Blood from a Turnip, by Joesph Patri Brown.

Blood from a Turnip, by Joesph Patri Brown.

I am sitting by the steel bar door inside this caged cell on a milk crate and talking with the
man in the cell next door. It’s around 8 pm and we’re just talking about sports, passing time
before I lay it down and sleep for the night. But I think I’m gonna stop talking to him and talk
to you about this piece of mail I just got.

A few days ago, I received by mail a child support enforcement letter. I thought about my
daughter, who was three years old when I was sent here to death row more than 30 years
ago. Then I thought about her mother, who is a very close friend. Would she have filed for
child support against me? We never had any discussions about money, but then I did have a
good job as a nursing assistant before I got here. Maybe the State decided I must pay. If I
had back child support to pay, how much was it? Or did this death sentence I’ve been
fighting over three decades cancel it out? I have known a few men on the row who were
served child support papers so it’s not an uncommon thing. Whether they paid it or not, I
can’t say. But hell. My daughter is now in her thirties. Surely this letter must have been
meant for someone else.

Then again, I do have a “funny” child. My daughter has a twisted sense of humor and likes to
pull pranks and jokes to get a laugh on me. In all seriousness though, I wasn’t there
physically for my daughter, or financially. Hell I couldn’t even support myself if it wasn’t for
the kindness of family and friends. I could see how technically those who supported her were
owed child support. But why now? After all the decades. She’s 36, soon to be 37. If she was
behind this prank, she was 20 years too late so we would see who gets that last laugh.

Even so, I was tempted to open this letter to be sure that it was not me that it was addressed
to. I saw that I shared a similar name with this deadbeat. The first and last names were
correct, albeit our first name had a slight variation in spelling. My name is spelled “Joesph,” e
before s, and the name on the envelope was spelled “Joseph,” s before e. These things
could be a typo as this wouldn’t be the first time the government had spelled my name
wrong. They do it all the time in my legal filings in court. So it’s little surprise that I would
receive mail that belongs to someone else whose name is Joseph Brown. But the middle
initial was also wrong. His was an M, mine is a P. Maybe someone had simply made a typo
with the middle initial. After all, M and P are close letters in the alphabet by three or four
separations. When I finally decided the name wasn’t mine, I called the officer back and gave
the envelope to her and explained this person was not me. Knowing my name was “Joseph
Brown,” and that I am the only person on death row with that name, she gave me a smirking
look and said “hmm-hmmm” sarcastically, but she accepted the mail back.

I went on about my business and did not give it another thought. A few days later, I received
this exact same document again. And wouldn’t you know, the very same female officer
delivered it and said to me, “I knew you were lying, boy! You need to take care of your
children.” She turned her nose up and walked away, mumbling something along the lines of
“all you men are the fucking same.”

This time, I decided to open it. This is what the document contained:

YoungWilliams, Contractor for (877)882-4916
Mississippi Department of Human Date: 5/18/2024Services Child Support Enforcement
PO Box 1440

Yazoo, City, MS 39194
Joseph M Brown
Hwy 49 West Unit 30
Parchman, MS 38774 Re: Joseph M Brown
State-Issued Licenses

Effective July 1, 1996, Mississippi enacted a new law. This law allows for the suspension of
all state issued licenses for any person who is delinquent in his or her child support
payments.

Our records indicate that you are delinquent in the payment of child support and that you
now owe $21,416.52 arrears. An order suspending all licenses and preventing the renewal
or issuance of a driver’s license issued by the State of Mississippi will be rendered on
8/16/2024 unless BY THIS DATE you have taken one of the two following actions:
Paid the entire amount of the child support arrears you now owe by money order or cashier’s
check, OR Reached a reasonable repayment schedule with your local child support office.

You need to contact your local child support office named at the top of this letter to make
your decision known. You may request a review of the information contained in this notice, if
you feel that a mistake has been made regarding your identity or in the computation of the
child support arrears stated in this notice. You must submit your request for a review in
writing to the address listed above. Please be prepared to offer proof of your identity or your
child support payment records. Case ID 615682543.
Denise Wesly
MS Department of Human Services
Child Support Enforcement

I’m going to allow y’all to take a minute to process this letter and then take a deep breath.

Hold it, 10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1…

This motherfucker MUST be crazy or stuck on stupid to even think I would respond to this
funky-ass conman letter. This has bullshit written all through it.

For one, as I’ve said, this is not my name. Joesph is how I spell my name, how my momma
spelled it. Although I have to say that I’ve been fighting an uphill battle because no matter
how many times I correct people with the spelling and pronunciation of my name, people
always find a way to fuck it up and use this “conventional” way for spelling “Joseph.”

Tirelessly I continue to correct them. It’s like people’s minds refuse to swap the e and s. Two,
there was no inmate ID# attached to the name on this envelope; yet for over three decades I
have used the same inmate number for practically everything, from ordering commissary, to
making phone calls, dentist or doctor visits at the clinic, visitations, hell, you name it. The
prison uses ID numbers to track and prove that you are who you say you are.

