I went to see Marc yesterday. The thin blue line separating the inmates from the vending machines in the visiting room has been instituted at his facility as well, as well as new signs erected that INMATES ARE NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH THE MONEY, complete with photocopied images of a one and five dollar bill, in case you are confused about what they mean. Obviously somebody somewhere somehow found a way to abuse the situation and got ahold of some money, now everybody has to stand behind the taped blue line on the floor like a kindergartener and let their visitors get their food and drink and heat it up for them.
The prisons are full of seemingly inane rules like this, because one or more inmates took advantage of what little freedoms they are allowed, without a care as to the consequences for others. At times you have to wonder if they’re dealing with grown men. Apparently not.
One of the things Marc mentioned is that his facility has received 200 new inmates in the six weeks since my last visit, and the whole dynamic of the prison has shifted. “Nothing but kids,” he says. “Kids who don’t know anything and don’t care.” At one time, there was what was called the convict code. Unwritten rules of behavior among convicts, which I suspect evolved to create personal space and some semblance of order in a place that has precious little of either. With the facility Marc is now at operating at 27% over capacity, there’s even less personal space. He’s had to adopt the hard prison demeanor in order to stay out of trouble and get people to steer clear of him. When he stepped into the visiting room, I could see it just radiating off of him, like a huge, angry aura. Nothing but pure masculine attitude.
First thing I said to him was, “Whoa. I haven’t seen that before. It’s almost palpable.”
That’s when he told me about the 200 new arrivals. I’d gotten away from keeping track of how the prisons were filling up in this state once Louis was transferred. Funny how as a rule, things that don’t affect our lives personally don’t seem to concern us. I’m as guilty as anyone of moving on to other concerns. As I check the monthly population report now, for the first time in six months, I see that Louis’s facility is filled to 112% capacity. The only places in the state not filled to capacity are one woman’s prison and the state boot camp.
The overall system is filled to 117% capacity. (7669 more people than they have space for.) When I checked in January, it was at 113% capacity. In March, Marc’s facility was at 99% capacity. It’s now at 127% capacity. He says that in the three years he’s been there, the population has more than doubled, from 800 to what it is today, 1656. And most of that is kids, meaning those in their teens and early twenties. The supposed future of our society.
Louis has mentioned this, too, how his prison is filling up with kids, kids who have no clue how to act. Both of them tell me most of the kids coming in today have no business being there. They’re like deer in the headlights. Kids who made stupid mistakes, but aren’t criminals, not in the true sense of the word. Having a drug problem may lead you to criminal activity, but does not make you a criminal like those with clear heads who willingly and deliberately engage in criminal conduct for status and profit. There is a difference, but the war on drugs makes no distinction. Marc has told me of a friend who did eight years and now has to register as a sex offender, because his girlfriend at the time was 17. Her parents had him arrested on his 21st birthday.
Then you have others coming in, those who consider prison a rite of passage. It’s something their fathers and uncles and cousins did, and now it’s their turn, and is just accepted as a part of life. A badge of honor, even.
Mix all of these ingredients in, and you have a recipe for trouble. Where Louis is, last week ten people went to the hole for either fighting or stabbings. He says fights break out daily on the walkways and in the chow hall. Guards are getting beat up. Inmates are getting stabbed. Others are being raped, robbed, and worse. Louis likens it to the Wild, Wild, West. He described the breakout of one fight in the chow hall and finished with, “I just finished my pancakes and banana and left.” Another day, he told me a guy near him got hit on the head with a tray and, “I didn’t miss a beat. I just kept eating.”
Then, on the other side of the door, in the visiting room, you have thin blue lines keeping inmates from heating up their own sandwiches. The contrast is hard to imagine, and must be completely bewildering to experience. To go from totally uncivilized behavior where might makes right and violence rules, to what is comparable to an afternoon tea party. It’s a wonder Marc and Louis know who they are as human beings anymore. It’s nothing short of a miracle that each of them is able to find their true selves for a few hours in the company of someone who cares deeply about each of them.
Marc relaxed eventually, and we were able to have a nice visit. At one point he was laughing freely, and I had to wonder how long it’s been since that happened, and if it felt odd in his body to be laughing. Especially given the way he looked when he walked into the visiting room. Slowly, I could see him relax and get comfortable. But when it was time to go, I could also see him donning that aura of attitude again, preparing to walk back into a world of chaos.
