Archive for the ‘Prison Life’ Tag


I’m being transferred.  I’m not sure where yet…I’m writing this at 1AM on 7/6/11.  I will post a new blog as soon as I get to my next stop.  I’ve been bitching that this day would never come…and now it’s here.  My stomach is in knots…more like butterflies…not fear.  I’ve spent the last 15 months in the same cell, on the same unit, kinda get used to it…you know.  All I know is that this is my first step towards walking out of prison-yup!  I will blog as soon as I’m settled in and when I get a pen & pad. 143

Posted 07/08/2011 by Matty McDonald in Uncategorized

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It’s Sunday night.  It’s cloudy outside of my cell window.  Seems it has been like this for the past few days.  Hope it rains ’till I’m out.  I’m currently locked in my cell…have been since around 10pm last night.  A fight broke out on my unit…a few people got lugged to the hole.  Another day in the life.  I was supposed to call my boy Alessandro earlier at 5PM…that obviously didn’t happen.  He’ll understand.  Not the first time I’ve been on “lockdown”…surely not the last.  Besides, I was never on time for anything when I was free…might as well keep up the trend…lol.

Yes, I’m still in Middleton.  Hopefully, I get picked up and transferred to a Federal Prison this week.  I’ve been saying that now since May 11th.  Story of my life…hurry up and wait.  I’m on the Feds’ time now…

Sundays usually suck in here (except during football season).  “Emotional Sundays”…that’s what we call them here in Middleton.  Not everyone does, obviously, only the few guys I actually hang out with.  It’s a joke…like you know how club promoters put a name on their nights…like “Wild Wednesdays”, “Thirsty Thursdays” or “Fantastic Fridays”?  Well…where I’m at…it’s “Emotional Sundays”.

Sundays start out all emotional …even in the early AM.  A few of my favorite radio stations such as 101.7, 92.9 and 104.1 play all acoustic versions of songs from 9-1.  I love acoustic by the way.  That pretty much sets the tone for the day.  Sundays are my day of reflection…the day I do most of my thinking.  Sundays were always great when I was free.  Sometimes I would get breakfast or brunch with the fellas in the morning or early afternoon and talk about the madness of the night before (or whatever we could remember from it…lol)…or I’d have Sunday dinner at my mom’s house…or at Mimi’s house (when she was still alive)…or I would spend the day with whomever I was dating at the time.  Ahhhh…I miss the good ol’ days when I was free.  This is my punishment.  I flooded the city with pills.  I get VIP access to “Emotional Sundays” at Middleton.

There’s no mail on Sundays.  I don’t work out on Sundays.  Even TV sucks on Sundays.  There’s no cable TV…just the basic channels.  Nighttime TV is flooded with shows like Extreme Makeover Home Edition and Undercover Boss…more reasons we call it “Emotional Sundays”.  Not gonna lie, a few episodes of Undercover Boss almost made me choke up.  There’s no room for tears in jail…at least not in population anyway.  Although, I have seen guys bawling on the phone, or when they watch their families or loved ones walk away after a visit.  That’s gotta be tough, especially if you have kids.  Thank God I don’t have any children…I’d probably be a stress box.  Someday I hope to have a little Matty running around.  Just what the world needs…another me…lol.

If I wasn’t stuck inside this 8×10 cell today with my cellie (roommate), I’d probably be halfway through my daily routine.  I basically eat and do the exact same things every fucking day here.  Think Groundhog Day…that’s my life right now.

