Today’s Book of the Day is a highly rated Thriller/Memoir by bestselling author, Glenn Langohr – and it’s 67% off! UNDERDOG has a great 4.4 star rating and ison sale for only 99 cents – save $2!

“I defy anyone to read this and come away unchanged. I highly recommend this powerful book to anyone with both a brain and a heart. It is well-written and makes great use of metaphor.” Mark A. – Amazon Reviewer

UNDERDOG
by Glenn Langohr
Rating: 4.4 Stars
Genre: Thriller/Memoir
Price: $0.99 save $2

Visit Glenn Langohr’s website
Glenn Langohr on Facebook
Glenn Langohr on Twitter

Another one of Glenn Langohr’s stunning memoirs–a brave, unflinching account of life in prison~ Prison Killers Book 4

The California Prison System houses a mixture of Mexican cartel members, Mexican mafia, Bloods, Crips, and thousands of other street gangs fighting for control and the author turns this story into a pulp thriller of true crime.

The author of Underdog, Glenn Langohr, takes you on a journey back into prison as he remembers a prison riot days before his release date where he left his friend on the way to Pelican Bay.

The story follows the author years later as he visits his friend in Pelican Bay during a prisoner developed hunger strike against sadistic and cruel guards who get off on their isolation and enjoy adding violence to their torture.

A spotlight on the flaws at how Pelican Bay determines gang validation and solitary confinement.

“With lazer-like precision Glenn Langohr lays bare the festering under-belly of our criminal justice system in a driving, graphic narrative that somehow finds the humanity in this most inhuman setting.” Phillip Doran, T.V. Producer and Author

Here’s what the reviewers have to say:

In his latest novel, “Underdog,” Glenn Langohr takes B.J. back into the dreaded Supermax at Pelican Bay, California’s toughest prison. At first he’s just fighting to survive, hopelessly outnumbered by Mexican and black gang members, but then he goes back to try and help his friend, still inside, ferociously battling to change the penal system. And ex-con Langohr can describe the hell of life inside better than any other writer. His vivid passages on just surviving in prison describe a nightmare we’d rather not know about.

*******

After having spent 22 years as a criminal defense attorney, I heard stories like this all day and all night from the majority of my clients. Rarely in my life, have I gotten a perspective as true and accurate and emotionally charged as was derived from my reading this book. The author, with no formal education nor journalistic training, has somehow managed to convey the facts, Circumstances and raw emotion into palpable words that hit home with the reader. I highly recommend this book!

*******

I’m amazed by all I have learned from someone else’s life. I can’t get enough of these books, seriously! I will be re reading them all again soon I can guarantee that!

*******

This book is very well written, fast paced and emotional. My applause to the author for humanizing the prisoners and bringing attention the snakes in the grass that run our prison system. I will be getting all his books very soon! Thanks for a fabulous read sir and God Bless you always.

*******

`Underdog’ was well written and very informative. It also held your attention very well because it was very intriguing and written brilliantly. Glenn knows what he’s talking about from first-hand experience and it shows in his writing. There is a certain flair in the writing of a book if the writer truly experiences it. I really enjoyed this book and I can’t wait to read more from Glenn Langohr and see what other stories he has to tell!

Get Underdog here: UNDERDOG

About The Author

Glenn Langohr has a purpose: he writes to shine a light inside our prison systems and to help others turn their lives around. Before becoming a best selling author, Glenn Langohr ran away from a broken home and entered the drug war with abandon. Business with the Mexican Mafia and Hell’s Angels became a way of life until the Criminal Justice system interrupted him. In prison he was involved in riots and spent years in the hole. From solitary confinement he started writing and hasn’t stopped since. Now, he is an usher at his church, speaks as a guest Lecturer at colleges and writes articles for newspapers. “I want to show the world and the students and leaders of tomorrow, that we are only building bigger criminals by locking up low level offenders. In prison, an addiction is bred into an affliction much harder to escape.” Help him show the world redemption is possible, buy and share his books.

The author will gift his books FREE from the Kindle store to those who can’t afford it. Glenn Langohr rollcallthebook@gmail.com lockdownpubishing.com

Ask Glenn a question facebook.com/glennlangohrcalifornia

Thank you for considering today’s Book Of The Day – Glenn Langohr and ENT appreciate it.

http://ereadernewstoday.com/book-of-the-day-underdog/6728310/

Available in print, kindle or audio book here~ http://amzn.to/101ysO7

From the Author

Sex Offender Alert

Twenty minutes later the vestibule door rattled outside again. The tower guard walked to the window overlooking the yard and looked down. He nodded his head and the other tower guard at the podium opened the vestibule. It shrieked and rattled open.

Security Escort Heart was the first through the tunnel. Behind him was his partner Ligazarro. They walked to the podium and talked to an unhappy Gomez.

Everyone heard Gomez yell, “This is my F###ing building!”