Funny when you sit back and think about it: here I am, stripped of everything in life and reduced to a five-
digit number and still, people can’t get my damn identity correct. Third, this letter was addressed to the wrong damn Unit. I was in Unit 29, not Unit 30.

Although Unit 30 is in view of Unit 29 and within walking distance, these two units are vastly
different in shape, size, housing inmates, etc. Unit 30 looks like a camp with metal and tin
buildings, and Unit 29 looks like some medieval castle surrounded by fences and gates for
maximum security. Besides, had I lived in Unit 30, I wouldn’t be caged up 23/24 hours a day
in a red uniform and fighting daily to stop the State of Mississippi from killing me. These
people are really trying to squeeze blood out of a turnip.

Again, I had been on Mississippi’s death row for 30 years at the time I received this letter. So
if this person who supposedly represents the government needed to contact me, it should be
very fucking simple to get my identity correct as I am the ONLY Joesph Brown on death row.
And getting my exact location correct should be a piece of crappy prison spice cake,
because as a death row prisoner, my location of residence DOES NOT change. Period.
Then she really had her game twisted by threatening to revoke my license. I had been alive
in this world for 55 years at this period in 2024, and never, not for one goddamn day have I
ever had a State of Mississippi driver’s license, or any form of identification. It beats the hell
out of me how she was going to prevent that shit or revoke that shit. Maybe this person
should have researched that!

I also can’t help but think about her use of BOLD CAPITAL LETTERs. BY THIS DATE, etc.
This con must think that shit will intimidate me. They must not have experience living on
Misssissipp’s death row, from where you have to fight for your life and freedom against
prosecutors and judges.

And the icing on the cake: I owe $21,416.52? I don’t have a job, and if I had a job on death
row, I wouldn’t be paid for my work. Maybe if I hustle I’ll get extra trays at mealtime. In this
case, a tray usually sells for one dollar or two dollars, food items off of commissary, so I
could trade a tray for commissary then try to convince someone to pay commissary price for
the same items they can order themselves. And should I be so goddamn lucky to find
buyers, then I have to find a way for them to send that one or two dollars to my outside
prison bank account (which I don’t have), and at this rate let me see. Hmm, yep. I’ll pay that
shit off in another 50 or 40 years. This person needs to go re-check their computer for a
virus.

It gets even better though, when she tells me what her “records” show. Yet, she doesn’t
identify my correct information, and she asks me to send her a money order or cashier’s
check. Seriously folks. I think these people must think I’m walking around prison by choice
and picking up money orders and cashier checks like picking flowers. I think these people
are trying to get me shook down by bringing up those red-flag words like thousands of
dollars, checks, money orders, driver’s license. That shit can get you put on lockdown in
here.

What tickles me though is that she wants me to send money NOT to the proper child support
office but to the office of Ms. Wesly. Even though she tells me to contact my local child
support office, she offers me no address, no name on where and who, and then she tells me
in the very same breath to send it to the office named at the top of the letter. Last time I
checked, Young Williams is a contractor office, NOT a child support office, so you can kindly
miss me on that slick shit

But then, it’s very possible this lady’s information is 100% correct and this letter is not meant
for me but for Joseph M. Brown, some poor soul living in Unit 30 and owing tens of
thousands of dollars. It’s very possible that it’s not poor Ms. Wesly who has fucked up, but
MDOC—trust me, it wouldn’t be their first fuck-up in giving prisoners other prisoners’ mail.
Wherever this fault lies, what is clear to me is that this letter definitely does not belong to me.
But now that I had opened and read it I did sense that this could have been meant for me. I
used to wonder about that. Even had a couple women tell me so, but I didn’t take them
seriously and they never put any child before my moms and grandmoms. Listen. In 1996,
July, when Mississippi enacted this new law to punish delinquent people who fail to pay child
support, I was two years and counting living on Mississippi death row, and it was quite easy
to have sex with the female guards: yep, I probably could have had one, maybe two children
running around the Mississippi Delta. That’s technically possible, so you got me on that. But
then if I’d had a child at that time, I would have been pretty easy to find by the government,
not to mention the baby’s mama.

8/16/2024 has come and gone, Ms. Wesly, so I hope you have that order suspending all my
licenses and preventing me from getting renewals. My daughter is 36 years old in 2024 with
five children to raise. You, my con-lady, are a fucking day late and a dollar short, so you
move along now, and thank you for the thought that—just maybe—I do have another child
out there somewhere. As far as I know, for now, I have seven children: my daughter, my son-
in-law, and five grandchildren. I am feeling that my life is free through them. I don’t have to
pay support. I just pay to see them happy by giving them money so that they can buy and
enjoy the things that make them happy. I guess you can get blood from a turnip when it has
a bleeding heart.

30 July, 2026