Dear Reader,

As I write this letter to you it is January 19th, 2026. I have been in the custody of the Bureau of Prisons for 31 days. One full month. I figure that is a milestone worthy of penning another letter to you. The time has simultaneously crawled at a snail’s pace and raced by quicker than I can understand. From day to day time moves unbearably slowly. The day crawls by, I feel as if I am walking through quicksand, every step an enormous effort. A minute feels like an hour, and hour feels like a day. But at the same time it feels as if just yesterday I was surrendering myself to FPC Morgantown.

The one month milestone has been able to creep on me surprisingly quickly while I was concerned with how slow time has been passing. I was sentenced by Judge Dusty Coat, excuse me, Judge Denise Cote for a period of 60 months of incarceration. One month down, 59 more to go.

Prison is a totally alien environment. Everything is seemingly backwards and designed to frustrate you. As many prisoners have said to me, “BOP stands for Backwards On Purpose”, and they really aren’t wrong.

Here is a quick example, because the US taxpayer is now responsible for my health and well being I have been placed on the waiting list for a dental check, cleaning, and any basic work that might be needed (filling, extraction, etc…). Being a logical person I concluded that the wait would not be too long considering the population of FPC Morgantown is so low (around 160 inmates when well over 800 can be held here) it wouldn’t take too long for my name to reach the ‘top of the list’.

I was then informed that the waiting list includes all inmates within the entire BOP at every facility. So even though our dentist here only has 160 people to see, I must wait for someone in Oklahoma who is higher than me on the list to receive treatment before I can be seen. Backwards on Purpose. Nothing works logically or as expected.

On my 28th day here I received my A&O – Admission and Orientation – which is mostly a box checking operation as we have all been orientated by the other inmates in the 28 days we have been here.

In any case, we were told that being here is not a punishment. The punishment is the sentence the judge hands down, the time away from family, being here at the Federal prison is just our home for a short time. They tell you this with a straight face while counting you five times a day, forcing you to work for slave wages, and restricting the number of people you can communicate with per month. Not a punishment.

There are vaguely motivational posters placed around the inside of the housing unit. Most are so saccharine they make me queasy, I could do with out the ‘HR-ization’ of prison thank you very much. They are all clearly printed from the internet without permission as they are all pixelated to hell, but there is one that is my favorite. I get a good laugh whenever I walk by it or think about it. There is a vignette of a iron barred cell door with the words “You are only incarcerated by the walls you build yourself”.

What a hilarious thing to put in a prison. I would love to imagine a CO or administrator putting that up because they found it funny, but I know it is more likely someone put it up because they found it inspiring and insightful, which I suppose makes it even funnier.

Over the month I have been here I have somewhat succeeded in finding a routine – something many people who have been to prison have told me is essential – and sticking to it. I wake up every day at 4:00 AM. This suits me greatly because I am the only one awake at that time and getting any sort of alone time in prison is surprisingly difficult (at least while you are in general population. If you are in Solitary Confinement, it is very easy).

Upon waking up I make myself what I have taken to calling a “prison latte” which is a mug of hot milk made from powdered milk with two heaping scoops of Folgers instant coffee added in. I collect my pen, notebook, and my prison latte and find a well lit area. Where that area ends up being tends to change by the day, there is no rhyme or reason as to which overhead lights the COs turn on throughout the week.

Usually I end up in the common room or the computer room, which ever one has lights on or enough light bleeding in from the hallway lights. I sit and write for the next hour. I write these letters to you, a daily journal, or responses to any mail I have received. I return to my bunk to await the 5:00 AM count. At 12:00AM, 3:00AM, 5:00AM, 4:00PM, and 9:00PM (and 10:00AM on weekends) we must be at our bunks as two guards come by our beds and count us to make sure we are all still there.

I await the count by beginning my full body stretching routine. I learnt this routine many years ago – during martial arts training – which focuses on stretching every major muscle group from neck to toe. It has become an essential part of my day since I wake up so sore and stiff from the paper thin mattress on the sheet metal bunk. Stretching makes me feel somewhat normal.

The 5:00 AM count usually takes place around 5:20. Two guards walk briskly by, their chains and keys jingling with their gait, and they presumably count you by shining a bright flashlight in your face – to be fair, only one particular CO does that, the others seem to be a bit more courteous and mindful that people are still trying to sleep.

While stretching I listen to my AM/FM radio. This radio is my prized possession, it connects me to the outside world unlike anything else in here. At 5:00AM I tune to the local public radio station 90.5 which plays the BBC World Service news and documentaries. I look forward to these daily programs greatly.

At 6:00AM the telephones and computers turn on. I check my prison email first. The computers aren’t like normal computers, imagine instead a 1990’s PC terminal with extremely limited functionality and designed specifically to be as frustrating as possible.

It costs $0.06/minute to read, reply, and compose emails. So I try to be as quick as possible when reading and responding to any emails I receive from my approved contacts. Right after checking email I call my wife Lauren.

There are 8 payphone style telephones in the housing unit, but only 2 of them work before 5:00 PM. There is no real reason for this restriction. BOP, backwards on purpose. The telephone line is usually quite bad. You often have to yell to be heard and a computerized woman interrupts you often to announce a reminder that this is indeed a call from a Federal Prison, as if we weren’t aware.

Despite the frustrations of the phone system I live for that 6:00AM call. You only are allocated 510 minutes per month, and the most you can spend on the phone in one session is 15 minutes. You then need to wait 30 minutes before you can use the phone again.

