The Prisoner
Williams’ attorney, Joe Hayden, recalls times when it was hard to communicate with Williams, who had become distant and moody during the legal process. While he was never disrespectful, Hayden says, the grind of those eight years — the lengthy trial, the unresolved case, the issues with alcohol, the illness and death of his father, the divorce proceedings — was taking its toll on Williams. That’s why Williams says the first time he had peace during this time of his life was the day he was finally sentenced to prison. He went to his cell, closed the door and said, “It’s finally over.” Then he decided , he says, “I was going to do the time and not let the time do me.”
Says Hayden: “I began to see the change when I visited him in prison. He seemed very accepting. He didn’t know whether he was going to get parole, he didn’t know what was going to happen with the New York charge, whether he would have to go to Rikers. And he looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘Whatever happens, I deserve it. I’ll deal with it. Hopefully it’ll be short, but if it’s long, it’s long.’
“It’s at that point that I began to believe that Jayson had really made a turn in his life and was heading in the right direction, as opposed to wanting people to get him out of there.”
What were your quarters like?
JW: There were 36 people together in one room the size of my bedroom in my house. In the back was where the problems were — they’d play cards and watch TV in the back. I’ve seen people get four or five years added to their sentence because sports and ‘General Hospital’ rule everything. You touch that TV, you got problems.
In prison, you quickly learn instincts you didn’t know you had, such as how people walk. Somebody has a limp, somebody drags their feet; I can tell you how all 36 people in that cell walked with my face to the wall. If you wanted to get sleep you better memorize things like that. If somebody walked down and had on his sneakers at night, you know you had a problem, because you know you’re supposed to hear slippers. But if people go “strap up,” that means you hear squeaking and somebody’s coming to fight.
What kind of people were in there with you?
JW: My fellow peers. People who all deserve second chances, made mistakes and people that know the Bible will forgive them if they want forgiveness. Nobody that I was better than and nobody that was better than me. Just my fellow peers, that’s who was in there with me.
What did you do with your time in prison?
JW: We started a church in there with two people and soon we had 80 percent of the people we lived with attending. It changed the culture. People were saying good morning. We started off with 15 minutes and then it started running to 25-30 minutes. And at the end we did 50 pushups. We worked on the mind, body and spirit. We had people on fire for God. …
When I got transferred to Rikers, it was one of the saddest days of my life because I had to leave the church and culture that we created in [Mid-State Correctional Facility] and I had to leave friends that I’ve spent more time with except for my parents. I remember all 36 guys sitting around saying goodbye the day I left.
Did you play ball in prison? What were the games like?
JW: Yes. The games were quite competitive — some very athletic people in prison — but there was a whole lot of arguing. Every call went with an argument, sometimes a fight.
What was the hardest part about prison for you?
JW: Claustrophobia. I was never worried about a human being, I was worried about being claustrophobic. At Rikers Island, they lock the door and you hear it. [Makes a loud slamming noise.] And they double lock it. You can’t see out of the windows — they’re barred up, full of dirt and grime and there’s no light that comes through there. It was August and the walls were sweaty, and you’re locked in a cell.