus confessed he had already made “a stay away”. Far from judging my partners on their criminal record, I was mostly curious to know more. He then agreed to tell his story…
When did you get out?
A little over a year ago.
And how long were you there?
A little less than a year (laughs).
What did you do?
Nothing really bad. I only sold to faggots in sex parties on the weekends. These guys can go on for hours and hours, I even saw some who hadn’t slept for 48 hours. They get high on GHB and run on 3M, a kind of meth that stimulates libido and does not prevent them from getting hard. I was there to provide.
I have no guilt on this. They were grown men, well settled in their lives, who just wanted to enjoy their Saturday fuck. There’s not really a victim in the story, I could never have sold heroin or crack.
How did your business start?
By participating in these parties. I’ve seen how guys hit the dope, they can’t go on without it.
It was easy, I bought everything online.
No, not even. It would have been too complicated for me (laughs)! If you do a little research, you can buy a litre of GHB on the internet and receive it at home one week later.
How did you get caught?
I was doing that with a friend of mine. The thing is, he had other plans aside. I didn’t know he was already being watched. So when he fell, I followed him down. Clearly, we’ve been idiots. We should have been more careful.
Can you tell me about your arrest?
They came to pick me up at my house, towards the Quai des Orfèvres. Then you understand you’re in trouble(laughs). They questioned me, pulled evidence out of my exchanges. And then, under the circumstances, they realized I was a fag. It didn’t help. I was hit, I was denied phone calls. No one heard from me for a month. My friends didn’t know where I was. My sisters thought I was missing, and then a buddy told them I was dealing. They ended up thinking I was dead because of a drug thing. You can’t even fucking imagine how hard that was.
That’s for sure… And your arrival in prison?
There was a “zone” for queens, but I didn’t want to go there. They’re sick, they’re dangerous. Often they are trans people who have had to live on the street and may stab you in your sleep because you looked at them badly. They have nothing more to lose.
I got lucky. I was placed with some ex-cops. Dirty cops, that sort of thing. They were tough, but they weren’t bad guys. They spent their time reading. They stayed in their corners; they were left alone, and so was I.
What were you doing all day?
Nothing. There’s really nothing to do there. You’re bored to death… I’m not gonna lie to you, I was scared. I spent almost a year there, but I never got used to it.
And since your release, do you feel that things have changed?
Of course I do. Well, some of my friends aren’t talking to me. My sisters supported me when I was there, but we’ve had trouble talking since I got out. Besides, it’s weird in any case. Prison is a world apart. Not only did I not find my place there, but I also lost the one I had in society when I returned... •