Doing Time...

I worked for a time as a Correctional Officer (CO) when I returned to Kentucky. It was a work-release facility that housed prisoners on misdemeanor sentences (a year or less of incarceration). We also handled prisoners that were about to make parole from one of the state penitentiaries. They were brought to us to house them while they found employment, established good work practices and could be placed in a half-way house on their journey to be mainstreamed back into society. One wing of the facility housed inmates that had been court-ordered into drug/alcohol treatment; kind of a last ditch effort by the state to keep them out of the penile system. It was an eye opener for me. I learned a lot on that job about people and society both.

The majority of inmates were where they belonged. They were there through choices they had actively participated in making. They were those men who would not make child support payments, repeat offenders for drunk driving, minor domestic violence offenders, failure to pay fines for one offence or another, burglary, bad checks, forged intruments, etc. Not really bad people per se, just men who had made some less than desirable choices in their life and were now being called upon to answer for them. Almost all of the men there could have their offenses traced through the thread of drug/alcohol abuse or addiction. I think that is probably true for the majority of people incarcerated in the United States if not the world. There were several though, I am sure were there due to a mental illness of one kind or another. They were there by default because there was simply no other place available to put them. They didn't need to be in prison or were not sick enough for the state hospital and could not be placed in the cruel population of the county jail for their own well being. We were the lesser of available evils for them. I really hated it for these individuals and tried to look out for them as best I could, but powers greater than me had put them here. And so it was.

We housed on average about 450 inmates on three floors and in the drug program wing. All were open bay barracks-type situations. Along one wall was a row of 60 metal bunks with small wall lockers in between them for personal effects. On either end of the long open bays were several stainless steel picnic tables with benches. Every item of furniture and bedding was bolted down so they could not be picked up and used as a weapon.

Mounted high on the walls there was a television on each end of the bay. Programming was limited to one of two channels, selected and controlled from our command post down stairs. Inmates we not allowed to watch news reports as they contained information about ongoing legal cases that they may be involved in on the outside. We didn't want them getting upset by what they saw there and causing us trouble. Most people think television in jails is a luxury for the prisoners. Nope. It is for the benefit of the CO's as it helps break the boredom for the inmates and placates them. A distracted prisoner is a quiet prisoner. Using it as a privilege that would be taken away for misbehavior, the inmates were compelled to police themselves to a degree.

Inmates were not allowed newspapers either, for the same reasons that they were prevented from watching the local news. There was, however a facility library of sorts that brought books (paperbacks only, hardbacks can become a weapon) to each floor everyday on carts. Prisoners would put books they had read on the cart and take others from it. This too was a privilege/reward kind of thing to compel self-policing by the inmates.

There was a common area latrine with an open shower room in it, much like you find in a gym. There were specified times for showers and personal hygiene throughout the day. Urinals and toilets were always open, but there were no doors to stalls that could shield covert activities by inmates.

Meals were brought in 3 times a day by a private contract catering business operated across the street at the main county jail. The meals were prepared by prisoners over there and put in merrimite cans and brought to us to feed out. Each floor provided prisoners for servers. This was another sought after privilege because they could eat as much as they wanted after all others had been feed.

The facility nurse held sick call each morning after chow. She also issued meds three times a day to those that needed them. Prisoners were not allowed to have any medication in their possession. If it was determined that an individual needed the attentions of a physician, they were belly chained and ankle shackled and taken to the county hospital for treatment. A CO stayed with them and brought them back when they were done.

We also made sure anyone with a court date made his appearance before the judge. We would shackle and transport prisoners across the street and turn them over to the main jail for their handling and go back to retrieve them that evening, if they were to come back.

Visitation was on Wednesday nights and Sunday afternoon. Inmates were allowed a visitor on one day or the other but not both. It too was a privilege. Prisoners were allowed to touch their visitors at meeting and parting for a short hug/kiss and had to sit on opposite sides of a table out of reach of one another after that. Visitors were searched prior to admission and prisoners were strip and cavity searched prior to returning to their floor to prevent the possible introduction of contraband to the dorm floor. No children were allowed and there were no conjugal visits.

Inmates were allowed to visit the recreational area/canteen twice a week. This is where the phones they could use were also located. The phones cut off automatically after 10 minutes to ensure that everyone got a chance to use them. Phone conversations were sometimes randomly monitored as a deterrent to inmates participating in criminal activities while in custody. Canteen/recreation opportunities were also a tool of compliance.

Various religious services were offered on Sundays and as with everything, were viewed as a privilege not to be unreasonably withheld.

We were ordered to perform headcounts of inmates each time a movement had been made, i.e. chow, sick call or canteen. We also took them twice a shift through the night and reported them to the command post. We were also required to check at least two wall lockers per shift at random, for a health and welfare inspection and to search for contraband. These things were done on each floor individually.

Prisoners on work release were strip and cavity searched each time they returned to the facility. They also blew a Breathalyzer test each time and were randomly picked for drug testing through urinalysis. Revocation of work-release status was immediately revoked for any infraction and they were transported back to the main jail.

Any inmate on the floors found guilty of an infraction was also sent back to the main jail and lost their privileged status in the work-release program. As stringent as our facility may sound to some, it was nothing compared to the county jail across the street. Our place was highly sought after as the facility of choice to serve time in.

Some CO's, in my opinion, should have been prisoners themselves or at the very least fired. They were mean spirited and seemed to take pleasure in making the lives of the inmates miserable. I often felt they abused their authority and power and would dress them down when appropriate or report it to higher. They just made the job harder for the CO's and prisoners alike.

My philosophy about it all was pretty simple and I would take the time to address the floor at the beginning of each shift, for the benefit of newcomers, just to let everyone know where I stood. It went something like:

"For those of you that don't know me, I am Officer Lawson. We won't have any problems here today unless you make 'em. I don't like games and won't be playing any. It ain't my job to punish you, your being here is the punishment the court intended. It's my job to look out for your welfare and make sure you are where you are supposed to be, at the time you are supposed to be there and doing what you are supposed to be doing. I don't know why you are here and it doesn’t matter to me. I just know that you are here, so lets make the best of it. You do your time and I'll do mine."

I never did have too many problems to deal with. There would be the occasional ruckus between a couple of inmates or something, but I just promptly called for assistance and they were taken back to the main jail. No questions asked. They all knew where I stood and where they stood in relation to me. You got to show respect to get respect.