Before I describe a typical day in the life here, let me describe my current living situation.  Picture an 8×10 room…white walls (beige where the paint is chipped), beige tiled floor (some tiles don’t match), and bunk beds on the left side.  I have the bottom bunk.  The mattresses here suck…although mine is on steroids (lol) because I have two stacked with a whole bunch of blankets, enclosed in crisp white sheets.  On the back wall is my lonely window with bars over it.  It overlooks a field which lies past the twenty foot barbed wire fence that surrounds this jail.  Past the field is a building or factory of some sort.  Along the right side of my cell is a white desk…well…it probably used to be white…it’s more eggshell now…with a pullout metal chair…all comfort.  About a foot away from that is a stainless steel sink/toilet combo…which I might add is the loudest toilet I’ve ever heard when flushed.  Above the sink is an 8″ vanity mirror…even though there is no vanity in here…lol.  My walls are pretty much bare, except for the Red Sox schedule we have hung up.  I used to have an obscenely large collage with pictures of friends and family that took up the whole right side wall over my desk…but I recently took them down and sent them home…along with all my letters and legal paperwork…because I’m awaiting my transfer.  I’ve amassed a large collection of letters and pictures…which I will keep forever.  I still have a few pics that are fastened to the underneath of the top bunk, so when I wake up, they’re the first thing I see.  Under my bed are Rubbermaid containers filled with all items I’ve purchased in commissary (food, toiletries…all that good stuff).  As I look over on my desk, I see a hotpot, a few plastic cups and a half-full cup of coffee (still optimistic).  On the two shelves is a whole bunch of stuff:  jar of peanut butter, toothpaste, bag of coffee, box of Sweet n’ Low, creamer and hair gel (no clue who owns it).  Believe it or not, some inmates actually still do their hair…lol.  Not me, I stay with a fade.  There’s also a plethora of other items I don’t feel like listing at the moment…but you get the picture.

My cell door is blue…also seems as if it’s been many colors over the years.  There’s a glass window on the door and a little trap door big enough to slide a food tray through on days/nights like this when we’re locked in.   I still don’t know why they insist on giving me my tray.  I don’t touch the food here…it’s that bad.   I give my trays to people here with no money so they don’t go hungry.  My cellie is currently snoring as I write this (I sleep with ear plugs).  He’s a good dude…a solid guy…one of the few.  When we’re locked in, he sleeps a lot.  I like to read or write.

Ahhhh yes…back to a typical day here.  Sorry, I got off topic…I tend to do that sometimes.  My day usually starts around 10ish…or whenever I feel like getting out of bed.  Lately it’s been 10AM.  The very first thing I see when I open my eyes are the small assortment of pictures I mentioned earlier…of various friends…right above my head.  There’s also a post-it note that reads:  “Just think of how much you’ve lived Mattie. Some people never do anything. ♥-S”.  Pretty dope to read that every morning, considering that the first thing I say every day is, “Really…?!  So…I’m still here?”

When I get out of bed, I fill my hotpot with water, plug it in and proceed to make coffee.  If my cellie gets up before me, he’ll do it.  I take mine extra, extra by the way…lol.  I then eat my daily oatmeal with a scoop of peanut butter.  I drink (2) 8 oz. of fat-free milk.  It’s the same breakfast every day.  They serve a variety of “wannabe” breakfasts here…but I don’t even attempt to eat fake-ass pancakes or imitation eggs.  I still wonder…how do you even imitate eggs?  Along with my nutritious breakfast, I put on my headphones and listen to 98.5…The Sports Hub…to catch up on all the sports I may have missed from the day before.  It’s all I have…no ESPN…no cable remember?  I’ll take what I can get.  After breakfast, I kick my cellie out of the cell so I can wash up and handle my business.  Don’t get me wrong…he doesn’t always leave…lol.  When you live in such tight quarters with someone, it’s not unlikely that he or I will just drop trou mid-conversation…like it’s nothing.  That’s jail life for ya.  You can’t be bashful in the Big House.  For your reading pleasure, and considering it’s what I normally do, I usually kick him out…or vice versa. TMI? Probably, but I have to give you the feel…the ambiance of this shit hole…no pun intended!

By the time I’m done eating, it’s usually 11ish.  I do one of two things…I either do yoga for an hour…or I run/walk laps around the unit for an hour…both while listening to my headphones.   Yes…I do yoga in jail.  I wish I got into it before.  A lot of women I’ve dated used to be into it and a few of my boys as well…but I was always hesitant.  It’s really great for the mind and it keeps me lean.  After my daily cardio, I hit the showers.  No…it’s not group showers…and no I haven’t dropped the soap…lol.  OK…I lied…I’ve dropped it…but who hasn’t…shit’s slippery as hell!  By the way, gotta wear flip flops in the shower…god only knows what’s on those floors.  I cannot wait to take a real shower…or even a bath for that matter.  The little things I took for granted.

