Although sexual predators in prison aren’t that common after PREA, Steven Williams describes how a predator named Seventeen was consistently harassing his young friend Dax, threatening to hurt him in outlandish ways — until one day, Williams decided to take matters into his own hands. He did what he says he had to do. 

A booty bandit is someone incarcerated who preys on other men with deceptive intent to take their ass. Sometimes this was done persuasively, but most times, forcefully. Preferably, younger men who tend to be naive to their savage nature. These guys would place candy bars on someone’s bed, and if it was eaten without asking who put it there, a serious debt was owed that could only be paid one way.

In the past (1970’s/80’s), this practice was more prevalent than in the 1990’s and beyond. There were infamous guys with names like Pissy Black, who was a giant of a man, and a very skilled fighter who would knock his prey out cold, then take it. Mother Dear was not a giant of a man, however, he was a very skilled fighter who would do the same.

The difference between Pissy Black and Mother Dear is that Mother Dear not only knocked his prey out cold, if he thought someone walked around like a tough guy, they would wake up with mayonnaise between their butt to leave them thinking he had taken it. Talk about psychological warfare. Mother Dear would also force guys to masterbate in a cup, just so he could drink it (Yuk!). Either they complied, or he would knock them out and …you know the rest.

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When I came Upstate, in 2006, I never thought that I would see any sexual predators in prison like that. I thought that era of abuse was over. The Prison Rape Elimination Act (PREA) would come years later, and there were some silent stalkers who did not have the reputation, but most guys would find out who they were, and what they were after when it was too late. That is exactly what happened when I arrived in Clinton Corr. Fac. in 2011. I will never forget it.

This booty bandit called himself Seventeen, but he was more like fifty in age. Seventeen began to prey on this talented artist — I will change his name to Dax. I did intense writing, and Dax was doing intense artwork. First, Seventeen walked by Dax’s cell, dropped off a double bunk form, and told Dax to fill it out. Dax asked me why did he want him to fill out a double bunk form, and I was brutally honest when I said, “He wants to fuck you!”

I can never forget the look on Dax’s face. He looked confused, frightened, and embarrassed. Dax did not release the water that glossed his eyes in front of me, but I am sure that his pillow was wet the next morning. That is enough to make a grown man cry, for sure. Plus, Dax was a young man, merely 21 years of age. Everyone who knew Dax, myself included, strongly advised him to put an end to it. Meaning, Dax had to confront Seventeen, win, lose, or draw.

The C.O’s. do not involve themselves with such dilemmas, no matter how dangerously life threatening it could be. The inmates do not involve themselves in such dilemmas, either unless, the person caught in the dilemma had the courage to defend themselves. In Dax’s case, he did not have the courage, and this only made things progressively worse.

One day, we were walking back from the mess hall, and Dax was leaning outside his cell waiting to show me some artwork. When Seventeen walked past Dax, he tried to kiss him in the mouth. Dax pushed Seventeen, but Seventeen laughed it off like it was a sign of affection. Everyone saw this!

Again, people were telling me that if he would just swing to defend himself that they would finish the rest. These guys were sincere. We all hated what Seventeen was doing with a passion, but no one was going to risk themselves for anyone who was scared to fight. There are instances when someone stepped up to assist, but the one who needed the assistance ran for dear life, leaving the one doing the assisting to lose his life in hand to hand combat. True story!

Another time, Seventeen left a very descriptive note on Dax’s bed. Talking about all the nasty things he was going to do, and what he expected in return. Again, I did my best to encourage Dax to confront this guy. The next morning, Seventeen walked up to me then said, “Listen you b*!ch, mind your business!!!” I stayed silent. It was my dealings with Dax that made Seventeen feel as if I was in the way. Which I was. I could not bring myself to leave Dax all alone in such a situation. However, I was smarter about our interactions.

 On another day, we were walking back from the mess hall, and I stopped to have a few words with someone from a lower gallery. As Seventeen walked past me, he patted me on the ass, as if we were playing a game of basketball. I never, ever mentioned this to anyone, but he had crossed that very thin line between hate and  humility. I was out for vengeance, secretly.

I was able to convince Dax to set Seventeen’s cell on fire, at least I thought I had. On the day it was planned to happen, Dax chickened out. I was so upset with him! Seventeen was waiting for the perfect opportunity to take his buns, and Dax just did not have the courage to stand up for himself. It did not make him less of a man, but it did make him an easy target to be preyed upon.

I knew I had to do it, and all I needed Dax to do was make a prison torch. Dax proved himself to be an expert with that particular line of defense. He took a decent sized ball of tissue, and then smothered it with Vaseline  and  baby oil. He then stuck the torch ball onto a pencil so it could be hand held. After that, we had to strategize the perfect day to do it. We both settled for March 31st.

The week leading up to March 31st, I got about $100 dollars worth of items from Seventeen; cookies, cigarettes, sodas, coffee, cakes, etc. This was a “get one, pay two back” deal that we call juggling. I smiled as Seventeen smiled with all the business that I was bringing him. I was going to pay him back, just not with the stuff I had juggled. (Wink!)

On March 31st, the C.O. yelled that yard was going out. I held my mirror at an angle to look down the company, just to be sure that Seventeen was going to yard. He was!

I got excited! I then placed the prison torch inside my water bucket. Dax and I stayed in just to complete our mission. Those who stayed in could drop their water buckets off at the end of the gallery, and then they could fill them with hot water on the way back from the mess hall. There was no hot water in any cells.

“On the chow!!!” The C.O. yelled, and then he began to crack our cell doors.

I exited my cell, and then I stopped in front of Seventeen’s cell, which was roughly 4 cells away. Dax kept the C.O. busy so I could Iraq bomb Seventeen’s cell. I could not believe my eyes … I mean … this was just meant to be. Seventeen had his fan clasp to the end of his metal bed post, pointing directly at the plastic mattress that was covered with a sheet and blanket. Plus, the fan was on! I lit the torch that ignited with ease, and then I tossed it onto the bed. With the ball of tissue, Vaseline, baby oil, sheet, blanket, and the fan fanning the flames, I walked to the mess hall, casually.

Dax and I were eating our dinner, waiting for the fire alarm to signal a blaze. As soon as we heard it, we knew that we would not have to see Seventeen’s disgusting face. I had to do it! We were not being protected, and sadly, that is always the case. I would have loved to see the booty bandit’s expression in IPC on April Fool’s Day … LMAO!

Steven Williams #06A3140

Hudson Correctional Facility 

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