I posted a cross-section of events, and would like to clarify that the cross-section is not an average day. It's a time-compression of a week, a month, the events within that time period. Certain things like the incident involving the bench warrant almost never happen, and it's more representative of the major events that occur every once and a while, hence it's out of place in the locational progress of the cross-section. That's not to say it's unheard of for a unit to be rocking and rolling all day like that, it's just rare. Recently, though, at one unit, in a week, there were a large number of incidences that classify as major incidences. The week started with a stabbing, led into a number of Offender Protection Investigations - allegations that the janitors on two wings were extorting sexual favors from offenders - saw yet another stabbing, a few suicide attempts, and reached its peak of scary when a mental health offender managed to kick a steel mental-health door open with his bare feet and tearing 1/8'th inch steel sheet like it was paper. Nobody was injured, thank God. All through this, the building schedule was maintained. Nobody stayed late, and all scheduled events occurred, albeit late in some cases.
So what the cross section actually represents is an average of the selected events and an average of how they are often handled. By policy or not by policy, seemingly wrong or right, they all need not apply. What happens in an incident is often fluid, and always shaped by the culture of the prison system. Strip searches are informal punishment, homemade alcohol is destroyed if it's found in a common area, two fighting 'inmates' are merely told to stop, and an 'inmate' who attacks a 'boss' always bleeds. What is right or wrong in there? Policy stands behind each example in many ways, but not in all circumstances.
I like to call the prison surreal. It is altered from an outsider's perception of reality. Men and monsters act so similar, and yet so differently. The same man who's the best worker you've encountered is the man who killed five people in a bloody rage 20 years ago. The man who just jumped on an officer, who's tattoos cover his entire body, embezzled a quarter million from his own company. You never really know, and the only thing you can expect is that things will not go as expected. The situations you encounter as a correctional officer are often highly irregular, so far as an individual's normal day goes. I offer some perspective now:
- Polunsky Unit - January 2010 - five offenders find God and try to escape from prison after evening church services. They were stopped by a shotgun, but were not killed. Stand behind that shotgun for a minute, if you would please; now point it at those five men and pull the trigger. Did you remember to chamber a round? Take off the safety? Yell at the men to stop? Ask yourself, now, what does it feel like to kill somebody? Shoot again; you need to shoot again! you are what stands between these five men and freedom. Can you hear the AR-15s of the pickets above you, popping, cracking as they join your barrage? Four shells are yours, 36 lead pellets. Drop that empty pump action, it's worthless now. Draw your revolver. Are they still moving? Does it matter anymore? Do you keep shooting? Answer quickly, answer honestly, lives and jobs hang in the balance. Can you answer? Is it heroic? Stop. Now. Stand alongside yourself. Take away that adrenaline and the smell of gunpowder. Look at the men; five unarmed men, not moving. Did you kill them? Did you hope? That they lived or died? These are hard questions if taken seriously. Can you answer them?
- Any Unit - Any Given Day- 30 offenders approach a wing door, returning from chow. Pat searching them is routine. The offender standing in the middle of the hallway isn't. Offenders walk to the sides of the hallway so there's always room for staff to transit by the quiet lines of offenders. I hope you feel up to this, because you have to correct this offender's behavior. Approach him. He's bigger than you, doesn't matter how big you are. Tell him to get out of the middle of the hallway. He doesn't want to. Ask him for his ID card. He won't give it up. Worried yet? Look around, who has your back? One officer two corridors and barricades away. What bout the 20 offenders in the hallway? Concerned yet? Where's the cellblock picket officer? 3 row, along with the other wing officers. Do you let the big offender go? Do you let the disrespect stand? Answer now, there's no time for contemplation. Don't back down now, a test of intent is needed. Order the offender to the wall. Can you muster a commanding voice? Tell him to submit to a strip searc, by policy he cannot refuse. Does he comply? What if he doesn't? Can you summon additional staff? Will your supervisor stand behind you and lock the offender up for refusing to submit to a strip search? Is all this worth it to keep a guy out of the middle of the hallway? Think fast, time wasted here means more problems on your wing as offenders go into the wing from the chow hall with alcohol from the dishroom and stolen food off the serving line. Is this one more important than any of that? Is any of it important? Why? Think fast! There's no right answer, but you do need to answer.
In the end, law enforcement and corrections is all questions; a day of a thousand questions that have no right answers, but do have wrong ones. You get better at answering as time goes along, but lessons are learned the hard way. The big inmate in the middle of the hallway might be getting ready to shank somebody, or he could be a deaf janitor. While dealing with him, 2 gallons of alcohol might make it onto your wing, and a brawl erupts in your dayroom later due to that. If you stop one of the worst case scenarios, or if you stopped neither, did you do your job right? I'll leave it at that, and up to you.