Date: Thu, 29 Aug 2013 01:36:08 -0400
From: d.a. w <daw62@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Roommate   Chapter 4

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The Roommate   Chapter 4     Inside

The next morning both Beau and I were excited to have our visits to both Hampden
Correctional Facility and the Enfield Correctional Center We both had chosen
black slacks with a white button down shirt but with no tie. We had discussed what
to wear, and we thought that these items of clothing would separate us from both
the guards, who were in blue uniforms, and the inmates who were mostly in
orange, red, or yellow jump suits.  A few inmates in protective custody were in
dark brown pants with an elastic waistband, and a front buttoned shirt with a white
"t" showing at the neckline.
We both were excited and a bit apprehensive at our trip inside these two penal
institutions.  After I had a light breakfast of toast, orange juice, and Beau had all
that and warmed Thanksgiving ham and freshly scrambled eggs, we went out to
Beau's BMW for the trip.  We were going first to the Enfield Correctional Center
as it was the smaller of the two facilities we were going to visit.  Dad said that the
current inmate count there was 937 inmates.
On our trip to Enfield there was surprisingly little conversation between the two of
us.  About all we talked about were my directions to get there.  When we did pass a
Mall on our way, we saw why the roads were mostly empty.  The mall lot was full
almost to the surrounding streets.  We successfully escaped the bargain hunters,
and arrived at Enfield before 9:00 am.  We parked in the lot marked "Visitors"  and
noticed the lot was really full.  Then I figured out that the day after Thanksgiving
was probably a big visitor day for inmates.  I knew that no visitors were allowed on
Thanksgiving Day itself.
We went through the door and found a waiting room stuffed with people.  We
bypassed the line to register for a visit, and went to a guard, and introduced
ourselves and asked for directions to the warden's office.  An officer behind the
man at the desk, said "Are you two the ones Mr. Wilkinson arranged to come
today?"
"Yes SIR." I replied.
"You two just follow me, and we'll leave this circus behind.  My name is Lt. Greg
Roberts.  You are not here really on a normal day as the inmates are really jacked
up with many expecting or hoping for visits.   That also means that many extra
officers are here just for escort duty bringing inmates to and from the visitor's
room.   If you really want to see a totally normal day you will need to come some
other day.   Not only are there many more inmates moving around today, but the
ones who have been in the waiting room have gorged themselves on sodas and
other junk food which is not available in the blocks and therefore get sugar highs.
All the co's hate these days because it always means that the offenders come back
all hyper, and it only takes one small word from another inmate to set some other
inmate off, and we have a fight in the block.  We almost always have to lock down
the place for a day or two after a big visitors' day just to get the offenders back in
proper discipline.  However, in several blocks where visitors are less common, like
the SHU, you would be able see what a more normal day at Enfield is like."
We both nodded like we really followed everything he had just said, and followed
him.  He led us to some lockers and indicated that watches and all metal should be
placed there, and since we knew that this would be required, we had not even worn
these to the prison.
"You ready?"
"Yes Sir," we responded, almost in unison.
You will have to go through the metal detector and be patted down.  Everyone has
to have that done.  Those of us who work here almost don't even notice it any
more.   An officer then came over and ran his hands over us.  He felt our arms and
legs, back and butt.  We ran our shoes through the scanner, and then on the other
side we were allowed our shoes again, and after that Lt. Roberts began leading us
down a hallway.  On both sides there were locked doors, with small windows.
"Each of the doors you see leads to a cell block.   The next one is the one that has
no inmate out for a visit, and so I am going to take you into that one.  It will give
you both an idea of what a day is like for the inmate."
Beau and I said, almost in unison, "Thank you SIR."    When we realized that both
of our reactions had been identical both in timing and in vocabulary, we
automatically did an elbow bump.   Lt. Roberts gave us a look but made no
comment.    Suddenly we both felt like errant schoolboys.
Lt. Roberts released his key ring from his belt, and searching through found the
key, and unlocked the door and opened it.  He stood aside and Beau and I went
from the well-lighted hallway into a very dark...almost cave-like short hallway.
Another door with a large glass panel in it looked into the cell block  To our right
was a cement block wall, and to the left was another cement block wall, but  in this
wall was a door and a small window.   Through that window we could see an
officer sitting looking through windows into the actually cell block.  In front of the
officer was a large panel with switches and lights.   I thought it looked like the
lighting panel for a stage.
Lt. Roberts tapped on the door's window, and showed his ID as well as looking in
through the window.   The officer inside looked at the ID and Lt. Roberts, and
scooting his chair over and opened the door.