I remembered how Heart had escorted us from the bus to the building. He had been talkative and seemed to take a liking to me. I had asked him about the riot between the White inmates and the Mexican inmates that made the news over six months ago. He’d explained that a White inmate had run up a $1000 heroin debt and then stabbed the Mexican dope man in the neck. Within a month, after the initial lockdown was over, over 100 Mexicans swarmed about 20 White inmates in a yard riot. The Whites took a massive beating and almost all were knocked unconscious with 5 minutes of unhindered violence that sent 16 of them on stretchers to the hospital.

Since we arrived in the building we found out that a 50-year-old White inmate by the name of Mark Grisham worked in the program office and got inside information from Heart for the two Mexican Mobsters on the yard, Sano and Boxer. We told Mark we were taking over the yard for the White inmates and talked him into moving us as close to the two influential Mexicans as possible. He’d succeeded with Heart’s help.

Heart wasn’t arguing with Gomez. He wasn’t even raising his voice. Ligazarro stood next to him leaning on the podium and it didn’t look like he liked Gomez. He leaned back and stepped away in irritation and looked at one of the tower guards holding a gun out the portal pointed at the ground.

He nodded his head to the tower guard and walked to our cell. Heart followed him.

Ligazzaro opened the cell door and Heart stepped almost into our cell. He said, “BJ and Damon, you ready to go meet your new neighbors?”

Heart looked like a Mexican version of me. He had short brown hair combed back over expressive eyes that tore into you. He wasn’t shy and when he smiled his dimpled cheeks made him look friendly. But his strong jaw, with a scar down the middle, similar to mine, told a different story. I pegged him for a borderline criminal, or at minimum, a drug user and someone who was more comfortable around gangsters.

I nodded my head and said, “Thanks for making it happen.”

He said, “No problem. Strip down. I have to follow protocol and search you.”

I took off my clothes and handed them to him and Ligazzaro until I was naked.

Heart and Ligazzaro felt the clothes for all the spots inmates sewed stash spots and then studied the shoes.

Done with the task, Heart dropped the clothes on top of the shoes and said, “Arms up, open your mouth and stick you tongue out, lift up your nuts… Okay, turn around. Lift each foot and wiggle your toes. Alright, bend over and squat and cough three times.”

I followed all the instructions and was glad that he didn’t make me grab my ass cheeks to open them. He had a better style than that and this was mostly for show. I grabbed my clothes and shoes and got behind Damon while he went through the motions.

After Damon was done, Heart pulled him out of the cell and walked him ten feet to a bench.

Ligazzaro stared at me and said, “BJ, back out of the cell, we have to follow protocol.”

I backed out of the cell and felt Ligazzaro’s hand grab my shoulder and turn me. We were following Heart and Damon to the benches.

Damon was already kneeling uncomfortably on one of the benches. Heart lifted a pile of chains on the ground and wrapped Damon’s legs together at the ankles. He pulled Damon off the bench and wrapped some more chains around his waist and locked his wrists to each side.

I went through the same process and we were steered toward the vestibule door. I looked at the gun tower above to avoid Gomez. There was a block gun pointed at me. The Mexican prison guard holding it was smiling. He said, “You pissed off Gomez. You better avoid buildings three and four where his friends work the towers.

We were on the border of Mexico and nothing was stopping a Wild West scenario from unfolding. The cards we were dealt forced us into action.

The vestibule door weighed over 400 pounds of steel and it shrieked and rattled open. We were pushed through.

I looked up at a two-foot thick clear bulletproof window above us and saw both tower guards staring down at us. At the other end of the 20-foot long tunnel the other vestibule door rattled and erupted open. It shrieked insane noises for 5 seconds and latched into a locked position giving us 5 feet of space to walk through.

The sunlight was blinding. I closed my eyes and barely opened them. Long ago honed survival instincts forced me to look to the left of our building to get a complete study of the yard. There was nothing that way except the fenced entrance to our D-Yard. I could see C-Yard’s gated entrance 50 yards further and noted that the yard next to our yard was also an empty ghost town and still on lockdown. I turned slowly and paced the foot and half with each foot before the chains bit and held me. It was a slow pace. We weren’t in a hurry to get locked back into a cell for 24 hours of 7 days a week of slow motion lockdown.

In front of me was the asphalt concrete track that circled the yard. It was around the same width and length as a high school track. The sweltering 110-degree desert heat made me dizzy looking at the heat waves rising from it. Just inside the track on the yard there was grass and a couple of concrete tables that would hold about three to four prisoners on each side during regular yard. I knew from experience that this was where the White inmates and southern Mexicans would congregate so I asked Heart, “Is this where the riot was with the Mexicans and Whites?”

Heart nodded his head and said, “Yep. I remember how bad the White inmates got beat. We couldn’t get the Mexicans to stop stomping and kicking them. After we finally got them down, one of the White inmates regained consciousness and started trying to crawl away. He fell on his head trying to crawl and was knocked out again for hours. His face had boot prints all over it…that guy has brain damage and can barely talk now.”

I looked at Heart and wondered if he was trying to intimidate me. I said, “The Whites are lucky prison knives weren’t used.”

Heart nodded his head but didn’t say anything.

I wanted more information so I asked, “Who had the yard for the Mexicans at the time of that riot. Whoever it was had the decency to keep weapons out of it.”

