Vincent Papequash

I went to prison, here is that experience: Part IV

Matthew was popular with people, at first. He worked on grounds for a few weeks when he first arrived in August, along with his friend James, who was a funny guy. Then they were magically elevated to the grand heights of Forestry. Recall, forestry was the highest paid job at Ford Mountain.

It had a needlessly busy workplace culture. I’m reminded of Japanese work culture, actually, when I think of Forestry. In Japanese work culture, you are expected to work overtime and there are strict rules and hierarchies. I was never interested in it, mostly because I came from an office job and wasn’t looking to put too much effort into climbing the social hierarchy in a place like this.

• I went to prison — here is that experience: Part Four
• I went to prison — here is that experience: Part Three
• I went to prison — here is that experience: Part Two
• I went to prison — here is that experience: Part One

Walking with Matthew started becoming a group-affair. He’d attracted a little bit of a following, to which he confessed to me, privately, that he didn’t want. He became very good friends with James after his friendship with the other guy he’d first hung out with turned sour. Matthew and James were absolute class clowns together, just the silliest.

By then Alpha hut and Delta hut had been moved into Holloway House, which was like a miniature traditional prison located on grounds. It had been empty for the most part of my stay at Ford Mountain, only the common room was used for activities and church services on Sunday. They also used it to quarantine people who were sick, or for segregation (formal discipline).

Matthew and James lived in Holloway House, and I lived all the way in the main camp area in Bravo hut. I preferred the huts because they reminded me of work camp dwellings. The rooms seemed cozier. However, Alpha hut and Delta hut were undergoing renovations starting in the summer of 2025, and so by the time they arrived to Ford Mountain they’d been placed in Holloway House. It was about a two minute walk from the main camp area, located conveniently for them right beside the Forestry compound.

The Gazebo

I should rewind for some context, and tell you about the significance of the gazebo. It was located to the left of the main gate when you first arrive. It is relatively secluded, being right across from the Admin building. The huts and the library were located further away on the right, and Holloway House and Forestry were located further along a road on the left.

When I got to Ford Mountain I went out there my first night to pray to God (recall, I had been a Mormon). I thought it was quite picturesque, almost cinematic. Although, it did not come with lights strung up around, everyone I ever mentioned it to agreed it should. Something about not being able to run power to it, reasonably.

Jessie and I used to go sit under it in the November and December nights, in the rain. Whenever we were having an argument or a disagreement, or we needed to vent to each other, we would walk over there. I’ve been critical of how he behaved, but the truth was that we were friends for the first bit. I confessed my attraction to him there, and we talked it out and decided to just be friends there.

So, the gazebo has always been a little romantic for me. A special spot in my heart, some of my best memories from Ford Mountain were at the gazebo. Even when I wasn’t with somebody, just being there by myself to pray or ponder my thoughts was enough.

The native liaison also held smudge ceremonies there every Tuesday afternoon after the Arts and Crafts program and work day was over. It was actually over something racist Jessie said during Arts and Crafts that was the last straw for me.

Our relationship wasn’t the same after that, because he had taken to being in the Native Brotherhood (a somewhat informal group—not a gang—of Indigenous inmates at Ford Mountain). However, I am actually Indigenous, and I found his comment and his subsequent need to be included amongst them intolerable.

A better example of somebody non-Indigenous who was good to the Brotherhood was my friend Erin. Recall, he was in Bravo hut and I became friends with him after realizing Jessie wasn’t good for me. Erin was the guy who’d worked in the army, and was from the Island. He built a whole new hut on the sacred grounds for the sweat ceremonies at the request of one of the native liaisons. It took him a week, and it was expertly built. He wasn’t openly racist, either.

Romance in an unlikely place

When I met Matthew in the late summer of 2025, I still honestly believed I would get Day Parole and I would be out in time to go to school. It’s difficult to say now, but I was a bit of a snob when it came to prison. I studied non-stop, academics kept me sane.

I shouldn’t look back with rosy coloured glasses so much as I write this, there were definitely some downright idiots at Ford Mountain. Prison isn’t exactly full of society’s best, but there were also some pretty normal, and cool people there.

I wasn’t expecting Matthew to come into my life, and then he did. The reason I emphasize that my focus was on academics was because my next actions were totally unlike me. He was the perfect distraction, and I think I was secretly looking for it.

So, one day when we were walking in the baseball field with his groupies, I hung back with him. I told him, privately, that I wanted more time with him alone. He agreed, and told me that it was hard to always be around other people when he just wanted to be alone with me. It made me smile.

