And They Call Me OCD

I’ve written before about my penchant for things being in their proper place. I’m more tolerant now of “sloppiness” than I ever was in my real life. Out there, the mail being haphazardly set on the kitchen counter threw me off. I once referred to our home as a “crack house” because my then wife had left five boxed candles sitting on our dining room table (I told that story the other day to enormous laughter. One drug dealer then said “you’ve never been to a crack house have you?” No, I haven’t. But, I’m sure I’ll find boxed candles covering the dining room table!).



Anyway, I still need things to be “just so”. I fold my laundry a certain way, line my shoes up, keep my lockers in a particular order. One of the worries about a shakedown is knowing the assigned CO will rifle through your stuff and leave it in disarray.


As previously mentioned, one of my close friends in here is Craig. He is the other main college aid and works for the school as an administrative assistant. He also likes everything to be “in just a certain way” to the point he makes me appear to be “Mr. What the hell!” Like me, he keeps lists. Unlike me, he codes his socks (1L + 1R; 2L + 2R) so the pairs “stay together”. In between talking about school, we exchange organization tips and horror stories when our friends screwed with us because of our “condition”. My favorite recent Craigism – how his buddies used to sneak into his kitchen pantry and turn his soup cans and mix the tomato with the chicken noodle – “dirty bastards!”


Yes, we’re constantly picked on for our neatness. But, we’re not in the same league with Randy – the personal trainer. Randy is a laundry nut. He buys ten to fifteen bags of laundry detergent every commissary. He washes his bedding – sheets and blankets – every morning. Five loads of laundry each day, seven days a week.


Randy gets up at 3:00 am. He cleans the floors until 4:00, then showers, prepares both washers (they turn on at 7:00), then reads until breakfast. I rise each day at 4:00, shave and teeth brushing, mediation and devotions until 5:15, then shower and write until 7:00 am breakfast. Craig hits the bathroom at 4:10. We are men of structure. There are about a half dozen of us that organize our days to the “nth” degree. There are probably fifty who have little or no structure other than what the prison requires.


I need the structure. It’s my way of exerting individual control over my life in here. I know every morning from 4:15 to 5:15 I’ll be sitting in the lotus position on my bunk reading the Bible and praying. I’ve learned, however, that there’s a lot more important things than order. I’d rather have the candles on the table and the people in my life.

Lockdown Again

Lunenburg was on lockdown all last week for its semi-annual shakedown. At higher custody level facilities, lockdown is serious business. For example, Nottoway prison – about seven miles from here and which is a level 3/4 violent felon prison – has been on lockdown for over a month since the stabbing death of an inmate and an assault on an officer.



Here, however, lockdown is more like a parent sending their child to their room and only letting them come out for meals. For most guys here, lockdown is viewed as a vacation, a chance to get out of work for a few days, catch up on sleep, TV, and reading. Other than the actual search of your things, it’s a pretty boring week interspersed by the occasional fist fight that breaks out as a result of 96 guys being crammed together without break for four straight days.


As I reported last spring, everyone knows lockdown is coming. Much like moving the clocks forward and back, lockdown comes in spring and fall. The concept is this: eliminate all unnecessary movement of inmates around the compound, then swoop in with a large mass of officers and search every building for drugs, weapons and contraband. In theory, it’s a necessary component to the effective maintenance of security and order at the prison. In practice, it’s a joke.


At 7:45 am last Monday morning, the intercom announced “cease all inmate movement. Lunenburg is on lockdown until further word”. Within ten minutes of the announcement a pile of blue state shirts and jeans appeared along with dozens of towels, sheets and pillowcases. Then, inmates began hiding plastic knives (used for cooking) and extra shoes (inmates are limited to one pair of boots, one pair of sneakers and one pair of shower shoes).


There are thirteen housing units that are in use here. There is a vocational education building; a maintenance shop, two chow halls, two kitchens, a staff dining room, an enterprise factory, a medical unit, a programs building holding four classrooms, a library, a law library, barbershop, school and psychologist office, gym and visitation room, as well as two large rec yards. Every one of those areas needs searching during a shakedown. Even with extra staff working overtime, there is a limit to what can be searched in one day. During this shakedown three housing units a day were searched.


My building went through “shakedown” on Tuesday morning. We were led up to the visitation room after passing by the drug dogs. The dogs then pass through the building (no drugs were detected). Inmates are then called back ten at a time (five sets of cut mates) for individual shakedown.


You are taken into the bathroom and undergo a strip search. Following getting dressed, inmates (by cut) are assigned two officers that actually go through your things, and a third officer to keep records.


In my case, I was assigned the chief investigator for the compound. Being mildly OCD has its benefits. All of my property is organized. I have numerous file folders set up with paperwork, including receipts for every purchase I’ve ever made during my incarceration.


The investigator picked up a few things, looked at me with a smile and said “You’re that lawyer here. I know there’s nothing in here to worry about”. He then made me toss out two empty peanut butter jars. That was it.


The big “contraband” item found was 53 televisions inmates left behind for friends who didn’t own their own set. All electronics are engraved with your inmate name and number. DOC prohibits inmates from giving or receiving anything from another inmate. In principle, the policy makes sense. You never want to be indebted to another man in the penitentiary. But, as a practical matter, guys look out for their “stick men” (friends).


Friday at lunch, “lockdown” ended. I headed outside for a nice run. Six more months and the whole process starts again. I can’t wait!