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Been doing a lot of spring cleaning. A lot. But, I've also been laying down the law on the crackheads, cho-mo's (prisonspeak for Child Molesters), gangstas, killers, and raving lunatics. So here goes.
Handy Prison Term Dictionary
Cellhouse: Building that houses inmates.
Dayroom: Kind of like indoor recess for inmates.
Yard: Outdoor recess for inmates.
Condition 30: Radio code for "Officer needs assistance."
Signal Medical: Radio code for "Medical response needed."
Crisis Level: Level of severity for handling inmates with mental problems. The higher the level, the more they have to be monitored, and the closer they are to be taken to Infirmary, stripped naked, diapered, strapped to a bed, and injected with a "happy shot."
Foodpass: Small door at about stomach-height that can be opened to hand inmates their meal trays, bedding, whatever. Only locked for Segregation inmates.
Beanhole: Non-PC slang term for Food Pass.
Segregation: "Solitary Confinement," basically. Where the inmates who don't play well with others live.
Intake: Where all the new inmates live for the first 8-12 weeks of confinement until they are classified and issued a custody level (minimum, medium, high, max, special management, and so on). I work in the 2 intake houses most of the time. I love them, because we try to shape them into being good inmates. By enforcing the rules to the letter and writing them up.
Observation Cell: A cell where an inmate can be monitored from the cellhouse control room 24 hours a day. Lovingly referred to as the "Booty Cell," because when an inmate gets put in there, they are stripped naked, cuffed, and escorted there by SST. The Booty Cells have a mattress on the floor and a toilet. That's it.
Celly: Cellmate
SST: Special Security Team. They guys in black. The ones who get to play with all the cool toys. The ones who mace each other in their free time. They'll save your ass if you need help though.
CO: Corrections Officer. My rank. Most inmates will yell, "Hey CO!" if they need something.
DR: Disciplinary Report. Kind of like writing the inmate a ticket. They can lose dayroom time, be fined up to $10 (a lot of money if you only get $29.50 a month to live on), be required to work extra hours without pay (if they have a job), or be put in Segregation for a week or two.
Forced Cell Move: When an inmate is acting violent/crazy/whatever, SST comes in, maces them, cuffs them, and moves them to another cell.
And, of course,
I/M: Inmate
ME: Myself
CW: Coworker
The Greatest Threat Ever
I/M1: Hey, man, what's happenin'?
I/M2: ....
I/M1: What, you ain't gonna roll with us?
I/M2: In my country, we would cook you.
I/M1: Say what?
I/M2: We cook you LIKE BARBEQUE!
I/M1: Damn, that's hardcore.
Indeed. Sometimes it's hard to maintain a stone-cold demeanor, but I manage.
Um....Okay....
I/M: Hey, CO!
ME: Yeah?
I/M: Hey, uh, I need to be moved to a different cell.
ME: Why?
I/M: It's my celly. He smells like shit.
ME: Does he shower?
I/M: Yeah, but he just shits. All the time. He shits all day.
Wow. It really must suck to be you. The nature of the complaints I get these days are on a whole different level than my retail/customer service days.
PWND!
I was in the control room for one of the Intake cellhouses on the particular evening this incident occurred. I gave the inmates a 10-minute warning via intercom that Dayroom was closing in 10 minutes. That means give the card/chess boards/whatever back to the floor officer at the desk, get ice or whatever you need, and start the process of moving your ass to your cell. I gave a 5-minute warning and opened the cell doors. One I/M is still on the phone (we have phones in the Dayroom, they can use prepaid calling cards to make calls). He made no attempt to end the conversation. I even gave a 1-minute warning by flashing the overhead lights. Then, I started closing doors. I/M hangs up and bolts to his cell. I knew he wasn't going to make it, so I was prepared to write him a warning for failure to adhere to calls or passes, which is a minor offense. Written Warnings are just paperwork that goes in their file, and if they do it again, they get a DR. Now, I could have just stopped his door or even opened it fully for him, but that's not my style.
