Locked Up For Selling Weed With Prison Daddy
A young dad is locked up in South Carolina for dealing marijuana. On his blog and Instagram, he calls himself Prison Daddy and writes under the pen name Peter Conrad.
On March 25, 2020, I interviewed Peter over the phone. My high school classmate, who Peter calls "Jersey”, connected us. A former professional basketball player in Europe, Jersey came back to the U.S. and got caught dealing drugs as a first time offender. Now, both Jersey and Peter are incarcerated at a minimum-security prison camp. I haven't heard from either of them in a few weeks.
A post from the sister of Peter Conrad, aka. Prison Daddy.
Peter Conrad is passionate about the cannabis industry and his role as an advocate within it. "People vote on social issues," he said. "They see marijuana as a less[er] issue. Like there's no real victims when it comes to marijuana."
"And I try to bring awareness to the fact that it does matter . . . even above me being in prison for it, like the fact that it does help people with cancer, that it does help children with epilepsy, and that there [are] still 17 states in this country that doesn't let you use it for that reason . . ."
According to the ACLU, about 8 million arrests were made in the U.S. for marijuana possession during the first decade of the millennium.
Peter has served 13 months of his sentence and is supposed to be released in June 2023. The last time Peter saw his 5-year-old daughter was before Christmas because of a power outage at their visitation center followed by the pandemic lock-down.
"She was actually supposed to come on Saturday," Peter said on the call. "And they told us on Friday that they weren't doing visitation anymore because of Coronavirus."
There are between 500 and 550 male inmates at the prison camp, which is next to a medium-security federal prison, FCI Edgefield.
"Technically, everyone that's here is actually an out-custody, which means we're allowed to be in the community," he said in the bathroom over a WhatsApp call. The limited cell-service didn't let him do video. On his Instagram account, Peter explained how he got a phone.
Lately, Peter’s been worried about getting sick. He's showed some mild symptoms, but he didn't tell anyone in fear of being put in the SHU, which stands for "special housing unit."
"One thing you have to understand about being in prison is that if you do go to sick call, they're gonna throw you in the SHU, and the SHU sucks . . . That's normally where [the guards] put people to punish them."
In the SHU, inmates are "locked behind a door for 23 hours a day with an hour of [recreation]," Peter said. "You don't have a commissary, you don't have TVs . . . So basically, if you go down to medical, and you tell them that you're seriously sick, that's where they're going to put you."
Their regular setup has their bunk beds separated by 5-foot-high walls. When Peter lies down in the bottom bunk, he can see Jersey in the top bunk of the adjacent cubicle.
Over the past few weeks, both Peter and Jersey haven't responded back to any online messages.
On April 7, Peter's older sister posted on Peter's Facebook page to ask if anyone has heard from him. An inmate wrote back to her and said Peter was put in the SHU for having a cell phone.
"It's been 3 weeks now," Peter's sister said over Messenger. "I did get one letter from him last week, and he said he is okay. This is so hard."
During the interview, Peter said the risk of getting caught with a phone is 30 days in the SHU, but the risk is worth it for him.
"I think that setting myself up to be able to succeed when I get outta here . . . areas that I'm passionate for . . . through connections that I've made. I know that when I get out of here, I can move to California, get a job . . . in the marijuana industry."
Unfortunately, Peter could be in there for longer than that because of COVID-19 federal lockdown, said his sister, who was apprehensive about the risk of him having a phone. She had a feeling this would happen, but he was able to video chat with his daughter and "feel like he was a part of her life."
Peter's sister also said that the night before he disappeared, he posted on a public Facebook Page about the Federal Bureau of Prisons (BOP) releasing inmates during the pandemic. The BOP runs both the prison camp and the federal medium-security prison.
"The next day he was gone," she said.
"When it comes to criminal justice reform in general, when is the BOP going to be held accountable for the laws that the politicians are passing?" Peter said during the phone interview.
Peter mentioned the Second Step Act that Donald Trump passed. This bi-partisan law would eliminate federal prison camps and start putting people like Peter in home confinement.
"But what that would do is essentially . . . the BOP would lose tons of money . . . and also lose their workforce," Peter said. "The camp is what actually runs 'the medium.' We're the ones who mow the lawn."
"We fix everything at the medium," Peter said. "If they go on lockdown, we go over, and we work the kitchen. We feed all the inmates over there, stuff like that. So they need us."
"What we get out of it is $20 a month . . . The guys at the top make $70 a month," Peter said. "The reason why nonviolent drug offenders get so much time is [that] they need people that really just do this shit."
Over Facebook Messenger, Peter's sister said, "I just wish people could understand how painful this is, and not just for the inmates. The pain for all involved is tremendous as if we've all been sentenced. His daughter is heartbroken and misses her daddy. Her mom is left to be mom and dad. My parents are elderly and devastated.”
”My little brother was my only family member here in South Carolina and one of my best friends. I've always looked out for him as if he was my own kid, but I couldn't help him this time. It just hurts so badly. I've had to learn to try to let go."
