From SBHS to SFRC

Happy New Year! I have tried to inject humor into the past few articles (although maybe not always successfully). This is in keeping with the belief that one of the keys to surviving in prison is to find humor in most things that happen and never take any of it all that seriously. Certainly the Florida Department of Corrections affords ample opportunity for that.

To start the New Year, I though I’d cover two of the more serious aspects of prison life: contraband and the “count.” But first I digress.

I’ve reported in the past on the bags of instant coffee we purchase at the canteen (quantity is four ounces). I’ve been critical of the quality but last month I relayed to you the recipe for South Unit Latte that uses the coffee to complement the flavor of the cocoa and non-dairy creamer. The issue at hand became, not the quality of the coffee, but rather how many cups one can get from a bag (naturally, this will vary depending on the strength of the coffee being made). So, I decided to keep track. With one bag, I was able to make 68 cups; at the current price of $4.23 per bag, this comes out to a cost of slightly more than 6 cents per cup).

If this isn’t anal-retentive enough for you, try this one on for size. Recall the inmate whose bed I had the misfortune to be next to (my request to move to another bed resulted in five weeks of purgatory at the Main Unit). I mentioned that this inmate is a smoker and what he smokes are the roll-your-own cigarettes available at the canteen. (Note: Unlike the Federal prisons and most of the county jails, smoking is still allowed in the Florida prison system, although presumably not for much longer. The way it may be eliminated, or at least seriously curtailed, is through the mechanism of significant price increases: When I first entered the Florida prison system two and one-half years ago, the roll-your-own tobacco cost $1.80 including tax; now it is over $5.00 and sure to rise again when overall canteen prices are increased – during the past two years, this has occurred at the end of March.) I had been told that at one time this inmate wrote a number on each cigarette, perhaps to keep track of how many he smoked or to ensure that he smoked the cigarettes in the order in which he made them.

The word “contraband” has an interesting lineage: It comes from the Italian word contrabbando, with contra – meaning “against” and bando meaning “legal proclamation,” the latter coming from bannus of Germanic origin. As a general definition, it means “Goods imported or exported contrary to law.” During the U.S. Civil War, slaves who escaped or were brought within the Union lines were also referred to as “contraband.” As a practical matter, within the Florida prison system, “contraband” refers to anything the DOC feels we should not be allowed to have.

Chapter 33-602.203 of the Florida Administrative Code deals with the control of Contraband and it may be instructive to quote it in its entirety:

(a) Any item or article inside an institution or facility, on the property of a facility or in the possession of an inmate that was neither:

(b) Any item or article not originally contraband shall be deemed contraband if it is passed from one inmate to another without authorization.

(c) Any item or article which is altered from its original design or is being used for a purpose other than that for which it was designed or authorized.

(d) Any item or article which is in excess of property limits provided in Rule 33-602.201 F.A.C.

“Property” refers to the items, and their quantity, that we are allowed to have in our possession which I will cover in a future article.

Subsections (b) and (c) are interesting and are worthy of further comment. To circumvent the effect of subsection (b), an inmate who has a magazine or newspaper (for which he has a subscription) that he wishes to make available to other inmates will, before distribution, cross out his name from the mailing label or remove the label entirely. This would seem to be of dubious value regardless because the item could always be subject to confiscation if the recipient were subject to inspection (aka “shakedown”) and he could not prove he was the rightful owner. I have been told that the intent of this provision is to reduce the theft of items between inmates; if an inmate has something in his possession for which he cannot demonstrate ownership the assumption can be made that it is stolen from another inmate.

By a strict interpretation of subsection (c), anything could be deemed to be “contraband.” For example, consider the bags of instant coffee (you’re probably saying to yourself: “Here he goes again rambling on about the coffee”). When I open the bag, it could be deemed to be “contraband” because it “has been altered from its original design.” From a practical standpoint, of course, such is not the intent of this provision, but from my personal experience, the Broward County Jail was notorious for frequently confiscating various personal items from inmates using a similar provision as justification.

I ran afoul of the contraband regulations upon my return from the five weeks in purgatory. I had commissioned one of the laundry workers (one of the two inmates who operate the sewing machines) to make a sweatband that I could wear during my work assignment in the dining hall. When my property was inventoried upon my return to the South Unit, I lost the sweat band as it was deemed to be contraband (I assume it could not comply with subsection (a) of the General Definition). The solution to this predicament, of course, was simple enough: commission the making of another sweatband.

Although we have more “freedoms” at the South Unit than inmates at most other institutions, nonetheless our whereabouts must be accounted for throughout the day. This is accomplished through the “count” procedure. A correctional officer stated one evening that the count is the most important aspect of his work.

The 10:00 o’clock evening count is the biggie: the Master Roster Count (more about this below). During daylight saving time, the first evening count is generally one hour later since the compound is open for a longer period after dinner. As a general rule, because most senior inmates at the South Unit are at a restricted custody level, we cannot be allowed outside in the dark unless under escort or supervision. (Here’s an interesting aside to this custody fiction: The DOC had no problem with my working around women as a Classification orderly – as I did during the summer of 2009 – yet I would not be allowed to work during the early shifts in the laundry or Food Service – assuming I wanted to – because, due to my custody level, I would not be allowed to be outside in the dark.)

Do the math: If there have always been five counts per day (during some days there are more because of “recounts” – see below), an inmate who had been “down” thirty years would have been “counted” over 54,000 times.

Most counts occur in the dormitory – this is certainly the case with the first morning count and the two evening counts – and are usually preceded by a flashing of the overhead lights. Then, one of the correctional officers enters the dormitory yelling “Count Time.” This is the cue for us to sit on our beds, facing in the same direction, in a zombified fashion while the officer traverses the dormitory “counting” the inmates. (Note: A possible South Unit luxury – for the first morning count on weekends and holidays, we are not required to be in an upright position. We can be recumbent but reading or listening to the radio is nevertheless not allowed.) Technically, two officers are required to perform the count to ensure there is agreement but depending on the personal choice, one of the officers may do the count from inside the control station.

After the count inside the dormitory, the next command is to “Relax” (some officers with a presumptive military background may opt instead for “At Ease”). (Note: This may be another South Unit luxury. Inmates at more traditional institutions may continue to zombify until the count process is completed at which time the count is deemed to have “cleared” – more about this below.)

At the later morning and afternoon counts – especially during weekdays – inmates, for a variety of reasons, may not be in the dormitory. For example, on days that I work, I would be in the dining hall at those times. So, the other working inmates and I are counted there and, naturally, the counting is done by dormitory.

As can be expected, the count process is not foolproof. If the total of the inmates that have been counted does not jibe with the number of inmates that are supposed to be at the institution, this would necessitate a …

As the name implies, sometimes we have to be counted more that once during a particular counting session. If the DOC wants to simulate an escape – perhaps as a training exercise for the correctional officers – they may employ the ritual of the Master Roster Count during these recounts.

When the counts within each dormitory and at the various remote locations are completed, the results are phoned to a central location – probably to someone in the administrative office. If the total of these counts agrees with the number of inmates that are supposed to be at the institution, the count is deemed to have “cleared” and life returns to normal (at least by DOC standards). For an example of what happens when the counts do not agree, see the concluding paragraph of this section.

For the 10:00 PM evening count, the correctional officer who does the count has a printout showing the inmates who should be in the dormitory. As each inmate is “counted,” he is required to state his name and DC number and show his ID tag; the officer then makes an appropriate notation on the printout. I have been told that at certain institutions inmates are required to wear their class A uniform (the complete blue uniform) at these counts.

Counts may occur during the early morning hours depending on the whim of the correctional officers working the graveyard shift. For example, there is frequently a count at 5:00 AM; I would suppose these counts are done to force the officers to do some work (to keep them from sleeping) or to ensure that the inmates are not doing something they shouldn’t be doing.

When I was working as a Classification orderly, one of the department employees told me an interesting story. Some years ago she was secretary to the Colonel at the Main Unit. Early one morning, an inmate was taken to the infirmary; shortly thereafter he was sent to an outside hospital but his whereabouts were forgotten. At the 11:30 morning count, the predictable happened: panic ensued. The institution was placed on major lockdown and the Colonel, Assistant Warden, and Warden became involved – the assumption was that there had been an escape. Eventually, the “missing” inmate was accounted for.

Greetings to everyone! Last month, I covered two of the more serious aspects of prison life – contraband and the “count.” For this month, I thought it would be appropriate to describe some of the more mundane – and insane – items. But I also wanted to cover the dog program as it was one year ago this month that it began at the South Unit. That topic, however, turned out to be much longer than I had expected – there was that much to write. Therefore, I will devote this entire article to it.

Officially know as the “Prison Pups Programs,” on the 22^nd of February 2010, six golden retriever puppies – about eleven weeks old, five males and one female – were brought to the South Unit. Operated in conjunction with New Horizons Service Dogs, a statewide philanthropic organization, the dogs are being trained to assist mobility-impaired individuals in performing certain activities such as opening and closing doors, turning lights on and off, and picking objects off the floor. Within the Florida prison system, the program began at Sago Palm, a low-security institution in Palm Beach County. The Warden of the South Florida Reception Center (he is the Warden of both the Main and South Units) thought this program would be of interest to the senior inmates at the South Unit.

As with many activities undertaken at the South Unit, implementation falls far short of expectation. The dog program would be an excellent one were it limited solely to the dogs; the problem is with the correctional officers and the inmates. I will cover each of these groups separately, but first, to answer the question of how I became involved with the program …..

One year prior, in early 2009, a notice was posted on the bulletin board in each dormitory announcing the program. The notice stated that questions about the program could be directed to the DOC employee who oversees recreation activities at the institution. Foolishly, I submitted what I thought were generic, noncommittal questions. Another big mistake! Of course, I never received a response but the person to whom the questions were directed must have felt that the mere act of submitting the questions was evidence of interest. I learned another lesson from this experience, something that goes by the acronym NAVY: Never Again Volunteer Yourself.

Nothing more was said about the program until December 2009 when about thirty-five inmates, myself included, were directed to the Visitors Park, the area within the institution where visitation occurs. Present were the Warden, other correctional officers, a woman confined to a wheelchair*, another woman who is a dog trainer, and two dogs. The purpose of the meeting was apparent: to formally announce the program at the South Unit. The Warden stated that the program would begin “shortly after the first of the year.”

* This woman works with New Horizons Service Dogs. She described her personal experience: a spinal injury at an early age left her disabled. One of the dogs is assigned to her and she gave a demonstration of the assistance the dog provides.

Two months later, early on the afternoon of February 22, I was ordered to the medical department but once there, I was told to go to the dormitory where the dogs would be housed and “pick up my dog.” Had I been aware of what was to happen, and had I been familiar with prison protocol, I could have opted out of the program at that time, as one other inmate did. I then officially became a member of the dog program, an assignment that was to last only for the next three weeks. During that period, I became intimately aware of how the correctional officers and the other inmates were interfacing with the program.