Heart nodded his head and thought about it. He said, “It was hard for us to tell who was calling shots. There wasn’t a bona-fide Mexican Mobster here at the time. I think it was some one from La Puente in LA. I can’t remember his name.”

All of the sudden I realized why Heart was helping me. He wanted to be involved and in the know. It was a competition among a certain class of prison guards to know things. It gave them clout.

One foot in front of the other locked in chains was taking a long time to get anywhere. The dry heat was drenching me in perspiration. To my right was building 4. The prefabricated building was a tan dreary color except for the green vestibule door and the tinted bulletproof tower window above. A tower guard stood watching with his gun pointed at the ground near us. I asked, “Does Gomez really have gun tower friends or was he just acting?”

Heart grunted and said, “He’s serious as a heart attack. He still lives in Mexico and drives across the border everyday to work, his friends caravan with him. Stay out of building three and four.

One foot in front of the other in a shuffle step got us to the middle of the yard. There was a handball wall that was 20 feet high. After that there was a thin cement walkway that cut through the middle of the yard. At the end of it to the right was the gym. Mostly Black Inmates were standing at the window watching. I saw a couple of tattooed down Asians and asked, “How long have the Black inmates had the gym?”

I knew the answer. Ever since the Mexicans and Black inmates had their riot.

Heart said, “It’s been over six months now. The Prison Administration is thinking of trying to put Mexicans in there from another yard to see what happens.”

I grunted and didn’t say anything. It wouldn’t work. It would be an immediate riot.

Heart surprised me by changing the subject, he asked, “Do you want help with this yard?”

I didn’t know what he meant so I remained quiet.

Each shuffle step seemed to take longer waiting for one of us to talk.

Heart finally said, “Do you want to know about any skeletons in the closet?”

Now I understood. He was asking if we wanted to know about any protective custody cases. I was immediately repulsed by the thought and asked, “Is this a protective custody yard?”

Heart noticed me staring right at him and said, “Not at all but there is always a sex offender who flies beneath the radar on every yard. Do you want help uncovering those kinds of things?”

I had stopped walking and felt Damon bump into me. I started shuffle stepping forward again and thought about it. Prisoners were given paperwork from their counselor that stated every crime they had ever committed. We really didn’t need his help. But who was I to muzzle the gift horse. I said, “I wouldn’t turn down help, but I was hoping for tobacco or a cell phone to start with.”

Heart ignored me and said, “There’s a notorious child molester in three building. Think about the worst Catholic priest scenario. He has forty-four counts and is doing a life sentence. I don’t know how he made it through New Folsom and Calipatria.”

What Heart was saying was he was surprised the inmates at those Maximum Security Prisons didn’t uncover his dirty deeds and stick a spike in his neck.

I said, “You would need to give me the paperwork that proves those charges for me to do anything.”

Heart said, “That I can’t do. You have to trust me.”

I said, “It has nothing to do with trust. It has to do with how it has always been done. Paperwork is the only way.”

Heart nodded his head and said, “I’ll see what I can do. I would have to go into his Central File to get it.”

I didn’t say anything. We were getting closer to our building and I wondered if Heart was helping the Mexicans the same way.

Heart said, “You have another potential problem that just arrived. A white guy just got here who has a “Cruelty to Children” charge and a “Corporal Injury to Spouse” charge. You should be able to fish that one out on your own. He had problems at Donovan Reception Center over it on his way to this prison. It will all be in his paperwork.”

Another revelation dawned on me. The prison guards at Centinella must like being on lockdown.

]]> http://audiobookprisonstories.com/2013/04/10/in-glenn-langohrs-newest-prison-memoir-the-prison-guards-pointed-out-the-child-molesters-for-some-victim-restitution-prison-style/feed/ 0 rollcallthebook Image Image http://audiobookprisonstories.com/2013/04/05/an-excerpt-from-glenn-langohr-from-his-newest-prison-book-how-to-make-prison-weapons-to-survive-a-gang-war-in-prison-life-in-lockdown/ http://audiobookprisonstories.com/2013/04/05/an-excerpt-from-glenn-langohr-from-his-newest-prison-book-how-to-make-prison-weapons-to-survive-a-gang-war-in-prison-life-in-lockdown/#comments Fri, 05 Apr 2013 16:35:30 +0000 lockdownpublishing http://audiobookprisonstories.com/?p=478 Continue reading →]]> Chapter 2

No Warning Shots Fired

I got up and walked to the cell door. The gun tower was 30 feet away. To the right along the wall there were two phones that inmates used when we weren’t locked down. In between each phone was a steel cage the size of a small phone booth for temporary security housing for inmates. Above, on the wall 15 feet high, were red block letters that read: WARNING! NO WARNING SHOTS FIRED, WARDEN

The gun tower was constructed of tinted bulletproof windows we could see through. There were bars from top to bottom every few feet. In between the bars there were open spaces in the windows for enough room for guns to be pointed to fire anywhere below.

One of the tower guards sitting in a swivel chair playing with his cell phone got up. He walked past the other guard sitting at a lit up control booth and stopped at a window that overlooked the prison yard.

