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The Roommate Chapter 7 Hampden - Pods
As we approached another pod building Lieutenant Hughes stopped us at the outer entrance. "This pod is very similar to the one you have already visited, and this pod has two sides like that one also. However, in this pod the offenders inside are classified at a high level of offense, so all of these offenders are classified as either a 4 and very few level fives. We will only visit one side in this pod also, but the one you do not visit is almost identical to the one that you will see." Here Lt. Hughes paused, and as the pause extended I decided that one of us...namely me, needed to respond. "Thank you Sir for both giving us a clear understanding of the types of inmates that we will be seeing, and also for making sure that we did get to see all types of offenders here." "You two have been given extraordinary access here, and so I did want you to understand that indeed by the time you leave Hampden you will have the total picture." "Thank you" Beau and I said almost in unison. When we arrived at the outside door both Beau and I patiently waited for the Lieutenant to open the door. As I stood there waiting, I thought that this waiting for those in authority to open doors and to authorize movement must become second nature to inmates... as it was becoming to us. When we began entering the pod, again by Lieutenant Hughes' calling someone to open that outside door, we were in an eight by ten entry area. As I was waiting for the door to be opened, I looked again at Lieutenant Hughes' uniform. How could he keep it so perfect? We had been together the whole time inside Hampden, and as I looked at Beau, I could see that his shirt and slacks had become a bit out of alignment, with his shirt not perfectly aligned with his pants...a single line from his shirt button down to his fly. However Lieutenant Hughes' uniform looked as perfect in alignment and in crispness as it must have looked when he put it on in the morning. How could he remain so perfect, I wondered. "Which side would you like?" Lieutenant Hughes asked. Since we had gone right last time, I looked at Beau and he nodded left, which was my idea also. "I think we'd like to go left this time." I said, unconsciously nodding my head left at the same time. "Left it is" Lieutenant Hughes said, and again he notified someone and there was a click, and the door to the left side slid open. We entered a space that was both alike and different than the space we had been in before. The similarity was that it was a space with two tiers of cells around three walls with an open area on the first floor which had a fairly large number of tables and attached seats which were very firmly bolted to the concrete floor. There was a lot of yelling going on between the inmates whose faces we could see in little rectangular openings about two feet from the floor. However the place where the correction officers had a desk and could observe the block was not an open desk which inmates could walk up to, and even move around as had been the case in the first cell block we had visited. Here the desk was inside an enclosure. The bottom was concrete, and above the concrete was glass which clearly was much thicker than ordinary window glass. We walked over to this officer's secure space, and when Lieutenant Hughes nodded to the officers inside the desk area, a door to this area slid open, and we entered a sort of control room for this side of the pod. We could see that there were controls for the door to every cell in the block. All the buttons were showing red, and indeed we noted that all the doors were closed. The doors themselves were solid steel with a small window at the top, which had a cover hinged on the right side, which could be closed from the outside, and which could keep the inmate in the cell from seeing into the block. Some of these covers were open and others closed. There was also a rectangular opening about two feet from the bottom of the door which we could see was hinged from the bottom, and, if opened , the open door would make a little shelf. In this case most of these doors were open. As we entered, we saw the officer's desk area. The officers were sitting behind and desk-like control panel with all sorts of buttons and lights. One of the officers looked at us, nodded at the Lieutenant. Clearly the officers were aware of who we were and what we were doing. As I looked at the two officers I could again see a stark contrast between the pride in their appearance between themselves and Lieutenant Hughes. The two officers' shirts were wrinkled, and they bloused out a bit from their waist bands. Their pants were wrinkled a bit, and their shoes were again the heavy soled black work shoes. They were not shined but were a dull black in an absolute contrast to the mirror shine of the Lieutenant's shoes. As they sat at the console I could see that their stomachs also somewhat flowed over their belts. I smiled to myself. They almost could be a "before" in a "before" and "after" advertisement for good grooming. Looking at us one of the officers began explaining. "The top row of lights indicate the status of the cell doors in this block. You can see that all the lights are red indicating that all doors are closed and the lock has engaged. Beside each of the large red light was another button and all of these were green. The officer must have seen me looking at them and leaning over to see what the little sign was for this series of lights was for. "This second series of lights indicate that water has been turned on for the cell. If we want to search a cell we can turn the water off to the stainless steel sink and crapper in a cell, group of cells, or all cells. This prevents the inmate from flushing away contraband that the inmate may have hidden in the cell. Normally all these lights are green. The next row of green lights are for the