"Brad these are two special visitors.  Frank here (and here he pointed to me) is the
son on Board of Supervisors member Wilkinson, and Mr. Masterson is Frank's
college roommate.   He is from Alabama and Alabama like the other slave states
do not really have jails and prisons because prisoners are leased to businesses and
individuals as involuntary servants.   Supervisor Wilkinson asked us to allow the
boys to see everything and answer all the boys' questions."
The look of disdain on the face of the officer underwent some transformation as Lt.
Roberts went through these (in my mind) very over-the-top explanations and
introductions.
"Good morning gentlemen.  I am Officer Gene Turner, and I am happy to be able
to show you what my job is here, and generally how the cell block operates."
Through the window we could see about twelve to fifteen inmates in a large open
space between two banks of barred cells.  Perhaps twenty to thirty feet directly
opposite us was a cement block wall, with two windows in it.  Both windows
looked to be about four to five inches wide but at least two feet high.  As I looked
to the right I could see that there were fewer cells on that side and that there was an
opening into another area.
In the middle of the room were six tables made of steel with little steel seats
around them, and all these table and seat units were firmly attached to the floor.
About ten feet above the floor to the left of the two windows was a TV.
Officer Turner looked at us and with obvious pride began his description of the
block.   "From this control panel I control the whole cell block.  For example the
top row of green lights shows that all the cell doors are open.  I can close all of
individual cells at the tap of a button.   With that he tapped a button and instantly
all of the cell doors began to close and the green lights went out.  When the door
was closed a red light came on.  The reaction of the inmates sitting around the open
area was immediate with shouting and waving of fists at the officer, although I was
pretty sure the inmates could not actually see him from where they were.
Immediately a speaker over the window came alive with a crescendo of shouts.
One very large man who approached the window shouting "What the fuck are you
doing asshole!" he yelled.
Officer Turner, turned to us, and smiled, ignoring the man looking in the window
and shouting.  "They get excited over any change in the routine."
Officer Turner then tapped another button and all the doors on the cells began to
open.   Officer Turner then hit another button and "Just checking the doors.   Sorry
I should have warned you."  He then clicked a button and looked over at us.
"Sometimes I need to do something different just to keep from the same boring
routine day-after-day."
As I watched this little incident, I wondered how I would feel if I were in this
situation.  You know that you are always under observation, and you are in almost
total control of others.  The little you might be able to depend on was routine, and
therefore a change in routine would probably really be distressing.
After the cell door incident the inmates returned to their places whether at the
windows or sitting at the tables, or just walking around the common area.  A
couple picked up their pace and seemed to be jogging around the open area.  That
caused me to ask a question.
"Sir, do these inmates ever get outside to exercise?"
Lt. Roberts answered, "There is a gym, with some weights and a basketball court
that some inmates with especially good behavior get to go to once a week up on
the top floor of this cell block.  However, the ability to go there depends both  on
the entire cell block showing good behavior and the ones we let go up to the gym
have been the best of the group.  It is a very special reward for really excellent
behavior."
Beau had been quiet, but had been watching all of this with a very serious look on
his face.
Beau finally broke his silence.  "SIR, then do these inmates then never do anything
but sit, and eat, and occasionally get a chance to play basketball for the whole time
they are here?"
"Pretty much" Lt. Roberts replied.
"So the citizens of the state pay taxes to allow these inmates food and shelter for a
period of time, and the inmates do nothing but sit and play, and eat?" Beau asked
...with a seriously shocked looked on his face.
"Pretty much"  Lt. Roberts again replied.  "Actually you see that inmate there by
the window?   He is basically homeless, and when winter approaches every fall, he
does a bit of larceny to get a six months sentence to get warm shelter, and secure
food for the winter.  He has `wintered' with us for three years now."
Beau looked at me with a look of shock and amazement.
"And so the citizens pay for these men to stay here and receive food and shelter
and do nothing in return?"
"Yes" I answered.  ""This is the way these men are punished for breaking the law.
They lose their freedom for a period of time, and during that time they are
imprisoned, and face a life in which they lose their freedom, and live locked away
from society, and kept under strict security."
"But again, society gains nothing from their time paying for crimes?"
"Of course society gains.  It gains by having these men who have broken society's
rules, locked away from society, and the men face being lacked away and living in
a life in which their actions and liberty are controlled by others."
"So what happens to these men when they have completed `paying their debt to
society'?    And I might add that society pays a lot for them while they are
supposedly paying their debt.  I cannot imagine how much it costs to build,
maintain, staff and run this place.   These inmates just get to sit around play cards
and watch television, and all the time they are enjoying this carefree life you and
all the other citizens of Massachusetts are paying and paying and paying."
