I wrote to you all in honest, unvarnished terms about my trouble with the law last fall. It was (and continues to be) one of the most awful experiences of my entire life (and I almost died of cancer!). Here I was, a helpless white faggot with a spotless lifetime record, suddenly thrown into a hostile jail after being lied to by what I thought was a friend.
I was terrified. I had no idea how to survive in that kind of environment. When I awoke after an hour or so I found myself in a holding cell with around seven other inmates. Some sort of breakfast was delivered shortly thereafter, and I began talking to a couple of the other black males in the cell and answering their questions (I was very clearly out of my element). Suddenly one large black Alpha started yelling at me, telling me I was talking too much. Then another black Alpha stepped in, grabbed my stuff off of my bed, and said, “you need to get out of here and move somewhere else.”
I was bewildered. I didn’t understand what I had done wrong, or what kind of imminent danger awaited me. So I buzzed the guard, and they took me out of there before that black Alpha killed me.
The guard took me to a special cell for prisoners who need to be quarantined for their own protection. It was cell block A-3. The cell consisted of three rooms, each with one set of bunk beds (for a total of six inmates in the cell). I stumbled into the cell feebly carrying my mat, pillow, and bag of supplies and looked around. A couple of wary inmates poked their heads out of their rooms to look me over, eyeing me suspiciously.
Then, from the far left room, strolled Antonio Wilson. He’s the Man pictured above. He was casually brushing his teeth while he locked eyes with me. Pause. Then he flashed me a lazy smile and motioned toward his room. It was the first friendly gesture I experienced in that hellhole, and it felt like a warm spring breeze. I gladly took his genuine invitation.
I immediately felt at peace in Antonio’s presence. Within minutes of going into his room, I was unloading my entire story on him and another cellmate, a fat, disgusting Asian gargoyle named Mok. I cried. I really opened my heart to this complete stranger, who was clearly uncomfortable with my sudden emotional outburst.
Then he leaned back in his chair, smiled a wide smile, and laughed. “Man, you talk too much.” And just like that, I was under his wing and protection.
It’s amazing how deeply you can come to know a Man when you you spend days and nights side-by-side under intensely stressful circumstances. In my two weeks in that jail I learned so much about Sir Tony. First and foremost, I discovered he is a straight Protector Alpha, although he knew nothing about faggots until I explained it to him (he didn’t agree at first, but he’s come to accept it on some level). He showed me pictures of his kids and his girlfriend in the Philippines. He developed enough trust in me to share the 400+ documents of the murder case fraudulently built around him by a racist small-town police department, a case he has been fighting during his unlawful two-year incarceration. He’s an innocent Man who is nobly and proudly defending his innocence like any Alpha would.
One running joke we had between us was the uncanny way Antonio controlled other Men not only in our cell, but in other places throughout the jail. Everybody knew him and obeyed his easygoing commands. I explained to Antonio that he was respected that way because he is Alpha, and he grudgingly admitted he always had that power.
One night he came back from playing basketball in a little courtyard down the hall and he took a shower. When he crawled into his lower bunk, he groaned. “Damn, my feet hurt.”
“I could rub them for you if you’d like,” I replied flirtatiously.
“Naw, man!” yelped Antonio, “I ain’t havin’ no man rub my fucking feet!” Then he laughed incredulously at the offer.
After two long weeks my judge set me free. I returned to the cell to collect my stuff feeling triumphant, but as soon as I saw Sir Tony’s eyes, my heart sank. We had become so beloved to each other that leaving him in that dark, awful place alone was excruciating. There was a vulnerability in his eyes I hadn’t seen from him before; it reminded me of a puppy suffering separation anxiety. I was feeling it, too.
I pulled my meager things into a messy lump on my uncomfortable bed as Sir Tony shuffled into our room. “You make sure you call your boy as soon as you can,” he said softly, “and I’ll write you soon.”
I had no words, a rarity for me. He walked up to me and hugged me tightly. It was a long, deeply loving hug. Then he whispered, “I love you, man.”
“I love you too, Sir.”
We have kept in constant communication ever since I left. We have made plans to help his case, which has suffered some setbacks and some successes in the months since I left.
I will be at Sir Antonio Wilson’s side for the rest of my life. He is one of the most genuine Alphas I’ve ever met, a Man whose heart and mind I dearly treasure. He is an innocent Alpha who has unfairly lost two years of his life with his family and his girlfriend because of racist police officers, yet he is unbowed and unbroken. He is powerful beyond words.
He is my King, my brother, and my friend.
P.S. Sir Tony sent me a letter recently in which he said: “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I wish I would’ve let you rub my feet.”
I’m not the only one changed by those two intense weeks!
If you are a lawyer, I beg of you to help this Alpha uncover the egregious racism that led to his arrest.
If you are a faggot who wants to write to this extraordinary Man, contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org. Cash fags are free to send him money through me, also.
If you are so inclined, you can write to him at the following address:
Antonio Wilson #98053
920 Kentucky St.
Bowling Green, KY 42101
I love you, Sir!