I should describe the living arrangements: one wing of a dormitory building was dedicated to the dogs and the inmates training them. In each wing, the living area is a room of about 2,500 sq ft (232.5 square meters). Under the standard arrangement, there are 46 beds arranged into two rows of twelve beds each along the walls and two rows of eleven beds each in the center (in the one building reserved for the younger inmates, the two rows of beds along the walls consist of double bunks so a maximum of 70 inmates can be accommodated in each wing). In the dormitory wing for the dogs, there are two significant differences from the standard layout:

1) The only beds are the two rows of twelve along the walls. With no beds in the center, this area was available for training and as a play area for the dogs.

2) The twenty-four beds along the walls are double bunks. This proved convenient because the upper bunks could be used to store the dog supplies (bowls, toys, et al.) and keep personal items off the floors. As you will see, one of the correctional officers did not react too favorably to this arrangement.

The dog program is the Warden’s pet project (no pun intended); day-to-day responsibility was entrusted to the Major, the same Major who, along with my Classification Representative, assigned me to the recreation yard instead of Food Service upon my return from five weeks at the Main Unit (as reported in the October 2010 article). Inmates who have observed this gentleman as he worked his way up the DOC ranks told me he has a reputation for never really accomplishing anything; this became immediately apparent. During the three weeks I was in the program, the Major came to the dog dormitory on only two occasions, that I can recall, and those visits were when he was accompanying other officers and DOC dignitaries on a tour of the facility (the Warden and DOC Regional Director visited on one occasion) although the inmates had many issues to discuss with him.

The best example of DOC ineptitude: The decision was made to enclose an area off the side of the dormitory to be used as an exercise run for the dogs. Within two weeks, posts were laid in the ground but then work abruptly stopped. The project was eventually completed on November 3 when the fencing material was installed. Why November 3? On November 4, the media were invited for a tour of the dog program.

From its inception, the dog program was a novelty among the DOC staff (as well as among the inmates). Some of the officers treated the dog facility as a petting zoo ordering the inmates to remove the dogs from their kennels (even though they may have been sleeping at the time) so that the officers could coo at them.

The program was never effectively communicated to the correctional staff who were expected to supervise and interact with it. Two instances are notable:

1) On the morning after the dogs arrived, the sergeant at the 8:00 AM shift* came into the dog dormitory and, in a strident voice, ordered the inmates to remove the items stored on the upper bunks. She then proceeded to announce, in an equally strident voice, “I don’t like dogs!” She was promptly moved to another dormitory.

* There are three eight-hour shifts per day beginning at 8:00 AM, 4:00 PM and midnight.

2) Recall the Master Roster Count at 10:00 PM. During the first week, the inmates formulated a plan to take the dogs out at 9:00 PM and then give them play time indoors for thirty minutes or so prior to the count. Most of the officers were amenable to this although it entailed more work for them as they were required to monitor us while we were outdoors lest we attempt an escape, with or without the dog. But then one night a sergeant arrived for 4:00 PM shift for the first of two nights per week he works in the dormitory. It was also his first night with the dogs. Shortly after 9:00 PM, a shouting match erupted between the officer and one of the inmates about the plan to take the dogs outside. In another strident voice (this may be the only way some correctional officers deal with inmates), he said something like: “This is my dormitory and no inmate is going to tell me how to run it!” Of course, he eventually relented and allowed the dogs to be taken outside. The officer stated that all he was told about the dog program was that there would be eleven inmates* and six dogs. This officer is known as Sergeant Hat. That’s because he always seems to be wearing something on his head – sometimes it’s a straw hat, at other times it may be a brown DOC baseball cap.

In any group setting involving multiple inmates, invariably there will be an inmate or inmates who yearn to be in charge. I saw this when I worked in the laundry and I certainly see it in Food Service (one of the inmates “taught” me the proper technique for wiping tables and sweeping the floor in the dining hall as he had been doing it for three years). In the dog program, this was taken to new extremes for there were three inmates who assumed leadership roles. But they acted in consort – a cabal – a troika of alpha male wannabees. Some of the things these gentlemen did or said were mind-boggling.

The original plan was to have two inmates assigned to each dog. With six dogs, that would have meant twelve inmates. But one of the inmates assigned to the dog program - a member of the troika – is such an abrasive, obnoxious personality, that no one would consent to work with him. I had a run-in with this individual that I’ll describe shortly. Of the eleven original inmates, only four are still in the program and one of them left and came back. I was the first to leave; other inmates – in addition to the original eleven – have come and gone since.

Of the original troika, only one remains. The other two were removed from the program, albeit nine and ten months too late. Of the one remaining, he is training the dog by himself because the three inmates who at times were paired with him have all left (I was the first).

I could tax your patience by regaling you with tales of the foolery that occurred in this program. A few examples will suffice:

1) When I expressed concerns about the Major not being receptive to our needs – that we had legitimate questions regarding implementation of the program – one of the members of the troika assured me he could resolve the matter. As he said to me: “I’ll speak to the Major. He listens to me.” Unless he is a sycophant or a certified snitch, any inmate who believes he has entrée to senior correctional staff, to the extent that staff will listen to anything an inmate has to say, is a candidate for a brain reboot.

2) Some of the inmates felt they were amply qualified to participate in the program because, as they explained, they had a dog as a pet some thirty years ago. Never mind that the dogs were not being trained as pets. Never mind that the dogs were expected to learn 70+ commands to function effectively with their impaired owners.

3) Although we were told that the dogs were not to be trained as pets, this didn’t stop one inmate from treating the dog as such. This individual, who is no longer in the program, is confined to a wheelchair (which otherwise would be good training for the dog) but he insisted on holding the dog in his lap. Also, I was told that after I left the program, the inmate had the dog in bed with him at times.

4) The last example concerns the confrontation I had with the inmate I described as abrasive and obnoxious. In keeping with the novelty that was the dog program at its inception, three days after the dogs arrived we were ordered to bring them to the classification department. This certainly could have been done at a later date when the dogs had become adjusted to their new surroundings. Adding to the problem was that the dogs and the inmates were forced to wait for the travesty to begin. While waiting, my dog, who was teething, began chewing on a leg of one of the chairs. It was at this point that the other inmate decided to intrude and the resulting dialogue, although brief, went something like this:

Of course, the response I gave was a genteel one. Had I adopted a typical prison response, I could have arisen from my chair, glowered at the individual (he is smaller than me), thrown a few f-bombs at him, and then asked if he felt I should rip the teeth out of the dog's mouth.

Each dog goes through two years of training. Once fully trained, each is valued at approximately $20,000 but is given to the disabled individual at no cost. There is no denying that the DOC, and the inmates training the dogs, are performing a noble service. But anyone who feels that the DOC in general, and the Warden at the South Florida Reception Center in particular, are driven solely by charitable motives, is also a candidate for a brain reboot, and probably can be given priority status.

On that note, I will close for this month and reboot my own brain. Until next month, be well.

One of the phenomena I have noticed about prison life is that holidays, and other special occasions, don’t seem to have the significance they do in the outside world. This may come from the controlled and monotonous lifestyle we experience. For Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the Fourth of July, we have a special meal at lunchtime (turkey on Thanksgiving and Christmas, barbequed chicken on July 4), there are various tournaments at the recreation yard (pinochle, tennis, bocce ball, et al), and the local inmate band may “entertain” us (I use the word “entertain” cautiously because the band knows only about five songs). Holidays, like the weekends, are visitation days so some inmates can share the holidays with friends and family. New Year’s Eve is nothing special. At my first New Year’s Eve at the South Unit (2008/2009), I asked one of the old-timers if anything special was done and he said no; he proved to be correct. We went to bed at 10:30 on December 31 when the lights went out and arose on January 1 with nothing having happened in between, although there may have been some inmates who were watching television at midnight. At the Broward County Jail, where there are two-man cells, it is customary to bang the cell doors at midnight.

I have already described the layout of the dormitories. In each wing, off the living area is a room, popularly known as the TV room or “day room,” consisting of four rows of seats, a table (picnic style), a water fountain (recall that both hot and cold water are dispersed, the former for the ever popular coffee and South Unit latte), and a television – in my dormitory wing, a 19 inch Sharp model. Because only broadcast channels are available – no cable – a converter box had to be installed when the conversion to digital format was adopted in 2009.

There are various reasons why cable service is not available, the most obvious, of course, being the expense. More important, however, is the fact that the television is a constant source of friction between inmates: fights have been known to erupt over the show to be watched at a particular time. With the additional channels available on cable, the possibility of conflict becomes that much greater. Lastly, to the extent that many of the cable channels are educational, such esoterica would be wasted on most of the inmates.

The DOC would view television as a privilege, rather than a right, subject to the consent of the correctional officers. One evening a shouting match occurred over the program to be watched; the officer in charge “solved” the problem by decreeing that the television be turned off.

After about one year, the converter box went to its final reward. I regret to report that it was I who caused its demise; more accurately, I was the last one to attempt to use it before its demise. The converter box consists of three buttons: an on/off button and two channel buttons (channel up and channel down). For some reason, the channel buttons were missing; to change channels required inserting a pencil (or similar implement) into one of the holes where the buttons should have been and engaging a toggle in the innards of the box. One morning, a correctional officer in the control station wanted to watch one of the scandal reality shows (never mind that he couldn’t hear it). As I was the only inmate in the TV room at the time, I attempted to change the channel. Inserting a pencil into one of the channel holes, but not really knowing what I was doing, I caused the box to short. I should mention that an inmate in the dormitory assured me that the box had reached its forecasted life expectancy of one year, so I was not ostracized for this transgression.

No converter box, of course, meant no television, but the officers were considerate enough to allow us to go to the other dormitory wing for TV viewing. After a couple of weeks, one of the inmates was able to purloin an unused converter box from the recreation yard; as expected, this caused the DOC employee responsible for recreation activities to become apoplectic but there didn’t seem to be any long-lasting repercussions, at least none that I am aware of.

Now, as fates would have it, the converter box in the other dormitory wing went to meet its maker but the inmates there – recall that I used to live in that wing prior to my five weeks at the Main Unit last year – had an ingenious solution: one of the inmates offered to incur the expense of a new converter box. Because this is a non-standard incident, and because the DOC would never be certain that the inmates weren’t acting out of ulterior motives, accomplishing something like this is not as easy as you may think. First, approval had to be received and this was granted by the Warden. The second step required getting the unit into the institution and this involved the intercession of the Chaplain who received it when the inmate’s wife visited one weekend day. Lastly, the unit had to be delivered to the dormitory which, of course, required officer oversight.

