You Can't Spell it without D-O-C

You can’t spell “department outsourcing” without DOC. We learned that again this week when memos were posted from the central office advising that on October 1, 2013 facilities will no longer accept money orders for deposits to inmate accounts. All funds sent in after that date will have to be mailed to either “JPay” at a Florida lockbox address or submitted electronically to JPay.

            

Who is JPay? It’s a stock company that’s part of the prison-industrial complex. Companies like JPay perform significant parts of DOC’s prison operation. They receive millions in fees from the states and the families of the incarcerated to handle many of the day to day functions inside prison. States will tell you its more cost effective. That would be a lie.

           

Like much that is wrong with the current state of government, so is DOC’s reliance on private contractors to handle prison-related work. The state prosecutes a person and then sentences a person to time in prison. The state is solely and wholly responsible for the inmate’s care and upkeep. Remember, it takes extraordinary effort to deprive a person of their God-given rights to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

           

But, in their rush to be tough on crime, politicians lie to the public about the true cost of depriving a man or woman of their freedom. In Virginia, it costs an average of almost $30,000 per year, per inmate. And the process is labor intensive. Add to that the condition of many of the inmates. A significant portion of the inmate population suffers from psychological disease or disorders. Take my bunkmate “Thomas.” “Thomas” suffers from schizophrenia. Every two weeks he gets an injection of Halcion, a very strong anti-psychotic drug to keep the “voices” still. By day twelve (of his fourteen day shot cycle) he begins to hear the voices again. Shot day and he is in full blown psychosis. The shot brings him back.

            

Mornings and evenings Thomas takes pills to assist him with his mental disease. Miss a day and he’s a mess. Thomas isn’t an aberration in here. He is one of perhaps two hundred men who daily take psychotropic meds.

            

Should prison be used to house the mentally ill? That’s another day’s blog. But, DOC has outsourced medical care inside prison. And, the medical care is abysmal. Medications routinely run out. The on-site physician serves as a “gate keeper.” He and he alone, decides who gets to see a specialist. That explains why young men with burst appendixes are returned to the building (only to be rushed later to the hospital); why cardiac distress is misdiagnosed until a massive heart attack occurs; and why cancer is not diagnosed until stage three or four.

            

Companies bid on the medical care. The goal is to see as many patients as possible, as quickly as possible, without sending them to a specialist. Under that arrangement quality medical care is sacrificed. Worse, the state still pays. Medical costs for inmates have grown dramatically since DOC began outsourcing care.

           

Back to the JPay money order issue. Here’s the socio-economic “reality” of prison life: most inmates come from lower socio-economic classes. America is a very class conscious society, contrary to what the politicians tell you. Poor people get poor legal advice; poor legal advice lands you in prison.

            

One of the main determiners of success post release is a support network of family and friends. Many of the incarcerated from poor families receive money: a twenty dollar money order here or there to buy hygiene products and stamps, or food. That little bit of money helps them survive in here. They lack the education – or skills – to earn forty-five cents an hour (top wage inside). They work part-time cleaning jobs at twenty-seven cents an hour, or ten dollars a month. Try buying deodorant, toothpaste, soap, and a razor on ten dollars. Try buying laundry detergent so your clothes don’t stink.

            

JPay charges three dollars on the first $50.00 sent in. There’s another three dollars on each fifty thereafter. For a family with limited financial means, those surcharges for the “privilege” of maintaining connection with your family behind bars, is a hardship. Unfortunately, it’s like that a lot in here. Phone rates are outrageous with huge kickbacks (aka commissions) being paid back to the states.

           

Companies in the prison-industrial complex make huge profits. They use those profits to contribute to political candidate campaigns who then vote in more sweetheart contracts. Meanwhile, the poor bleed more dollars; the taxpayers see more money wasted, money that could be used for better schools and better futures for the children of this state and nation.

            

Diverse groups, from the National Council of Churches and the ACLU to the “Right on Crime” organization and Grover Norquist’s tax reform group have united in their desire to see prison reform become a reality. For too many politicians, however, it’s easier to sign contracts with private contractors to carry out the basic responsibilities the state bears when it convicts and incarcerates a person.

            

Outsourcing prison functions is economic voodoo. It is also morally corrupt. It hides the true cost of sending a man or woman to prison. It increases the likelihood that a released felon will re-offend. Virginia DOC’s outsourced JPay plan is just another in a series of underhanded attempts by the department to sustain that which is unsustainable: $1.2 billion each year.

            

The actual cost of each outsourced contract should be publicly disclosed by DOC. And, no contract should be permitted that results in increased fees for the family and friends of those behind bars trying to stay in touch with inmates. Finally, companies under contract with state government agencies should be prohibited from providing “gifts” to politicians. Somehow I think if all that was implemented you’d see less outsourced contracts and less men and women behind bars.

Quick Hits this Week

DOC Loses Again



“USA Today” reported that DOC had “reached settlement with the National Lawyers Guild to allow distribution of the Guild’s Prison Lawyers Handbook to interested inmates.” This just another case brought, and won against DOC for censorship of publications.