A loud metal noise reverberated through the building. Someone was yanking a steel handle on the vestibule door back and forth on the yard side signifying they wanted entrance.

The tower guard looked down at whoever was outside and nodded his head. He turned to the tower guard at the control booth and said something.

The tower guard at the control booth pushed a button and the vestibule door underneath shrieked and rattled open.

The other tower guard walked back and looked down through a clear window overlooking the vestibule tunnel to watch the procession walk underneath him.

At the end of the tunnel Gomez, our building guard, was the first one through. Behind him were a couple other guards. The three stopped and looked up at the tower guards standing up facing them at one of the portals.

One of the tower guards asked, “Are we running showers this morning?”

Gomez said, “Maybe later. First we’re going to move Johnson and Smith to building one.”

Gomez was a short, stocky, mean looking Mexican who looked like he lived for the power he had as a prison guard. He turned and stared at our cell and looked right at me.

The tower guard asked him, “How did they get authorization to move out of the building that fast? Did they get the green light from you?”

Gomez stared at me with a frustrated look on his face and said, “I didn’t know about it until a few minutes ago. Inmate Grisham maneuvered it. I don’t know how that White inmate has so much juice on this yard.”

The tower guard said, “I do. He types all the paperwork for the Sergeants and Lieutenants in the Program Office.”

Gomez continued to stare right at me. He said, “I’m going to have a talk with Grisham and find out who authorized their cell move.”

Damon was sitting on the stainless steel toilet soaking wet and buck-naked. He was facing the sink filled with water. He scooped a cup of water out and dumped it on his head and back and asked, “Are they moving us now? I can give you some extra time by flooding the cell.”

Gomez was walking toward me and I muttered, “Here he comes. Flood the floor.”

Damon used both his hands and scooped out a flood of water that I let run under our cell door.

Gomez got to the cell and saw the water. He stepped to the side and said, “Get your bedrolls ready after you clean up all that water. You might be moving.”

I asked, “What do you mean, might be moving? We either are or we aren’t, right?”

Gomez said, “Not if I can help it. I’m going to try to block it because you guys didn’t get at me first. I told you we run the buildings and you guys run the yard. We give you that respect if we get ours.”

When we arrived to this prison a few weeks ago, Gomez told us we could stab inmates on the yard but not in the buildings. I said, “No disrespect intended Gomez. An entire cell became open in one block where we want to be. We need to get there before it gets filled. It’s an emergency. Can you help us?”

Behind me Damon said, “Way to clean that up homeboy.”

Gomez shook his head and said, “It doesn’t work that way. I run the building and you get at me first.”

Everyone heard a Mexican yell out the side of his cell. It was time for the Mexicans to work out.

“EXCUSE ME ON THE TIER!! THIS IS STRANGER! IT IS NOW TIME FOR OUR WORKOUT ROUTINE! SURENOS, RAZA!! ESTAMOS LISTOS?”

Over 70 Mexicans yelled out of their cells in unison, “LISTOS!!”

Gomez shook his head and walked back to his desk. He sat facing the vestibule entrance to the building and the tower guards above. A minute later he had a phone in his right hand clamped to his ear and was talking to the tower guard standing at the window above.

I went back to work on my prison weapon. There wasn’t any need to worry about noise now. Every Mexican cell in the building had an inmate dropping to the ground for pushups together in unison and the noise was boisterous and intimidating.

Stranger yelled, “FIRST GROUP… READY, BEGIN!!”

My right hand flew back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Into the routine, Stranger yelled even louder, “MEXICANS HOW DO YOU FEEL?”

Over 70 Mexicans yelled out of their cells in unison and it was like thunder, “ONE HUNDRED PERCENT!!”

Stranger yelled, “NEXT SET, VAMANOS!!”

I was down to one inch left, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Damon was at the cell door watching Gomez. He said, “As soon as you have that piece of steel removed I’ll make the carrying case while you stand at the door. We’ll leave the floor soaked for extra time if we need it. The gun tower won’t pop our cell for us to leave with it flooded.”

The six inch long piece of steel was hanging by steel threads. I angled my razor edge intimately at just the right angle to carve it our cleanly and it fell to the floor. I picked it up and put it in the air and said, “Done. Check it out and make me a smooth carrying case to stick it up my ass. Be gentle. I’m a virgin.”

I handed it to Damon and stood at the cell door.

Damon said, “Virgin? Your ass has done squat routines with a seven-inch sword up it before. Miss me with that shit.”

I laughed through gritted teeth and it felt like I was high on adrenaline. Gomez was still on the phone and he turned his head and looked right at me.

I turned to avoid his stare so if we won and were moved, I wouldn’t be rubbing it in. He had already insinuated that he had gun tower guard friends in other buildings who would shoot us.

Damon had a pile of plastic saran wrap on his lap. We saved it every time we took it off our state issued lunch sandwiches. He was busy molding it into a layered covering. My ice pick was going to fit snuggly inside with a half inch of plastic protection.

Stranger yelled, “SURENOS, RAZA, COMO SE SIENTE?”

I understood it to mean: southern mafia, Mexican race, how do you feel?”