I happened to be present in the dormitory wing when one of the more knowledgeable inmates installed and programmed the converter box. The unit came with a remote control but the inmates were not allowed to keep it.

The comedy show ended when the resident maintenance inmate arrived and became visibly upset at not being involved in the installation of the converter box. This inmate goes by the nickname of “Hammerhead” for his propensity to solve all maintenance problems by hitting them with a hammer.

We are restricted to the hours during which we can watch television; a memorandum bearing an April 2010 date spells out this information. Some of the correctional officers choose not to enforce these restrictions and allow viewing at other times. For example, per the memorandum, on Friday night, Saturday night, and the night before a DOC holiday, the television is to be turned off at 1:00 AM the following morning. But one morning at approximately 3:00 I walked into the TV room and two inmates were watching TV; at least the TV was on and they were sitting in front of it (they could have been sleeping).

Major sporting events take precedence over other viewing options but in my dormitory wing, weeknight movies are also popular. With a large Hispanic population, many of the commercial television stations in south Florida broadcast in Spanish. One evening, one of these stations broadcast an American movie – one of the contemporary action specials – dubbed in Spanish. I counted eight inmates watching the movie: one Hispanic and seven Anglos. These Anglos certainly don’t understand Spanish; most of them can barely get by in English. One of the Anglo inmates – he has a hearing problem – explained it to me this way: “I can’t hear the television no matter what language it is.”

Here is something related to the television that could be included in a feature entitled “How Dysfunctional Can This Place Be?” There is an inmate in the dormitory who could also be described as “intellectually challenged” although to be honest, he may suffer from some form of learning disability. Because he does favors* for the correctional staff, the officers allow him to watch television beyond the usual ending time. But he would leave the television on when he went to bed. Shortly thereafter, I would arise early, go into the TV room, notice that the television is on and, being the good citizen that I am, I would turn it off. Another big mistake! It was “suggested” to me by another inmate – and I believe him to be truthful – that I should leave the television on so the correctional officers can watch it between their sleeping sessions, although they cannot hear it. What is the lesson that can be learned from this as I continue to acclimate to prison life: It doesn’t pay to be a nice guy. Good deeds are never recognized and the only consequence may be that I run afoul of the correctional staff.

* I will cover this matter in detail in a feature dealing with “Fraternization” – the relationship between inmates and the correctional staff. Needless to say, such favors are prohibited by Chapter 33.

Many inmates believe that prison is a license to engage in aberrant or antisocial behavior, or at least conduct that, while not illegal or immoral, does not conform to the mores that society deems to be acceptable. Here is an example. With this example, I can describe one of the services offered the inmates – haircutting.

There is a barbershop on the grounds. Unlike Federal prisoners, Florida state prisoners have to be neatly groomed. The same applies to shaving (no facial hair is permitted) but one can obtain a “no shave” pass (but the inmate is nevertheless required to go to the barbershop weekly for shaving); more about this when I describe the hygiene supplies that are given us.

The barbershop has three chairs. I generally go “first thing” Monday morning every five weeks or so. Until early January when there was a change of personnel, of the three barbers, one was Anglo, one was black, and one was Hispanic. You can surmise the clientele that each barber had.

Now, “first thing” does not have the same connotation it does in the outside world. Unlike a commercial establishment, which would open at a set time, the barbershop can open at any time between 8:30, when the “first yard” is generally announced, to never. Of course, the barbershop can open only when a correctional officer unlocks the door (inmates would never be entrusted with this responsibility) but I have been told that not all officers have the key. So, if the relevant officer or officers are otherwise unavailable, the barbershop will not open. Adding to these problems is that during this past calendar year, on three occasions – twice for four weeks and once for six weeks – the barbershop was closed due to a lack of cleaning supplies.

The local barbers are generally those who, at one time during their working careers, were barbers on the outside so they bring some experience to their craft. But they are hampered by the utensils they can use. For example, they cannot use scissors because, for obvious reasons, these could be used as a weapon. But there are scissors on the grounds. In the laundry, the two inmates who operate the sewing machines and an inmate who cuts fabric for various purposes have access to scissors but they are attached via a tether to a leg of the tables at which they work; at the end of the day, the DOC sergeant who oversees the laundry removes them for storage in the laundry office. I have personally not seen scissors in the kitchen – we are not served items that would require cutting by scissors – but the inmates who make the salads, coleslaw, and the like, have access to a food chopper (potatoes and carrots are chopped by machines) and it, too, is tethered in this case to the sink at which they work.

The issue at hand is whether the prison barbers should be given a gratuity as is customary in the outside world. One morning, while waiting for the barbershop to open, I had in hand two of the ramen noodle soups, perhaps the most popular item sold at the canteen. Total cost at then current prices is 98¢. An inmate approached and the ensuing dialogue went something like this:

²Of course, you would have expected this knowing how “charitable” I am from my dealings with the sneaker-cleaning inmate.

I was intrigued by this inmate’s remark, enough so to include it as a theme in this article. There is a related matter applicable to those inmates who are to be released shortly, say, within the next few years: how many of them feel they can instantly change their personae upon release. I’ll cover this item next month.

One of the first inmates I met when I arrived at the South Unit in July 2008 I reported on in the website article two years ago (March 2009). At the time, he had been down forty-three years; I remarked that he would be 127 years old on his scheduled release date. I sought his counsel as to how he was able to survive all these years in prison. He died earlier this month in a hospice at the Main Unit. The cause was complications from pneumonia. He was 73 years old. At least he had something positive happen prior to his passing: last summer, he showed us a newspaper article reporting that his granddaughter had been accepted to Harvard. You couldn’t help but feel happy for the man. He was one of four inmates I knew who have died since December last year.

Greetings to all! The main theme for this month is the hygiene supplies that are distributed to us each week. But first, I'll reprise a couple of themes I introduced in earlier articles.

When I returned last summer to the South Unit after my five weeks at the Main Unit – including the seventeen days in “purgatory” – I was placed in the other wing of the same dormitory in which I had been living. But I was moved to a bed under a ceiling fan. Another problem! What I went through to be moved to another bed was exceeded, in complexity, only by the planning for the D-Day invasion of Normandy in 1944 (I will describe this in next month's article). After five months, I was eventually moved to a more attractive bed – it is against the wall almost in a corner – but I have a longer walk within the building. One afternoon I walked by an inmate who was sleeping on his stomach with his feet exposed and I noticed that he had the letters 'R' and 'L' on the bottom of his socks (part of our clothing are conventional, white sweat socks). My first thought was these are not this man's initials but then I realized that the sock with the 'R' was on his right foot and the sock with the 'L' was on his left foot. Now, considering myself reasonably intelligent, as well as unquestionably humble, I've always felt that socks, unlike shoes, are unifoot.* From what this inmate has told me in the past, prior to his incarceration, he was a professional man with an advanced college degree. One has to wonder, however, if he is being truthful as many prisoners have a tendency to misstate or embellish their past accomplishments. But then maybe this is what thirty years of institutionalization will do to the best of people.

* This is not a real word. But if clothes that can be worn by either sex are designated as unisex, why can't socks, which presumably can be worn on either foot, be referred to as “unifoot”?

Consider the inmate in an adjacent bed. Sometime later I noticed that he had the number '2' on the bottom of one of his socks (I couldn't see his other foot but I strongly suspect that his other sock also had the number '2' on it). What this inmate is evidently doing is matching his socks for wearing. This would seem to be of greater merit if you have socks of inconsistent quality. I considered suggesting to this inmate that he write '2R' and '2L' on the bottom of his socks. This way, after matching the socks, he wouldn't have to decide on which foot to place them. I refrained from making this suggestion, however; I doubt this man would appreciate my attempt at humor.

When I was married, my ex-wife chided me for living in a world of rigid conformity. I wonder how she would feel about some of these individuals.

Another interesting aspect of the prisoner mentality is how many inmates feel they can “flip a switch” to change their personae as they leave prison and reenter society. I don't believe the adjustment is that simple. A couple of examples:

The DOC operates on the belief that they supply the inmates all the necessities of life: three meals per day, laundry three times per week, a bed to sleep on, and clothes to wear (other then being a source of revenue, they would view the canteen as a “luxury” available only to those inmates fortunate enough to have money in their trust fund account). To supplement these necessities, they furnish us various hygiene supplies which are distributed after the early evening count on Friday. These items consist of toothpaste, toothbrush, razor, soap and, the important one, toilet paper (yes, there are no rolls at the commodes; we are a “bring-your-own” operation).

The toothpaste is some non-standard brand manufactured in India and imported by a company in Seattle (their entire market may very well be correctional institutions in the United States). The state toothpaste and toothbrush may account for some of the dental problems that I reported in the December 2010 article, but there are inmates who have used these products during their many years of incarceration and they still have their teeth. I don't use these products, preferring instead the Colgate products available at the canteen: Two varieties of toothpaste (a gel paste and one with mouthwash) and a soft toothbrush.

The razor is a single blade disposable. There is an inmate in the dormitory who shaves twice a day with one of them; he is definitely a glutton for punishment. The razor comes with a small plastic cap to protect the blade. The cap also has a unique usage that I'll describe shortly.

The toilet paper is not the multilayer, quilted commercial product advertised by the Labrador retriever puppy or the animated bears. It is industrial grade, single ply, made from 30% post-consumer waste. Even the DOC employees have to suffer this indignity: When I was a Classification orderly during the summer of 2009, one of my responsibilities was maintenance of the restrooms; the toilet paper supplied there was the same one given to the inmates.

The toilet paper has usage in addition to its obvious purpose. It is substitute for:

Theoretically, the inmate is required to redeem the core from a used roll before receiving a new one but the inmates who dispense the hygiene supplies, and the correctional staff who are supposed to oversee the operation, don't bother to enforce this requirement. I generally keep three or four rolls in my possession, of various thickness and for various purposes. The toilet paper is the source of interesting reaction by the correctional staff when they perform their routine shakedowns (these shakedowns have become less frequent of late – as I write this, I haven't been shaken down in over two months – and I'll report on them in a future article).

One of the interesting aspects of prison life is the ingenious uses that are devised for various items over and above their stated purpose. This results from the fact that, for obvious reasons, we are restricted to what we can possess. It also results from the perpetual cat and mouse game played between the correctional staff and the inmates. Whenever the DOC imposes a restriction, the inmates will find some way to counter it. The hygiene supplies afford ample opportunity. Two examples:

There is a rumor circulating within the institution to the effect that in the June/July time frame, these hygiene supplies will be distributed to us once per month instead of once per week (including the toilet paper). I have heard this from two inmates and the last inmate who told me said he heard it from a correctional officer, although the officer could very well have heard it from another inmate. The prison rumor mill, popularly known as “inmate dot com,” can run amok.