In the last twelve months DOC has had their book censorship procedure declared unconstitutional and has agreed to change ordering procedures and allow inmates to receive both “Prison Legal News” (now available in the prison library) and the National Lawyers Guild self help manual.


All these settlements have come at a price to the taxpayers of Virginia. The state government bureaucracy refuses to concede anything to inmates. But, rights are rights.


You can lock someone up but you can’t take everything away from them. At least not yet anyway. Perhaps DOC should consider all the costs of their operation into the calculus.


Quitters and Whiners


I had an extremely frustrating week with the students in the IT program. The vast majority of these guys want A’s in their classes without putting in the requisite effort. They whine to the professors about how hard the assignments are and how much they have to do.


Here’s the thing, with the exception of 3 or 4 guys like Big S added to the program to improve the success rate, the vast majority of the students have no endurance and no motivation.


This program was designed to ensure at risk (most likely to recommit crime) inmates succeed. The problem is most “at risk” inmates are “at risk” because they lack not only the skills to succeed but the will.


I have pleaded, cajoled, praised and profaned many of these guys for the last two months. Our results after one “term” are encouraging: 36 students remain. Every student passed English lll and History; every student passed keyboarding. Five students are taking remedial math. The rest passed.


I am worn out! But at least I know Craig, DC and I made a difference. There’s no guarantee these guys will make it, but at least we gave them a shot.


Country Music TV


A few weeks ago a new digital channel was added to our cable network. “Country Music TV”. Big S has his set on it almost all day long.


I was never a big country music fan but now I find myself glued to the set asking Big S about the artist singing and writing down lyrics I hear. I have dozens of letters crafted in my mind to people I long to hear from; letters that I’ll never send using those lyrics to express my feelings better than anything I can write on my own.


But, too many of the videos, too many of the songs, hit too close to home. They remind me of love lost, of loneliness, of the family and life I miss so dearly. I watch in small doses. Sometimes it’s too painful.


Recently, I came across an artist named “Orianthi”. One of the guys had her CD and let me listen. In a letter I was told to listen to “According to You.” She sings about a new man who found her beautiful and witty. “Why aren’t you that man”, she asked? “According to you, I’m stupid. . .” I listened and my heart broke. I wasn’t the guy who said she was stupid, but somebody in their letter was telling me I was. Orianthi’s words pierced my soul. It was music as a weapon. I wanted to write the person and tell her “you know that’s not me,” but I couldn’t.


The second track began and I listened. Orianthi sang about “courage”. She described the effort it took to go on, to keep hoping. I turned the CD off, kept my mind off the videos.


I realized the answer wasn’t in a song lyric or video. I started to pray.

This and That This Past Week

Little things happen in here that when placed against the backdrop of “outside living” show how screwy prison life really is.



Prison is all about rules. There is a tension between the COs and the inmates over interpretation and enforcement of “the rules”. Inmates skirt them as best we can; officers look the other way (sometimes) or bust guys over the head.


The other day “Rock” – a vocational aide, was busted, sent to the hole and fired, all within about ten minutes time. His crime? He was caught listening to music CDs on his work computer. Rock was heading up the boulevard to work when he was pulled down by “13”. 13 is the number for the officer on boulevard duty. Every building, every location has a number to direct officers over the radio. Every inmate knows every code number as well.


This day, “13” was a real a—hole of an officer. As he patted down Rock, he discovered the CDs. Inmates are not allowed personal items not related to their jobs outside the building. 13 tells Rock to take the CDs back to his building; Rock tells 13 to go have relations with his mother. 13 calls the investigator. He goes to Rock’s desk in the classroom, sees the CDs and proceeds to haul Rock to the hole.


Here’s the thing. Every vocational aide has music loaded at work (things are different for academic aides). Rock forgot who he was dealing with. Most COs don’t sweat little stuff. 13 that day was one of the COs here who likes to throw their weight around. In a battle between officers and inmates, inmates almost always lose.


Officers and inmates hate paper pushers. There are some guys here who are notorious for “dropping paper” on everything. As I tell guys I work with, you have to pick your battles. Every day in here you face a set of illogical rules and regulations specifically in place to keep you contained and, in many ways, break your identity.


DOC lost a major censorship case a few months ago. As a result, inmates can now receive books and magazines paid for by friends and family. It used to be that every purchase had to go through property with about six different forms. I found ways back then to beat the system. My biggest way to “work around” DOC rules? I treat the officers with respect. I’m polite. Same with Big S and most of the guys I know.


Now, I get called to property (no paperwork filed) and the female officer says “Honey, looks like someone’s suprisin’ you with books.” But, not so for “breast pump” (called that because he has man boobs and insists on walking around in tank tops).


