Cary Money was a prisoner held in Palestine, Texas when he hung himself in his cell. Originally imprisoned for murder, he had been raped repeatedly and moved to another prison, where he shared a cell with a convicted rapist seven inches taller than himself. After sustaining more abuse at the hands of his new cellmate, Cary killed him--unwilling to reveal himself or endure the degradation. Facing the death penalty, Cary hung himself in his cell, leaving this letter to his lawyer.

August 28, 2001 -- 4:15 pm

Dear Mr. House:

I’m sorry about this. I know no one can understand. I can’t even understand. I can’t deal with this anymore. I’m so ashamed of everything I’ve done. I can’t let that stuff come out in court for everyone to know. I’ll never be able to look anyone in the eye. I’m just a piece of shit. That’s all I’ve ever been. People say I’ve never had a chance. Maybe because I never tried.

I’ve always caused people problems. I’ve taken 2 lives. It hurts so much to think of their families. Of what they’ve went through and are going through. But I could never tell anyone about that remorse. They would never believe me. The first guy I killed. I truly am sorry. It ate at me for a long time. I tried to push it out of my mind but it really ate at me. I honestly do not know why I did it. I really don’t. That makes me an animal doesn’t it? Maybe I should’ve killed myself along time ago. I’ve thought about it a lot. But I could never find the nerve.

This second guy? I’m not sorry at all. I guess that makes me an animal too. That guy was a real piece of shit. You’ve read about the things he did to those women. I hate rapists and child molesters. Those bastards should get the death penalty. That guy gave me so much trouble. Not only by threats but he’d tell other blacks that I was a "Hoe ass white boy" and try to wire them up. And it worked. They make their comments. I tried to ignore it but it got so bad other white guys were hearing about it. They even started treating me differently. Maybe I should’ve just fought this guy in the beginning. But I didn’t want to get in trouble. I really didn’t. But that’s not possible in here if you’re white. People don’t realize how hard it is in here for white guys. I always want to laugh at Mark when he says that it doesn’t matter about color or size, you can keep your head down and do your time. Bull shit! I’ve never looked for a fight. I was scared of this guy and of the rumors.

Rumors in prison are almost the truth, so to speak. I mean, everyone believes them unless you stand up and prove them wrong. I didn’t want what happened to me on Clemens happen again. I’d pushed that to the back of my mind. I had ran from it for so long, afraid somebody was going to find out. And then this started. I was afraid it’s happen again. I couldn’t take that again.

A person can’t just be himself in here. You gotta run around with your chest bowed out, take loud, act like some bad ass. That’s all it is, acting. This place has made me something I’m not. I have this dream about being a husband and a father. The great American dream. Just a normal life. I think I would be a great Dad and husband. I have so many other dreams. I’ve never seen the ocean. I’d love to go sailing or just walk on the beach at night watching the sun set, holding hands with the woman of my dreams--the mother of my children. I want to be a father, I think about playing ball with my son or taking him fishing, horse back riding. Watching his school ball games, setting in the stands yelling like an idiot. And watching my daughter grow into a woman! I can see myself setting on the porch waiting for her to get home from her date, mad because she’s 5 minutes late, worried to death. I’d give them what I never had as a kid, love. Real love.

But this is all dreams, they’ll never happen. But I can’t help but think about it. I wish I didn’t, it would make it so much easier. I want to love, be loved. I’m tired of hating. I have so much hatred in me. Just at myself, life. Life in general. What’s this life for!? Especially, my life. To spend my life in prison? To die in prison? I can’t take anymore of this. I’m tired of crying myself to sleep. I’m tired of waking up soaked in sweat, crying. I wish I could just go to sleep and never wake up. I’m so scared and confused.

I want to talk to some(one), but I can’t. I can’t say these things. They’ll never believe or understand me. I put in an I-60 almost 10 days ago to talk to the psychiatrist. I haven’t seen him yet. He really cares. No one cares in here. They just do their 8 hours and go home. They don’t care. I just don’t trust anyone anymore. There is a few people I do trust but I can’t bring myself to ask if I could talk to them. I’m afraid of what they would think about me. That’s always been my biggest problem. Afraid of what people will think. I’ve always wanted to fit in. I hate that. I just don’t understand why they are trying to kill me. God, I’m sorry. But I guess I’ll save the taxpayers some more money. Now they won’t have to worry about a trial or execution or worry about paying to house me for the rest of my life.

I don’t want to do this. I’m scared. But what else can I do. I can’t go in there and be humiliated like that knowing everyone will know what happened to me? I can’t live with that! But you can’t live in prison with everyone knowing that. You can’t survive in here then. I’m sorry for writing you. I just want to talk to someone, maybe talk myself out of this. But haven’t been successful.

I’m going to write Mary and Rachel. Will you please mail these letters to them? Please I know they will never understand I don’t want to hurt them. Especially Rachel. I really made a mistake with her. I fell in love with her. I tried not to. But you can’t stop it. I never knew that. I use to laugh at guys in here who fell in love with a girl they’re writing. I thought it was stupid. Now look at me! I hope she doesn’t hate me. I know she will. Will you do me another favor? Will you please talk to her, call her. Tell her I’m sorry and I loved her. And not to hate me, ok? Please! Make sure she’s ok. I don’t know what I’m doing! I just don’t understand it.

I want to thank you Mr. House. You and Phil. I really appreciate all you’ve done for me. I’ve always wondered what ya’lls personal feelings were about me. If ya’ll thought I was a piece of shit. or not. I’m sorry for wasting your time. Tell Rex thanks for me also. He really did a lot for me. I really felt comfortable around ya’ll. Ya’ll seemed to care. Please tell Monica I said thanks too. She was always nice to me. It meant alot. She was great, really seemed to care. I hope ya’ll don’t hate me. I’ve wasted ya’lls time.

I don’t know what they’ll do with my body. That’s kind of stupid. It doesn’t really matter, does it? I’ve lost it Mr. House. I’m sitting here shaking. I just feel funny. I don’t know. Please tell Monica, Rex and Phil, I said thanks ok? I really appreciate everything. Please mail these letter to Mary and Rachel for me. Rachel is Mary’s sister. Again thanks. I hope ya’ll understand.

Thank you

Source: Stop Prisoner Rape

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