Then he decides to try to jump sideways into his cell, and gets pinned in the doorway. That is a violation of a higher offense, Interference With Cell Door Operation and/or Visibility. That is a Class I offense. I figured since he decided to go for the gold, I'd reward him with a DR. He got fined, lost his phone privileges for a week, and got a few days in Segregation.
Spooky
I worked in one of the Segregation cellhouses one day. The one that houses the worst of the worst, and the capital offenders. I saw Jonathan Carr. Handed him his meal tray through his Food Pass. I looked into his eyes, and they were empty. I've heard the expression of looking into the eyes of a condemned man, and now I understand it. He's going to be executed eventually (we don't have an execution chamber at our facility, but he'll be transferred to the facility that does when the time comes).
I've linked to his story before, but if you Google "Carr Brothers," you can get the full story. These guys are some seriously bad mofo's.
Just When You Thought School Cafeteria Food Was Bad...
I/M1: What the hell is that, anyway?
I/M2: Uh... We-Hate-You-Convict Stew.
ME: Actually, that's not an acceptable term. It's "We-Hate-You-[B]Inmate[B] Stew."
I love my job. I don't even have to sugar-coat my smartassery anymore. The stew, for the record, was some unholy concoction of unknown meat (or at least meat-like substance), carrots, potatoes, and some sort of lumpy, gelatinous goo. I figure most of the meat they get is whatever our perimeter driver runs over while driving around the outside of the fence every day, and/or whatever critters happen to get tangled in the razor-wire.
Cuckoo For Cocoa-Puffs
Our most notorious cutter spends a lot of time at the Mental Health Hospital across the state. Then they get tired of him and send him back to us. He cuts himself quite a bit. The day he came back from his most recent trip to the loony bin was a day I was working the Segregation cellhouse he lives in. I escorted him to the shower, and he had scars all over his body. It was pretty disturbing. None of which, however, were as disturbing as a fresh scar on his cheek. As he came out, he wanted to make sure we noticed it. He had probably done it a few days before, but it was still purple.
I/M: Hey Sarge, you like my new pitchfork?
Sgt: Oh, uh, yes, it's very nice.
I/M: Yeah, I thought so too. Especially since I couldn't see what I was doing.
Dude is nuts. His crime? He wanted $18 from his grandmother to buy drugs. She wouldn't give it to him, so he cut her head off. He's currently suing 48 officers from an incident in January where he was going berserk in the infirmary, and they had to subdue him. About 90% of the officers named in the suit either weren't on that shift or had the day off. We get sued a lot, most of them don't go anywhere.
Some Do, Though
There is a guy who won a lawsuit, and he got paid tons of money by the state. He, uh. loves ducks. LOVES them. The kind of love that gets you put in prison. He was caught loving a duck, and his nickname is "Quackers." The other inmates in his cellhouse go nuts when he is taken out for showers (since he's in Segregation because he also killed someone). The inmates all start screaming "Quack quack!" and "Aflac!" The problem was, there were a few officers doing it too, hence the suit.
Hangman
I was making my rounds in one of my regular posts, and I noticed an inmate had tied his bedsheet to the top rung of the ladder to the top bunk in his cell. He doesn't have a cellmate, but most of the cells are set up to hold 2 men. He was leaning back, with the sheet held level with his throat, pulling against the sheet with his full body weight. He was already on Crisis Level I, which just means they are concerned he might do something at some point, and he had been found to be spitting out his anti-psychotic meds the last few days, so I knew something wasn't right. I realized he was testing the durability of his knot, making sure it would hold him, and told my Sergeant. We notified the Mental Health nurse, and she authorized us to remove his sheets. We asked him to hand them to us through his Food Pass, and he complied. SST showed up soon afterwards, and he was moved to a Booty Cell and placed on Crisis Level II. This meant he had to be monitored ever 15 minutes, and his activities had to be logged by the control officer. He was only allowed to have his boxers, no shirt, sheets, or anything. He told the Mental Health nurse when she came by to talk to him that he did have thoughts of hurting himself. He agreed to not harm himself so a Mental Health Doctor could come down and talk to him the following day.