Once I’m done with that, the rest of the afternoon is usually spent reading, while listening to music.  Other inmates usually play cards, dominoes, or watch TV at this time–I read.  I do a lot of reading here…lots of writing too.  I used to play cards (Hold ‘Em)…but that got old quick.  I’ve read some pretty amazing books here.  A few of my recent favs include:  The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, Fools Die, The Queen of the South and most recently (yesterday), Water for Elephants.  Not gonna lie, that book is pretty sad.  It made me think of my Grandpa and how much I fear getting old.  Read it!

I eat every 3 hours here.  I usually make tuna and brown rice, chicken and brown rice, brown rice and re-fried beans, and my oatmeal.  Same things every day…slow torture…picture that.  I’m lucky enough…or should I say fortunate enough…not to have to eat the food they serve here…but after 15 months…it gets old quick!  On Saturdays, I cook with a few of the guys here.  I’ll explain a good jail meal in another blog.

I work out everyday, except Sunday of course.  Well…twice a day if you include my AM yoga/cardio.  Lately, I do mostly calisthenics…push-ups, pull-ups, dips, etc.  I used to workout in the gym here, but it’s all machines, and since I’ve been here so long, I had to switch it up.

The rest of my day consists of listening to music.  I actually have my headphones in while I’m writing this.  Yes…I’m still locked in…in case you were wondering.  Music is my medicine.  I make phone calls after 6:30PM…right after I get my mail.  I enjoy talking on the phone…a lot!!  I like getting updates from family and friends.  It’s bittersweet…you know?  Like, “Oh yeah…you’re going where?  Oh…you saw who?  Oh…must be nice.”  I say that a lot…”must be nice.”

The remainder of my night usually consists of me writing letters or this blog, reading or watching TV.  I always listen to the Sox games.  In fact, they won today, 4-2, against the Pirates.  I don’t get how they can sweep the Yankees…then lose to shit bum teams like the Pirates or San Diego?  It doesn’t make sense…then again not much does in my life at the moment.  Like, “why the fuck am I still locked in?”  There was a fight.  It happens all the time.  Nothing much to see here.

As I’m writing this, my cellie leans over the bed, looks down at me and says, “Matty, I hate my life.”  LOL…we say that a lot.  Kinda like FML.  Who am I to complain though?  I sold drugs.  I deserve this.  I’ll tell you one thing on this emotional Sunday, it’s definitely made me realize how great I really had it in the real world.

I realize my days seem boring and monotonous.  That’s because they are.  There’s nothing glamorous about jail.  Sure, I’ve met some cool guys here…but this is NOT a cool place to be.  My days are all the same…over and over…it would drive most people nuts.  Sure, there’s visit days, court trips and lawyer visits.  There’s gang wars, stabbings and fights…but even those start to seem regular when you’ve been locked up for so long.  What excites me now is knowing that any day now I’ll be moved to the next spot…out of this county bullshit…and on to the Feds.  Just doing my time…and keeping it moving.  Now if only those Feds would only come and get me…or better yet…how about they start by letting me out of this cell…must be nice…

Posted 07/05/2011 by Matty McDonald in Uncategorized

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They say “you learn who your true friends are when you’re in the hospital, in prison, or in the ground.”  Considering I’m in the best physical shape of my life…and I’m definitely not dead yet…that quote only applies to one aspect of my life.  Nonetheless, this experience thus far has opened my eyes to so much and has made me realize what’s truly important in my life–my family and of course, my friends.  What I wouldn’t give to even be free for just one day…so I could spend some time with the ones I hold most dear to me.  I’ve only gotten to interact with my fam and friends through glass for the past 14 months.  It sucks…let me tell you.  Can’t the kid get a hug? lol  (FYI–the next stop on my journey will have contact visits…just another reason I am anxious to get transferred).  Anyways, the reason for this is to express how I took so much of my life for granted, and now when I can’t even do something simple like having lunch with my Mom, Auntie and Grandpa on a Saturday, enjoy Sunday dinners, or take in a ball game with my boys…it really puts things in perspective.  Life is fucking short, and at a moment’s notice, you can be taken away from anything and everything you know and love, thrown in an orange jumpsuit, and lose all the simple pleasures in life that you probably take for granted.  It’s crazy to think about…but it can happen.  On that note fellas, if you’re reading this, have one for me!