However, 510 minutes means you can only make a single 15 minute phone call per day and be left with three 15 minute phone calls extra for the month. So, I call Lauren once per day for 15 minutes and place one 15 minute call to my mother, my father, and my grandmother per month.
Rationing the phone minutes is stressful, making sure I have enough minutes left to make the calls I want to make is something I check and double check every week. But not to worry, being here is not a punishment, rationing my connection to the outside world must be one of those walls I built in my mind.

After my 15 minute call concludes I change into athletic clothing and head towards the recreation building which usually opens around 6:30 to 7:00 AM most days. I have made a friend in here and we play handball together most mornings for about an hour. It is good exercise and a fun game to play. A nice way to kill and hour. If we don’t play handball I try to spend some time doing cardio or strength training in the gym, depending on the day.

By 8:00 AM I am back in the housing unit getting ready to make breakfast. I usually make oatmeal with dried fruit and honey, but sometimes will opt for a vanilla protein shake. I purchase all these items from the commissary weekly. I choose to make both my protein shake and my oatmeal with powdered milk instead of water, for extra protein and because it tastes better and creamier than just using water.

Since I no longer go to breakfast in the chow hall at 6:00AM I do not have access to any milk cartons. I instead buy the powdered milk and either add hot water to it for oatmeal or cold water for the vanilla shake.

I prefer to cook for myself whenever I can now. By this time I have turned off the public radio station, the BBC world service is off air and has been replaced by NPR, which is so self important and out of touch that I cannot stand to listen to it. I switch to 101.9 FM WVAQ where a fun and casual “drivetime” radio show is airing. “Josh and Nikki in the morning” offers a casual and funny morning show that is easy to listen to. They play whatever the hits of the day are, which I do not recognize at all, but most of what they play is quite catchy.

There is one song performed by a female singer going on and on about “Ophelia”. I am not 100% certain but I suspect it may be Taylor Swift. I enjoy the song which I guess makes me a Swiftie? Maybe someone will write me a letter telling me who sings that.

After my breakfast, at around 9:00 AM I like to start my job. I actually have two prison jobs, but one is only on weekends. The one I do daily at 9:00 AM is “Bathroom Orderly”. Orderly is a fancy word for janitor.

At 9:00 AM I close the B-Wing bathroom and begin the grueling and frankly disgusting process of cleaning up after 80 men who seemingly are incapable of cleaning up after themselves. I am provided two rags, a spray bottle of disinfectant, a straw broom, and a musty mop. I have come up with a system that seems to be efficient and the most sanitary.

I sweep the entire bathroom and shower room first, trying to get all the pubic hair and dust into piles I can sweep into the dustbin. Afterwards I spray and wipe down the shelf and sinks using one of the allocated rags. I wipe away any hair or soap scum left in the sinks and ensure they are spotless.

I then move on to the showers, spraying the shelf, bench, and faucet handle and wiping them down. Again, I am aiming to remove errant hairs and dust. Sometimes there are other things I must wipe up that is not fit to discuss in this letter, but you can use your imagination.

Once the showers are complete, I wash out the rag and move on to the urinals. I wipe the top (how in the world does pubic hair get onto the top of a urinal. Please dear reader, I cannot figure it out) and sides, and most importantly the rim. It is not very nice, but it doesn’t take too long and it is satisfying when it is done.

Once the urinals are done I move onto the toilets. Spraying the bowl, the rim, the seat, the flush handle I wipe the underside of the seat and the rim down. I use a toilet brush to scrub inside the bowl. Finally I take the one unused rag and first wipe the handles of the flusher and then the top side of each toilet seat. Once all that is complete I mop the entire floor including the showers and each bathroom stall.

It usually takes about 45 minutes to an hour. I work up quite a sweat but I try to do a good job as I also use that bathroom and I prefer my bathroom to be clean. Once finished I take a shower. One of the only perks of the job of bathroom orderly is that I get to use the bathroom while it is freshly ‘clean’, before anyone else has the opportunity to desecrate it.

By 10:30 I am done with the shower and and the rest of my day is free. I am still working on how to fill this part of my day into my routine. Right now I mostly read and nap, and then read and nap some more.

I hope to become more productive with my time soon. Maybe I will take some classes when some become available to help fill the time. I try to avoid the several TV rooms as it seems mostly filled with people who do nothing else but watch TV and get quite territorial about the remote. Many times each of the TV rooms will be playing the same football game, which I have no interest in watching. So, TV is not a reliable or desired way to pass the time.

I cannot believe it has been one month already. It often feels like I am stuck in a bad dream I cannot wake from. An unending nightmare that me and many others here with me are living. The most we can do is figure out a way to make the time go by as quickly as possible so we can get back to our families and our lives. One month down, 59 left to go.

Thank you for reading,

Keonne Rodriguez

Write to Keonne:

Keonne Rodriguez
11404-511
FPC Morgantown
FEDERAL PRISON CAMP
P.O. BOX 1000
MORGANTOWN, WV 26507

Mailing Guidelines:

Please note: You can only send letters (no more than 3 pages long). No packages or other items are allowed. Books, magazines, and newspapers must be sent directly from the publisher or an online retailer like Amazon. All letters must include a full return address and sender name to be delivered.

This is a guest post by Keonne Rodriguez. Opinions expressed are entirely their own and do not necessarily reflect those of BTC Inc or Bitcoin Magazine.