It wasn't until I got home several hours later that I saved someone's life. If I had come a few minutes later, it could have been over.
Then again....
Today, I heard another officer talking to my Sargent about the same I/M.
CW: So, I hear they're about to do a Forced Cell Move on (I/M).
SGT: Today?
CW: Yep.
SGT: Is he poopy? He was poopy yesterday.
SGT: I don't know. They just decided to wait until today to figure out what to do with him.
ME: Um.... hold on. I haven't been in that cellhouse since Sunday when he tried to hang himself. What did he do?
SGT: Oh, yesterday he smeared poo all over his window in his cell door, all over his walls, and himself.
Me; Lovely. So he's going to be taking a trip down to Infirmary to be strapped down for awhile.
SGT: Yeah, he still isn't taking his meds, so now they're going to inject him with them.
That'll teach me to save someone's life. Fun Fact: If an inmate dies, we just file an incident report and that's that. Sometimes it seems easier.
Been doing a lot of spring cleaning. A lot. But, I've also been laying down the law on the crackheads, cho-mo's (prisonspeak for Child Molesters), gangstas, killers, and raving lunatics. So here goes.
Handy Prison Term Dictionary
Cellhouse: Building that houses inmates.
Dayroom: Kind of like indoor recess for inmates.
Yard: Outdoor recess for inmates.
Condition 30: Radio code for "Officer needs assistance."
Signal Medical: Radio code for "Medical response needed."
Crisis Level: Level of severity for handling inmates with mental problems. The higher the level, the more they have to be monitored, and the closer they are to be taken to Infirmary, stripped naked, diapered, strapped to a bed, and injected with a "happy shot."
Foodpass: Small door at about stomach-height that can be opened to hand inmates their meal trays, bedding, whatever. Only locked for Segregation inmates.
Beanhole: Non-PC slang term for Food Pass.
Segregation: "Solitary Confinement," basically. Where the inmates who don't play well with others live.
Intake: Where all the new inmates live for the first 8-12 weeks of confinement until they are classified and issued a custody level (minimum, medium, high, max, special management, and so on). I work in the 2 intake houses most of the time. I love them, because we try to shape them into being good inmates. By enforcing the rules to the letter and writing them up.
Observation Cell: A cell where an inmate can be monitored from the cellhouse control room 24 hours a day. Lovingly referred to as the "Booty Cell," because when an inmate gets put in there, they are stripped naked, cuffed, and escorted there by SST. The Booty Cells have a mattress on the floor and a toilet. That's it.
Celly: Cellmate
SST: Special Security Team. They guys in black. The ones who get to play with all the cool toys. The ones who mace each other in their free time. They'll save your ass if you need help though.
CO: Corrections Officer. My rank. Most inmates will yell, "Hey CO!" if they need something.
DR: Disciplinary Report. Kind of like writing the inmate a ticket. They can lose dayroom time, be fined up to $10 (a lot of money if you only get $29.50 a month to live on), be required to work extra hours without pay (if they have a job), or be put in Segregation for a week or two.
Forced Cell Move: When an inmate is acting violent/crazy/whatever, SST comes in, maces them, cuffs them, and moves them to another cell.
And, of course,
I/M: Inmate
ME: Myself
CW: Coworker
The Greatest Threat Ever
I/M1: Hey, man, what's happenin'?
I/M2: ....
I/M1: What, you ain't gonna roll with us?
I/M2: In my country, we would cook you.
I/M1: Say what?
I/M2: We cook you LIKE BARBEQUE!
I/M1: Damn, that's hardcore.
Indeed. Sometimes it's hard to maintain a stone-cold demeanor, but I manage.
