Date: 4/25/2023 4:25:32 PM
Subject: Sean Riker: A Postcard From Texas, April 25@8am

Hey Brother,
I received your postcard telling me know you're still alive. Thank you, but it leaves me with more questions. I was surprised to receive the postcard because our mail has to go through a mailing service now. I think I got it because it was a postcard without a return address.

Here's my new address:
Sean Riker #567232
Wisconsin Secure Program Facility
POB 189
Phoenix, MD 21131

You have to spell out the WSPF above. I know, a bitch.

Although you didn't sign your name, I knew it was your handwriting and you mentioned the special a day, which is our great-grandfather's birthday.

I was watching that rocket take off too. I saw it veer off course and I knew it was malfunctioning, but the media was saying that's normal and I was saying, no, you idiots, that's NOT normal. Anyway, now it has a special meaning because we watched teh same thing at the same time.

I moved over to the restrictive housing unit a few years ago. They closed the unit I was in for years and turned one range in RH into GP. Holy shit, it was sweet. So quiet that I could read a book without interruption. Almost three years of almost bliss ended when they opened up the unit that was closed and moved us back to it. I moved back in the cell I was in. There was dust on the walls and cobwebs in the corners. My paint scuffs were still on my desk. It was like opening a time capsule that'd been sealed for three years. It was strange and kinda cool. Now it's back to noise and semi-controlled chaos. I'm so uncomfortable over here. I am back to feeling like an alien from Mars. I just don't fit the Wisconsin inmate criteria.

I hope you made it back into that program thingamajig. I was mad you got taken out of living the dream...

I still wait for your help. I have hopes daily. Every day I think of you, Brother.

Take care. Communicate with me. Tell me a story about your current life.

With Love & Respect,
Brotha