The now pumped camaraderie of the Mexicans was bursting out even louder. All the Mexicans yelled at the top of their voices, “ONE HUNDRED PERCENT!!”

The echo of all of their voices resounded through the building. Every building on the yard could hear our building’s Mexicans working out. It was a show of force. Everyone in California’s prisons knew the southern Mexicans were warriors. It didn’t matter how small, or how young, they were known for kamikaze missions for respect and loyalty. They were a deadly foe and there was no bend in them.

Unexpectedly, our cell door popped open. I looked at Gomez. He was staring at the tower guards and looked angry. The tower guard at the podium tapped the microphone signifying an announcement.

“Inmates Johnson and Smith! You’re moving to building 1, cell 212.”

Damon handed me my luggage and grabbed our floor towel to wipe up the water. I got behind him so he was blocking the view into our cell and studied my ice pick sheltered in plastic wrap. It was about the size of a long poop. I spit on the end of it for lubrication and bent over.

With my weapon up my ass, I squeezed my butt cheeks together so it would climb deeper in me. There was a good chance Gomez would strip-search us. If he did, he would make us bend over and grab our ass checks to open them and cough three times. I didn’t want my ice pick to peek out at him.

Want more? Email me at rollcallthebook@gmail.com for a gift copy. My Author page  http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00571NY5A

To contact Glenn on facebook~https://www.facebook.com/glennlangohrcalifornia

To contact Glenn on Linkedin ~ http://linkd.in/ZH8lc7 Glenn’s audio books for a free sample on Amazon~ http://amzn.to/Yi9Uxo 

About 9 months ago  Jason Lovett contacted me and told me how much he loved my first novel Roll Call, A True Crime Prison Story of Corruption and Redemption. He is 20 years old and asked me if he could narrate it. He did and is perfect for it as that is the age of the main character BJ, who enters the drug war with abandon. Roll Call is one of those rare books that is both Character driven and Story driven. It is an epic battle of God over evil, hope over addiction and is a snapshot of how our culture is dealing with the drug war the wrong way, by sending people to prison over it. I told Jason, who is my nephew’s age that I would focus on promoting this as I know how much time he put in!

God says in the Bible when 2 or more pray for the same thing, if it in His will, He will grant it. So we are praying for Oprah and other publicity!

Here’s a couple of my favorite reviews:

• A harrowing, down-and-dirty depiction–sometimes reminiscent of Steven Soderbergh’s Traffic–of America’s war on drugs, by former dealer and California artist Langohr. Locked up for a decade on drugs charges and immersed in both philosophical tomes and modern pulp thrillers, Langohr penned Roll Call. A vivid, clamorous account of the war on drugs. –Kirkus Discoveries, Nielsen Business Media, 770 Broadway, N.Y Yk

I looked at my cell brother Damon on the top bunk from my crouch on the ground. His long angular, bullet shaped head had a prison made beanie over it wrapped just above his eyes. His eyes were the color of blue ocean water and were focused into laser beams of stress. He said, “Hey homeboy every cell in this building knows you’re carving out a knife. You might as well keep carving.”

I laughed at my cell brother’s blunt way of putting things and pretended to go with it and focused on the steel table to see how he would react. The edge of the table had a piece of thin steel that folded over and tucked under that gave me two inches to work with along the two feet of table top length. I had a six-inch long straight line carved an inch deep that was starting to poke through. I had to be extremely careful not to push to hard and fracture off to small of a piece or all my work for the last three days would be for nothing. I positioned my clipper edge in the already cut open steel and angled it and slid it back and forth as lightly as possible.

Damon grunted above me and I heard him moving in agitation as he maneuvered off the top bunk.

I heard his feet hit the ground, as did the rest of the quiet building. I knew he was headed for the cell door to see what the prison guards were doing. I asked, “Are the guards trippin?”

I knew the building guards were gone to feed the rest of the buildings but the tower guards were always there.

Damon grunted and said, “They’re slippin. One is asleep and the other one is either texting someone on his phone or looking for a new girlfriend on Facebook. There are a few Mexicans in their cells staring over here. They know what you’re doing.”

I asked, “What about the Black inmates?”

Damon grunted and said, “None of them are up. They assume everyone has a knife and sleep through everything while locked down.”

It was time for me to stop but I didn’t want to. I had to get this done before the guards came back inside. I said, “We might get moved to building one next to the Mexican Mobsters this morning or this afternoon. I want this done before then.”

Damon didn’t even turn around and look at me. He stood like a statue staring at the inside of the building deep in thought. He was probably pissed at me for being so hard headed. I should have talked strategy with him before plowing through survival stress on my own these last three days. I knew he trusted me, but cell brothers had to stay on the same page.

I said, “Excuse me for not consulting you on this. My bad.”

That was all it took. Damon turned and faced me with a stoic expression. I got as close to a smile as I was going to get and saw him relax a little.

He nodded his head and said, “So much for sleep. I’m going to work out to drown out some of the noise from your machine shop.”

