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Showing posts with label corrections. Show all posts
Showing posts with label corrections. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

The First Casualty

            Aeschylus, the great Greek Philosopher, wrote, “Truth is the first casualty of war.” (words to think about as our nation begins yet another military action). In truth, “truth” is the first casualty of all our follies: broken/failed relationships; dishonesty in business and government; failure in corrections. So often, it is easier to lie and distort and to imprison the truth from the light of day than to admit our failures – and the active role we play in them.

            The Virginia Department of Corrections, a behemoth of money and manpower, is broken. That’s the truth. It is as clear as the blue sky on a crisp fall day. Yet, the politicians in Richmond won’t say it because to do so would be to admit that a few have gotten rich off contracts and sweetheart deals; that corruption permeates the departments core; and that prison neither makes society safer nor rehabilitates the offenders it holds. DOC is a failure of monumental proportions. And, when cast into the light of truth, when exposed for what it really is, you can see the waste in money and lives.

1.     There is no statistical correlation between harsh sentencing and crime rates, between abolishment of parole and recidivism. Crime rates have nothing to do with, “tough on crime” sentencing. In fact, in states where there is more liberal use of alternative sentencing (i.e. not prison) and community-based corrections (i.e. parole and probation) crime rates have dropped significantly more than in Virginia.    
       
2.     All harsh sentencing does is sends more people to prison, for longer sentences, at greatly increasing cost. It doesn’t make Virginia any safer. Worse, in “people issues” it actually harms communities. Harsh sentencing creates an attitude of victimization among many offenders. You send a small-time drug user or nonviolent larceny convict to prison and he (or she) is subjected to violence, humiliation, and arbitrary behavior on the part of some guards, and you create an angry inmate, a person who believes he is being treated unfairly.
There are over 100,000 children in Virginia who have a parent in prison. Statistically, those children are less well off economically and have lower education levels. They also are more likely to find themselves on the wrong side of the law. There is a generational component to prison. You send a father to prison and there is a statistically significant likelihood that one of his children will end up there as well.

3.     Corrections uses sweetheart contracts to prison/industrial corporations which, in turn, pay huge dollars to Virginia lobbyists and candidates’ campaigns in even sweeter deals. The state outsources major portions of its corrections apparatus at ever increasing cost to the taxpayers with worse oversight and results.

For example, DOC no longer provides medical care for the incarcerated. That process has been contracted out to medical companies who are paid millions of dollars for “primary” care of inmates. If specialists are needed, those costs are still paid by taxpayers. Forget the moral argument, namely should government be able to take a person’s liberty away by incarceration, then outsource that function; instead, look at the pure dollars and cents. It costs the state more to have private contractors provide medical care than to do it itself.

            These contracts are all big dollar and add to the huge, billion dollar plus expenditures DOC makes every year. They also lead to multitudes of lawsuits, which the state must defend.

            Medical care in prison is poor at best. There is no “Hippocratic Oath” (“do no harm”) at play in here. No, it’s “churn and burn” to make a buck. Then, when the lawsuits begin to mount, the contractor bails out. Think I’m kidding? Ask the women inmates at Fluvanna who successfully sued in a class action suit over the lack of adequate medical care.

4.     Prisons – individually and as a totality – are corrupt. They say it’s all about public safety; they lie. The public isn’t safer with nearly 40,000 people jammed into Virginia’s prisons. Every day in here lives are wasted. The state spends millions to just sit and watch; there’s no rehabilitation or re-entry (real, meaningful programs that actually matter). Over half of all offenders lack high school diplomas and basic job skills yet those programs – talked about all day long in here – aren’t stressed or adequately funded.
Some may argue, “Prison is about punishment not rehabilitation.” Fair enough. Then make the punishment fit the crime. Don’t run violent, drug and gang-filled facilities where corrupt officers bring in the drugs or look the other way at cases of sexual assault or stabbings and say that is the result of those locked up. No, you take a man’s – or woman’s – freedom, you bear responsibility for them. DOC has not been required to be responsible for those in its custody.