“Breast pump” is notorious for “dropping paper”. Anytime things don’t go his way, he sends in a grievance. He’s so bad about it, and considers himself “above the inmates” that one day Big S asked him “What’s your state number?” When BP gave it, Big S looked at him and said “So, you have a number just like everyone else.” The ironic thing about BP is, he’s in here for getting his eight year old stepdaughter to perform oral sex on him. He’s been persecuted (so he thinks); the rest of the guys in here are just scum.


COs hate paperwork. They have to respond and most COs, like most inmates, can’t write a simple sentence to save their lives. BP is a pain in their backsides. He files paper – they make his life miserable.


Breast Pump’s mom sent him books. Property won’t give them to him until he files “the proper forms”. As the officer told him “No request form, no books”. He’s pissed. He asked me what he should do. I told him, tongue in cheek, “file a grievance”.


The great fight in here last week proved once again that most inmates, for all their talk about hating snitches, will run their mouths to cover their own butts in a blink of an eye. Both guys were at fault. An argument turned into punches and BAM “Man” connects with a multiple combination to G’s face leaving it a bloody mess.


Fighting is usually a 200 series charge. Small penalty (10 days in the hole plus loss of visits). But, an assault is a 100 series (raised security level, removed from compound, loss of good time, possible street charges). You get in a fight you take the 200. That’s the rule – not for G. He wasn’t even to the hole before he told the investigator he was “minding his own buness” when he was jumped by Man. Result? G’s back in the barbershop working and Man is heading to a level 3 facility. Loyalty is in short supply, whether it be prison, marriage or just friendship. You find someone who will stick it out, “for better or worse”, and you hold on to them dearly.


G is a rat. Period. I knew the day I was arrested, it’s better to accept the blame yourself than spread it around. Every day you have to watch yourself in here for guys who will curry favor with the COs by talking. The system creates that mentality and it’s one of the worst things about prison.


Then there’s shopping. I had to order a new pair of running shoes. I kept the old pair over a year. “On the street”, I’d buy two new pair of $100 Asics every four months. In here, a $50 pair of Nike's does the trick. Making $54 a month, having 5% withheld (under a new state law requiring every inmate withhold that amount for court fines and restitution); 10% to savings and tithing 10% to a church, doesn’t leave me much. I’ve decided to get real boots, a pair of Levis, a denim shirt and a winter coat to replace the threadbare things DOC provides. Total cost: just under $300.


Back before my arrest I’d spend $300 in a day. I’d give my wife $1000 to go shopping with her friends; $200 for groceries at an upscale grocery; $100 to my son “for the weekend”. It will take over a year to get my clothes.


Money means something different in here. Now it’s to supplement a bland, poor diet and to get a few comforts of “outside living”. Things I used to take for granted – like a pair of Levis or Timberland boots – now matter. It’s an interesting way to learn the value of things.


I saw on the news this morning that a college kid was arrested at the Richmond airport for protesting TSA’s new aggressive pat down policy. He stripped down to nothing but running shorts. On his chest and back he wrote the words to the Fourth Amendment which says we are free from unreasonable searches. I found his protest encouraging, but misplaced.


After every visit I am subject to a strip search to make sure I’m not carrying any contraband. Every day going in and out of school, I’m subjected to pat downs. Leaving chow there is a random pat down.


Twice a year the investigators come in and shake us down and strip search everyone. You are subject to random drug screens with an officer standing directly beside you watching you urinate. Random locker checks happen each week.


It’s amazing what you learn to live with, including the loss of basic privacy and simple dignity. As I said before, I applaud the young man’s courage for challenging the TSA pat down. Yet, I expect this young man has a cell phone, a Facebook page, an email account. He probably uses credit cards. All these things allow someone to track you, invade your personal space.


In here I never have privacy. I use the bathroom in front of 95 other guys; same with the showers.


Privacy and freedom are wonderful concepts. I’ve realized how precious they are having lived in this environment. I’ve also come to realize folks “outside” don’t realize how little privacy and freedom they actually have.


Every week in here reinforces little pieces of the prison puzzle. Every week teaches me something I hadn’t given much thought to before my arrest. Every week offers a little more of this and that.

What a Place

My first full week in the “college dorm”. It won’t be a full college dorm for about another five weeks. So far, all the academic aides and mentors have moved in as have about 20 students. Three quarters of the building is left to go.



I’m fine anywhere, but I’ve seen things in here I hadn’t experienced in my old building.


Thursday morning two guys got into a fight (a real fight) right in the bunk cut. Blood went flying and both guys were drug out and CO’s packed their stuff. They’re celebrating Christmas and New Years in the hole. They won’t be back. Neither guy is in the college program. Two more open bunks.


We have one of the most flamboyant black gay guys in the compound still in here. “She” should be moving this week. “She” sits to pee. No joke. “She” swivels into the bathroom lisping “excuse me fellas”, then drops a squat.


The other day another gump was mad because she didn’t come out for “girl talk”. The young lady was deeply offended. “I’m out here freezin’ my titties off and KK – that bitch – is toastie.” Without missing a beat, the CO on duty on the rec yard said “honey, all women lie, even ones with balls.”