On another note, while I’m here, I’d like to sincerely apologize once again to my friends, and most importantly, my family…for ALL of my actions…not just the drug dealing over the years that led me to this foreign land of embarrassment and shame.  I realize that my current situation has been nothing but a burden on all of your lives.  A lot of you tried to warn me early on of this possible outcome to no avail, but I didn’t listen early enough.  I’d say, “just a little more money and I’ll quit.”  I said that one too many times.  I was a know-it-all who knew nothing.  There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret getting into that business.  I just want you all, especially my Mom, Mike, Auntie and Grandpa, to know how truly sorry I am.  I’ve said it before…but for now…words are merely words.  It’s my actions, after all of this is over, that will define the true remorse I feel for letting you all down.

I’ve already reached out to the others who deserved an apology from me.  I don’t need to share that with the world…it’s something private that I’d like to keep between me and them…but they know who they are.

When I started selling drugs, all I could see was the fast abundance of money and the free highs I could put myself on.  I never thought prison would be the end of that chapter…but alas…here I am.  You know, I’ve been here roughly14 months now.  If someone would have told me 15 months ago that I’d be spending the next 36 months in Federal Prison, I would have probably laughed in their face.  Like I said before, I had already quit all of that nonsense.  I thought I was untouchable.  I was an asshole.  I’m working on that…I promise.  While I was speeding through life, I didn’t take the time to think about all the people I may have run over.  Quite frankly, I don’t expect everyone to forgive my past mistakes…and I guess that’s my punishment…but I felt like it was time to grow up and start taking responsibility for my actions.

I’m actually very lucky compared to most inmates.  Considering what an asshole I used to be, I still have a lot of great people in my life.  I recently had a chance to sit down and read a copy of each and every character letter that friends and family had written on my behalf to the judge, asking him for leniency.  I gotta admit, that on more than one occasion, I got pretty choked up by all of the kind words that people had to say about me.  Words cannot express the gratitude and thanks that I feel inside.  I am very blessed to have such a great core group of people in my corner.  Whether it be your letters, pictures, phone calls (the cost is robbery…I might add), visits, or whatever you have done to reach out to me when I was at my absolute lowest, just know that I truly appreciate all of it.  You’d never think something so small like a letter from a loved one or a friend could mean so much and really brighten my day, but it does.  It’s probably nothing to all of you, but it means the absolute world to me.  I get my mail delivered at 6PM daily here, along with my Boston Herald and the various magazines I subscribe to, and it’s probably my favorite time of day.  Crazy…I know…but it’s true.  I just want to say I appreciate everything people have done for me thus far.

It’s crazy how one second, you’re going through life, in one relationship and out of another, at one party and looking forward to the next, working every day, basically just living life…then it all comes to a complete halt.  It really put things into perspective for me, so I had to let the ones that are riding this through with me know how blessed and appreciated I really feel.  Appreciation…that’s a funny word.  Before all of this, I didn’t appreciate shit.  I didn’t grow up rich by any means, but I never wanted for anything.  I was an only child…enough said.  Even later in life, things always sorta came easy to me.  I never had to really work for love.  Friends, women, pretty much anything I set my sights on…all came easily.  I guess it’s a gift and a curse at the same time.  But…I just want you all to know how much I appreciate your love and friendship.  I will NEVER forget any of this…and I hope to someday repay you all in some way…just not with money…cause I owe the Feds $50,000…lol.

People don’t change overnight…but they do grow over time.  I can say that I am growing.  Hey…it’s a start.  I’ve done a lot of crazy shit in my day…but looking back…I was just a kid.  Believe me, I know that’s no excuse.  I now try and take others’ feelings into consideration before I act.

Sometimes when I write these blog entries, I feel a lot of pressure to make it better than my last.  It’s like I have so much to say, but I don’t want to say it all in one day.   Then I think, fuck it…I’m saying what’s on my mind at the given point when I write it.  If it’s insightful or witty…then so be it…if it lacks something…whatever…there’s always the next blog.  I have tons of stories to tell about my 14 months here…both good and bad.  I also have a lot to share regarding how I ended up here…so please…stay tuned…this might take a while…

To all my true friends and my family…143!

