His Name is Gio

Gio is my buddy for life. We met at our Life Skills group that was fourteen weeks long and met three times a week. Gio is 26 years old and is Mexican. He has been in prison twice and sadly he will never return. Yes, I said that correctly, sadly he will never return to prison again, because he overdosed on fentanyl. I had multiple friends die from overdose, but this one hit me hard. I now pledge to speak Gio’s story with hopes of reaching the next person before they also lethally inject themselves.

Gio was a funny guy who had an awesome smile. He smiled even when it wasn’t a smileable situation. What I liked about Gio, in addition to how funny he was, was his honest approach. That’s even when I disagreed with his ideations. He truly hated, and I mean hated, the Life Skills groups. He believed he did not have many problems in life, especially not a drug problem. When the topic came up, he would be completely disinterested. So much so, he would at times do something other than the curriculum. For example, Gio filled out his package form in class while shopping through the catalog. He studied for his GED test, he slept a few times, he put on his dark sunglasses and zoned out, he even started writing a letter in class. Each time, the instructor would tell him to put his “out of group material” away. Classic Gio with his big smile always asked why, then he tried justifying what he was doing. That’s why he was so funny to me. I’ll miss that personality, just like I’m sure his family sadly already has.

Stubborn is an understatement when defining Gio’s attitude towards drug use and its effect on his life. He once told the group that “drugs are not why I come to prison, nor does it mess up other parts of my life.” He said, “I just do stupid stuff when I’m out, but it ain’t behind drugs.” This was a hot topic because the rest of the group (the ones who believed in rehabilitation) tried to get Gio to see how the drugs make our decision making bad, how it puts us around the wrong crowd of people, etcetera. Gio wasn’t having none of it, he was steadfast in his belief. The truth was, Gio was powerless over his addiction, and he needed to hit rock bottom to realize this. Sadly, that day never came. Or it can be said his rock bottom resulted in death.

The day after the overdose, one of my group mates came running up to me. He said, “You know that was Gio that died yesterday, right?” I was frozen, I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it because I had spoken to Gio literally the day before. I was in line to get my noon meds, and at the window but to the side was a Mexican guy with a scarf covering both sides of his head and face, plus dark glasses and a hat. I did not know who it was until he cracked that big smile. I said, “Gio, what’s up my boy, I didn’t even know that was you.” He gave me the usual fist bump and said, “Man, just chillin, bout to hit this Inline.” (Inline happens every hour, everybody can go in from yard. He was in 5 building, I was in 1 building.) Anyways, Gio did something that was odd. He said, “Take good care of yourself.” I said, “You too, my boy.” The “take good care” struck me when I heard he passed away, because you say that to people you won’t see any longer.

Gio could have been saved. Another potna of mine told me what took place the day he went inside. Apparently, Gio went inside and bought a paper of heroin. A paper is prison slang, all it is is a piece of heroin about the size of a match head. It’s very small and costs $50. The dealer did tell him to be careful, but Gio apparently thought the size wasn’t big enough to kill him. He went in the cell, his cellmate came out. Gio put up his sheet on the door window and he shot half of the paper. His cellmate said that when he came in the cell, Gio was leaned over with his eyes closed, but alive. His cellmate left again. Many of us believe Gio shot the other half of the paper. A Black guy walked past Gio’s door, and he was leaned over the sink, not moving. The guy went to the poker table where four guys played, all Mexican, including the dealer. He said, “Ay, your homie in 119 (or whatever the cell was) was passed out by the sink.” They all said, “OK, what you want us to do?” They kept playing. The next unlock, his cellie finds Gio between the wall and the sink. He fell over, apparently, and he was blue. It was too late.

The guy who told me this was one of the poker players that I knew. He told this story so glib and unremorseful. Sadly, that’s how people are in prison. They don’t care about their own life, let alone another persons. Had they called “man down,” Gio could still be with us today. Three more people overdosed off of that heroin laced with fentanyl. Two of them were saved by Narcan after “man down” was yelled. The other guy was saved after his cellmate shot him up with “salt.” This is so dang sad. Gio had six months to go before he walked out of prison. Instead, he was driven out early.

The overdose issues that plague America are continuing inside these institutions, just on a smaller but very impactful level. The governor, Gavin Newsome, adopted the Suboxone program inside of prisons. Suboxone is a small strip made from plant-based materials which dissolves once it hits under the tongue. The good thing about Suboxone is that it contains two milligrams of Narcan, which counteracts the effect of heroin and saves lives. The other substance in the Suboxone blocks the effect of heroin or fentanyl so the person will not get high on the drug. The program started in prison and has saved countless lives. At the start of the program, thousands of inmates had signed up for it, mainly Mexicans and Whites–not many Blacks because heroin isn’t our main focus like, let’s say, marijuana is. So at first the Suboxone gives the user the feeling of a heroin high. That wears off after a while, though, but that’s the reason people get on the treatment. Nowadays no Mexicans or Whites can use or get Suboxone any longer. That order came from their leaders. I won’t say too much, but think rationally. When people use Suboxone, they won’t buy heroin, so the money flow stops; that’s all I will say on that. Anyways, there are treatments available to addicts.

I do have qualms with the fact that Narcan isn’t available to the inmate population. Yes, they can shove a bunch of Suboxone in the overdosing person’s mouth, but two milligrams of Narcan will not save many lives, considering that two cans of Narcan has been used to save some people from death. The problem is, if the government or institution allowed a Narcan dispenser like they do condoms (sorry, but it’s a sad fact to keep HIV down, and this isn’t a movie, 98% of men are heterosexual) then they wouldn’t be able to find the drug or who provides it. It’s a double-edged sword, but saving lives isn’t enough to override that fact. If asked why Narcan isn’t available, money is always the reason, but the Suboxone program costs millions of dollars every year, so… I’m just saying! I had to watch inmates scramble in a panic trying to save their peer who overdosed. First, they try to bring them back themselves by shooting them up with meth. If that’s not around, then salt is tried. Of course they spray cold water, etc, but normally all this is done, and if that doesn’t work then they yell “man down” and the nurse comes and uses the Narcan. Sadly, though, they take too long to call and there ain’t nothing the nurse can do. All those shenanigans could stop if Narcan were available. Another thing before I get back to Gio: if the person survives, they will get beat up when they come back. The reason is “they make the spot hot.” Prison and its politics are worse than Capitol Hill.

I still can’t believe I am writing an essay about the death of Gio. This is so dang sad. And it’s sad how life moves on in here. In fact, when someone overdoses, that batch of the drug is wanted because it’s good stuff. And I am telling God’s honest truth in this essay. I think it’s important to be transparent. I want to shine light on the issue I’m speaking about, and in addition show love to my buddy Gio. I refuse to just move on with my day as if it’s just another day. Truth be told, this really is just a normal day in here, but this type of day has to stop.

In closing, I told this old guy named Kelly about Gio’s overdose. Kelly was also in our life skills class. He was a white guy in his 50s, and he wore a vest because his hearing was bad. He had no education (he said that) and has been incarcerated for over half of his life due to meth addiction. I told him about Gio. It was his first time hearing about it, and he was sad, I could tell. Well, a week or so after I told him, I saw Kelly on the yard talking to other dudes. I was twenty feet or so away. Kelly yelled out, “Ay, Black (my moniker), what was old boys name that OD’d?” I said, “Man, his name is Gio.” His name is Gio and always will be.