At least six times a day guys fire up little roll up cigarettes in the bathroom. For $2 of commissary you get a rolled up cigarette that gives you at most two quick puffs.


Then there’s the tattoo artist who’s putting sleeves (an entire arm) on guys with a homemade tat gun. He’s working ten hours a day on tats making a few hundred dollars a week.


There’s a barber operating shop on the floor. Cutting hair in the building is prohibited, except, apparently, in here. The guy is cutting hair with his radio wired into his TV speaker. Rap music blasting away (another prohibited act).


Then, there’s the “thug” smoking weed while he’s sitting on his bunk. No one says a word.


A friend of mine – Craig – discusses life on the “Eastside”. Craig has a Masters from Ohio University. A high school science teacher and assistant football coach, he did something needlessly stupid (a man after my own heart!). He’s almost 40 and eight years into 14 to serve.


He’s as quirky as I am (perhaps quirkier) and funny and brilliant. He’s also survived his entire eight years in one of the worst building sides here.


“I never spoke to anyone. For eight years I sat in my cut working crosswords.”


He said he never tried to move buildings even though he was the school principal’s assistant.


“I wanted to wake up every day and remember how despicable this experience is.”


So many of the guys on this side run scams, don’t work, and in general don’t care because to them prison is just another lousy life experience. So far, nothing DOC has done has changed their outlook, given them a reason to say “I hate this. I want a better life.”


Perhaps putting the college dorm over here will work. Perhaps the Governor’s re-entry directive will turn these men’s lives around. One thing is for certain, what DOC is doing currently isn’t working. It’s clearly entertaining over here. But, more is at stake than my amusement.

ACA update

The American Corrections Association was on-site for three days last week as part of Lunenburg’s ACA accreditation process. They went over this place from top to bottom. Here are some preliminary findings”



1) The facility is overcrowded and understaffed;


2) Inmates don’t have the minimum required 25 square feet of individual living space (if you want to understand how large that is, measure 5 feet to the right and 5 feet up. Inmates at Lunenburg have less than 10 square feet);


3) Insufficient space for education and law library.


According to DOC, there are “plenty of beds” at the prisons. Here’s a simple rule: you can tell if DOC is lying by seeing if their spokesperson’s lips are moving!

Trilogy

A good deal of interesting stuff has been happening here this past week. Here are the top three.



I. “Meet the New Boss”


The new warden is kicking ass and taking names and, so far, it’s OK because it’s all directed at the CO’s.


The former warden, Ms. Runion, was all about “therapy”. She had made a big push to make the COs a little kinder and gentler. Respect was her mantra. Officers were to treat inmates (sorry “offenders”, that’s the new word for being locked up) with respect.


Discipline was lax. The COs rebelled. “Screw that. We ain’t talkin’ nice to the inmates.” A number of COs began filing grievances against the warden.


Ms. Runion has been in the “system” since the 70’s. She has frankly spent too many years working in corrections to put up with whiny officers. The Department of Health’s civil commitment sexual predator facility needed a warden and she transferred. CO’s who were being made to “play nice with the inmates” celebrated. “We got rid of that bitch” I heard from a few COs.


Then enter Ms. Avent, a small, middle age African American woman who also has been in the system for years. She’s not “touchy feelie”. No, she’s about following the rules and being professional. And the CO’s are walking around in a daze.


“Officers will look professional.” She’s sent dozens home to shave and clean and press their uniforms. No longer do senior officers – Sergeants, Lieutenants, and Captains – joke around with CO’s. “You are their superior officers. Start acting like it!”


Rules are being enforced about movement on the compound and living standards in the dorms. I heard our building lieutenant (a woman) mutter as she walked by my bunk “I hate that bitch”.


The officers are, simply put, being made to earn their pay. Most old heads will tell you they can live under any set of rules as long as they know what they are. I agree. There’s too much crazy stuff that can happen in here when rules go by the wayside.


She’s tough, but so far, she’s fair.


II. “Rumors”


DOC has a new director. He comes from a state with a low inmate population and aggressive parole and re-entry programs. This week, Virginia’s Governor announced all departments must prepare budgets with a 6% decrease in funding. DOC is bracing for more cuts.


I met with the school principal this week. We are exploring expanding my creative writing program to a school wide writing lab for all GED students and community college enrollees. She told me our prison is being considered for a re-entry facility. Governor McDonnell has made inmate re-entry a priority. There is “talk” out there that a number of prisons will be modified to focus on getting inmates close to release properly prepared for re-entry to society. I’d stay here as an academic aide. A large number of inmates here (those not working as academic or vocational aides) would go to other prisons.


Is it a viable plan? I’m not so sure. If you want to bring DOC costs down and improve re-entry programs, re-introduce parole. Governor McDonnell could save billions over the long haul by returning Virginia corrections to a parole system with inmates being made eligible for early release based on performance in educational and vocational programs.


Think how enthusiastic an inmate would be to earn his GED if he was told “you become parole eligible with your degree”.