Posted 06/22/2011 by Matty McDonald in Uncategorized

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Memorial Day just came to an end.  While most people I know were partying, on vacation or at family barbecues, I spent my holiday weekend in jail…still waiting to be transferred to my next stop.  This is my second Memorial Day spent here…and quite frankly…it doesn’t get any easier.  To be perfectly honest…it pretty much sucks.  The central A/C is broken on my cell block, and considering the heat and humidity we’ve been having, it’s about 100 degrees in here.  Imagine, there’s 120 guys on this cell block…it’s not pleasant.  It’s not like we can go take a dip in the prison pool to cool off…lol.

My boy Sean came to see me over the holiday weekend.  It was a pleasant visit.  We had some laughs and a pretty good conversation.  We spoke of life, future plans and Memorial Days of the past.  I’m not gonna lie…thinking of the past Memorial Day weekends got me kinda down.  Other than this year and last year spent in jail, I’d usually be away on vacation.

That’s what has me thinking back…to where all this shit started.  If memory serves me correctly (considering I have done a lot of drugs over the past few years) I believe it was a Memorial Day weekend that I got my first taste of what it was like becoming an overnight D-list celebrity.  Basically, it led to a series of poor choices that ultimately landed me in Federal Prison.

Without going into too much detail, I was out in Vegas with a few of my friends from Boston, right after BB9 ended.  I had been to Vegas a few times prior to that, always having a fun time, but that time in particular was different.  It was the first time I was there as a reality TV personality.  It was crazy.  I mean, here I was, prior to all of this TV nonsense, a regular guy, working construction, going to college, then suddenly…overnight…I was recognized everywhere I went, signing autographs, taking pictures with fans, being paid to show up at places, women throwing themselves at me…it was pretty surreal.  Along with all of this new found fame, came all of the perks:  comped hotel rooms, free booze, parties and clubs….and being exposed to lots and lots of drugs.  A lot of doors opened up for me, and on that particular Memorial Day weekend, a lot of ropes opened up in Vegas.  It was the fast life…the life of a celebrity…the life I always wanted…or so I thought.

Nobody could have prepared me for any of that madness.  I was 24-years old…tossed in the deep end…way over my head…with no floaties…and sadly…I couldn’t swim.  But that didn’t stop me…I wanted it all…I wanted more.  In a world filled with so many people, I wanted to matter.  I got a taste of that life in Vegas…and that hunger came back to Boston with me.

I started going out all the time…partying like a maniac…like 6 or 7 days a week…doing all sorts of drugs.  I thought, “Hey, I’m a celebrity…I’m entitled…right?”  I was really soaking up my 15 minutes.  It had me up on a high in itself.  That fame was like a drug that I almost overdosed on.  When the show ends, you’re on this high…on top of the world…at least I was anyway.  I will admit it all went to my head.  I didn’t want to hear shit from anyone.  My head was so big…I probably could’ve floated away.  I thought I was the man…boy was I wrong.

Like all highs, eventually you come down.  I was becoming yesterday’s news…and I hated it.  To most, it probably wouldn’t be so bad. Like, “Hey…back to regular life…that was fun!”  But for me, it was awful.  It might sound crazy to you, but I yearned for that feeling again.  I couldn’t accept that the ride was coming to an end…or at least a pause….until I could make a move out west.  That’s when I got introduced to this little blue pill, a percocet 30mg, an oxycodone, a blueberry, whatever name familiarizes you with what I’m talking about, by my former friend in Florida…and my life would never be the same.

One pill…that’s all it took…and I was right back up there…I was the man again.  I started taking a pill on a Saturday night with a few cocktails, then on a Friday & Saturday, then on Thursday, Friday & Saturday, then on a Monday…to watch the game…then on a Wednesday…just because it was Wednesday.  Eventually, I started taking them every day…not realizing I was addicted.  Besides, I was back on Big Brother 10…as a guest this time around…so I was in the spotlight again…and these pills only enhanced it.  I was still trying to keep up with this pseudo-Hollywood lifestyle.  I was taking and sniffing a few pills per day.  I thought, “I’m in control.  Me…an addict?  Nah…I’m Matty from BB9.”