lighting/electricity to the cell. This also can be controlled from here, and so we can shut off an inmate's electricity to keep an inmate from somehow using it for some illicit purpose." Beau and I looked at these lights. I don't know about Beau, but I was thinking "WOW, these inmates are really controlled. Even their ability to flush the toilet or have electricity in their cell was controlled outside the cell. As we looked on, the officer said to Lieutenant Hughes, "It is time for cells 20 to 29 to have their tier time. There are two offenders in each cell. Do you want me to delay it or do you want to observe their tier?" Lieutenant Hughes looked at us, and I looked at Beau who nodded at me, which I interpreted as agreeing to allow them the tier time. I expected, as I suppose Beau did also that as long as these convicts were allowed to roam about that probably we were not going to leave this control room. We also realized that the inmates would probably be able to see us inside the control room, and we did not know how they would react to our being there. "I am not sure how the inmates will react to your being here," Lieutenant Hughes said, almost seeming to be able to read our minds. "But however they react we are here until their tier time is over." We both nodded acquiescence again. Lieutenant Hughes nodded. The officer spoke into the microphone that was just in front of him. "Cells 20 to 29 will now have one hour tier time. Do not leave your cell until all doors are open and the buzzer stops." I wondered whether this announcement was mostly for us, or whether this announcement was like the "Fasten your seatbelts." announcement that a person hears on the plane in preparation for takeoff. You hear it; you follow it, but it is almost noise than really something you especially notice actually was said. It was not that you did not listen and pay attention, but it was so common that in a sense you really did NOT pay special attention. As all the cell doors opened for the assigned cells, I decided it was a standard announcement because the inmates came out talking to each other, and also could be seen moving down the tier and down the stairs, and some hurried over to the bank of three phones which were on the wall to our left as we looked out of the desk area. I also noted that after the inmates left their cells, the doors to their cells moved closed and locked shut. I could see some moved slowly down the line, and clearly were talking to others in the locked cells, but the now freer inmates did not stop or get very close to those open slots in the doors. I looked at one of the two officers. "I guess it is against the rules to talk to the other inmates still in their cells as they move past those doors?" Without looking at me, the officer nodded his head and said "Yes they are not to communicate, and if they would stop by a closed door, that stopping would be classified as an attempt to pass contraband from one cell to another, and both offenders would be punished, but of course the offender on the outside would receive the much more severe punishment." "What kind of punishment would that offender receive?" Beau asked. "Well that would depend on what the tape would reveal was going on. Every part of the unit is covered by video surveillance. If it was determined that some contraband was exchanged the offender passing the contraband could lose tier time for a first offense, all the way up to time in the hole for repeated violations." "So inmates in the unit never really get a chance to meet and get to know any other inmates than those in the cells in his little area?" Beau asked. "No, we do vary the cells released occasionally, like we might do the odd numbers or the even numbers sometimes. We have released all a tier at a time, but we do that only when we have extra officers here to help observe and supervise." "Thank you officer." Beau said, somewhat thoughtfully.
I knew that I would probably hear Beau come up with some comparison of the offenders on the South who worked in involuntary servitude and these offenders at some time in the future. I suspected that the comparison would be on the better situation of the involuntary servants to these inmates. The other change I noticed was that there was less shouting between the locked cells now. The other officer, who was seated beside the officer running the panel, then got up and moved just to the left of the control panel and sat down at a desk area in front of a sliding glass panel which he now opened. There was a line of three inmates at his window by the time the window was open, and he was seated again. The first inmate gave him a piece of paper. "Yo man," the inmate said. "This is a medical kite. I need to have the nurse come here or stop by my house the next time she is checking this unit. I feel aches and pains all over. I need some cold medicine." The officer took this eight by ten piece of paper, and put it under a little stamping machine which put the date and time on the paper. "Your kite is processed." was his bored comment. I had never heard the word "kite" used to mean a message before, but as I thought about it, I thought it was really a good term for a message from an inmate. For an inmate, trying to get a message out was rather like having to make the effort to get a kite into the air. Even if you got the kite into the air, it might not go far, and it might just crash back to earth. Three other inmates handed their "kites" to the officer who stamped each one. I was looking at the inmates as their kites were being processed. Like in the first unit we had visited, they each were in the light tan inmate uniform. The shoes here were something like cloth sandals. These were over white socks...even though some of their socks and "t" shirts seemed more gray than white. I also noted that some of the inmates' white "T" shirts were more white than gray. I again noted that on the back of every inmate's brown shirt