Beau paused and looked at me; I suppose looking for some response from me.  I
could not think of one.
After a pause, Beau added. "I guess I do see that these inmates are paying a cost.
They are deprived of doing what the male of our species was designed and
ordained to do – work."
I was speechless.   I had never had our punishment system attacked so completely.
I guess the only other time I had questioned our sentencing system for an
offender's payment for breaking the law was when I read a book which advocated
replacing our system of time punishment with a system of corporal punishment.   I
remember I had some appreciation for the author's assertion that corporal
punishment – paddling or whipping, with the emphasis on paddling, was less
expensive, and did not destroy families, and allowed the offender after some
recovery system to go back with his family and job.   Even though I found that
Beau's speech, and that long forgotten book, did cause me to have a second
thought about the criminal justice system, I was not going to admit it in front of
persons who made their living making the system function.
At this point we left this cell block, and resumed walking down the hallway.  We
passed several doors which we surmised led to prisoner blocks like the one we had
just observed.   At each one Lt. Roberts would call on his radio to see if there was
anything unusual happening in the block and for each he receive the reply that all
was normal, except for the number of inmate on visitation.
At the last door, Lt. Roberts made his call, and this time the reply was that the
block was on lockdown because of a fight over a card game.
"Let's go into this unit.   It was allow you a more complete view of a cell block.
Nothing really gives you the feel of a block like being in one."
Beau and I nodded our heads in acquiescence to this idea, and after he opened the
door we went in.  We could see a bit of the interior from this little hallway.
However, Lt. Roberts called to the officer to open the door into the cell block.  The
door was opened from the control room, and we walked into a cell block, and the
door slid close behind us.
Lt. Roberts was absolutely correct.  The feeling of being IN the cell block was
totally difference than just looking into it.  When the door closed behind me I felt a
certain shudder.  We were now locked inside the cell block.  Only someone in the
control room could let us out.  As we looked around, I was not prepared for the
inmates' reaction to our presence.
"YOU bring those little boys in here for us to play with in lockdown?'
"What you looking at you assholes.  We are not zoo animals for your shits to look
at."
Lieutenant Roberts shouted "Shut the fuck up or all of you will spend some time
on lockdown and with peanut butter and water meals for a week.   These are
serious young men trying to understand the justice system.  They do not know any
of you personally and have no interest personally.  Just sit away from the bars and
they won't even be able to see any of you."  His speech seemed to calm down the
inmates, and so went around.
I could not resist and looked out the window.  I could not imagine what it would be
like to be able to look at that narrow slit of glass, although I could see it was
actually infused with a grid of tiny threads which were a little shiny like they might
be steel.  I could look out the window, and in the distance, on the other side of the
three fences which surrounded the facility, trees and in the distance cars moving on
the streets.  I tried to decide whether I would want to look out at the free world
beyond my life in a locked cell block or would be happier just pretending that all
my life was just here.
Just then a voice came out over the speakers in the room.  "Lieutenant, F11 is
empty.  I will open it so that they can see what a cell is like."
At that moment the steel bars of F11 began sliding open.  Beau and I went inside.
It was probably five feet across, and there was a little round seat, and a fold down
table top both of steel folded against the right wall as we entered, and on the left
side were two steel shelves folded up against the wall.  I figured out that these were
the bunks when folded down.  I could see no toilet or sink in the cell. I could not
resist, I asked.   "Where do inmates go to the bathroom when they are locked in the
cell?"
"You see that button on the wall by the front of the cell?"  We looked and saw the
button.   "The inmate presses that button and the guard opens the cell door but the
inmates are actually expected to take care of their personal needs before lock up.
If the button option is overused, that inmate receives time in the administrative
restrictive unit.  Those units have a toilet/sink unit in the cell, but the inmate is
locked in the cell twenty-three hours a day."
"Boys, I am going to step outside the cell and have the officer close the cell door
so you get a feeling of what it is like inside at night."
He stepped outside, and speaking into his mike said "Close F11."
The door slid shut, and even though the opening was closed only with steel bars,
and inside you could really see outside the cell easily, having that cell door
certainly made an impression on me.   I immediately felt the walls closer and a bit
of imprisonment that I had never experienced before.   I instinctively went to the
cell door and put my hands on the bars and grabbed and tested how solid they
were.
"Everyone locked in a cell does what you just did when first locked up.  It is just
human nature I guess to really check that you.re caged and others control your
freedom completely."