I racked up around $80,000 in debt.  My back was against the wall.  I had to keep up this facade.  I had to keep up appearances, this lifestyle, this image, and with my new found drug addiction…so I started selling these pills in bulk.  I took more trips, bought another car, another watch, sniffed more pills.  I was in control…wasn’t I?  I womanized, I lied, I was living a double life…and my habit only got worse.  I kept telling myself I was in control.  I sold more, lied more, sniffed and took more pills.  I won’t go into much detail of the drug dealing because in NO WAY am I trying to glamorize it.  However, I do have to mention it a little, to show how I kept getting deeper and deeper over my head.  I’m embarrassed and ashamed to even admit that at one point of my life, that was my profession–drug dealer.

My habit continued to get worse, as did my spending.  While I was selling drugs and making money, I became more of an asshole.  My own friends didn’t like the person I had become.  Addiction took over my life.  I was taking roughly 15 pills per day…and that was merely to feel normal…to not be sick.  No one knew how bad my addiction was.  I hid it well.  I went tanning, I abused steroids, I had money.  I didn’t think I was a drug addict.  I was in total denial.  People would ask me what I was doing with my life.  I didn’t care.  All I cared about was that I drove a Lexus and had a nice apartment.  I thought I was fine.  I needed help.  My life was spiraling out of control.  I was a mess.

I went back to working construction.  I needed some structure in my life…a paycheck.  I was fooling no one.

Thinking back, those pills that once made me a social butterfly turned me into a social recluse.  I worked all week, then flew down to Florida on the weekends to pick up more pills…just to allow me to function at work all week.  I was stuck in a pretty vicious cycle.  I used to ask myself, “When is this gonna end?”

I was lying to my family…lying to my friends.  I needed help.  I was probably a few weeks away from death…who knows?  I was no longer the man…not sure I ever really was.  It was time to take the first step…admitting I had a problem.

I reached out to the same family and friends I had been lying to.  I can still remember that one particular day, when I was getting out of the shower in mid-August 2009.  I looked in the mirror, and for the first time in my life, I hated the person staring back at me.  Who had I become?  What happened to my ambition…my drive?  My life had turned to drugs.  I wanted the Hollywood life…and all I got was the drug addiction.  I got the help I needed.  It wasn’t easy…but I did it.  I cleaned up my act and cut ties with all the negative influences in my life.  I was on my way.  That was in August 2009.  I got indicted in April 2010.  The past always catches up with you.

I have never felt better.  I have to admit this has probably been the most eye opening, humbling experience of my life.  I never truly realized how great my life was until I lost it all.  I may have been on the right path long before I got indicted, but in a way, I feel as though I needed to go through this in order to learn a life-long lesson…to fully understand the consequences of my actions.  It’s pretty ironic…a few years ago I was on the TV screen, being watched by the very same inmates, who I now sit next to while watching Big Brother.  Talk about a mind fuck, but just goes to show you it can happen to anyone.

I’ll write again soon to give you all a more detailed explanation of a typical day here.  For now, I’ll leave you with a piece of my story.  I’m not making excuses for my actions, nor am I saying that my drug addiction was caused from being on a reality show.  I made bad choices.  I chose to go down the wrong path.  I am not telling my story in the hopes of getting back in the limelight.  This is my way of giving back…and hoping that I may be able to reach out and help someone.  I am merely trying to give you an insight into how I went from Big Brother to the Big House.


My name is Matthew McDonald, Federal Inmate #92254-038.  You may or may not remember me, most notably as Matty from Big Brother.  Yes, I am one of the idiots from the show who got caught up in a large-scale drug conspiracy.  If that doesn’t refresh your memory, let me tell you a little bit about myself.  I was on Season 9 of Big Brother and appeared as a guest on Season 10.  I’ve also been on Fear Factor and had a few other guest spots, but that was a few years ago and not really relevant to this.