Greetings! Four themes this month: Something for everyone including another iteration of “Anal-Retentive Inmate”!!

I had planned to discontinue this theme figuring I had beaten it into the ground, but this one is almost too good to pass up. I still have my work assignment in Food Service – wiping tables in the dining hall and cleaning afterward – but on my off days (recall that I work every third day), I frequently help out in the laundry. This enables me to keep my skills sharpened and to do something constructive during what would otherwise be idle (and boring) time. Most important, I enjoy the camaraderie of the other laundry workers. One morning, the task at hand was folding sheets that had just been washed and dried. It is customary to write the inmates' bed number on a corner (or corners) of the sheet; this way, the sheet can be folded with the bed number exposed enabling it to be returned to the proper inmate. As I was folding a sheet, I noticed there was a tick mark along an edge but not in a corner. Curious, I asked one of the laundrymen and he told me that the inmate placed the mark to denote the center of the sheet. Apparently, this inmate needs all the help he can get to ensure that he places the sheet evenly on the bed.

Federal prisoners are smoke free. So is the Broward County jail and I suspect other county jails as well. The Florida prison system had not been but all this will change effective September 30, 2011.

On April 1, a Notice to Inmates/Visitors – Tobacco Cessation was posted (yes, the policy also applies to visitors). The notice states: “On Friday, April 1, 2011 the Department of Corrections will be initiating the Tobacco Cessation Initiative to ensure all facilities are tobacco free by September 30, 2011. The decision to eliminate smoking and tobacco use was made to reduce the medical cost associated with exposure to tobacco, and eliminate second hand smoke exposure to non-smokers.” The notice further states that no tobacco products will be sold after September 2, 2011.

Even DOC employees will be subject to this policy. I have been told that a designated smoking area will be established somewhere on or near the parking lot.

It should be apparent that some inmates – those with overly-addictive personalities – will have an extremely difficult time eliminating tobacco products. A question comes to mind: What, if anything, will the DOC do to assist inmates in stopping tobacco use? The notice states that “any inmates interested in a cessation program should contact institutional Health Services.” To date, no programs have been implemented. The notice also states that “trans-dermal nicotine patches via a 14 day supply will be offered for sale in the canteens for $34.99 prior to May 1, 2011.

In typical Rube Goldberg fashion, the DOC is imposing limits that periodically reduce the quantity of tobacco items that inmates can have in their possession. So, for the period April 1 through May 12, the possession limit is 10 packs of cigarettes, 10 packs of loose smoking tobacco, 10 cans of smokeless tobacco, one lighter, 10 packs of papers* and 20 cigars. From May 13 to June 23, these limits reduce to half although one lighter will continue to be allowed. Eventually, these limits will be reduced to one of each item on August 5.

I feel the real impact of this policy may be what it is likely to do to canteen prices. Keefe Commissary Network, the company that operated the canteen, is not going to sit idly by and allow its profits from tobacco products to be eroded (with over 100,000 inmates, these profits must be sizable). One of two outcomes is possible.

Anyone who believes this policy will totally eliminate tobacco use within the Florida prison system should seriously consider the soon-to-be-popular brain reboots first introduced in the February 2011 article.

Visitation may be one of the few “pleasurable” aspects of prison life – if anything in prison can truly be considered “pleasurable” - in that it enables the inmate to visit closely with friends and family. Visitation at the Broward County jail, for all of two hours per week, was wither through a plastic window or, at the main jail, by means of a video camera.

But all this comes with a price, the quid pro quo being that visitors must be pre-approved and that both

The visitation process begins when the prospective visitor completes the “Request for Visiting Privileges application(Form number DC6-111A [revised 8/07]). The instructions state that all persons 12 years and older must complete this application

Section 33-601.717 – Visiting Denial – contains a description of the reasons for which a visitation request can be denied. You will note that a key criterion is some kind of criminal record during a period immediately preceding the request. The following section (33-601.718 – Review of Request for Visiting Privileges), however, states that, “Prior criminal records shall not automatically result in disapproval of visiting. The nature, extent, and recentness of the criminal convictions and adjudications withheld combined with the person's relationship to the inmate shall affect approval of disapproval.”

There is a companion document – Visitor Information Summary, Form number DC6-111B(4/03) that lists all the rules and regulations associated with visitation. What is impressive about this document is its thoroughness: every imaginable aspect associated with Visitation seems to be covered. For example, under Authorized Items permitted by Visitors, the document states that for visitors with authorized infants and small children, a restriction is “no more than five (5) diapers, three (3) clear baby bottles, two (2) toddler sipper cups and three (3) clear jars of sealed (unopened) baby food.” “Toddler sipper cup?” This is the cup with a flange on it that a toddler uses for drinking. I never knew what it was called and I can thank the DOC for enlightening me in this regard. One should never think that prison cannot be a learning experience.

Under Visitor Conduct, the Visitor Information Summary states that “Inmates/visitors are allowed one embrace and one kiss at the beginning and end of a visit.” I have been told that other institutions, particularly among younger inmates, inmate/visitor contact consists of more than just an embrace or kiss.

Visitation occurs on Saturdays, Sundays and major holidays from 9:00 AM to 3:00 PM*, At the South Unit, there is a dedicated area – termed the Visitor Park – consisting of both indoor and outdoor facilities. There is even a canteen in the Visitor Park that serves items not available at the inmate canteens. True reception centers, such as the Main Unit, do not allow visitation (these institutions are deemed to be transient facilities).

* A fascinating aspect of DOC operation: All activities within the department are designated to occur at the same actual time. So, for those institutional in the western section of the Florida panhandle that are in the central time zone, visitation occurs, local time, from 8:00 AM to 2:00 PM.

As you can glean, the DOC takes visitation seriously and what the DOC giveth, it can taketh away. The DOC views visitation as a privilege rather than a right and uses the threat of denial to keep inmates in line. For example, Rule Number 33-60173q – Revocation of Suspension of Visiting Privileges – states that “Indefinite suspension of an inmates visiting privileges shall be considered … when an inmate is found guilty of … possessing or using ….” a cell phone or other portable communication, any components or peripherals to such devices or any other technology related to such communication devices.

In describing the laundry operation for December's article last year, I mentioned that we frequently rinse the rags we use to clean the dining hall tables in a mixture of Orange Blast and water. But then I had to publish an erratum because I was told, per the Warden, that Orange Blast is not to be used to clean the tables. In a follow-up conversation, I was informed that a directive to this effect had come from “Tallahassee.”

As most of you know, Tallahassee is the capital of the state of Florida and where the capital is, so too is the headquarters of the Department of Corrections. But I put the name at the end of the preceding paragraph in quotations because there are people here who treat the place in a reverential fashion, in much the same way as Mount Sinai or the Garden of Gethsemane. It is as though the pronouncements emulating from the deities on Blair Stone Road* are to be treated as inviolable.

I removed the label from an almost-empty fifteen gallon drum of Orange Blast (had I been caught, I am sure that severe disciplinary action would have been taken against me). I am reproducing below the description of the product from the label and the first sentence of the directions, and I will ask you, the educated reader of these articles, if the product, when properly used according to the directions, is perfectly acceptable for cleaning dining room tables, particularly for a group – state prisoners – whose attention to cleanliness ism at the least, questionable.

Pride's Orange Blast is a concentrated solvent cleaner based on a citrus and butyl formula. It's also a formidable deodorant, de-scaler and de-clogger. It contains no petroleum distillates or chlorinated solvents and may be safely used as directed on carpets, sinks, toilets, fiberglass, machinery, tools, grills, ceramic tiles, graffiti, dumpsters, grease traps, all metals and much more.

For general cleaning & deodorizing: Dilute 2-4 oz. Of concentrate per gallon of water.

But who am I to question “Tallahassee”? (I have not seen this directive so I don't know what it contains nor do I know if it even exists.) After all, in the eyes of the authorities, I am a prisoner – an inmate – a convict, nothing but sociopathic scum with no redeeming qualities. Such is the real tragedy of prison life.

This is an anniversary month for me. On the 3^rd of June, three years ago, I became a Florida state prisoner when I arrived at the Main Unit of the South Florida Reception Center. Five weeks later I was transferred to the South Unit. Compared to my time at the Broward County jail, this was almost like paradise.

One of the inmates in the dormitory had an old copy of the Inmate Handbook. Its appearance rivals the discovery of the Gnostic Gospels, the Dead Sea Scrolls and other works of antiquity. This is a document given an inmate during his orientation period (as I went through it, I remembered that I was given an updated version; the information from the two versions is virtually identical).

In the Introduction, the document states that “This handbook is intended for your use while you are incarcerated with the Florida Department of Corrections and is intended to help orient you to the purpose, rules, regulations and the programs that are available while you are in the Department.” But the document is purely introductory and barely scratches the surface of what is required of an inmate.

I extracted selected statements from the Handbook. I thought it would be informative to present them along with comments from my experience as a Florida state prisoner during the past three years. 'H' stands for Handbook and 'SC' stands for Sherry's Comments.

H: Staff members are trained to help you during this orientation period and throughout your incarceration.

SC: It is frightening, but perhaps not surprising, that the correctional staff, who are responsible for the “custody and control” of the inmates, are, for the most part, ignorant of the rules under which they are expected to operate. An example: Section 33-602.201 (Inmate Property) defines the maximum quantity of various items we are allowed to have in our possession. Yet one day, I was shaken down by an officer – a Sergeant, who should be knowledgeable of these matters – and she asked how many pairs of socks I am allowed to have (the answer is six). One could argue that she was merely asking me if I knew but I doubt it; I genuinely believe she did not know, something as basic as socks.

H: While wearing a shirt with a collar, you wear this identification card [the inmate ID tag] picture side showing, attached to your left shirt pocket or left shirt collar if the shirt does not have a pocket.

SC: This is something about which the inmates and officers are unaware. Most inmates with a button shirt, i.e. shirt with a collar, wear their ID tag attached to the collar even if the shirt has a pocket. But we were told by the correctional staff that the tag should be worn on the right shirt collar.

H: Under Grooming and Haircuts: Inmates in general population will shower at least once a day. Inmates in restricted housing will shower a minimum of three times a week.

SC: “Restricted Housing” is where I resided while in “Protective Custody” during my seventeen days in purgatory last summer. “General Population” refers to housing that is not “restricted.” But, alas, I confess: There are days when I disobey this rule. Recall that on regular weekdays, we cannot shower until 4:00 PM. As we can shower on weekends and holidays as early as 8:00 AM, I frequently will not shower on Friday evenings waiting instead to shower early Saturday morning (I am usually one of the first ones in the shower on weekends; most inmates opt to sleep). In addition, there were days last summer when the water was too hot (took a bird bath on those days) and a few days a couple of months ago when there was no hot water at all. But I like the expression “at least once a day”: There have been times I showered twice (haven't done it three times yet). My personal record for longest shower: one hour and ten minutes.

