I'm Gonna Bury You Author:Gene Neill A True Story... — "I'm Gonna' Bury You!" is a fast moving, hard hitting, true life, story of a Miami Vice jet setter, fast lane, high roller organized crime lawyer, caught up in the exhilarating wealth and power of the international organized crime cartels. No names are changed to protect the innocent; there weren't any innocents in Neill's world... more ». A former top professional race car driver, combat trained United States Marine, honor law school graduate, Gene Neill's only goal in life, his only god, was to claw his way right to the very top of organized crime, no matter what the cost along the way. And he made it. In spades. If you were involved in organized crime in America, and if you got caught big-time, Gene could get you off - for enough cash, machineguns, drugs, jewels or whatever.
Higher and higher his successes spiraled him, until in the dizzying heights of ultimate fortune and fame, some of his lifetime friends betrayed him, and he came crashing down. Crashing clear down under the ground.
"Maximum Maximum Security" is a term coined by the Federal Bureau of Prisons to describe the closest existence where a man can still stay alive in prison just this side of death. Convicts across America only whisper the words "double max" with tears in their eyes. It is not something of which they speak openly. And Cellblock 10D in the federal penitentiary in Springfield, Missouri, was the tightest of all double max installations. Neill's cell was under the ground in 10D. He had been convicted of 24 federal felonies, and was sentenced to 50 years on only one of them. Judge C. Clyde Adkins said he'd sentence Neill later on the other convictions. No exercise privileges, no visiting privileges, you were never allowed out of your cell - until your 50 years was over. No eating utensils, you ate with your fingers, the tasteless gruel the guards slid under your steel door. There were no bars on your door. Solid steel. No windows, you couldn't see out. You were not allowed! any reading materials, no watch, no toothbrush, no soap. There was a narrow steel shelf you slept on, a dirty little toilet, a greasy old pillow, a greasy old army blanket, a roll of toilet paper were your only possessions. You were not allowed any shoes, socks or belt; only a prison shirt and prison trousers.
There was an Indian man in Neill's cell when he got there. Born in the Oklahoma Indian Territory before it became a state. Robbed a stage coach as a teenager on the Indian Nation. Got sentenced to life. He had been there under the ground for 64 years when Neill got there, never having received a visitor nor a card nor letter; no one had ever talked to him for 64 years. A man went home from 10D while Neill was there. A Springfield newspaper reporter met him at the front door when he came out, and printed the story. He had never seen a tree nor a blade or grass nor the sun nor stars nor sky for 52 years. The Birdman of Alcatraz, Robert Stroud, a pimp from Juneau, Alaska, died there. Did 65 years in solitary confinement.
But in Neill's infinite agony that first night of his 50 years, in the darkness of his tiny underground cell, naked on his filthy floor, he called out to Almighty God for forgiveness. Never for freedom; only forgiveness.
It doesn't matter how high or low you are on the social scale; it doesn't matter whether you're a king or pauper, rocket scientist or shoeshine boy - you must read "I'm Gonna' Bury You!" Your life will never be complete until you do.« less