Rabbit 2

Doesn’t seem like I’ve mentioned my experience with stalking on the unit. Our newest psych, Ms. Eamon had a new patient that came in from his month at what I call Decontamination. This is a process where all new prisoners are taken upon incarceration, screened for appropriate security levels, and most important to us, investigated for current or incipient mental health issues. We get the Security 1 (lowest) mental health patients.

Mr. Newsome was a ratty looking, decrepit, probably younger than he looked, nondescript guy. Immediately he started sidling up to us on the yard about half the time we walked it. he apparently discovered who I was and started approaching me independent of Ms. Eamon, asking me about his parole options, even though parole was at least two years off for him. This quickly devolved into him stopping in my office on his way to hers.

When walking on the yard and being approached, you can keep moving apace, and the guys fall off pretty quickly. In my office, I have nowhere to go. I generally pleasantly redirect unknown visitors away from my door to who they actually need to talk to. I was not pleasant, but dismissive and curt with Mr. Newsome for his first visit. The fact that I even knew his name and he was not on my caseload and had been at the facility for less than two weeks was not a good sign. The second time he was lurking outside my door, I walked at him until he had to stumble backward away from me and sent him on his way. The third time, I believe I roared somewhat incoherently, followed him into Ms. Eamon’s office and made it bloody clear he was not to approach me or talk to me ever again.

Later that afternoon, as I we were talking about his earlier visit to the offices in the morning I hadn’t even known about, he strolled back into the interior offices, allegedly looking for something he had left in Ms. Eamon’s office. I backed him down the hallway, called custody and had him escorted back to his unit and left to talk to the Captain about dealing with this person. Our boss was out of the office and I was too irritated and freaked out to let it wait. I checked, and he has two charges of Assault to Commit Sexual Penetration, Indecent Exposure, and a couple of less exciting charges.

Unfortunately, his unit officer had given him verbal permission to come back looking for his possession. So, no Major Out of Place ticket could be written. He had not actually entered my office, so that was out also. Instead, the Inspector called him down, read him the riot act, told him he could catch a new bit for stalking if he addressed me or came without a pass to our offices again. Ms. Eamon transferred him to the male boss, and all was quiet for a while.

As the previous blogs suggest, I had a run of spending quite a bit of time in Seg. Seg has only a few cells, and the Custody person who usually works there is garrulous and talk and chat back and forth, knowing most of the guys are carefully listening to everything that is going on. It’s not like there is much else to do while you are sitting in a tiny cell, and it is usually better than listening to your own thoughts.

While visiting Mr. Biggs, I had to stroll the long way out of the office to get out. A movement caught the corner of my eye where no movement should have been. I glance over and perfectly centered in the frame of the meal slot is a penis and a hand. He wasn’t overtly masturbating, the best interpretation might have been scratching his testicles. I was a bit startled, but kept walking so as not to reinforce the behavior, if that is what it was, nor embarrass some guy who was caught unawares. Later that afternoon I happened to glance at the Seg board, and as you have already guessed, discovered it was Mr. Newsome.

I bounced it off of the Inspector, and he felt it was important that I write the ticket, although it would be hard to prove intent if we did not make eye contact and he did not speak to me. Four rewrites later, we have the best we can do with the sketchy events.

His initial interview with the Hearings Investigator struck gold, so to speak. He explained that the direction not to speak to me was so clear, that the only way he could think to get my attention was to wave his genitals at me. Which I guess worked, but not even remotely in the way he had hoped. He also mentioned he would be highly honored if I might wave mine back at him. Really, that hadn’t occurred to me as social possibility. He is now at a Level 4 (Level 5 being the highest), and I wonder who is receiving his attentions now?

As I was walking out today, my boss mentioned the fact that in the first 17 years he had been working in the prison, there had been no penis waving. And for some reason, I had my second in the first year. He quietly wondered to himself what this might portend…

In the Hole Yet Again

Yesterday, one of my guys I’m fond of, but has a lesser place in the pantheon was caught smuggling illegal substances into the facility. Mr. Biggs was on a program that takes guys out of the prison and rents out their work to local governments. They mow grass, clean up cemeteries, roadsides, etc.

One of the most meticulous guards, who knows I am connected with this guy, made it his business to track me down at lunch and tell me, “your friend,” got busted bringing in drugs. Apparently he is in Seg, now, awaiting investigation.

I check his ticket out and it is grim. He was hoping for Parole. He explains to me his thinking and what he owed on the unit and that this maneuver would set him free from his debts. He accrued a debt. His brother did not put enough money in his account to meet it. Now the debt has trebled, and the gang holding the debt suggests he bring in $2000 worth of drugs in to meet it. How he imagined he could smuggle it in his underwear during a strip search evades me, and in fact evaded him.

Instead, he is in the hole. He has no other tickets; odds are he won’t be ridden out elsewhere, but he has this smuggling/substance abuse ticket that makes him look rather bad to the Parole Board. He wants out for his children. His five year old daughter believes he is someplace else on the planet “working” which is why she is not with him, but can talk to him.

He is forlorn. It is possible he will catch another felony for smuggling. No point in telling him this, learning it from the Hearings Officer will be soon enough. He tries to put a brighter face on it by recounting his bunkmate who was paroled after a series of fairly serious tickets, and I suddenly suspect Mr. Biggs was bunking with Mr. Stark. I ask a few questions to ascertain it is Mr. Stark. We toss this idea around for a moment through the meal slot, and I end the conversation and retreat to the Seg office to write my note in the Log.

Halfway through the note it occurs to me why Mr. Biggs didn’t just tell me his bunkies’ name. I checked with him, “Mr. Biggs, you didn’t tell me who you bunked with because you only know his nickname (Highboy), and didn’t want to let me in on that bit of information, hmm?” He blushes and nods. So careful of my sensibilities and potential naiveté.