He stood two feet in front of me and had just enough room to drop to the ground for a set of pushups before the toilet and cell door swallowed up our space. I watched him pump out five pushups and then jump back to his feet and lift each knee to his chest. After his tenth set of burpies, his long and muscular white body got damp with sweat. It was over 100 degrees outside and sweat started glistening down his body. It made the ink on his tattoos shine with more clarity. On his shredded back I watched a collage of ink crafted into a gambling scene move around as his muscles flexed and contracted. There was an Ace of Spades and a three-leaf clover circling toward each other like they were being shuffled every time he did a pushup. Underneath, on his lower back there was crime scene tape that read: DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR.

I turned back around and started carving again lost in my thoughts. Half of my shank was visible. The fingernail clipper, my third one in three days, was getting dull and it was taking longer.

I got the last clipper of the two-fingernail set and went back to work. Very lightly, I slid the sharp edge three inches back and forth. Sweat beaded and ran down my forehead and I realized making the knife was a form of therapy. It was a calming reaction to the stress of a potential race war with the Mexicans, and always the possibility of other problems.

Time disappeared and evaporated as another inch of my new shank became visible. My hand adjusted and found the two-inch range to drive the razor edge of the nail clipper back and forth.

The sounds of Damon’s feet dropping to the ground and popping back up stopped. The grinding noise against the table shrieked obscenities unhindered again into the now quiet building so I stopped and turned to look at Damon.

He was staring at me with his head tilted back in a look that I decided was a constant appraisal. Like he was studying an unknown insect to see if it was poisonous.

He said, “BJ you can finish in a few minutes when the Mexicans work out. After I shower I’ll make you a carrying case for your new luggage.”

I nodded my head and then couldn’t help but laugh at my life. How did it get to this point? Want more? Email me at rollcallthebook@gmail.com for a gift copy. My Author page  http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00571NY5A

To contact Glenn on facebook~https://www.facebook.com/glennlangohrcalifornia

To contact Glenn on Linkedin ~ http://linkd.in/ZH8lc7 Glenn’s audio books for a free sample on Amazon~ http://amzn.to/Yi9Uxo 

After being featured in the Orange County Register on the front page, Mel Menifee from the Cabaret Division of the Performing Arts in Orange County contacted Glenn to speak to their civic group.

After speaking to Mel on the phone, Glenn researched their website. “I couldn’t believe what a perfect fit it was. Their mission statement, ‘Through art, we believe cultural, racial and poverty divides can be broken down”, is what I also passionately believe.

A few minutes into the speech, Glenn said, “I’m a best seller in the Kindle store on Amazon, but I need you guys to get me on TV, preferably the Oprah Winfrey channel so I can be a best seller in print as well!”

See video of Glenn speaking to the group~ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujPUrK0cACU

Glenn explained how he started writing redemptive drug war and prison books from a cell in solitary confinement after running away from home as a 12 year old kid, “The law started catching up with me at 18 years old for selling marijuana.”

Glenn went on to meet a meth dealer and started using the drug in hopes of being able to make all the money back law enforcement seized from him. He says, “I was stuck in a cycle of trying to make enough money to feel like I could quit the business.”

Glenn explained, “I love to speak at colleges to Criminal Justice classes at Universities as a guest Lecturer and expert on the drug war and prison culture. I also hope to speak to kids in High Schools about the dangers of using drugs.”

Glenn read a portion from his first novel Roll Call and the Kirkus Discoveries Nielson Media review from NY, “A harrowing, down-and-dirty depiction–sometimes reminiscent of Steven Soderbergh’s Traffic–of America’s war on drugs, by former dealer and California artist Langohr. Locked up for a decade on drugs charges and immersed in both philosophical tomes and modern pulp thrillers, Langohr penned Roll Call. A vivid, clamorous account of the war on drugs.” –Kirkus Discoveries, Nielsen Business Media, 770 Broadway, N.Y Yk

Glenn Langohr also talked about his new Christian Prayer book that is in the top 5 in the Amazon Kindle store in prayer books. To purchase it in print or kindle go here~ http://amzn.to/YPq8ud

After speaking to the group for 20 minutes, Glenn Langohr signed copies of his books and donated a few to their charity to auction off for underprivileged kids. He also answered questions about prison conditions.

To find Glenn Langohr’s books and social media sites, or contact him for copies for review and interviews, go here:

rollcallthebook@gmail.com

To purchase Glenn’s books in print, kindle or audio in the UK http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B00571NY5A

In the US http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00571NY5A

To contact Glenn on facebook~https://www.facebook.com/glennlangohrcalifornia

To contact Glenn on Linkedin ~ http://linkd.in/ZH8lc7 Glenn’s audio books for a free sample on Amazon~ http://amzn.to/Yi9Uxo 

http://www.lockdownpubishing.com

http://www.audiobookprisonstories.com

How much of a story do you have in mind before you start writing? I usually have the story already done before I start. Of course a few new twists and turns can happen but for the most part, I see the story as if it is a movie.

How do you develop and differentiate your characters? I paint with the true colors of life, with real characters, so they are divided by different drug gangs, different races, different sides of the law and different motivations.

