Robert Hal Brame

In 1983 I was convicted of bank fraud and sent to a chain gang high in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. Three years later I escaped from there, stole an airplane, flew it to Florida and began robbing banks.

Five years of high living and more than 100 banks later I was arrested in Georgia and sent to the U.S. Government’s “Supermax” prison in Colorado—an Orwellian nightmare of razor wire and high-tech wizardry where the solitude and sensory deprivation were total, and where the connecting of words on paper was the only thing that kept me from connecting my neck to the ceiling by way of a knotted sheet.

After fifteen years there I was at last transferred to a less secure prison in Central Florida, where I am today.


Articles by Robert Hal Brame

Prison and Justice Writing
Friday April 16

Runaway Justice

Just a few miles from the courthouse the two Durham County deputies stopped at a diner and bought me a hamburger and milkshake, and from there the four-hour ride in their backseat was made almost pleasant by the rock-n-roll music they played on the radio. But there was no mistaking where they were taking me.

Prison and Justice Writing
Monday June 29

Here

Towers with Howitzers Walls that touch the sky Razor sharp fencing wired for sensing Doubt them and die Loudspeakers cameras that zoom Microphones in every room X-ray machines and monitor screens An Orwellian dream Hands bound legs in chains No talking keep walking Welcome to insane  A toothbrush a comb a razor for shaving Names