There is a small Caribbean community at Solano State Prison. It is comprised of three Belizeans and three Jamaicans. I've known one of the Belizeans since he was six years old (and I was eight). I met the other Belizean about five years ago in another prison. I met the rest of the men when I came to Solano. Now one of the three Jamaicans is dying. His name is Happy. He has pancreatic cancer, and doctors say he has maybe four more months to live.
Happy is about fifty-five years old and he's spent the last twenty-eight of those years in prison. Just two months ago he had some good news when the Board of Parole Hearings found him suitable for release. This last minute cancer diagnosis is robbing him of that final victory. The brother is rejecting treatment and isolating himself inside his dorm, not even letting his brethren in to see him.
Happy is about fifty-five years old and he's spent the last twenty-eight of those years in prison. Just two months ago he had some good news when the Board of Parole Hearings found him suitable for release. This last minute cancer diagnosis is robbing him of that final victory. The brother is rejecting treatment and isolating himself inside his dorm, not even letting his brethren in to see him.
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