Prison sweet prison

Horace Caraker doesn't belong in federal prison. But he likes it there, and he'll threaten a president if it means going back.

Then, in three separate incidents, he got drunk at Baylor Hospital, was arrested for criminal trespassing on hospital grounds, and got busted for exposing himself to a female patient at Baylor. He pleaded guilty to every charge.

That's how he ended up in Beaumont. And that's why every single person who's ever dealt with Horace Caraker insists he will be back again. He doesn't want help. He wants a prison bed.

"We'll see him again," insists federal prosecutor Tom Hamilton. "He won't cooperate or follow the rules. He won't take his medicine, and he does what he wants to do, so he has limited self-control. I don't know if that's a medical defect or if he's one of these people who doesn't give a rat's ass. And I don't think there's a perfect situation for him. I think society, with all of our tax dollars, has done everything for this guy. He's been placed with a religious organization, got monetary and medical support, living assistance. It's pretty difficult to think what else society could do with its tax dollars to make life more pleasant for him."

Caraker swears to God this is the last time. He swears he's through with prison, through threatening presidents. But he says that all the time. He goes back to prison, then mutters some regrets. Even he knows he will probably die behind bars, whether he wants to or not.

It's easy to see why even his lawyers express frustration with Caraker. He is indeed like a child, still his mommy's little baby. One second, he talks about not wanting to go home in the "proverbial pine box"; he insists he wants help. Then, in the next breath, he says he would rather die than go to drug- and alcohol-addiction meetings.

One way or another, Horace Caraker will get what he wants. He always does.

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