Every year around this time rumors run through prisons that “the Governors gonna bring back parole.” Perhaps this year, it won’t just be rumors.


III. “Man Down, Man Down”


The other afternoon our building called a medical emergency. As “Flo Rider” likes to shout out, we had a “man down”.


Briscoe, a gentle giant of a guy, was in the shower. His towel fell off the shelf. As he reached for it, he slipped and fell. Briscoe’s a big guy: 275 lbs. He hit with a “thud”. His head split open and he bled profusely.


Fortunately, within two minutes (a record for medical emergencies here), three COs and our new cute, young, blond nurse showed up with a wheelchair and emergency kit. As they stopped the bleeding and wheeled Briscoe down to medical, the nurse gently held his hand and said “hang on Mr. Briscoe. I’ll take care of you.”


Briscoe turned toward me and gave a big “thumbs up”. I started trying to figure out how I could slip and get the compassionate young nurse to hold my hand.


Briscoe’s back. His head is wrapped in a white bandage. He still has a huge smile on his face.


A final thought – the American Corrections Association will be here this week to evaluate the prison to see if this place operates as a prison within their standards. ACA’s certification matters to DOC. Funny thing is, you put lipstick on a pig, it’s still a pig. You can repaint buildings and press CO uniforms, but it doesn’t change the fact that this is still a prison. And prisons are dark, depressing, inhumane places and no certification can change that.

The Platypus, Job and Me

I’ve had another lousy week, lousy enough that it reminded me that God has a warped sense of humor. There’s an old joke about God proving He was a funny, quirky guy by creating the platypus, a mammal that lays eggs, carries its young in a pouch, has a duck bill and webbed feet. It is a complete genetic mish mash.



Tuesday evening I received “legal mail”. Legal mail is the term prisons use to describe any letter, any envelope you receive from an attorney, court, or governmental agency. All “regular” mail is examined prior to delivery to inmates. Envelopes are opened and shaken out (to check for contraband being mailed in – drugs, cash, nude photos). Inmates on the prison “watch list” (known gang members) actually have their mail read before delivery.


Legal mail is different. It has to be opened in front of the inmate. It cannot be read, only shaken out for contraband. Inmates must sign a log book acknowledging receipt of the legal mail.


Tuesday night I was sitting in my cut, writing when the CO hands me an envelope. I looked at it and realized it was from the Court Clerk. I tore open the envelope and find an executed copy of the Court’s order dismissing my Habeas Corpus Petition.


I knew this was coming. I knew I’d lose at the state court level. It’s an exercise in futility. You file with the same judge who convicted and sentenced you and you tell him “judge you screwed up. You didn’t realize my attorney violated my 6th Amendment right to effective assistance of counsel”.


In my case, I went even further. In response to the Attorney General’s motion to dismiss, I challenged the court to face itself and admit the sentence imposed was wrong. I called the judge every non-profane name in the books, daring him to revisit my case.


He held the AG’s proposed order 90 days. Frankly, I started thinking “maybe I’m right. Maybe justice will be done”. No such luck. He did as I expected.


I already had my Notice of Appeal drafted. I already had my pleadings in the works to proceed to the Virginia Supreme Court, and then Federal Court (you have to exhaust your state remedies first before getting in to Federal Court).


But, reading the order – an order drafted by the AG – I started to think “why bother appealing. I’m never getting out of here”. In the last month, I’ve been able to get two guys their hab’s granted and one guy’s pardon request has now moved to the parole board for final processing. My own case, nothing.


I knew then what the platypus feels like going through life. I knew I was the punch line of God’s joke. “Did you hear the one about the lawyer who got everyone he met a new chance in court, except himself?”


Fortunately, Big S and the “Old Heads” (the three convicted murderers I’m tight with) made me realize I had to keep fighting. “You can’t give up. Do you know how many guys are optimistic now because you’re optimistic? You got to fight these bastards.”


Which got me thinking about Job. A close friend in here gave me some advice that I’m trying to take to heart. Funny thing is, it’s the same advice two therapists gave me. Simply put, they all said I needed to quit being so hard on myself and remain patient and hopeful.


I wrote my ex this week. First time in a year. I wrote her because it was 30 years to the day that I found the courage to tell her “I love you” for the first time. In the letter I told her I was sorry the way things ended, sorry she hadn’t been happy and didn’t love me, sorry for letting her down. I also told her I’d always love her.


My friend said “you have nothing. You gave everything to her; you went against your own self-interest with your case to protect your wife and kids. You acted more noble and compassionately than anyone I know. Isn’t it possible her behaviors wrong? Isn’t it possible she’s just about her own selfish interests?”


And then this. “You can’t change people and you’re not responsible for everyone’s actions. Yeah, you screwed up. Good people do that. You’re a good guy and it’s not all your fault.”


I took what he said to heart. I’ve been dealt a lousy hand, no doubt. But, I’ve realized along this path I’m a pretty decent guy. I don’t know why God’s letting all this happen to me. But, I know this; I’m going to get through it.