was his inmate number stenciled in at least two inch high numbers. I realized that this was the "back number" that I had heard offers use in their conversation about inmates. All inmates could be identified easily by his face if looking at an officer, or his large back number if he was facing away from an officer. As I looked I also noted that some inmates wore uniforms that were wrinkled and just looked messy, and others had their tops look like they might have been pressed. All of them had their name and DOC number on white bands above the left pocket. I noted that the name was in smaller print than the number. I thought to myself that this was indeed the priority to the officials of the prison. These inmates were more numbers to be held and less as individuals who were to be valued and perhaps even considered important. When there was not another inmate with a kite, the officer looked at us. He explained, "We mark each message to the administration or `kite' with the time, date, and unit, and then at the end of the shift we take the kites out with us to an office in administration where they are sorted and sent out to the appropriate officer or office." "Filling out a kite seems a lot like we in the dorm trying to get stuff for our rooms, or to point out burned out lights in hallways and stuff like that." Beau said to me. I nodded in agreement. "Yah." I said. "Remember how many messages I sent to try to get that one burned out light in the stairway replaced?" Just then another inmate came by the window to request cleaning supplies for the toilet and sink. The officer noted the DOC number of the inmate, consulted a notebook, and then walked over to a cabinet, and returned with a plastic bucket with an aerosol can of toilet cleaner and another aerosol can of something called "Stainless steel cleaner and polish." "These are checked out to 881998 until final cell check today." the guard noted as he handed the bucket out to the inmate. The inmate took the little plastic bucket, said thank you. He then went up the stairs and placed the bucket beside the door to cell 26, and immediately returned to the first level. His actions were observed and noted with a check mark in the notebook by the officer at the desk. The final two inmates in line came in shower shoes, and with a towel and a plastic container of soap. They each handed in the plastic soap container for inspection, and after the plastic soap containers, and the soap were inspected, then the towel had to be handed in for inspection. When all the items had been inspected, they were returned and the officer said. "You are both approved for a shower." He then pushed a button on the console and looked up at them again. "I have turned on the two showers, and they will be on for five minutes." As they moved rapidly over to an opening in the perfect rectangle of the wall of the pod, Beau and I recognized that the opening was like the one we had seen in the previous pod. However there we had seen inmates just go into the shower area with their towels and soap containers. Again, increased observation and inspection came with an inmates' classification. If an inmate showed himself to be more cooperative then in the world of incarceration that inmate would be rewarded with more freedom, at least in the context of having almost no freedom. "There are only three shower heads in the shower area," the officer said, and we restrict the number and the offenders who can be there at any one time. We do not intend that anything happens in the shower area. We know these two are not going to do anything but shower." Neither Beau nor I asked what else might be done in the shower, because we both assumed that the officer meant that the two would not do anything sexual while showering. Just then a small screen came to life on the console, and we saw the two inmates strip and begin showering. In prison a shower also was not a private activity for these offenders. I asked why the inmates had been locked outside their cells after all had left their cells when the doors were opened now. Seeing my look the officer said to us "We need to keep inmates from being able to put items from one cell to another, and certainly from visiting in other cells."
I remembered that in the cell house we had visited previously inmates were going in and out of each other's cells the whole time we were there. Then again, I remembered that these inmates were considered more dangerous than those in the first cell house. Seeing my look as the cell doors closed and clanked shut, the officer said, "We don't allow cell visits in this unit and any unit but the lowest classification.
When inmates cannot be in each other's cells, it takes away the defense when contraband is found in a cell that "Some other con put that in my cell." I then really looked over at the phones. There was a queue. Since the officer at the window did not have anyone there at the moment, I asked. "How much time does each inmate have for his phone call, and are they censored? I got an answer, "They can buy cards that give them ten minutes." but I noticed that the officer did not look at me when giving me an answer. He continued keeping a careful watch on the inmates who were out of their cells and continued his explanation to me. "Inmates can buy a phone card from the prison store and then use their phone card to make calls. The prison system takes bids for companies to provide long distance service for the inmate phones and the company then can charge much more per minute since the cost of allowing phone calls from inmates involves the monitoring, recording, and the gratuity returned directly to this facility for every phone call that is from the inmate phones in this facility. It costs an inmate about seven times more per minute than talking landline long distance would cost for you or me. The prison system loves all the funds the phone calls make and so our idea is then let them talk.