H: Under Housing: You will be responsible for the cleanliness of your individual living area.

SC: With up to 46 inmates living in an open-bay dormitory, many of whom with a third-world country mentality, you can imagine what the living conditions are like. One of the inmates stores his eating accoutrements – cups and bowls – on the floor; most of us don't mind as this concentrates the roaches away from us who are attentive to cleanliness. In addition, some of the inmates store their dirty clothing and reading material on the floor.

H: Under Work Assignments: Inmates are assigned jobs based on institutional need, prior employment background and skill level.

SC: Obviously, in my case, “institutional need” trumps “prior employment background” or “skill level.” How else to explain my work assignment wiping tables in the dining hall? If I had some kind of vocational skill, I would be more in demand. Actually, there are only a handful of senior inmates whose work assignment is consistent with their background and skill level: those who play in the inmates' band.

H: Under Food Service: You must clean your eating area and turn in all tray, cup, and utensils before leaving.

SC: What? Inmates expected to clean [their] eating area! Were it only so. I suppose I should be thankful they don't make more of a mess than they do. Much like the living area, you can imagine what some of the inmates' eating habits are like.

In describing an anal-retentive inmate, in April's article this year, I mentioned that I had achieved a bed change (to be moved from a bed that is under a ceiling fan) and likened the complexity of this experience to the planning for the D-Day invasion of Normandy in June 1944, admittedly somewhat of an exaggeration. But my travails proved to be more than should have been necessary. In addition to a lack of “seasoning” in prison life, my biggest mistake was trying to go through “channels,” a strategy that may be successful in a logical and rational environment, but is doomed to failure in an organization as dysfunctional as the Florida Department of Corrections.

Most bed changes should be a relatively simple operation. As the inmates physically move themselves, DOC involvement is minimal. To move within the same wing of the dormitory requires, at the most, two keystrokes on the computer; for an intra-dormitory move to the other wing, no more than three keystrokes are required. A move to another dormitory building is a more elaborate process; I have been told that the involvement of the Major is required and is usually done whenever a conflict requires that two inmates be physically separated (in extreme situations, an inmate – or inmates – may be transferred to another institution).

The standard process to effect a bed change is to make a request to the dormitory sergeant on the 8:00 AM to 4:00 PM shift. But this is what I did on July 19 last year; for this effort I spent the next seventeen days in purgatory and the following nineteen days in general population at the Main Unit. As this is the same dormitory sergeant, I couldn't be that stupid to make the same mistake a second time. Besides, she told me, and I overheard her say to another inmate, that these [bed change] requests “cannot be done.” Translation: “These requests can be done but I won't do them.” (As an aside, I should mention that this woman has been promoted so she is now eligible to wear a white shirt reserved for officers at the rank of lieutenant or higher. Standard attire is a tan shirt. The Warden and Assistant Warden wear civilian clothes. This woman was not promoted for her efforts to be helpful to the inmates. Apart from the fact that her husband is also an officer at the Main Unit, I leave it to your imagination to wonder how most female officers are promoted within the Florida Department of Corrections).

I'll describe below the steps I undertook to finally accomplish the bed change, beginning shortly after my return to the South Unit on August 24 last year and culminating on January 27 this year when the change finally happened. For some of the later activities, I kept the actual date they occurred.

At this point, I decided to take the matter “up the line.” But first I should digress and describe the inmate reporting and grievance procedures. Starting with the most basic, there are three levels: Inmate Request, Informal Grievance and Formal Grievance.

Both the Inmate Request and Informal Grievance use the same form – Inmate Request, Form No. DC6-236 (Revised 8/07). When the form is to be used for an Informal Grievance, we have been instructed to strike out “Inmate Request” and write “Informal Grievance” in its place, although there is a modified version that appears occasionally with a checkbox that says “Check here if this is an Informal Grievance.”

Chapter 33-103 of the Florida Administrative Code is the statutory language dealing with Inmate Grievances. The code defines an Informal Grievance as “...an initial statement of complaint filed on an Inmate Request, DC6-236, with the staff member who is responsible in the particular area of the problem.” A Formal Grievance is defined thus: “This is a statement of complaint filed at the institutional or facility level with the warden, assistant warden or deputy warden, through the use of the Request for Administrative Remedy or Appeal, Form DC1-303.” A Formal Grievance is sent directly to the Bureau of Inmate Grievance Appeals at the DOC headquarters in Tallahassee.

Under General Policy, the code says that “Inmates can file complaints regarding incidents occurring within the institution that affect them personally.” As you would expect, some inmates carry this to ridiculous extremes. An example: One of the popular monthly desserts served at dinner is apple crisp, a concoction of warm, canned apples and some crispy, sugary topping. The dessert is served on a Thursday when the dormitory in which I live eats last. One night the predictable happened: Food Service ran out of apple crisp and had to serve plain canned apples. One of the inmates became visibly upset and said he was going to file a grievance. Whether or not he did is uncertain; bravado rivals foolishness among the inmate population.

In my three years as a Florida state prisoner, I have filed five Informal Grievances although two dealt with the same subject: a failure to receive books that were sent to me while I was at the Main Unit last summer. Counting these two as one grievance, and noting that I never received a response to one of the grievances (the first one I wrote), the scorecard is two wins and one loss, probably an enviable record as some cynics would believe that all Informal Grievances are losable. As you will see, one of the grievances dealt with the subject at hand – the bed change. To continue “up the line ….”

As someone rightly said to me one time, to accomplish anything in prison requires persistence. On that note, I shall close for this month. Be well. Main menu

Greeting! This is another anniversary month for me: On the nineteenth, four years ago, in a Hollywood condominium parking lot, my life changed forever. And the lives of many other people as well.

I had an opportunity to see a Maxine cartoon entitled “Senior health care solution.” The premise is that you're a sick senior citizen but the government will not provide a nursing home for you. The strategy, then, is to commit a crime in which case you will be sent to prison where you will be given three meals per day, a roof over your head, all the medical care you need, et al., that is, the same lifestyle the government initially denied you. This led me to imagine how the South Unit, where I currently reside, would be “advertised” to make it appear to be senior housing or an assisted-living facility (some of the inmates refer to this place as an “old man's camp”). “Correctional Officers” sounds too authoritarian; for purposes of the “advertisement,” they will be referred to as “Custodial Staff.”

Restaurant on premises – the food is so good that residents line up outside to enter. Tipping not required

Full recreational activities – card games, Scrabble, dominoes, seasonal sports (baseball, basketball, football), tennis, horseshoes, bocce ball

¹After heavy rains, the grounds surrounding the dormitories flood creating the “lake front”

²Permanent residents are grackles, pigeons and doves. Killdeer and starlings are occasional visitors. During the winter months, gulls make an appearance. Herons and ibises have also been observed.

³After the rains creating the lake-front views, frogs can be seen and heard. Snakes have been observed on the grounds and it has been reported that alligators were seen at one time.

The DOC maintains a trust fund account for each inmate. The primary purpose of this account, which can be likened to a conventional checking account, is for the purchase of items from the canteen (see next section). The DOC refers to this as the “cashless” canteen system. The trust fund account can also be used for the purchase of outside items (those items that can legally be purchased, of course) that I'll describe below.

There are two principal ways to have money transmitted to an inmate's trust fund account:

There is also a restriction that deposits in excess of $400 are subject to a ten day hold except for Western Union electronic fund transfers.

When a deposit has been made to his trust fund account, the inmate receives a Deposit Receipt. In addition to various identifying numbers and descriptive information about the inmate, the receipt shows the amount, type of deposit, the name of the person making the remittance and any deductions from the deposit amount.

Although the trust fund account and the canteen services are generally efficient operations, anything associated with the DOC is subject to potential problems. I ran into one of these last year. In May, I received a Deposit Receipt stating that a deposit, via money order, had been made to my account by someone I did not know. The amount of the money order was $50 so, after deducting the 50¢ processing fee, $49.50 was credited to my account. I had heard that there are people who make anonymous donations to inmates; I thought I was one of the inmates so blessed but I had in the back of my mind the thought of what was likely to happen in the future. And sure enough it did: About one month later, the DOC realized the error and debited my account. But, did they debit my account for $49.50, the amount of the original deposit? Of course not! They debited my account the full $50, thereby costing me 50¢ for the privilege of having access to money to which I was not entitled for a brief period. Now, to write someone about this matter – assuming I could have found an appropriate person – would have cost more than the 50¢ overage (ignoring the cost of paper and ink, a letter costs 53¢ - nine cents for the envelope and 44¢ for the stamp). I just wrote this off as another prison-learning experience. (In hindsight, maybe what I should have done is send an Inmate Request to the Classification department; this would not have entailed any additional expense and could have rectified the problem.)

I mentioned at the beginning of this section that the inmate trust fund account can also be used for the purchase of legal items from the outside. The best examples are books and subscriptions to periodicals. The procedure, however, is cumbersome; for these items, I feel it is preferable to have them ordered by someone on the outside, although there are inmates who have undertaken this procedure without complications.

The DOC would never allow inmates to write checks against their trust fund account – in actuality, there are inmates who would not know how to do this (check-writing is one of the topics covered in the transition program designed to re-acclimate inmates to life on the outside; more about this in a future article).

The procedure for the disbursement from the trust fund account begins with the inmate completing the Inmate Trust Fund Special Withdrawal form (Form DC2-304 [revised 6/03]). This includes:

Then, the form has to be approved by the Administrative Lieutenant* and sent to the trust fund section at DOC headquarters in Tallahassee along with an envelope and the relevant information, e.g., order form, to go to the vendor.

In the “advertisement” for the South Unit, I mentioned that there are two mini-markets on the premises for the convenience of the residents. These, of course, are the inmate canteens. At the South Unit, there are additional canteens on the grounds: one in the Visiting Park and the other an administrative canteen for the correctional officers and other DOC employees.

In actuality, there are four different inmate canteens within the Florida prison system:

Each of the four canteens carries somewhat different merchandise. The distinction between the male and female canteens should be apparent. The Visiting Park canteen carries items that can be purchased by inmates and their guests during visitation (unlike the other canteens, at which purchases are made by accessing the bar code at the bottom of each inmate's ID tag, the Visiting Park canteens also accept cash which, of course, would have to be brought into the institution by the visitors). The death row canteen caters to the special needs of these inmates, under a death sentence, who live in isolation and are subject to 23-hour per day isolation (one of the items on their canteen menu is a coloring book).

