When you hear the word "prison," what is the first thing that pops into your head? Richard Kimble from The Fugitive in an orange jumpsuit, handcuffs and leg irons? Or perhaps Timothy McVeigh entering a courtroom with his smirk and beige uniform? Y-Press recently saw the actual thing. We interviewed three teens serving sentences in the Wabash Valley Correctional Facility, which is an adult prison. The juveniles are separated from the adult inmates. The teens wear beige jumpsuits but do not always wear handcuffs.

When we entered the prison, we were patted down and had to put all our belongings in a locker, then walk through metal detectors. As we went through door after door, our nerves started to rattle. Finally we arrived at the room where the interview would be held.

Eric, 18, lived in Gary before he was charged with attempted murder and sentenced to 25 years in 1999:

"Before, I was with my mom and my son. My mom used to tell me to always go to school and don't hang (with the wrong crowd). . . . I didn't listen to none of that; I did what I wanted to. Guess where it got me? I'm in here for something I didn't do. . . .

"I've got only two visits, and I've been here a year. . . . My mom, she works two jobs, and it's a long drive down here. . . . A lot of times, I tell her she ain't got to come. I just talk to her on the phone.

"On Christmas, I just celebrate by calling home. . . .

"Prison is what you make (it). It ain't always bad as people think it is. In the sense it depends on how you carry yourself. If you carry yourself in a good way, you ain't gonna have no problems.

"I got faith. I know I'm getting out. This ain't bad. I ain't got that long. There's a GED class. I'll be getting my GED in a couple of weeks. (If I weren't in here), . . . my life would probably (revolve) around my son. I've got a son who's 2 years old, and I want nothing but the best for him. So I'd probably be working, looking after him, going to school. . . .

"I'll go to schools, do speeches. I mean I have to do stuff like that, probably speak to our community to let them know that school is important, you know, listen to your mama and stuff like that. I know it's gonna be hard -- I've been to prison. And a lot of people ain't gonna hire me. That's why I gotta get my college education while in here, doing my time, doing something with it."

Chet, 18, was sentenced to 20 years for robbery and serious bodily injury in Wayne County. He's been at Wabash Valley for a year:

"My crime haunts me every day because basically I messed up my life completely. I destroyed my parents. . . . I made another person's life a complete disaster. I hurt their family. . . .

"Every time my mom comes down to see me, when she leaves, she breaks down. . . . You only get a few hours every couple of weeks. . . .

"When I was at home, (I) could wake up, do whatever I wanted to through the course of the day. Here, you wake up, and you're in a cell. They tell you what time to eat, and when you can go outside. . . .

"One day just melts into the next, the weeks melt into months, the months into years. It's just I don't think about it. I just think about the day that I get out . . . and I get to walk out of that gate. . . . I start college in the fall.

"Sometimes scary stuff can happen. You know, people do get stabbed; some people get beat up. It's part of prison and part of life. It happens everywhere. The problem is whether or not you bring it upon yourself, 'cause if you act the fool you can bring it upon yourself. . . .

"Getting mail, you sit there and you wait for the guard to come by, and some days he won't have nothing for you. The next thing you know, he'll come by and slide something under the door, and it's like from your grandma or your parents. . . . That brings your hope up, and that's the main thing -- just getting hope. That's what we need.

"I'm glad I messed up early instead of messing up later on 'cause now I have the advantage to straighten up, get out and go on with my life. . . . I might not have had the chance to go to college if I was on the outs. . . .

"You gotta realize that no matter what people think, it was your fault. It's not the judge, it's not the prosecutor, it's not the public defender that did a crappy job. It's your fault. You're the one that committed the crime."

Jamone, 15, is from Fort Wayne. He was convicted of voluntary manslaughter and started serving a 24-year sentence in December. He has a twin brother:

"(My mother) is gonna stand by my side whatever I do, whether I'm wrong or right. . . . (I was) trying to be hard, a gang banger. . . . I scarred my mother and I've scarred my father, and that's my fault. . . .

"The (victim's) family . . . sometimes they send me money, sometimes they write me, sometimes they send cards. And you know, it's like you don't know what they want from you. You don't want to ask them what they want from you. And they try to get on my visitor list, but I refuse to let them get on the visitor list 'cause I feel like I shouldn't have to see them and talk to them about it. I did wrong.

"You just can't get up here and go to the refrigerator. . . . Basically, you're locked in the cell all day . . . You got to ask (the guards) can you do this. . . . They tell us what to do. . . .

"I got a brother up here, that's it. I don't got friends. My mother had to drive for eight hours (to visit). . . . I got to call her, I got to write her; I ran the phone bill up to $2,000. That's a lot of money just to be wasting on phone calls. Other people got to carry on with their life. It's not always about you. . . .

"You've got to put on your job application that you've been in prison or that you're on parole. . . . They gonna look at that and say, 'Well, he's an ex-con and he been to prison, . . . and be like, 'We can't hire you because you got a felony.' I plan to go to church and then go to schools, go anywhere to tell about how you best find more skills. I'm gonna be out on the streets telling them."

REPORTERS: Evan Daniluck, 13; Perri McKinley, 11; Greg Minkner, 11; Stephanie Ray, 10.