5.     Economic realities: Most of Virginia’s prisons are in rural counties. The prisons become the only significant employer in those areas. Do you ever see a private employer decide to build in Lunenburg, or Mecklenburg, or Buckingham, or Brunswick because the state puts a prison there? No. And what happens in those communities when the prison closes? Nothing but economic despair.

Prisons in those rural counties are a con job run on the locals. They think the state is “investing” in their economic future. They aren’t. Those counties, like the men and women housed in their prisons, have lousy schools and poor job opportunities. Those counties are economically as shackled and imprisoned as those behind the wire.

Truth is a casualty. It is time for an honest discussion about Virginia’s prison system. Lives – both inside and outside the walls – are being lost; money is being wasted. The truth is, one day inside here tells you things are not as those in Richmond want you to believe. The politicians, and the senior people at DOC won’t tell you the truth because it will cost them money. But, as another “philosopher” once said, “the love of money is the root of all evil.” Money drives prison policy; it’s corrupt money that destroys lives. That is the truth.




Sunday, November 18, 2012

Fight Club

Something’s in the water; must be.  While fights are a common occurrence, the last 24 hours set a record.  Two fights were very serious; one, the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

This morning on the ball court in full view of the tower and one hundred inmates, a Muslim man finally hit his breaking point with a loud, obnoxious Sergeant.  In five short minutes the Sergeant was left bloodied and dazed.  The inmate calmly put his hands behind his back and let officers – who ran from all corners of the compound when “1033” (officer attacked) blared over the radios – handcuff him and lead him to the “hole”.  Within 24 hours he’ll ship to a higher security prison and be held until a street assault charge is brought.  The fight will add 5 years to his time.
But, this environment pushes men to their breaking points.  I oppose violence, but imagine having a man who controls you verbally call you out day after day, question your sexual orientation, your manhood, your religion.  Worse, you see him bully a weaker man.  You snap.  You handle things.  And Sergeant Big Mouth goes down.

Last night the Bloods decided a member had to go.  So, in our bathroom at 11:00 pm, the member was de-ganged.  You’re “jumped” in (beaten to join); you’re “jumped” out the same way.  It was brutal and afterward, the former “banger” went to his rack and slept knowing his life inside was now changing.  To his former “brothers” he was now a failure, an outcast, dead man walking.
And the “funny” fight?  Two rollie pollie guys in our building started throwing punches at each other.  Why?  “He licked my ear.  I’m tired of his gay act!”  Like two lumbering walruses, they threw big overhand slaps hitting their rolls of back fat and man breasts.  After a few minutes they were both left utterly exhausted.  Some guys have no business fighting!

Welcome to the world of corrections.  It’s always just beneath the surface, the anger, the tension, the violence.  And DOC is either unable or unwilling to stop it.  Unlike Fight Club the movie, this isn’t a dream.  It’s every day in here.  And if it happens here with guys close to going home, imagine what it’s like in higher security levels.  Is this what people want from their prison – sorry “corrections” system?

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Shakedown Week

Almost everything in prison is routine.  Every moment of every day observed by someone.  Counts – six a day (midnight, 3:00 am, and 6:00 am in your bunk; 11:30 am, 6:00 pm and 10:00 pm standing); calls to “13” (the boulevard officer) that there are “four exiting 4A for personal property”, or “school” or “medical”.  Every moment of the day is accounted for and choreographed.  Still the twice a year lockdown/shakedowns create a stir and a discomfort in the inmate population beyond the normal day to day struggles guys face with a lack of privacy and freedom.
Our “fall” shakedown hit this past week.  For months rumors have been running through this place about lockdown and shakedown.  The new warden and assistant warden, it was said, were going to turn this place upside down.  “We’ll be locked down two weeks.”  “They’re gonna feed us in the buildings.”  “Every guy is gonna be piss tested.”  Here’s the thing about prison rumors:  you can’t reason with them.  Every guy telling the story heard it “from a guy who got it from the Sarge, or the ‘Lt’, or the maintenance head.”  For the past four months we’ve heard “Monday’s lockdown.”
So, this past Monday morning, as the diabetics filtered back in from medical at 6:15 am they brought word:  “school and work cancelled”.  A few minutes after breakfast the speakers blasted the announcement:  “lockdown, lockdown.  Lunenburg is on lockdown.” (As an aside, every message in prison is repeated “lockdown, lockdown” or “chow call, chow call” and at a decibel range near that of a jumbo jet).