The presence of the canteen creates a caste system within the inmate population, between those who have money in their trust fund account and are able to purchase items, and those who do not. The latter have to do without, engage in a “hustle” to earn canteen items or, in some cases, resort to panhandling.

To refer to the canteen as a “mini-market” has some validity; of course, the selection is limited and the customers cannot examine the merchandise before purchase. The biggest issue with the canteen, however, is the cost, with the price of some items being considered as exorbitant. This results from the monopolistic nature of the business – if an inmate objects to the price of a particular item, he does not have the luxury of patronizing another canteen in the vicinity – but there is a more insidious factor at work, namely, the perverse relationship between Keefe Commissary Network, the company that operates the canteen, and the DOC. Before expounding on this relationship, I should mention that in the institutions within the state that are privatized, which currently number about five, the canteens are also operated by the companies that operate the prisons. I have been told that at these institutions, the canteen prices and selections are better but with anything an inmate says, one has to wonder if there is some element of “the-grass-is-greener” behind the remarks.

In the June article two years ago, I described the contract between Keefe and the DOC. I stated that Keefe pays the DOC a per diem – the amount is 99 ½¢ per inmate. For a typical year, this equates to approximately $35 million which appears in the DOC annual report as “Revenue from Canteen Operations.”

But consider the practical impact of this arrangement. Some simple mathematics are in order. One day I asked one of the canteen operators his estimate of the proportion of inmates who patronize the canteen on any given day: he said 15%. (Note: This figure, obviously, applies to the South Unit. At other institutions, with a greater proportion of younger inmates, the figure may be higher.) Even if the figure were as high as 20%, what this means is that for every inmate who patronizes the canteen, Keefe has paid $4.97 ½ to the DOC, and has to recoup this amount before it ever shows a profit from the inmate's purchase. Because the DOC collects its vigorish (profits) regardless, it has no incentive to require a competitive pricing structure.

The contract between Keefe and the DOC stipulates that prices can increase no more than 10% in any year, and this is what Keefe has done for the past two years, with new prices announced at the end of March. But not all items had an increase. As a practical matter, not all prices can be increased. For example, one of the items sold at the canteen is a small packet of Hunt's Ketchup (good for enhancing the flavor of some dishes served in the chow hall). The price for this item is 2¢; to raise the price by one cent would constitute a 50% increase.

Keefe and the DOC are a good match for each other: The former has demonstrated that it can be just as dysfunctional as the latter. Consider what happened with one of the canteen items at the time of the price increase at the end of March this year. The item was a small bag of Planters sunflower kernels (popular among us health-conscious inmates). On the packaging, Planters posted a suggested retail price of 99¢. Keefe was selling the item for 99¢ but then they applied the 10% increase and raised the price to $1.06. When I saw the revised canteen menu with the new pricing, I assumed that Planters had removed the suggested retail price from the package. Of course, they had not and what Keefe was doing was assuming that the inmates would be so stupid as to be willing to pay 7¢ more for an item than the manufacturer suggested. In May, Keefe published a revised canteen menu with some new items; the Planters sunflower kernels were removed and replaced by a sunflower product from a company named EZ Digby. Has anyone heard of this company?

The revised canteen menu with the new items bore a May 11 date yet the Digby sunflower product was not available for sale until June 17. This is another interesting aspect of the Keefe operation: They will publish a revised canteen menu with new items and then delay the introduction of the items or, in some cases, never make the items available for sale. A couple years ago, they posted on the menu an “executive journal” - presumably something like a Day-Planner or Day-Timer – but the item never appeared.

Of course, on the day they arrived, I had to buy a bag of the Digby sunflower kernels, along with another Digby product: sour fruit balls (all part of the ongoing research to keep these articles timely and accurate).

I will continue with the canteen in next month's article. I'll cover the Digby sunflower kernels and sour fruit balls along with some of the other interesting products we can buy. I'll describe two special canteen menus – a weekly menu for specialized products and a quarterly (annual) menu for clothes.

Greeting! The principal theme this month is a continuation of the description of the canteen. But there are a couple of other issues that, hopefully, will be informative. If they are not informative, at least they will be entertaining.

Many of you who live in Florida may be aware of legislation recently enacted by the state legislature that will privatize the correctional institutions and other prison facilities in the eighteen counties from Key West to Indian River County on the east coast and to Manatee County on the west coast. This, of course, includes the South Unit. There are already six institutions in the state currently operated by private companies. The bidding process was due to begin on July 1. I will not comment on the details of this matter because such information should be freely available on the Internet to the extent that any is available at all. More important, though, is that most individuals, especially prison inmates, have no realistic idea of what is likely to happen, although that hasn't prevented the rumors (inmate.dot.com) from proliferating. My assessment, and I have conveyed this in private correspondence, is that, irrespective of privatization, there is a distinct possibility that the senior inmates at this institution, who currently number about 375, may, in time, be moved to dedicated senior housing at other facilities. I recall seeing in a press release the statement that one of the objectives of the DOC is to close smaller institutions; the South Unit certainly qualifies in this regard. This facility has to be expensive to operate when measured on a per inmate basis. The current inmate population has varied between 480 and 500 for the past few months, approximately 200 under capacity. Given the existence of certain fixed expenses, it seems intuitive that it certainly cannot cost three times as much to operate a 1,500 inmate institution as it does for an institution with 500 inmates. When could this happen? I first thought during the second half of this year; that may be unrealistic. Sometime next calendar year may be more likely. What could happen to the South Unit as a result? One scenario would consist of populating the facility with younger inmates at lower custody levels, who could be leased to local government agencies thereby earning revenue for the DOC.

There are some really nasty people in this place doing some really nasty things. But that statement shouldn't come as a surprise. After all, this is a prison. A couple examples:

What these individuals – the tray room “volunteer” and the chapel orderly – mistakenly believe is that they are stealing from the DOC. In actuality, however, they are stealing from other inmates; the DOC makes available enough items – whether they be food or greeting cards – to satisfy the current inmate population. For the most part, the DOC does not concern itself if shortages develop and certain inmates suffer as a result, so long as security is not impaired and the inmates' basic needs are satisfied.

I concluded last month's article by mentioning two products – sunflower kernels and sour fruit balls – from the EZ Digby candy company. The sunflower kernels are a replacement for a similar Planters product whereas the sour fruit balls are a new item (these have proved to be very popular which means the canteen frequently sells out). The packaging states that the company is named for a Charles Digby, an English confectioner who used to give free candy to children, hence the name “Easy Digby.” The packaging gives no other information about this company but it does contain a very revealing statement: “Distributed by Keefe Supply Co., St. Louis, Missouri.” This is part of a trend Keefe began a couple years ago: replacing national brands – Planters peanuts and sunflower kernels and Lays potato chips – with products from companies in which it has some affiliation. The reason is obvious: greater profits for the company. In some cases, the product may not mention a Keefe affiliation but because Keefe is based in St. Louis, we have come to realize that any product with a Missouri address is most likely from a Keefe affiliated company.

The current male canteen menu contains 206 items in 13 categories, although one of the categories - “Tobacco and Accessories,” consisting of 13 items – will, as I have reported, be discontinued effective September 2. Two of the categories are “Sundry” and “Miscellaneous.” How Keefe determines whether an item is “Sundry” or “ Miscellaneous” is a mystery as Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary – Eleventh Edition – defines these words as meaning the same.

In deriving the total number of canteen items, I counted as distinct items that may differ from others solely by being a different size, flavor or denomination. For example, there are three flavors of potato chips and six varieties of the ramen noodle soups; these were counted as three and six items, respectively. For denomination, there are five amounts of postage stamps from 1¢ to the current rate of 44¢ (surprisingly, Keefe sells stamps at face value). In the Sundry category, there are four sizes of the “Cross-Strap Flip Flops”; these are the shoes we wear in the shower and are sometimes referred to as “Shower Shoes” or “Shower Slides.” There is a interesting story associated with this item.

Until last year the four sizes were what you would expect: Small, Medium, Large and Extra Large (Xlg). But it seems that the DOC has been incarcerating inmates with larger feet (presumably younger inmates) so an Extra-Extra Large (XXLg) size had to be added. Someone in “Tallahassee” (notice the reverential reference), however, decreed that only four sizes could be offered in the canteen, so one of the existing sizes would have to be eliminated. Now, I would assume that a rational, intelligent individual would choose to eliminate the least popular size, namely, the Small size. But rational, intelligent individuals are not known to populate the Florida Department of Corrections, so the decision was made to eliminate the Large size, probably the most popular size. When the canteen operator informed me of the eventual discontinuance of the Large size, at his suggestion I purchased an extra pair of this size while they were still available. But this means I am in violation of the property limits of Chapter 33 which state that only one pair of the shower shoes are allowed.* So far, there have been no adverse consequences.

*Whereas I may not have considered myself a “criminal” when I first entered the Florida prison system – although, admittedly I did commit a criminal act – as you can see, I am rapidly becoming one. In addition to the extra shower shoes, I am carrying boxer shorts and t-shirts in excess of the Chapter 33 property limits: five of each item instead of the maximum of four. Thank you for allowing me to give you my mea culpa.

As you would expect, the canteen menu is replete with junk food, the supreme example being the honey buns of which there are two varieties – one with white icing and the other with chocolate. Each is a 600+ calorie monstrosity with 30+ grams of fat. I have suggested that there should be a senior inmate canteen menu with healthful items such as frozen yogurt and granola bars. I am careful, however, in the people to whom I speak about this; the rank and file inmate would not react favorably to this suggestion.

At the risk of being sanctimonious about the healthfulness of the food items sold at the canteen, I should mention that my weakness has been double-dipped chocolate covered peanuts manufactured by Zachery, a family-owned candy company in Frankfort, Indiana. These were originally a Christmas item* but proved so popular that Keefe added them to the regular canteen menu. In a recent issue of the Time magazine, an advertising supplement stated that chocolate and peanuts are good items for arthritis sufferers as I am; hence, there is some “medical” justification for this item.

*For the month between mid-December to mid-January, Keefe adds five or so special items to the canteen menu. Last year, two of the items were yogurt covered pretzels and holiday cookies.

In last month's article, I mentioned that there is a special menu for the canteen at the Visiting Park where visitation occurs. There is a bigger selection and the quality of some of the items is better. For example, at the Visiting Park canteen you can purchase a small bag of Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies. The cookies sold at the inmate canteen are from the Uncle Al's Cookie Company in Hoover, Alabama, a decidedly inferior product. Having a greater selection of better items at the Visiting Park canteen may be done to “impress” the public as to how well inmates are being treated but there is another dynamic at work: Because of the layout of the institution, and the security measures that are in place, it is much easier for Keefe to stock the Visiting Park canteen, and the canteen can sell items that would be unavailable at the inmate canteens such as those requiring refrigeration, e. g., tossed salad and fruit cups.* I also mentioned last month that the Visiting Park canteen accepts cash in addition to charges against the inmates' trust fund account.