One of the toughest lessons I’ve had to learn in here is knowing what I can control. I can’t make my ex love me, can’t make her admit she was wrong to divorce me. I’m not responsible for our marriage failing.


I can’t make guys in here decide they need to focus their lives and change. So many guys do their bids, run their hustles in here, get out, screw up again, and come right back. I can’t make them “learn” from their experiences.


So, here’s the “Job” part: I’m not sure why I had to lose everything. In my mind, it just isn’t fair. I’m not sure why I keep getting smacked in the face on my own case while I find it so easy to help other guys get another chance. But, I’ve learned I’m more resilient, kind and loving than I ever thought. I am a good guy, not perfect, but a guy who deserves better than he’s getting.


This isn’t the way I’d play this out if I was “in charge”. But, I’m not. And neither is DOC, or my ex, or the Governor. Ultimately, God’s in charge and I have confidence He’ll see me through this.


There’s a wonderful message about justice in David’s 9th Psalm. It says, in part:


“The Lord also will be a stronghold for the oppressed,
A stronghold in times of trouble;
And those who know Your name will put their trust in You,
For You, O Lord, have not forsaken those who seek You.”


I’ve had a couple of lousy weeks. I may have more. But, I finally realized, no matter what others may think, the platypus is happy being a platypus. My life may suck right now, but I’m OK with that. At least I know who’s in control.

It's All About the "Benjamins"

Any young guy can tell you “Benjamins” (slang for money) make the world go round. DOC spends annually over $1 billion. And yet, as sentences have increased and parole abolished, the number of inmates and cost to house those inmates continues to increase.



In a newsletter release put out this week, DOC’s Director admitted DOC has lost 2400 beds due to prison closings. Additionally, there are currently 3500 DOC inmates being housed in regional jails. Director Johnson then admitted more cuts are likely in the next budget. The Director stated, “DOC would prefer to close facilities than cut programs.”


Most inmates believe prisons flourish and sentences are so long because “the people in power make money off inmates”. Conspiracy theories run rampant in the prison about money made by prisons. And conspiracy theories lead to anger, distrust, and disrespect for the justice system.


“They did away with parole ‘cause the Federal government pays ‘em $100 a day.”


“They make millions off us . . .”


Try and explain to these guys that DOC actually bleeds the state budget and they look at you like you’re crazy.


“If it costs so much, why they lock us up for so long?”


Good question. Locking up a drug user doesn’t help him overcome his addiction. Locking up the mentally ill doesn’t treat their mental illness. Locking up white collar criminals doesn’t help their victims get repaid.


Those are just a few examples. Try these as well:


What is the cost to society for all those children growing up with their fathers incarcerated? How many of those kids live below the poverty level, end up using drugs, quitting school, and end up in prison themselves?


Maybe there’s some truth to all the conspiracy theories. The Commonwealth must be making money off corrections because no sane person would quietly sit by while such an obviously flawed system continued to perpetuate itself and fail over and over.


Instead, politicians lie to voters about “getting tough on crime” and they blindly follow. Here’s a basic truth (and the DOC Director agrees with me): sentences are too long for the vast majority of convicted felons. Too many felons locked up for too long overwhelms the system. Programs can’t keep up; inmates get bitter and on release they’re willing to try almost anything to get back what they lost.


Virginia is one of the worst at treating released felons. As USA Today reported on October 3rd, Virginia is one of the 15 states with the largest prison population (ironically Virginia is not one of the 15 most populous states). Indigent defendants are saddled with exorbitant court costs. Virginia is one of only 13 states that assess public defender costs back to the indigent defendant. Paying off court costs is a term of probation. Inmates in here leave owing thousands. Then, they’re restricted on getting a drivers license. No license, no employment. The conspiracy theorists are starting to look even more credible.


Released felons have to apply to get their voting rights restored. Virginia is one of only three states that doesn’t automatically restore a felon’s rights.


In Virginia your felony conviction affects your creditworthiness, your employability, where you live, who you associate with.


The idea behind prisons in this country was originally quite noble. Sentenced to the “penitentiary” a person would reflect on his wrong doing. Through work and study he would be “corrected”. On release, restored to society.


That’s not what we have today. It’s all about the “Benjamins”. $100 million here for a new prison; $10,000 there in court costs to the defendant that he can’t pay back. The money keeps adding up and the cost, in dollars spent and lives altered, grows and grows. Something’s got to change.

Personal Ad

Big S and I were talking the other day about relationships. He’s been giving a great deal of thought to his future. In particular, does he try and reestablish a relationship with his daughter’s mom and rebuild their family. As I’ve written before, Big S is a relatively young man (early 30’s) but I think he was born mature. Perhaps it’s the prison experience, but he is wise beyond his, beyond my, years.



