Empathy 101

The prison’s warden, a 56 year-old African American woman, was killed in a two vehicle accident in a small town, ten miles from here, Thursday evening. At 6:00 am Friday the entire compound knew. First, the details of the accident made the morning news. Initial reports indicated the warden ran a stop sign and was struck broadside by the second vehicle. The warden was dead at the scene. The two people in the second vehicle were seriously injured.



At 6:00 am count, the day shift officers arrived with black tape on their badge. By 8:00, a memo was up in the building from the assistant warden. As with so many “Dear Offender” memos, this one also misjudged the mood of the prison population.


It began: “We regret to inform you. . .” Honestly, there weren’t a great deal of regrets being expressed around the compound.


“Maybe we’ll get chicken and ice cream tonight. . .”
“Karma’s a bitch man. . .”
“F--- her and all the cops. . .”


Harsh? Yes. Shocking to your senses? Absolutely. But, before you get indignant, consider that on the day Ms. Lewis was executed in the Virginia death chamber less than four months ago, pro-death penalty advocates applauded. Consider that it was recently reported that 70,000 Iraqi civilians were “casualties” of our nation’s war effort with little if any public remorse exhibited. I write that in embarrassment knowing I supported both the war in Afghanistan and the war in Iraq.


I pass no judgment on your view of capital punishment or use of military force. I have come full circle on both issues. My prison experience has taught me faith in God means an avoidance of violence in all forms. But that’s my view.


No, I point these things out because I’ve come to the conclusion we have become woefully lacking in empathy. We refuse to seek understanding of someone else’s feelings. “Screw them. Nobody cares how I feel.”


Guys in here use macabre humor and downright gloating when bad things happen to people they blame for their circumstances. Four cops shot in Detroit, guys cheer. Almost every inmate has a story of how the police took advantage of them. Stories of crooked police appear almost nightly in the paper. USA Today ran a series of stories on prosecutorial misconduct. Yet, guys in here continue to struggle to get their story told.


A young kid in the building showed me a picture the other night. He was at a party. There was a girl in the picture. She was obviously high and she was hanging on him. I recognized her. She has filled in here as a CO.


“I met her at Nottoway (a level 4 prison) on my last bid. She was on duty up there. I got out and started dealin’ coke. Got called to a party. Sold a lot of eight balls (3.5 grams). She saw me. I banged her for three days and kept her in coke.” He then got busted on a probation violation – dirty urine. She’s still working as a CO, eight ball and all.


There’s a senior officer here who’s had four (yes four) DUIs. He pulled no jail time and is still working here. Guys here see that and realize the system’s rigged.


Meanwhile, the people on the street demand politicians “get tough on crime”. After all, criminals aren’t good people; criminals are scum.


We live in a course, degraded world and it’s getting worse. Funny thing is prisons just mirror society. Some of the most popular magazines sell precisely because they expose our human foibles. We love when people fail. We love other’s misery. Pretty sick, yet pretty prevalent.


To guys in here the warden represents the machine that is keeping them in this hell. She represents, she controls, the officers that shake us down, strip search us, watch us urinate. Is it rational? No. But then again, neither was my glee when I heard Saddam Hussein was hung or my sentence.


Later in the day I overheard guys say “you know she wasn’t that bad a warden”. Other guys were contemplating the suddenness of her passing. “Man, when your number’s called, it’s time.” The initial jokes passed, most men thought about the “what if” in here. “What if I get a call about my family? My parents?”


Empathy is an interesting thing. You suddenly gain understanding of a person’s problems. You’re more likely to show mercy and forgive.


Two and a half years ago I thought I knew right from wrong. I was quick to pass judgment on others (quick to ignore my own sins). Then, I started meeting murderers and armed robbers. I talked to drug dealers and drug addicts. I discovered no two men were the same. I found some I grew to care deeply about. They became friends. Others I just couldn’t stand. But, I learned to listen. I learned to hear.


There is evil in the world and we should confront it and defeat it. But, we should never gloat over anyone’s suffering. At least, that’s the lesson I’ve learned in here.