20th Anniversary: And This We Celebrate?

It was the Beatles who gave us the line, "it was 20 years ago today, Sergeant Pepper taught the band to play...." That was an anniversary worth remembering. Here at LCC, next Friday will mark 20 years since this facility was opened and the administration is going all out to celebrate. How odd, they want to celebrate a place where 1 out of 3 offenders ends up cycling back in to the system within the first 12 months of release; they want to celebrate a facility that costs Virginia taxpayers over $27 million each year to house, clothe, feed, and not much else; approximately 1000 offenders, most of which have been through the system at least once before. They want to celebrate their successes, except there are no matrix to measure success.

You know how things run around here--the worst building on the compound is the "re-entry" building. The guys are off the chain and the staff will tell you they have little control over how things run. The state spends over $100k on an "evidence Based" manager of reentry who is regularly cussed out by the residents of his re-entry pod because he isn't a straight shooter. The re-entry programs--which the state spent millions on to a private contractor--are long on touchy-feely “clap for the word of the day" and short on actual drug and alcohol programs and work skills necessary to succeed.

Participants in re-entry can miss school; their re-entry programs are "that important" to the offender's overall "success." Really? Every study done suggests offenders (at least 50% of whom lack even a high school diploma) need more education, more training in real skills for living outside of ere.

But that doesn't matter. See DOC operates as an independent body; there is little government oversight over control. No one, it seems, is looking at the massive expenditures in money and manpower wasted throughout the system. And before you say, "these guys deserve it," LCC is not a high security facility. Most of Virginia's prisons are level 1 and level 2 which means the vast majority of the men (and women at other spots) are within 5 years of release.
Where is the oversight? Where is the independent audit and control? Where is the real effort at "corrections"? It certainly isn't here.

Know why all these prisons are around? Because Bill Clinton, facing public embarrassment and scorn sold his soul to the Gingrich controlled congress and signed the Prison Litigation Reform Act. In it, the Feds gave billions in block grants to the states to build more prisons. And the states did just that. Only it backfired because the fed money dried up, incarceration rates went through the roof and the system became even more bloated and corrupt. Both Bill Clinton and Newt Gingrich admit today they erred; both now are advocates of criminal justice overhaul.

Anniversary celebration? Celebrate this--entire generations of low income, low educated citizens are cycling through the system and nothing being done in here is either making you safer or correcting the problem. You want punishment, that's fine. But the ramifications of a corrupt system that overwhelmingly punishes
and fails to rehabilitate is anger, bitterness and the likelihood that once released you'll be back.

"Happy" anniversary--hardly. Those folks who live out here know the real score--no other businesses want to locate near the prison. And the staff? They've been busy taking employee surveys to understand why morale is so bad and attrition is so high. Instead of an anniversary celebration perhaps there should be a wake.

Lockdown Blues

After all the speculation, all the rumors, it finally hit. We went on “lock” last Monday. In truth, we’d been on lock the whole week before with the computer blow up. Still, lockdown – like the changing of the clocks in spring and fall – is a way in here to gauge the passing of the seasons. And, as with most lockdowns at lower custody levels, it’s more hype than help. Nothing meaningful – drugs, weapons, or cellphones – is ever found. That stuff all gets hidden or flushed with the first strains of the morning P.A. announcement “Attention, attention, Lunenburg is now on lockdown. Cease all movement.”

            Lockdown. Waiting for twenty officers and staff to come in the building and rifle through all your stuff. Waiting. Waiting. I got into a habit during the week of rising at my regular 4:00 am time. I’d do my morning scripture reading and devotions, meditate, pray, and write until breakfast. Then, after breakfast I would climb back in my rack (a nicer term than “metal bed”) with a book. I’d read and drift back off to sleep until noon count. I read three books that way.

            Lockdown here means nothing but time being stolen from you. It’s not that way at higher levels. Up there, you are locked in your cell 24/7. You come out once every three days for a five-minute shower. You also come out when they shake your cell down.

            Shaking down means something at a higher level. You’re handcuffed while still in the cell, then walked out the door. Two officers move through your cell. Everything is dumped on your rack and examined. With mirrors and metal detectors they search every crevice, every corner. Homemade knives, crack pipes, tattoo guns made out of electrical adaptors, all of it has to be found. They leave all your possessions in a pile and then they leave. And you are right back in the cell where you sit – and eat, and use the bathroom, and sleep – and wait, wait for the door to open and “chow call” or “rec call” or “school call,” anything that says normalcy, prison normalcy that is, has returned. That is a real lockdown. And they can last a week, a month, sometimes a year (like after an officer is assaulted).

            Not so here. Here we have the same routine without school call and rec. We even kept our regular chow schedule. The only “segregation” (i.e. keeping us separated from other buildings) was between the “shook” and the “unshook.” Tuesday afternoon – it’s always Tuesday afternoon for us on lockdown – and 4A was shookdown. We started at 1:00 and were done by 3:00; sixty-three beds (that’s right sixty-three. It’s almost spacious in here!) all examined. Of course nothing of significance was taken. There was a collection of cracker boxes – for some strange reason, storing things in boxes inside a locker is prohibited – and the resold electronics (headphones, CD players and trimmers mostly). And there were the extra shoes.

            DOC allows one pair of boots, one pair of sneakers, and one pair of shower shoes. And most everyone has an extra pair of something. For five years, I’ve had two pair of sneakers – a workout pair and a clean, white visitation and work pair. My luck ran out on this lockdown. They found my second (size 10 Nikes). They’re waiting at visitor pickup – no sense disposing of a new pair of sneakers! In a few months, I’ll order a new pair and replace the set I gave up. That’s how it is in here. Everything can be replaced.

            Friday morning we came off lock. But, school was still closed, the aftermath of the factory computer bust. Here’s what we know: eight factory workers were fired. Six received series “100” charges for violation of DOC’s computer security regs. All six – currently still in the hole – are being transferred. Richmond sent a team of forensic computer techs up here to examine every inmate-accessible computer. The factory computers turned up porn and gambling; the kitchen computers: music videos and games. The school – with the exception of the library – was cleared.

            Friday afternoon I had to go to work – special request. See, the GED graduation is set for June 6^th and I’m responsible for invitation design and mailing, and visitor lists. And those things had to get out. “Your computer’s been cleared, Larry.” I was told. I did my work and headed back to the building. But, all the while I had a bemused smirk on my face. Come Monday everything will go back to the way it was. They’ll give us a new “contract” warning us of the repercussions of violating the DOC computer policy. We’ll sign and we’ll be back at work keeping all their programs running. And the guys in the hole? They’ll be transferred and a year from now during the next computer crisis or spring lockdown their screw up will be remembered in a different light.

            That’s prison. Lockdowns come, lockdowns go, but the cycle of life in here goes on. The faces and crises change but the song remains the same, the song is nothing but blues …