I was indicted by a Federal Grand Jury on April 27, 2010 and arrested by the DEA that very same day for conspiracy to possess with the intent to distribute a whole boat load of oxycodone pills.  That day wasn’t fun…let me tell you…but I’ll talk more about that down the line.  I had no absolutely no criminal record prior to that, but was denied bail/bond by the Feds due to the fact I was accused of a domestic assault a few days prior to my indictment and because I was supposedly a flight risk?  I really can’t talk about the domestic charges because the case is still pending, but I want to firmly maintain my innocence.  Listen, I may have been a drug dealer at one point in my life, but I DO NOT hit women.  I love women.  I may have been an asshole when it came to matters of the heart, but I don’t hit–it’s just not who I am.

Anyway, as far as the drug charges are concerned, I pled guilty in January of 2011, and I was recently sentenced by Chief US Judge Mark Wolf in Federal Court on May 11, 2011.  He imposed a sentence of 36 months in Federal prison, to be followed by 5 years of supervised release, with mandatory drug testing and a hefty $50,000 fine.  The judge was quoted saying, “Mr. Mcdonald, you’ll probably end up back on TV after this is all said and done, so you’ll be able to pay this fine off in one lump sum.”  Umm…does anyone have 50K I can borrow?  lol

I could have taken my case to trial, and made the government prove its case against me, but I didn’t.  Even though there was NO physical evidence against me–all they had was a couple of cooperating witnesses (aka rats), some bank records and transactions, and my travel records–during the period of which I was accused.  I knew I had to look inside myself, “man up”, and admit what I did.  It was time to start taking responsibility for my actions and stop blaming others for my wrongdoings.  It was the only way to truly move past this, so I pled guilty.  However, it still hurts like hell to know who cooperated against me.  For someone to throw away a lifelong friendship in return for a couple of years shaved off of a prison sentence…I don’t know…that’s not something I would do.  I’m not mad…just hurt.  It is what it is.

Here I am today, blogging my journey through Federal Prison.  While most people who are or were in the limelight usually shy away and hide when they get in trouble or sent to prison, I am doing the exact opposite.   I want to use this as a chance to share my experience with the world.  I realize I have made MANY mistakes and have lacked good judgment, to say the least.  I am using my time now as my opportunity to maybe reach out if only to one person.  To use my errors as an example of what not to do…or to anyone who is currently addicted…look at my story.  I overcame addiction.  Yes, I still landed in prison, but that’s not the point.  America is inundated with people addicted to these pills.  I myself was once addicted…and in a bad way.  It is an epidemic…but it can be beaten.

The judge said something to me at my sentencing that really had an impact on me.  He said, “Mr. McDonald, you stood here before me today and told me how you got swept up in the fast life and how these pills ruined your life.  Mr. McDonald, you sold thousands and thousands of pills.  You had a lucrative business, which you did quit in August of 2009, but you could have stopped a year prior.  Let me ask you, how many people’s lives do you think you ruined in that time period?”  He was so right.  I had never looked at it like that before.

Let me get something straight before I go on.  I sold pills in bulk from roughly May 2008 to about August 2009.  I am not denying that.  However, I did quit selling and using drugs on my own.  I did this long before any of my other co-conspirators got in any trouble.  I realized I wasn’t living right and straightened out my life.  They kept on going until they got caught.  This is partly the reason why the judge sentenced me to 36 months, instead of the 70 months the DA was asking for.

As far as what the judge said to me, those are words that really opened my eyes.  I mean, I’ve always looked at it as being all about me.  I sold drugs, I got addicted, I cleaned up, I got in trouble.  I got so addicted to the whole “fast life” after the show:  money, cars, trips, women, drugs, and my then new found fame…faster than I got addicted to those pills.  I never took into account where all these pills were going and whose lives I was ruining while I was making money.  It sickens me to even think about it.  For that, I truly apologize.  Unfortunately, I can’t change the past.  I am paying for it now…but I can change my future.  So here I am.  Just as others helped me through my recovery, I hope to pay it forward.  As time goes on, I will be here via third party to blog about my experience through the Federal Prison System…until my release.  I don’t have internet access, only e-mail, hence the third party.  Also, for anyone who wants to write me, my address will be changing frequently, as I move from prison to prison, around the US.   I will update my address as I move.  For now, here is my current mailing address:

Essex County Correctional Facility

P.O. Box 807

Matthew McDonald – MSA #0686127

Unit 240C – Cell 702

Middleton, MA 01949-2807

Posted 05/28/2011 by Matty McDonald in Uncategorized

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