First, even though there is a recording at the beginning of every call reminding the inmate that calls can be monitored, and/or recorded, inmates say things over the phone letting us know all sorts of their cons and plans. Their phone calls to their attorneys are not supposed to be monitored, but that kicks in ONLY if the inmate gives the prison the phone number of the attorney, and gives us fifteen days to verify. Then that number is programmed into the system, and a recording is not made and monitoring is blocked. We can obtain a court order to override that if we can prove to a court that there is reasonable suspicion that privileged phone calls are being misused." I said "thank you." and would have let the matter end there. However Beau, who had been listening asked, "What does the money given back to this institution from inmate phone calls buy?" The guard who had been telling us all this information smiled, and continued. "Well that is a story in itself. A lawyer got a few inmates together somehow and on their behalf and for all the inmates of Hampden, he sued to find out where the money WAS spent, and his ultimate goal was to have all of it spent on the inmates...like sports equipment, and tv's in their cells and shit like that. It was great! Their lawyer found that it did help pay for maintenance on the phones, which do get some hard use like when an inmate get juiced and slams down the receiver or smashes the phone, but their lawyer went after all the money from the phones that was over all those expense and the prison used to buy new handcuffs, belly chains, and shackles. Some of it was even used to repair and maintain their cells and locking mechanisms. He really went to town at trial at how the funds should be used for vending machines for inmates, more phones, subsidies for inmates to buy store items and such like. The prison's lawyer made the case that the inmates received a great benefit from the cuffs and chains, because it kept dangerous inmates from attacking other inmates and helped keep the prison guards safe and these guards protected inmate from the predators in the prison. The court did order that at least fifty percent had to go directly to inmate benefit, and so fifty percent goes to buy their replacement clothing at a reduced price when their free state issue begins to wear out, but on appeal the state supreme court expanded the clothing benefit to officers and so a part of the clothing benefit from phones helps officers buy their uniforms. Now about fifty percent of the profit from the phones helps guards buy their uniforms, and helps the prison buy all the cuffs and shackles we need to keep order. To quote the state supreme court opinion, "It is inherently in the inmates' interest that good order is maintained in the institution, and the offenses of the inmates of this institution have substantiate the state's claim that the restraints did help keep some inmates from attacking other inmates, and doing other such actions as `might adversely the health and safety of the inmate population of Hampden Correctional Institution.'" The other guard nodded and they both laughed. Neither Beau nor I thought it quite as humorous. I then asked the question that had occurred to me earlier when I had noted that some inmates had clothing that was clearly more clean than some other inmates' clothing. In response to the question both officers laughed. "You'll not believe it, but the cleaner looking inmate uniforms are the ones the inmates wash themselves, and the more dingy clothes are the ones that those inmates send off in their laundry bags to be cleaned in the facility laundry." Indeed Beau and I did look surprised. The two officers smiled and waited for the question they knew we would ask and indeed I asked. "How do the inmates wash clothes in their cell?" The officer at the window smiled even more. "They wash their clothes in the shitter in their cell." Beau and I both looked at the officer as if he were crazy. However once the officer had gotten the reaction they wanted, they explained. "You saw how an inmate can get cleaning supplies for the shitter. Well after the inmate gets the shitter clean, then they use detergent that they can buy from the inmate store, and wash them in the clean cold water in the shitter. They then let them air dry in the cell. As you can see, they actually are correct. When an inmate sends his clothes to the prison laundry they are all in a plastic mesh bag with the inmates' back number on it. That bag is thrown into the monster huge washers in the laundry. However, if an inmate's bag happens not to get moved around, and sometimes worse, their bag gets clumps of the detergent that is thrown into their large institutional washers, and their clothes get splotches on them from being saturated with detergent or bleach." I thought to myself. How crazy is prison. Only in prison can clothes washed in a toilet be cleaner than clothes washed in a washing machine. It did not seem all that long when the guard not at the window leaned into the microphone and announced, "Five minutes to the end of your yard time." I thought calling being able to move around the inside of a cell house as yard time, but inside a prison being outside the cell itself was like a free person's ability to leave their house and walk around a larger area with some freedom of movement. We saw the two inmates come out of the shower area.
The guard then hit one button and all the cell doors from 20 to 29 began opening, and the inmates moved up the stairs and into their cells.