The prisons are full of seemingly inane rules like this, because one or more inmates took advantage of what little freedoms they are allowed, without a care as to the consequences for others. At times you have to wonder if they’re dealing with grown men. Apparently not.
One of the things Marc mentioned is that his facility has received 200 new inmates in the six weeks since my last visit, and the whole dynamic of the prison has shifted. “Nothing but kids,” he says. “Kids who don’t know anything and don’t care.” At one time, there was what was called the convict code. Unwritten rules of behavior among convicts, which I suspect evolved to create personal space and some semblance of order in a place that has precious little of either. With the facility Marc is now at operating at 27% over capacity, there’s even less personal space. He’s had to adopt the hard prison demeanor in order to stay out of trouble and get people to steer clear of him. When he stepped into the visiting room, I could see it just radiating off of him, like a huge, angry aura. Nothing but pure masculine attitude.
First thing I said to him was, “Whoa. I haven’t seen that before. It’s almost palpable.”
That’s when he told me about the 200 new arrivals. I’d gotten away from keeping track of how the prisons were filling up in this state once Louis was transferred. Funny how as a rule, things that don’t affect our lives personally don’t seem to concern us. I’m as guilty as anyone of moving on to other concerns. As I check the monthly population report now, for the first time in six months, I see that Louis’s facility is filled to 112% capacity. The only places in the state not filled to capacity are one woman’s prison and the state boot camp.
The overall system is filled to 117% capacity. (7669 more people than they have space for.) When I checked in January, it was at 113% capacity. In March, Marc’s facility was at 99% capacity. It’s now at 127% capacity. He says that in the three years he’s been there, the population has more than doubled, from 800 to what it is today, 1656. And most of that is kids, meaning those in their teens and early twenties. The supposed future of our society.
Louis has mentioned this, too, how his prison is filling up with kids, kids who have no clue how to act. Both of them tell me most of the kids coming in today have no business being there. They’re like deer in the headlights. Kids who made stupid mistakes, but aren’t criminals, not in the true sense of the word. Having a drug problem may lead you to criminal activity, but does not make you a criminal like those with clear heads who willingly and deliberately engage in criminal conduct for status and profit. There is a difference, but the war on drugs makes no distinction. Marc has told me of a friend who did eight years and now has to register as a sex offender, because his girlfriend at the time was 17. Her parents had him arrested on his 21st birthday.
Then you have others coming in, those who consider prison a rite of passage. It’s something their fathers and uncles and cousins did, and now it’s their turn, and is just accepted as a part of life. A badge of honor, even.
Mix all of these ingredients in, and you have a recipe for trouble. Where Louis is, last week ten people went to the hole for either fighting or stabbings. He says fights break out daily on the walkways and in the chow hall. Guards are getting beat up. Inmates are getting stabbed. Others are being raped, robbed, and worse. Louis likens it to the Wild, Wild, West. He described the breakout of one fight in the chow hall and finished with, “I just finished my pancakes and banana and left.” Another day, he told me a guy near him got hit on the head with a tray and, “I didn’t miss a beat. I just kept eating.”
Then, on the other side of the door, in the visiting room, you have thin blue lines keeping inmates from heating up their own sandwiches. The contrast is hard to imagine, and must be completely bewildering to experience. To go from totally uncivilized behavior where might makes right and violence rules, to what is comparable to an afternoon tea party. It’s a wonder Marc and Louis know who they are as human beings anymore. It’s nothing short of a miracle that each of them is able to find their true selves for a few hours in the company of someone who cares deeply about each of them.
Marc relaxed eventually, and we were able to have a nice visit. At one point he was laughing freely, and I had to wonder how long it’s been since that happened, and if it felt odd in his body to be laughing. Especially given the way he looked when he walked into the visiting room. Slowly, I could see him relax and get comfortable. But when it was time to go, I could also see him donning that aura of attitude again, preparing to walk back into a world of chaos.
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1 comments:
Neither Marc nor Louis can be "happy" where they are, but it strikes me you help them find a little happiness in your visits.
Thanks for the peek behind the thin blue line. It's easy to forget that some people there are just that, people, striving for a degree of "normality".
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