*The inmate canteens do sell frozen items, such as ice cream, and there are refrigerators for chilling sodas and, to keep the author contented, chilling of the double-dipped chocolate covered peanuts. There are also frozen items that can be heated in a small microwave present in each canteen.

There are order forms for weekly and quarterly (four times per year) canteen purchases. The weekly order form is for specialized items that are not stocked at the canteen and generally take about one week to be available. Under Personal Property, there are five items with the notation “will be delivered to the Property Room.” The reason is that these items are engraved with the inmate's name and DC number – in an attempt to deter theft – although I have been told that some inmates have a way to remove the engraving.

The quarterly canteen menu, which is available during the first week in February, May, August and November, is for the purchase of clothing. These include items not issued by the state such as sweat shirts, sneakers and thermal underwear* as well as substitutes for state-issued clothing such as boxer shorts, T-shirts and socks.

*I have been told that at one time in the past inmates at institutions in the panhandle, where the winters are colder than they are in South Florida, were issued thermal underwear by the state. I haven't confirmed if this policy is still applicable but, I doubt it would be, given the dire circumstances of the state economy.

The potential problems associated with these quarterly purchases are two fold: an inability to try on clothing prior to purchase (particularly critical for the sneakers) and the delay in their delivery, in some cases up to two months after purchase.

One final comment about the canteen: A “processing fee,” equal to 1% of the canteen purchases, is assessed at the end of each week. This amount goes toward the payment of compensation to the canteen operator of $75 per month. The canteen operators are the only DOC inmates who receive compensation for their efforts, at least legitimately, anyway.

So much for this month. Next month I plan to describe a couple of interesting subjects: the mail procedures and shakedowns.

Greetings! The ongoing feature - “But This Is Prison” - is on vacation. It will return next month when I describe a couple of dysfunctional aspects of the life at the South Unit. For this month, a new feature: “Maybe Prison Ain't All That Bad.” The author hopes you enjoy it.

Many inmates, especially those who have been incarcerated for a lengthy period, have a warped perception of life in the outside world including the business world. They imagine his world to be somewhere between Shangri-la and the Elysian Fields. Because I lived in this world for most of my adult life and did not enter prison until an older age, these inmates feel that I have lived a “sheltered life,” and I even had one inmate say this to my face. In these instances, I have a couple of put-downs that serve to dispel any further comments. These put-downs employ some off-color language and prophesy of what some of these inmates may have been doing – usually involving women, liquor, drugs or children – when I was working and studying for actuarial examinations.

Last month, I described an inmate who “volunteers” to work in the kitchen so he can steal food. He is far from an isolated case. Every so often there is a major shake down of Food Service workers and at one of these some time back, one of the diet cooks – an individual who cooks and serves meals for those inmates whose medical conditions require a special diet – was caught with an excessive quantity of food (I don't know the details but I understand it was substantial even acknowledging the fact that the DOC has to accept a certain level of thievery as a price for inmates to be willing to work in Food Service). But was this inmate reprimanded? Disciplined? Transferred to another work assignment? Of course not! After a brief absence, and the proverbial “slap on the wrist,” he was back in the kitchen cooking, serving and stealing.

Another Food Service worker has the responsibility of bringing the cooked food from the warmers to the serving line. I have been told that this gentlemen makes $50* per week from the food he steals and the special dishes he prepares. I believe this man works seven days per week but who wouldn't with this kind of booty at stake.

*This figure may be overly inflated but even if it were half this amount, it would not be insignificant.

Would these gentlemen be able to hold a job in the outside world if it were known that they were stealing from their employer?

Consider the laundryman in the wing of the dormitory in which I live. I mentioned this inmate when I described the “TV-South Unit Style” in March's article earlier this year. I stated that because he does favors for the correctional staff, he is allowed to watch television beyond the normal ending time (I have personally observed him in the TV room at 4:00 AM). Because he is up at this hour, naturally he is sleeping later in the morning when he should be at the laundry. One morning, I was volunteering there: about 9:00 AM, the laundry sergeant was looking for him. At the risk of being branded a “snitch*,” but in the interest of being honest, I left the dormitory thirty minutes earlier. Of course, there were no adverse consequences. Also, naturally, this inmate earns booty from favors he does for his “clients.” Would this gentleman be able to hold a job on the outside if he were sleeping at a time when he should have been at work?

*By this man's reputation, I have no doubt that he would “snitch” on me if the roles were reversed.

All these gentlemen – the Food Service workers and the laundryman – can rightfully say: “Maybe Prison Ain't All That Bad.”

For obvious reasons, prison inmates live in a controlled, restricted environment: Prospective visitors have to be pre-approved and are subject to a criminal background check and individuals we wish to call on the telephone also have to be pre-approved and the conversations are subject to recording and monitoring. With one notable exception, we can write to anyone we wish but all incoming and outgoing mail is inspected and we are further restricted in what we can write about and what can be included in the mailings. The one exception is that we cannot send mail to any person who has advised the Warden that he/she does not wish to receive mail from the inmate.

Florida Administrative Code Chapters 33-210.101 through 33-210.103 are the statutory language dealing with inmate mail. Chapter 33-210.101 covers “routine mail.” defined as “all mail except legal mail, privileged mail and publications.” Chapter 33-210.102 deals with legal Mail and Legal documents. Legal mail is defined as mail to/from courts, attorneys, legal aid organizations and Agency Clerks. Privileged mail, covered in Chapter 33-210.103, is a category that included mail to/from public officials, government agencies and the news media, and is processed essentially the same as legal mail. Publications are covered in Chapter 33-501.401 dealing with Admissible Reading Material (to be described in a future article).

There is one other restriction dealing with the people to whom we can write: Chapter 33-210.101(7) states that, “Correspondence with inmates of other penal institutions shall be subject to the prior approval of the Warden of each institution.”

Chapter 33-210.101(5) states that “Any routine mail sent or received may be opened examined and read by a designated employee.” The opening and examination of the mail are undoubtedly true. For outgoing mail, we cannot seal the envelope. For incoming mail, it is evident that it has been opened and is “sealed” prior to delivery to the inmate with with tape or, more likely, a staple. But my opinion is that all incoming or outgoing mail is not being read; given the volume of mail, it would be impractical for the mail processing staff to do so (some conspiracists, however, would believe that the DOC reads all mail in its entirety). I don't doubt, though, that some inmates, because of their charges or criminal history, may be profiled in which case all their mail is being read.

Legal mail is processed differently as described in Chapter 33-210.102(8). The mail is opened or sealed in the presence of the inmate; although the envelope is inspected for unauthorized items, the contents are not read by the mail collection staff. When I sold my condominium, the documents I needed to execute were sent to me as legal mail. For outgoing mail, I used the legal mail procedures on one occasion: Recall my bed change travails described in the June 2011 article. I sent the letter to the DOC Regional Director via legal mail. Other inmates also use this strategy; while technically not legal mail, I was concerned that treating the letter as routine mail, the mail collection staff may choose to not send it given the addressee. As legal mail, the letter went through with no complications.

For routine mail, Chapter 33-210.101(11) states that “Outgoing or incoming mail shall be disapproved for mailing or delivery to the inmate if any part of it:” and then lists fourteen reasons for which such mail can be rejected. This is another instance of the thoroughness with which the DOC can address an issue but what is even more impressive is what happens after mail has been rejected. In this case, the Unauthorized Mail Return Receipt (Form DC2-521; another of the many DOC forms) comes into play. What makes this document impressive is that it contains forty-eight (48) boxes (yes, you read that correctly) any of which can be checked to indicate the reason(s) for which such mail is being rejected. Most of the reasons would be apparent to the average person but some are interesting and worthy of further explanation:

Two of the forty-eight reasons for mail rejection deal with the transmission of pictures that some would consider pornographic or at least designed to furnish erotic stimulation to the viewer. You can imagine what these pictures could do in the hands of male inmates many of whom have not experienced female intimacy in upwards of forty years, other than maybe an embrace or a kiss at visitation.

As I review the forty-eight reasons for mail rejection, there is a catchall category that conceivably the DOC could apply: “Otherwise presents a threat to the security, order, or rehabilitative objectives of the Correctional System, or to the safety of any person.”

As one of its definitions, Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary defines a shakedown as “a thorough search.” Here in the South Unit, at least among the senior inmates, you can disregard the word “thorough,” for the shakedowns are purely perfunctory. I even had a corrections officer one time approach my bed when my locker was open, look inside and ask if I had anything I was not supposed to. When I replied I did not, that constituted the shakedown (I did not count this in the statistics – see below). I remarked to another inmate one time that it is almost as though the corrections officers don't want to find anything, for if they impound personal belongings of the inmate – other than the ubiquitous toilet paper which I have described in the past and mention again below – there is required paperwork in which they would just as soon not be involved.

The purpose of shakedowns, of course, is to uncover illicit substances, such as alcohol or drugs, or weapons (or anything that can be used as a weapon). Most of the senior inmates are “seasoned” prisoners, many of whom have been down in excess of twenty years. They appreciate the “relaxed” atmosphere of the South Unit and are unlikely to engage in any activity that could jeopardize that, although occasionally one hears of an inmate who was observed “toking up,” or so the rumor goes.

There has been a marked reduction in the frequency of shakedowns both for the inmate population as a whole and for me personally, as indicated by the the following table:

⁽¹⁾Beginning in October. I arrived at the South Unit in July and one month later was transferred to the dormitory in which I have lived except for three weeks in the dog program in early 2010 and the thirty-six days at the Main Unit (purgatory) last summer. There may have been shakedowns before then but I didn't begin keeping statistics until October.

The large number of shakedowns in 2009 resulted from the fact that I was in the second bed closest to the officers' station. Combined with the minimal personal property in my possession at the time, I was easy prey. There were days when I was shaken down more than once by two different shifts of corrections officers.* The problem became so acute that I filed an informal grievance on the practice. In the description of the grievance process in June's website article, I mentioned there was one grievance for which I did not receive a response. I concluded the grievance by posing a question: “Am I being shaken down because I am suspected of harboring illicit substances or because I am in the second bed closest to the officers' station?”

*The officers are supposed to maintain a log in which they record the inmates who have been shaken down but, of course, this is not routinely done. Whenever one hears the word “supposed.” one can be assured the practice is not being followed.