Relationships and sexuality are weird subjects anytime. They are even more so in prison. Guys approach their sexuality, their “needs” in all sorts of ways. First, there are the openly effeminate, prancing, dancing gays. They sew their own clothes; call each other “girl” and hook up in the bathrooms in the middle of the night. Almost all of them are housed in two buildings. I’m in a “gump” free zone (gump is prison jargon for homosexual) so my only contact with “La Cage aux Folles” is on the rec yard or at work.


Flamboyance in the prison gay community is a must. At the same time, there is a vicious undercurrent of homophobia in here. The only thing worse than being labeled a snitch is a gump. Guys go out of their way to prove they’re “hetero” and their proof is weight lifting and describing in exact, graphic detail what they’d do to a continuing increasing list of celebrities, models, vice-presidential candidates (Sarah Palin is a big hit in prison). This weeks “girl guest” was the TV Azteca reporter who was sexually harassed in the Jets locker room.


The dirty little secret in here is every gay guy has one or two supposedly straight guys as “boy toys”. And the guys who secretly see the “girls” are the ones who react with such venom when jokes are made about their sexuality. They rationalize that they aren’t really gay, just doing what needs to be done. That may explain why a pimp did so well in 6 building.


My ex used to complain that I was homophobic. I had definite opinions on gays, but like many other things, my opinions have evolved since my arrest. When I was at the jail, a Captain wrote a major charge against a gay trustee (“Kiki”). He asked me for help and I soon realized the Captain had it in for him. I believed correctly (as it turned out), because he was gay. I defended Kiki, won his case and convinced the jail the Captain needed “sensitivity training”. Two days later I was mysteriously transferred to DOC custody and the hell that was Powhatan receiving.


In February, I was walking across the compound and heard a shriek. “That’s him! That’s the lawyer that kicked that F---in Captain’s ass!” Scampering toward me was Kiki and two other “Supremes”. I am the lawyer for gay and straight, black and white.


On the other side of the sexual revolution in prison are the serial gunners. “Gunning” is the prison term for self love. There are guys in here who will announce “headin’ to the shower for some me time”. We have a few “shower guys” in here. You just learn to give them their space.


There are always incidents at visitation involving “conjugal” visits from wives or girlfriends. At least once a weekend a guy gets sent to the hole for receiving a “helping hand” from his “girl”. No matter how discreet, the camera in the sky knows!


I always wondered, back in my free days, how Catholic priests did the celibacy thing. I’ve learned over these past two years it’s not that hard (“that’s what she said!” - sorry, too many episodes of The Office). I was with my wife for 28 years. In that time I never cheated, never strayed. We had our problems, no doubt, but I loved her and viewed our physical relationship as part of who we were as a couple. Frankly, sex, without that loving relationship, just doesn’t interest me very much.


Back to Big S. He’s been thinking a great deal about his daughter and trying to create a loving home for her when he’s released. “Do you love her (the mom)?” He does. Then I told him about my situation. How I still love my ex and the thought of growing old without her fills me with deep sadness. But, I also know things couldn’t just go back to the way they were. I’ve realized through this experience that our relationship wasn’t as good as it should have been. I realized I put in an incredible amount of energy out of fear – fear she didn’t love me – and it made me not be the kind of man I should have been.


Big S understood exactly what I meant. I was reminded of a letter I received from my ex shortly after she filed for divorce. In it, she told me the reasons for her action. She said:


“You’re a convicted felon with a huge debt to repay and probably a lousy credit rating. You’re not much of a catch!”


It got me thinking about a personal ad I should run to find a new “significant other” (my ex used to teasingly suggest we go on “eHarmony” to see if we were a match). After all, advertising is really about the message, not the reality (case in point, our current President). So here goes:


“Physically fit, mature hairline, 51 year old male seeks any communication from females ages 35+ to 55. Must enjoy writing, reading, outdoors, my cooking, and be willing to overlook a $1 million plus restitution order. Must wait – patiently – for years – for an actual date. Interested candidates must be pre-approved by Big S and DOC (I can’t associate with know felons).


I’ve discovered it’s easier for guys to get hard core porn smuggled in than sustain a loving relationship with the one you love. It’s sad really. You get jaded about love, then you see “DC” and his wife in visitation. 38 years she’s stood by him. 38 years she comes for visits and they hold hands. “She knows I’m not the murderer they defined me to be. She knows the man I am, the man I can and will be. We’re in this together.”


Now, that’s love.

Count Time, Count Time

Being counted is a big part of prison life. I’m not sure who came up with the idea for counting but I’d be willing to bet every prison and jail in the U.S. employs some form of count.



When I was at the jail, we were counted four times a day and the inmates made all kinds of noise, talking, catcalls, hoots. That isn’t tolerated at a DOC facility. Count time is serious. No noise, no reading, no movement. All electronics turned off.


Still, being at a low level prison provides for some funny count times. Count here is a vast cry from count at receiving when I was sharing a cell with a psychotic, 24 year-old gang leader doing 76 years for a double murder.