Beau did not grab the cell door.  He did quietly say to me, "Our slaves are penned
in steel barred cages every night.  I have never been inside one with the door
closed.  It is amazing how being locked inside a cage does psychologically really
affect your mind.  I can see how sometimes we remark that slaves act a bit like
animals, and now I can see that inside the cage you do feel like a caged animal."
Beau paused for a time, and we just looked at one another.  "Interesting..."
Beau finally said very thoughtfully.
Just at that moment the cell door began opening. We left the cell thoughtfully.
The last area we visited was the shower and toilet area.   We went around the
corner just to the left of the door out of the cell block as the inmates would look at
it.   As we rounded the corner we came upon a shower area that looked most like a
locker room with several shower heads around a wall area and a large drain in the
middle of that area.  However on the wall opposite us as we entered was a set of
five stainless steel toilets.  Each was attached to the wall, and was side by side with
no privacy panel between them.   These were all steel, and the seat was a rounded
area of stainless steel.  There was no movable seat.   Next to the toilets, and on the
wall just to a person's right as the person would enter this area was a row of
stainless steel urinals.   These were the long narrow style with the drain at the
bottom on the floor level.   Clearly the showering, pissing and shitting of  inmates
was a community affair unless there was some agreement among the  inmates not
to enter if another inmate entered to take care of his personal elimination needs.
Beau and I were rather sure that such an agreement was highly unlikely.    We
turned around and joined our guide.
"You boys have anything else you want to see in here?" Lt. Roberts asked.
"No Sir"  we stated in unison.
The next parts of our tour took us up to the top floor to see the gym and recreation
area.   Clearly if you did not want to play basketball you had limited alternatives.
Lt. Roberts must have noted that basketballs seemed to be the only exercise
equipment available.  "Most inmates play basketball." was his only remark
Finally Lt. Roberts took us to the segregation unit.   It looked like the others we
had seen except that the doors to the cells were solid steel, with a window at the
about eye level, and a slot with a door latch able from the outside and, we were
informed allowed food trays to be inserted.   When we went into the control room
for the segregation unit we heard a cacophony of voices.  Everyone in the
segregation unit seemed to be yelling at another inhabitant of the unit, or epithets at
the guards or the system or society.  There were no windows in this unit's common
area wall, and there was no TV in it either.   There was only one steel table bolted
to the floor.
Finally we were taken down to the kitchen and observed the inmate crew preparing
a lunch for the inmates.  We were not surprised to see baloney sandwiches, and
peach slices from large cans of them in heavy syrup, and some green beans
complete with some strips of bacon to give each inmate what on paper might be a
nutritious meal.  It looked fattening and unappetizing to us.   However we said
nothing.  We were surprised when Lt. Roberts mentioned that the state provided a
certain amount for each meal, but if the meal did not cost that amount, but till met
the nutritional requirement that the surplus funds could go to the institutional
correctional officer's discretionary fund.   That fund could be used to help officers
buy uniforms, help supplement their pay, or even provide presents for the officer
on his/her birthday.
When Lt. Roberts was leading us toward the entrance/exit gates, he asked if
anything we had seen disturbed us.   I said "no," but Beau just could not resist.
"All those inmates absolutely doing nothing productive, but having to cost tax
payers a lot for the guards and for the facility seems like these inmates are
screwing society a second time to me.   The government spends thousands if not
millions, and gains what?"   Here Beau looked at the two of us.
Lt. Roberts offered, "Society knows that these inmates are being punished for their
offense against society."
Beau paused both literally and mentally to absorb that comment.
"Well, of course, as a citizen of the Great State of Alabama, I know that you will
regard my observation as benighted and cruel, but when our offenders are leased
out to certified holders, and put to work productively for all society, I think that
perhaps they would prefer honest labor to mind numbing vegetating."
Lt. Roberts stared at Beau, and after a pause asked, "Have you ever asked any of
your `involuntary servants' about what they think?"
"Well Lieutenant actually when I knew I was coming to Massachusetts to college,
I did ask some of the involuntary servants on our plantation if they would rather be
working every day on our plantation or be in penal institutions, as they understood
them to be, in the North.  Our servants all said that they enjoyed working, did not
believe they were being mistreated, and thought labor more satisfying than
vegetating."
Lt. Roberts and I looked at each other.
Finally Lt. Roberts replied.  "Well I suppose that is the reason we have not taken
that route for our offenders here, SIR.  We believe that helping the inmate learn
from his mistake will help them return to society and reform their behavior."
There was a pause, and then both Beau and myself sincerely thanks the Lieutenant
for his time and his consideration, and as he walked us back through the gates, and
to the waiting room, we retrieved our belongings and headed out to Beau's BMW
for our trip to the Hampden  Correctional Center.