As soon as all the inmates were again locked into their cells, I once again began hearing all the yelling resume its crescendo. Beau and I also stood up. We both thanked the two officers who had been very considerate of our presence in their space. As I was standing, I suddenly realized that we had not ever introduced ourselves to them, and had not even asked their names. I decided that later was better than never, and moved over to the officer next to whom I had been sitting. "Frank Wilkinson" I said extending my hand. Thank you Officer Barton." Then I looked over and said "Thank you Officer Neal." to the other officer. Beau followed with his thanks, and then Lieutenant Hughes led us out into the open area that just moments before was full of activity, and now just contained us. The guards inside the enclosure opened the door to the anteroom, and then with another radio authorization once again we were in the central open space of Hampden Correctional Center. We walked to the central intersection of sidewalks and there Lieutenant Hughes stopped. "Well boys are you wanting to quit? Do you feel you have acquired the knowledge through observation and experiences that will give you an understanding of the life of an inmate?" I waited for Beau, but to my surprise Beau looked at Lieutenant Hughes thoughtfully, but did not offer a comment. I decided that one of us needed to respond to the Lieutenant, and I seem to be the one who would do so by default. "Lieutenant Hughes, I, and I know Beau really appreciate that you have really allowed us access and the opportunity to understand what being incarcerated here in Massachusetts is like. Primarily I was interested in this experience for Beau, who, as Beau himself has told you, is from Tennessee. He was the original reason why I wanted to visit these two facilities, but I am now sure I am so much more informed myself than I ever expected to be." Beau began almost the moment I stopped. I do not know if Lieutenant Hughes was thinking about a reply to me, but Beau certainly got there first. "Sir," Beau began, "we, in the South are supposed to be known for hospitality, but I am truly overwhelmed at the consideration and the willingness to help in my education about being an inmate in these New England states. As you know the rest of the country have almost no prisons any more. Now when an individual is convicted of a serious breaking of our laws that individual goes through a period of orientation, and then now both males and females are placed on the Department of Corrections' web site, with the important information about the offender such as the crime committed, and the length of the sentence. Once this information is on the website, then there is a process by which interested parties, such as my family, can lease the offender for all or part of that sentence time. Only certified and inspected entities are eligible to lease the offender for a period of time, not to exceed the full term of the sentence imposed by the court and the laws of the Great State of Tennessee. This day has made clear to me that the stories that are told in Tennessee, and other states which have adopted the leasing of individuals convicted of crimes to a period of involuntary servitude ( as provided for in the Fourteenth Amendment) concerning the cruel and inhumane treatment of offenders in the North are not accurate. These men while having their liberty severely restricted, are not being beaten, and their housing is not squalid as is the common idea of southerners. Ignorance is pernicious on both sides, and I believe that I can now speak to others who have the leases of those in involuntary servitude and explain that we need to be informed before we make such sweeping statements." Here Beau paused. Beau then smiled at both of us, and continued. "Of course you folk in the North also have some pretty inaccurate ideas of the conditions under which involuntary servants work." Lieutenant Hughes looked at the two of us very thoughtfully. "Boys there is one more unit that I believe I must show you. Originally I was not going to have you observe this unit, but I feel I must now do so in the interest of total honesty and disclosure. I am now going to propose that you two visit and really visit in person, the SHU, which stands for Special Housing Unit. The SHU is special in that in it are inmates of this institution, and actually also inmates from Enfield, who have been very difficult and uncooperative there. This unit houses those inmates who have shown a total unwillingness to follow the institution's rules, show no interest in any reformation of their behavior, and generally have become dangerous to other inmates, the institution, and even to themselves. To visit this unit I will have to ask you to also make an extra sacrifice...as was necessary strip search you two had to have to allow you to have the access to the inside of Hampden that you have already experience." "I now ask you the question. Do you want to finish with a visit to the SHU, which, as I said, will again require you to expose yourself to discomfort, or are you satisfied to end your experience here?" I looked at Beau. "SIR, I have truly appreciated your help and consideration in this visit, and I truly understand that this day was perhaps one of the most inconvenient days for us to make this visit, but I for one would like to complete my experience to include all levels and types of incarceration. However, I do not know what Beau would like to do. May we have some time for us to discuss this?" "Certainly" Lieutenant Hughes replied. "Frank you are very considerate to indicate that we should discuss this final level of incarceration here at Hampden, but I am willing to complete this experience to the last degree. Just entering this place exposed me to a level of experience I never anticipated happening to me in my whole life, and I cannot imagine that you could have too much more that would top being inspected as thoroughly as I was inspected, and therefore I wish to complete every level and personal experience as it is possible to obtain in this literally once-in-a-lifetime experience."