At receiving, we were locked down 23 hours a day in dilapidated cells with leaking toilets, cracked sinks, and one 60 watt light bulb that had to be twisted off and on. First count at receiving was 5:00 am, standing, with cell light on. There was a second standing count between breakfast and lunch; a third mid-afternoon; fourth count after evening chow; and final count at 10:30 pm.


Here, count is a little more relaxed. Our “first count” is at 6:00 am. Inmates have to remain “in bed” while the COs quietly walk up and down the aisles. That’s a far cry from the loud siren whistle at receiving and the CO yelling “FEET ON THE FLOOR” over and over.


There are only three standing counts during the day: 11:30 am, 5:45 pm, and 10:00 pm. The COs (2) come in and whistle then call out “Count Time fellas; count time, count time”.


One CO – Jones – a mid-60’s black woman comes in and toots her whistle 3 times then says “give me a good count gentlemen”. Another CO – Eppes won’t blow his whistle any more. The pea got stuck once when he was blowing it. Everyone busted out laughing. Eppes is a young, skinny black guy. A lot of the “old heads” intimidate him so he tends to get timid when they laugh, of course, it doesn’t help that he’s got a high voice when he announces “count clear fellas” you hear 20 guys yell it back in a high pitched tone.


Count is serious. There are almost 1200 inmates here. The prison has to account for each one of those guys every minute of the day. A single number off and the compound stays on “no movement”.


A few weekends back I was up at visitation when 11:30 count was called. Inmates at visit line up in the gym under dorm building signs. Visitation count was correct, but building count wasn’t. No one was allowed to leave visits, including visitors. After 45 minutes count cleared and the mass exodus of visitors began to make their way out of the “VI” room and head to their cars.


It’s an antiquated system and labor intensive. It’s probably the same count method they used in the Civil War and at Alcatraz in the 30’s. But, it’s the only way the officers can be sure the inmates are all inside the compound.


A couple of years ago, at another low level Virginia prison, a guy went to “pill call” (med call) after early evening count. That facility had no other standing counts the remainder of the day and a bunk count at midnight.


After he got his pills he snuck back out on the rec yard and climbed the perimeter fence. It was the next day before anyone noticed he was gone. They found him a week later.


There’s a great deal I never knew about prison. Count time was one of these things. Inmates hate it, but without it I’m sure a whole lot of guys wouldn’t stay put.

Counselors

Every inmate ends up relying on their “counselor”. That’s a strange word to use, given there is no counseling that actually takes place. Much like George Orwell detailed in his great novel 1984, there isn’t any counseling done by the counselors, it’s just a word. Like the term “jumbo shrimp”, calling these folks “inmate counselors” is an oxymoron.



The concept is good. Each inmate is assigned a counselor who develops an “annual plan” to move the inmate toward release. Problem is, every inmate’s “plan” says virtually the same thing: “Keep charge free and get a job.”


The other problem is the people that work in “treatment” (that’s “DOC speak” for the counselor’s department at the prison) are lazy and not very bright. That may sound harsh, but the truth usually is. Counselors – more than any other operation at the prison, except for security – are the crucial link between an inmate and his release. Each building has an assigned counselor with an office in the building itself.


But, the counselor never shows up to the building to meet with inmates. We’ve seen our counselor less than two hours over the last two weeks.


DOC procedures require each inmate to have an annual review with their counselor. August is almost concluded and yet none of the August inmates have had their reviews. And this isn’t an aberration; this is “standard operating procedure” – run 30 to60 days late on reviews.


The counselors avoid meeting with inmates because, well candidly, they don’t understand their own policies. Take the case of Kareem. Kareem was sent to prison at the age of 17 for a second degree murder. Four weeks ago, at the age of 31, he left prison. He should have left the first of June, moved to New Jersey to live with his Mom and start college. Why didn’t he? Good question.


Six months ago he met with the counselor and filled out the interstate compact forms that are, in essence, a request from Virginia to New Jersey to accept a released inmate. The counselor lost the paperwork. Without written authorization from New Jersey to accept him, Kareem had no home plan. No home plan and DOC can hold you an additional 30 days. It normally takes 90-120 days for interstate compact approval.


It took Kareem’s family in New Jersey raising hell to expedite the paperwork. The counselor just shrugged it off.


Then there’s Malik. Malik has been locked up for the past 20 years. Throughout his entire bid, his wife remained by his side. They decided to renew their vows for their 25th Anniversary. Malik meets with the chaplain and the warden and the ceremony is approved. He submits a list of guests to the counselor who will be coming in for the ceremony. Security approves the list (background checks had to be run).


The “big day” arrives and the guests file in. All that is except for the wife. The counselor “forgot” to include her on the list. The ceremony had to be postponed and rescheduled due to this “small glitch” (the counselor’s words).


Two examples out of dozens collected. Fact is, you want to know something about a DOC policy or procedure – research it yourself.


Each day guys are given incorrect information; paperwork is lost and/or improperly filled out. These are the state professionals charged with getting inmates rehabilitated. Is it any reason there’s a 40% recidivism rate?