Do you have specific techniques you use to develop the plot and stay on track? At times, my writing turns to fiction to transition the story from point A to point B and that Is when it gets hard to stay on track. Sometimes I have to throw away sections and start over.

How (or when) do you decide that you are finished writing a story? In the beginning that was hard because I wanted the perfect ending. My first novel, Roll Call: A True Crime Prison Story of Corruption and Redemption is 700 pages but I got the perfect ending! Kirkus Discoveries from NY Nielson Media reviewed it and called me a “Master Director” and said, “A Harrowing-Down-and-Dirty Depiction of the U.S. War on Drugs” they also related it to my favorite drug war movie “Traffic”.

Now all my books are way shorter. I figured out how to end them a little easier.

Is there a message in your writing you want readers to grasp? I have nine drug war and prison books that are meant to do two things. I strive to shine a light on how “tough on crime” political platforms are hurting us as a society because they aren’t “smart on crime” and we need more compassion in relation to the drug laws. My books show human beings being sent to prison who are addicted to drugs and fighting poverty the only way they know how. While in prison, the readers can see for themselves that the addiction is bred into an affliction much harder to escape, where gangs, tattoos and violence are the solution to the pressure. What do you think that does for the community when those petty drug criminals are released without any new skills or way to live, starting over from scratch, without a job, or a place to live?

What are you working on right now? The TV show “Lock Up Abroad” interviewed me for the upcoming season that is going to focus on U.S. Prisons. They want me to write a story without any fiction at all about my time in prison toward the end of my sentence when some crazy stuff happened.

Have you always wanted to be a writer? No, I never imagined it until I was in prison for 10 years and stuck in a cell in solitary confinement.

At what age did you discover your love of writing? I was 32 years old at the time.

What was the first story that you wrote? Roll Call: A True Crime Prison Story of Corruption and Redemption.

When were you first published? How were you discovered? I published in 2009 after sending my manuscript to a bunch of publishers.

What is the most difficult part of the whole writing process? Going over it again and again to make it perfect. The rewriting can be overwhelming and it takes other professional readers and authors to add their thoughts.

What do you like to read? I love suspense thrillers, romance, young adult, crime anything, mystery and Westerns.

What writer influences you the most? There are so many it is hard to name one. Lee Childs is fantastic. James Patterson writes short chapters the way I do. James Clavelle writes culture the way I do.

If your book was made into a TV series or Movie, which actors would you like to see playing your characters? I envision making stars out of real prisoners who are in my books. Why have someone pretend to be a Mexican Mobster or Hell’s Angel when the real thing is available?

Where can people learn more about you and your books?

rollcallthebook@gmail.com

To purchase Glenn’s books in print, kindle or audio in the UK http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B00571NY5A

In the US http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00571NY5A

To contact Glenn on facebook~https://www.facebook.com/glennlangohrcalifornia

To contact Glenn on Linkedin ~ http://linkd.in/ZH8lc7 Glenn’s audio books for a free sample on Amazon~ http://amzn.to/Yi9Uxo 

http://www.lockdownpubishing.com

http://www.audiobookprisonstories.com

I find this a difficult book to review–at least for me personally–let me preface this with the reasons why. I want this review to be fair and honest so I would like everyone who reads this to understand my position.

This is not my genre, nor is it my standard reading material. I tend to review literary fiction, genre fiction, non-fiction historical, and classics. I teach English Literature. I am not familiar with the writing style of this author or the subject matter at hand, and I lived in Crescent City, California so I may have a bit of a preexisting opinion of the City and Pelican Bay from that. I will do my best to offer an impartial review regardless.

Glenn Langohr has written a gritty book filled with truth about the side of prison life that we don’t see from the outside. He writes from a position of authority, having lived what he writes about first hand. This makes his writing very honest, but also difficult for me to judge by my usual standards. I can’t say that this was the most refined writing I have ever read, but the honest truth is–it didn’t matter.

The tale this author weaves begins in a way I hadn’t expected, and I wasn’t sure what to think. The first chapter fumbled a little in my opinion, as though he was trying to find his legs beneath him. After that, the book really took off and it was impossible to put down after that. The story he tells of how inmates are treated at Pelican Bay was difficult for me to reconcile as I do know what a boost to the economy the prison brought to one of Northern California’s most desperate cities. I do believe his story, and I feel for those who have had to live through the things he spoke of, but sometimes it is hard to accept reality–especially when you are used to seeing the other side of the coin.

What I liked about this book the most, and what I felt earned this book the four stars I gave it, was Glenn’s ability to retain the reader’s interest. He may not have attended a fancy university to hone his craft of writing, but there is such a human element to his words and his ability to connect with you as you read his story on a personal level made this the kind of book you want to keep reading and tell your friends about. His message at the end of the story is both compassionate and detailed, which added a lot to this book in my opinion.

The one negative I will mention, and it is just my opinion of course, is that I don’t get the cover. It somehow reminds me of ‘Joker’ from batman, and I don’t really get what it has to do with the story. It looks cool, but I also think it might make this book seem a little more fantasy than reality and might frighten off some of the more mature people who would ordinarily pick this book up and give it a try.