In the website article for April dealing with the hygiene supplies, I described a number of shakedowns in which I had multiple rolls of toilet paper (usually four) in my possession. I was allowed to keep them subject to certain admonitions by the officers conducting the shakedowns. In the interest of journalistic accuracy, I should mention that my past caught up with me: Some months ago (after the April article) I was subject to a shakedown at a time when I had four rolls. The officer took three of the rolls leaving me, of course, with the smallest roll! And the shakedown was on a Saturday when I would have to wait six days until the following Friday for replenishment!! But this situation is not as dire as you might otherwise think. If you approach the officers' station with the core from a used roll, you will be given a new roll provided the officers are not sleeping, provided you can get their attention and provided they don't tell you they're too busy at the time. The person conducting this shakedown is not one of the better-liked officers at the institution – I had a run-in with her when I was in the dog program – so I felt it was best to let her take the rolls and have her go on her merry way. What is interesting is that there were so many other things she could have legitimately taken: excess property, eating utensil from the dining hall, et al. I'm reminded of something an old-timer once told me: “Always have something they [officers] can take [during a shakedown]; it makes them feel they're doing their job.”

Main menu October

Greetings for this month as we welcome the return of the always-popular(?) feature “But This Is Prison.” Plus, something new which may also become an ongoing feature - The Real Crime - in which I focus on the “human” aspect of prison life. After all, the Florida Department of Corrections is home to 100,000+ hapless souls living in dehumanized conditions, some of whom, perhaps, deserve a chance for something better in life. The main topic for the month is Discipline and Infractions.

“But This Is Prison”
I frequently use the word “dysfunctional” in describing the operation of the DOC. Am I being overly critical? I’ll lay a couple of examples on you and let you decide.

1.) In one of the initial monthly articles, I described a typical day that begins when the lights are turned on at 5:30 (Some time ago, a new captain arrived at the institution; feeling that the inmates should not be entitled to such “luxury,” he decreed, on weekdays, the lights would be turned on at 5:15, overlooking the fact that most inmates certainly don’t need up to 45 minutes to be ready for breakfast). But stating that the lights would be turned on at that time does not assure that it will actually happen. Most mornings, the correctional officers working the graveyard shift (midnight to 8:00 AM) sleep in the control station. After about five minutes beyond the time when the lights should be turned on, when it is apparent that it is not about to happen, one of the inmates in the dormitory approaches the control station, taps on the window and directs one of the officers to turn on the lights. I’ve always wondered what would happen if the officers continued to sleep which, conceivably could disrupt the eating schedule for the institution but I’m sure the inmates, and not the officers, would suffer the consequences.

2.) In February’s article earlier this year, I described the dog program at the South Unit. A feature of the program I failed to mention is that one afternoon per week a professional dog trainer comes to the institution to instruct the inmates in the proper training techniques. But earlier this year, there was a two month period when the instructor did not come. The reason: She had lost her driver’s license and with no other picture identification, she was not allowed admittance to the institution. You would think that someone here could vouch for her identity but the staff is fearful of doing anything that deviates from established policy. Lest you think that this is another fabrication from the inmate.comrumor mill, I should mention that the instructor confirmed its veracity.

The Real Crime
In many cases, the real crime is not what a person does that causes him to become a prisoner; it’s what happens after he becomes one. The main gate at the state of Florida correctional institution and other facilities opens one way - in. About the only way for an individual to leave prison is to complete his sentence in full - or die, the latter happening all too frequently at the South Unit. There is virtually no parole, no probation, no clemency, no compassionate release. This is perhaps understandable: The Florida Department of Corrections needs the bodies to sustain a venal organization of 30,000+ employees and an annual budget close to $3 billion, the second largest industry in the state.

An inmate in the dormitory celebrated his fortieth anniversary in April. No, it wasn’t his wedding anniversary. No, it wasn’t the number of years since he graduated from collage. It was in April 1971 when he became a Florida state prisoner. This man didn’t have the best of beginnings: There was some time at the Florida School for Boys, a reform school in Marianna followed by a couple of years at Angola, the notorious state prison in Louisiana.

Some time ago it started: an uncontrollable tremor in his right hand, the telltale sign of Parkinson’s disease. Throughout this year, his condition deteriorated; even a lay person can recognize the incipient stages of dementia or Alzheimer’s disease. One morning, a correctional officer had to direct him to his bed.

I understand there is a correctional institution in the sate that provides dedicated housing for inmates who show signs of mental deterioration. Regrettably, though, wither he is not aware of this facility or he is not choosing to pursue it. Neither is his family who could provide support to him on the outside if he were somehow to be released. There are two inmates in the dormitory - his kindred spirits, both having been imprisoned almost as long as he - who counsel him but I sense they may be doing him more harm than good: patting him on the shoulder, giving him a thumbs-up, kissing him off with platitudes that everything will be fine. This is not the help this man needs.

Bit is forty years enough time? Apparently the Florida Department of Corrections doesn’t seem to think so. As a result, he and the other 100,000+ imprisoned souls continue to rot their lives away, leech off the taxpayers of the state and make no positive contribution to society. But justice is being served and Florida is a safer place in which to live. Or maybe not.

Discipline and Infractions
The criminal justice system, as administered by the Florida Department of Corrections, operated on the belief that because inmates have committed a criminal act in the past, they have no redeeming qualities and their behavior has to be continually monitored and rigidly controlled. Conduct that would garner nothing worse than a mild reproach on the outside can result in severe hardship to the inmate.

There are two levels of reporting:

1.) Corrective Consultation - known popularly as a “cc,” this is nothing more that a :slap on the wrist,” although the DOC would view it as a warning to the inmate that some unacceptable conduct has been noted. The inmate is not even required to sign the document the reporting officer has completed. I have received a couple of these things; most other inmates have as well.

2.) Disciplinary Report - Referred to as a “DR,” this is the more serious consequence which I mentioned briefly in the December 2010 article. It is followed by a disciplinary hearing (usually a kangaroo court) and can result in the imposition of confinement and/or loss of gain time (time off for good behavior). The latter is the “stick” that keeps most inmates i line. In some cases, the outcome may be a “walking DR”: There is no confinement but as punishment, the inmate may be required to pick up trash on the grounds for a couple weeks.

Chapter 33-601.314 of the Florida Administrative Code is the statutory language dealing with “Rules of Prohibited Conduct and Penalties for Infractions.” It is divided into eleven sections some of which I will describe below. For each infraction, it specifies the maximum number of days of confinement that can be imposed and the amount of gain time that will be forfeited. For the most serious offenses, such as fighting, “the penalties can be 60 days of confinement and the loss of all gain time*.

This is generally the amount of gain time the inmate has accumulated to the state of infraction, plus the gain time he would have accrued during confinement. I have been told that there is a mechanism by which the inmate, at some time in the future, can apply for reinstatement of gain time that has been forfeited. I have what is referred to as a mandatory-minimum sentence: I earn no gain time. So, except for the avoidance of confinement, I have no real incentive to exhibit good behavior. Other inmates, similarly affected, feel the same way.

Following are the eleven sections of infractions along with a description of the more interesting ones. The number in parentheses is the number of infractions within each section.

Section 1 - Assault, Battery, Threats and Disrespect (22) Section 1-4 States: “Disrespect to officials, employees, or other persons of constituted authority …” This is a nasty one. The correctional officers are constantly railing about how they are not respected by the inmates. I’ve always felt that respect has to be given to be earned. The correctional staff doesn’t respect the inmates; why should they expect the inmates to respect them. More important, though, is that what the correctional officers want is not respect but rather obsequiousness - blind obedience - in which the inmates’ vocabulary is limited to the four permutations of “Yes/No” and “Sir/Ma’am.”

Section 2 - Riots, Strikes, Mutinous Acts and Disturbances (4)

Section 2-3 states: “Creating, participating in or inciting a minor disturbance.” “Minor disturbance,” however, is not defined. I wonder if some of my verbal displays of “enthusiasm” would constitute a “minor disturbance”?

Section 3 - Contraband (15). This topic was covered in the January 2011 monthly article. As defined herein, contraband is “any article not sold in the canteen, or issued by the institution, or for which you do not have a specific permit authorized by the institution where presently housed.”

Section 3-10 deals with “possession of unauthorized clothing or linen - state or personal.” I suppose my excess underwear and extra bed sheet put me in violation of this section.

Section 3-12 deals with “possession of any other contraband.” Because of the general wording, this section could be applied to anything the DOC does not want the inmates to possess.

Usually contraband is simply confiscated with no further disciplinary action taken. Of course, if the contraband deals with more serious matters, such as weapons or drugs, the statutory penalties would most likely be imposed.

Section 4 - Unauthorized Area (3)

Section 4-2 deals with “unauthorized observance from assigned area …” Section 4-3 deals with “being in unauthorized area . . .” As I am not “authorized” to be in the laundry, I suspect my volunteer work there could be construed as a violation of section 4-3.

Section 5 - Count Procedure Violations. This topic was also covered in the January 2011 article. The two subsections are: Section 5-1 (Missing count) and 5-2 (Failure to comply with count procedures).

Section 6 - Disobeying orders (2)

Section 6-1 is another nasty one: “Disobeying verbal or written order - any order given to an inmate or inmates by a staff member or other authorized person.” Nasty because there are no limits to what a DOC employee can order an inmate to do, other than regulations dealing with permissible conduct by such employees.

Section 7 - Destruction, Misuse, or Waste of Property (6)

Section 8 - Hygiene (2)

The two subsections deal with 8-1 (Failure to maintain personal hygiene or appearance) and 8-2 (Failure to maintain acceptable hygiene or appearance of housing area). As I have previously reported, the staff could have a field day with Section 8-2 if they chose to enforce it although what is “acceptable” is always subject to interpretation.

Section 9 - Miscellaneous Infractions (36). Am Amalgam of rules designed to keep the inmates in line. Some of the more interesting ones are:

9-6: Bartering with others. I addressed this issue in the description of the “hustle” in November’s article last year.

9-10: Lying to staff member or others in official capacity or falsifying records. This is perhaps the nastiest of all. There is a question (Q) and answer (A) routine that goes something like the following:

Q: How does a DOC employee know an inmate is lying?

A: His lips are moving.

The implication, of course, is that anything an inmate says is untruthful. I have actually been accosted on three occasions - twice by a DOC employee and once by a correctional officer - with threats of lying to staff. I believe these individuals make the statements not because they feel the accusations are enforceable, but merely to see how the inmate is likely to respond. The best strategy in situations of this kind is simply to remain silent.

9-13L Insufficient work. I wonder if some of the miscreants with whom I work in Food Service could be accused of this infraction!

9-14: Hall regulation violations.

9-15: Visiting regulation violations.

9-25: Telephone regulation violations.

9-26: Refusing to submit to substance abuse testing. Another unfortunate consequence of prison life: An inmate who cannot take the test because of urinary incontinence, which can be caused by certain medications, is deemed to have taken the test and failed it unless his medical records are duly noted.

Sections 10 and 11 are specialized infractions dealing with Community Release Programs and Supervised Community Release Programs.