And it began; the dreaded lockdown/shakedown was underway.  You know what we discovered?  It was the shortest lockdown in my three years of incarceration.  Being confined in the building for three full days is no fun.  You are locked in a basketball size court space with 95 other guys.  Everyone is on edge, trying to hide the extra bowls, shoes, and other stuff inmates accumulate.  The “dayroom” (our building common area) is full of card games, dominoes and guys fixing food.  Meals are staggered:  only one building at a time.  That meant breakfast could be eaten at 6:30, lunch at 3:00, then dinner at 4:30. 
Guys look out the front door and yell back “they finished in ‘1’, goin into ‘2A’,” as though where the mass of officers headed bore any relation to the shakedown coming to our building.

Tuesday afternoon we were called to lunch early:  12:15.  Twenty minutes to eat, back to the building and the announcement came from the booth.  “IDs ready; you’re heading to the gym.”  Outside the building 25 officers and staff stood ready with clipboards, bins, carts, and bags waiting to pour into our building and ransack our stuff.
We were led to the gym and sat down; ten pairs of bunks called at a time.  My cut-mate and I were in the first group:  “95 & 96 come on.”  Back to the building; ID turned over to the “CT”, into the bathroom to strip, squat and cough (you lose all sense of personal privacy in prison); get dressed and get matched with your bunk-mate to a shakedown team; you head to your locker, open it and watch while someone pulls out and examines every sock, pair of underwear, every scrap of paper.

Half an hour later it’s over.  Some guys lost bowls, writing boards, empty peanut butter jars. I lost nothing.  They saw all my folders and books and said “this is the lawyer, he’s clean.”  Then, out of the building and back this time to sit in the visitation room until our entire building was examined.
By 3:30 we were back.  I washed my sheets and blankets (you have to strip your mattress – make sure you haven’t hidden anything inside) and spent a solid hour re-arranging everything.  They pull it out; you have to put it back.

Guys griped about losing extra pair of sneakers, or three extra t-shirts.  They complained about losing bowls and sporks they stole from the chow hall.  I helped a few guys file grievances:  they’d left their laundry bags at the washers and their clothes were confiscated.  By 7:00, things were back to “normal” – whatever that entails in prison.
The sweep of buildings ended Wednesday afternoon.  “Ball courts only, ball courts only” rec call went out Wednesday at 3:00.  Fresh air and stretching.  I was back at work Thursday morning (classes – GED and college were cancelled for the remainder of the week).  As I write this, normalcy has returned to the compound.

What did the lockdown/shakedown accomplish?  From an institutional standpoint, not much.  No drugs or weapons were found; they didn’t even bring the drug dogs in.  Economically, it costs a fair amount to shake the compound.  Extra officers have to be brought in and shifts lengthened.  Does DOC have the money to afford twice a year lockdowns at low custody facilities?  Probably not.  The same day we came off lock the news reported Virginia state employees would receive no raise this year.  Low custody facilities such as this are not required to shakedown.  They do it because, well, it’s part of the ambiance of prison life I guess.
Another shakedown over.  Another strip search and disruption of our things, of our routine, completed.  I wonder how treating people the way we do when we lock them up helps to turn them into “law abiding” citizens.  Most guys become institutionalized.  They run their hustles, collect their contraband, lie, cheat and steal their way through their sentence fed by a system that perpetuates itself with dehumanizing the man without worrying about rebuilding his character.

Corrections?  Each shakedown, each lockdown, shakes a little more out of the foundation of prison as a place to correct and rehabilitate.