** Update: I have just discovered that the cover I am looking at is only one of the covers. So, disregard this last part if you have the orange and black cover, which is perfectly appropriate for the story.
Overall, this was short, unexpected and something that I think has a lot of value, both as entertainment and a dose of reality.

This review is based on a digital copy from the author. My opinions are my own.

Tracey can you tell me about the first book you published?

The first novel I published was Erich’s Plea.  That’s the first novel in the fantasy series The Witchcraft Wars.  It’s a classic, epic fantasy tale that essentially asks the question ‘how far would you go to save someone/thing you loved?’  It explores the different definitions of love such as romantic love, love of a friend, parental love and love for parents as well as love for your kingdom.  The story is told via the ambitions of conquest by an evil sorceress who possesses an alien form of magic to the land of Kaynos ranged against a motley assortment of extremely unlikely allies using their own, traditional form of magic as well as other battle skills.  There’s a lot of twists and turns throughout the series and it’s very character driven.
Erich’s Plea is FREE today!

Can you tell me the order of your books?

The story of my journey towards God and my walk with Him since is a rather long one with more than a few miracles along the way.  The short version is that I was not born into a specifically Christian household.  My Mum was what would best be called ‘a seeker’ – she was searching for something.  As a result she studied with many different denominations, looked at many other philosophies, studied the sciences extensively but she was in her 40′s before she gave her life to God.  My Dad [Step-Dad actually] was an Aboriginal who believed in the Dreamtime and taught my sisters and I about that.  Briefly put both my parents encouraged my sisters and I to seek out ‘the truth’ for ourselves and not to be influenced by others but to think for ourselves.

 

I had an acceptance, if you will, of God’s existence for a very long time – since I was a small child actually – but never considered it of any importance in my life.  I had been told a story by my Mum, which most people don’t believe but I swear is true, that when I was age 4 we lived in a house across the road from a big park with a very large, very deep man-made lake.  I couldn’t swim.  Mum was knitting and not really paying attention to what I was doing when she suddenly heard a voice, not in her head but in the air, which said ‘socks and shoes off, in the water’ and that is exactly how Mum found me – had it not been for that voice, an angel probably, I would have gone further into the water and drowned.  So I was always aware of God as a ‘real’ Being.  

 

I married first when I was very young and it was a tumultuous relationship that ended badly – no one’s fault really, we were just both too young.  After my divorce I sunk into a very deep depression, something I had been prey to off and on since I was 14.  Mum was living in New Zealand at the time so I decided to go over and spend some time with her to maybe pull myself out of my depression.  Long story short I became the target of a very dangerous stalker.  He broke into our house many times, damaged my car – it was near continual and very scary.  The man involved was a paranoid schizophrenic with a long history with local police and yet, despite all his efforts I was never hurt by him, apart from being emotionally frightened, he was never able to actually get his hands on me.  This made me start really thinking about God in a much more serious way as I believed firmly that I was somehow under the Lord’s protection.  I’m ashamed to admit that I’m quite stubborn so in spite of some very close calls where my escape can only be called miraculous I didn’t immediately give my life to God.  It would take me another eight years before I finally realised how long He had been calling me and I gave myself up fully to Him.  I’ve never felt a greater sense of peace than I did at my eventual Baptism and my relationship with God continues to grow – in spite of me   I have never, in the 13 years since, considered that I had a very strong faith so I was taken completely by surprised about a year ago when I had several people, in different situations, tell me how strong my faith was and how much they admired my faith.  I was shocked and take no credit for this – whatever I may have, whatever I may be it is only Jesus living within me.

 

I love listening to worship music like that band Hillsong? Have you heard of them and do you have any special music or Bible verses that bring you closer to the living God?

 

I have heard of Hillsong and enjoy much of their music.  The congregation I worship with, small though it is, has our own band and they perform a combination of many different songs and hymns, including one my Mum wrote not long before her death.  I tend to be a little old fashioned in some ways and my favourite hymns are Ancient Words, There Is A Redeemer and The Battle Hymn of The Republic.  

 

As for favourite verses there are so many that inspire me it is hard to pick one.  If I had to though it would probably be “I will never leave you, nor forsake you.”  Knowing that God is always there for me, that Jesus lives within me is the most incredible gift I have ever been given.

As you know, I started writing true life drug war and prison thrillers based on my old life of crime, but now I also write Christian Prayer books, do you plan on writing other genres?

 

I have published an anthology of poetry, a great love of mine, called Reflections: A Modern Anthology.  At the moment I’m working on a mystery/thriller and have plans for a series of novels after that before returning to fantasy.  I don’t feel confident enough to put my thoughts or feelings about God into a book… yet – you never know what the future will bring and if that is something He calls me to do I will respond.  I do write a Christian blog which is based solely on my own studies and beliefs – I try not to ‘preach’ but simply outline the lessons from the Bible and I encourage my readers to seek out the truth for themselves by reading the Bible and prayer and meditation to hear that ‘small, still voice of God’.  This is the address if you’re interested - http://traceyalley.blogspot.com.au/  Should you read some of the posts you will realise fairly quickly I’m not the most conventional of Christians but that is just my walk with God