Then one afternoon in late September he told me he was bisexual. He was actually admiring me for being so openly gay, calling it brave in prison. The truth was that I never experienced trouble with anybody for being gay. Nobody threatened me, or made fun of me. Well, not entirely true, I was often made fun of — but I was in on the joke. Most people were pretty friendly to me, or left me alone.

He asked me not to tell anyone, because he didn’t want the attention. I agreed not to, and he told me about how people kept asking him if he had a wife. Most other guys there did, in fact, have a wife or girlfriend back at home waiting for them. He told me he was more straight-acting anyway, and those were the kind of guys he was attracted to.

We walked around and around together that afternoon and finally he told me in a low voice that he wished there was a place we could sneak off to so we could make out. He called me “cute,” and I blushed. I flirted back, telling him that we could make that happen. He looked around quickly and snickered.

The next evening we were out with his friends again and we got tired after a few dozen laps. We all migrated back to the main grassy area in front of the huts and parade square. We picked a bench and sat down facing the admin building. From there, the mountains lining the valley towered over the camp.

The sun faded away and Matthew and I sat next to each other. His hand brushed mine at some point, and instead of pulling away I kept it there. Our fingers played with the other’s for a moment before he grabbed my hand and held it. We continued chatting with our friends like nothing was happening. In the cover of darkness, the group high on the energy of the dying summer and good company, we discreetly held hands.

The next couple of weeks were like this. By then I’d moved tables in the dinning hall to sit with Matthew and James. We would go for walks together, and secretly hold hands when no one was looking. When we played board games in the library with our friends he would pet my knee under the table.

One day we were out for a walk in the baseball field and found ourselves alone for long enough. He glanced around and pecked me on the cheek. It was exhilarating. That night there was a movie playing in the gymnasium, and I invited him. He asked me if I just asked him out on a date. I blushed, and told him it was what it was.

If you’ve ever seen The Shawshank Redemption (1994), you know exactly what it was like when the RLC council at Ford Mountain put on a movie. It happened on the first Friday of the month. Since it was October, they decided to play some sort of horror film. I think it was The Conjuring or something.

Matthew and I sat close together, in between James and our unsuspecting friends. We held hands under his coat at first, and then he put my hand down his pants. It was kind of exhilarating to be giving him a hand job in the middle of a crowded room. Nobody seemed to notice us.

I turned to him to whisper in his ear and he giggled. He returned the favour by nibbling on mine, and just at that moment one of our friends, Tory, turned around. Tory’s eyes widened but we laughed it off. He rolled his eyes and turned back around. I whispered to Matthew to follow me outside after a few minutes, and without another word I got up and left.

I opened the gymnasium door and the crisp October air that night hit me. I breathed in, my heart racing, and I walked up the little hill to the parade square. Every day, three times a day, all 50 of us lined up hut by hut and were counted by the corrections staff by our last names. This night, no one was out there.

I waited a couple of minutes, wondering if Matthew would actually come out. I started wondering if he was too nervous. But then, the door opened and he sauntered out and made his way up the incline towards me. I smiled, feeling a little bit like Jack Dawson must have when he saw Rose show up at the clock in the Titanic.

He approached me, and asked me what we were going to do. I told him to follow me, and he laughed. We walked side by side around the admin building corner and made our way to the gazebo.

We sat down together on the bench, and I told him it was now or never. We were all alone. It was totally dark out, and most people were inside their huts because of the cold night air. Or they were in the gymnasium, watching the movie.

He agreed, nervously. He glanced around, and quietly mentioned how this spot was perfect. We had a 180 degree view of the entire camp. We could see anybody coming out of the huts, or Holloway House, or the library from here.

Then he leaned in and kissed me, finally. He grabbed my face with his hands and we lost it together. Embracing each other passionately, we made out under the gazebo that night in early October. It started to rain.

He pulled away, breathless. He asked me what I wanted to do next. I told him we should just stay under the gazebo and enjoy our time together. He agreed, saying that he could watch the movie any other time. We held hands and talked about escalating this to the next level, but we would have to be sneaky.

We made out a few more times, but only after making sure nobody was out walking. It felt risky, it felt romantic. It was so strange. As an openly gay person, I’ve never felt so restricted. Yet, the sneaking around part was what made it fun. I fell in love with him that night.

This concludes Part IV of this narrative.

All names of inmates and staff have been changed for privacy reasons. Names of organizations and public figures are unchanged. Although presented as a narrative, this is my account of true events. As a former journalist, I wanted to write about my experience after being incarcerated.

See more of my stories on my blog!