Up in Smoke

 

THIS BLOG WAS WRITTEN IN JANUARY, 2015.

 

            They locked another college student up the other day – “Leo,” a short guy who’s been down much too long – almost fifteen years (with a one year break in there) with nine more to go. “Dirty Urine” was the reason. He – and another guy named “Lefty” – were packed up New Year’s Eve. And, they’re guilty; they know it; the investigators know it; everyone in the building knows it. They were part of the regular group of ten to twelve guys going out in a pack, every day at the same time, huddled together – or worse, hanging out around the three port-o-johns on the rec yard.

            They get busted – no brainer for the investigators – and rumors fly that there’s a “rat” in the building. It’s always a “snitch,” has to be, they’ll tell you. You think you can get away with it, it’s all well-planned, you know what you’re doing, and just like that it goes up in smoke.

            I have no doubt there are snitches in the building. There are some guys who are too comfortable with the officers and it borders on fraternizing. There are guys who love stealing “private” moments in the building vestibule with a particular female officer; or, they stop the CO at their cut and laugh and joke for ten, fifteen minutes. They forget why the CO is on the floor; worse, the CO who feigns professionalism – and yet DOC may be the most unprofessional uniformed group in state employment – likewise gets too cozy with the inmate. It’s toxic; it’s potentially dangerous; it always causes trouble.

            And these guys talk and they say things about others that they shouldn’t. Almost every one of those guys is slow – by slow I mean not bright. Worse, they lack connection with family or friends outside; they lack connection with the “real” world. They substitute communication with those outside for phony relationships with those in charge.

            Ironically, they aren’t the snitches. Don’t get me wrong, they tell. No, snitching is done more subtlety. It’s done with anonymous “notes.” Scores are settled. Want to get even? Drop a note. There is a constant undercurrent of suspicion and accusation inside the fence. “He’s a snitch,” is almost always followed by a loud, obscene, denial from the targeted. Snitching – or the paranoia generated by the thought of a rat in your midst – creates tension and stress.

            Back to the lock up. So, the guys get busted and talk immediately centers on “who told.” Small groups gather around the dorm trying to figure out who fingered “Leo.” “Someone had to tell,” becomes the mantra. After all, they “piss tested” every user not once, but twice, in a week’s time. I sit back and watch with bemused thought. Like “Pogo” said, “we have met the enemy, but he is us.”

            We are not good at doing wrong. Ten guys who go outside, together, and huddle around each other will always draw the attention of the tower. Smoke in the bathroom and the aroma heads toward the doors. You don’t need a snitch to tell you who’s using. All you need to do is look.

            Before he was locked up “Leo” came to talk to me. “If they get me will I be let back in school?” I saw fear in his face. For most of his life, “Leo” had let his mom down. He was in and out of trouble with the law; there was drug use and a short prison sentence in his teens; released, he gets back on drugs and commits robbery and now is sentenced to real time – years, decades, not months. His mom was always there.

            He started college and appeared – anyway – to be “getting right.” He made A’s in all his classes. In a presentation in class he spoke about “bad thinking” and the resulting damage it caused. Then, drugs became too easy to get in here – weed, coke, heroin, pills – and he started smoking. And, all that work, all that “growth” and “change” went up in smoke.

            He says he’s quitting school. “I don’t want to be living with snitches,” he told a guy while they were taking him out. Other “smokers” parroted his words. “I’m not going to college with a bunch of rats.” I shake my head. Short-sighted thinking, bad self-analysis of what matters, these are the trademarks of most people behind bars: misevaluation of the risks and the consequences, misjudgment of long-term prospects. Is smoking a little weed more important that getting your education? So you quit school and move to another building – just like this one with the same caliber of men whose character is already suspect – and you think you can get high without repercussions and still leave prison with opportunities for decent  work? Yeah, you’re smoking something alright. You’ve let reality go up in smoke.

            What will “Leo” do? My gut tells me he’ll be back. First time dirty urine gets you ten, maybe fifteen days. He won’t want to call home and say “Mom, I screwed up again. I quit school because I got caught getting high.” No, he’ll come back. The other guys? I’m not so sure. Inmates are known to do stupid things, just look at me.

            Up in smoke. Prisons claim they are in the business of rehabbing errant citizens. Most of us will leave this place (over 90% of Virginia’s incarcerated are released), but as I watch men repeat the same short-sighted thinking that put them here, I wonder, will it ever change? Will they ever change?

            Snitches cause tension. But, bad-thinking, impulsive, short-sighted behavior is what keeps places like this full, and dreams and decent lives go on … up in smoke.