Shakedown

My bunkmate suffered through a shakedown yesterday. It’s a part of prison life, but it’s never pleasant. By the time the shakedown is completed, everything you possess is rifled through. He had been pretty well stocked with stuff. When they finished going through everything in his foot locker, wall locker, in and under his bed, they had filled a trash bag. As the Deltas screamed in Animal House “they even took stuff he didn’t steal.”



Why’d they shake him down? Great question. Here is a basic truth about prison life: prison discipline couldn’t exist without inmate snitches. There is nothing worse in prison than being labeled a “snitch” – a guy who will rat out fellow inmates to curry favor with the administration.


Snitches are hated and feared because they can bring unnecessary heat on you from the investigators. And, many times they provide their information “anonymously”. A note will be slid under the sergeant’s door and within an hour or so; the investigators – decked out in blue surgical gloves – appear and begin the process of reminding you you have zero privacy or freedom while locked up.


Most “police work” done in prison is based on information provided by snitches. Here’s the weird thing (though you probably expect this already), snitch tips are very unreliable. Most times a note ends up dropped, it is because an inmate is “beefin” (fighting with) another inmate. Why get in a fight with a guy when instead you can just “drop a note” and bring heat on him?


That’s what it looks like happened to my bunkmate. He ticked off the wrong person and here came the investigators. And, the shakedown was intense. They tore through his stuff like they were looking for something specific. This shakedown wasn’t about brownie mix, pizza dough or eggs (he just bought 8 fresh eggs from a guy in the kitchen. He had arranged for broccoli and onions to come in so I could make him a quiche with a Ritz cracker crust). All his food, his spices and sauces, anything he didn’t pay for is gone.


That may not be the end of it. He could get a charge. There are two levels of charges: 100 level and 200 level. 100 level charges are serious: fighting, escape, and stealing to name a few. You get charged with a 100 level offense and you go to the “hole” (solitary), lose your job, get thrown out of school and possibly face actual criminal charges and get your security level increased (meaning they move you to a higher level prison). 200 level charges are more like demerits: contraband is the most often cited (and anything not issued to you or bought by you is contraband). Level 200 charges involve loss of privileges: no rec or commissary for 30 days, or fines ($6.00 or $12.00).


Here’s the thing: every inmate could be written a contraband charge every single day they’re locked up. We all have bowls, or books, or pens, or shirts we didn’t pay for or have issued to us. The CO’s don’t care. Guys having a few extras helps keep thing running smoothly. What they care about is when guys start stealing in bulk from the kitchen and putting it out there that they’re living above everyone else.


I suspect that’s what happened here. My bunkmate’s been running his mouth about how much stuff he had and how no one could catch him. Pride is a terrible affliction and the only treatment sometimes is a big dose of humility. He’s going through that right now.


Meanwhile, everyone’s paranoid about the source of the shakedown. That’s the effect snitches have on this environment. Yet, for all the talk about guys hating snitches, most guys in prison would rat out another inmate in a heart beat. Loyalty is much stronger on the street. Case in point, Big S and I are about the only two guys in here who didn’t “name names” when we were arrested. Neither of us wanted to cause trouble for anyone else.


So, Big S and I keep our lockers clean. And my bunkmate? He’s been talking a good deal to the CO‘s.