Um....Okay....
I/M: Hey, CO!
ME: Yeah?
I/M: Hey, uh, I need to be moved to a different cell.
ME: Why?
I/M: It's my celly. He smells like shit.
ME: Does he shower?
I/M: Yeah, but he just shits. All the time. He shits all day.
Wow. It really must suck to be you. The nature of the complaints I get these days are on a whole different level than my retail/customer service days.
PWND!
I was in the control room for one of the Intake cellhouses on the particular evening this incident occurred. I gave the inmates a 10-minute warning via intercom that Dayroom was closing in 10 minutes. That means give the card/chess boards/whatever back to the floor officer at the desk, get ice or whatever you need, and start the process of moving your ass to your cell. I gave a 5-minute warning and opened the cell doors. One I/M is still on the phone (we have phones in the Dayroom, they can use prepaid calling cards to make calls). He made no attempt to end the conversation. I even gave a 1-minute warning by flashing the overhead lights. Then, I started closing doors. I/M hangs up and bolts to his cell. I knew he wasn't going to make it, so I was prepared to write him a warning for failure to adhere to calls or passes, which is a minor offense. Written Warnings are just paperwork that goes in their file, and if they do it again, they get a DR. Now, I could have just stopped his door or even opened it fully for him, but that's not my style.
Then he decides to try to jump sideways into his cell, and gets pinned in the doorway. That is a violation of a higher offense, Interference With Cell Door Operation and/or Visibility. That is a Class I offense. I figured since he decided to go for the gold, I'd reward him with a DR. He got fined, lost his phone privileges for a week, and got a few days in Segregation.
Spooky
I worked in one of the Segregation cellhouses one day. The one that houses the worst of the worst, and the capital offenders. I saw Jonathan Carr. Handed him his meal tray through his Food Pass. I looked into his eyes, and they were empty. I've heard the expression of looking into the eyes of a condemned man, and now I understand it. He's going to be executed eventually (we don't have an execution chamber at our facility, but he'll be transferred to the facility that does when the time comes).
I've linked to his story before, but if you Google "Carr Brothers," you can get the full story. These guys are some seriously bad mofo's.
Just When You Thought School Cafeteria Food Was Bad...
I/M1: What the hell is that, anyway?
I/M2: Uh... We-Hate-You-Convict Stew.
ME: Actually, that's not an acceptable term. It's "We-Hate-You-[B]Inmate[B] Stew."
I love my job. I don't even have to sugar-coat my smartassery anymore. The stew, for the record, was some unholy concoction of unknown meat (or at least meat-like substance), carrots, potatoes, and some sort of lumpy, gelatinous goo. I figure most of the meat they get is whatever our perimeter driver runs over while driving around the outside of the fence every day, and/or whatever critters happen to get tangled in the razor-wire.
Cuckoo For Cocoa-Puffs
Our most notorious cutter spends a lot of time at the Mental Health Hospital across the state. Then they get tired of him and send him back to us. He cuts himself quite a bit. The day he came back from his most recent trip to the loony bin was a day I was working the Segregation cellhouse he lives in. I escorted him to the shower, and he had scars all over his body. It was pretty disturbing. None of which, however, were as disturbing as a fresh scar on his cheek. As he came out, he wanted to make sure we noticed it. He had probably done it a few days before, but it was still purple.
I/M: Hey Sarge, you like my new pitchfork?
Sgt: Oh, uh, yes, it's very nice.
I/M: Yeah, I thought so too. Especially since I couldn't see what I was doing.
Dude is nuts. His crime? He wanted $18 from his grandmother to buy drugs. She wouldn't give it to him, so he cut her head off. He's currently suing 48 officers from an incident in January where he was going berserk in the infirmary, and they had to subdue him. About 90% of the officers named in the suit either weren't on that shift or had the day off. We get sued a lot, most of them don't go anywhere.
Some Do, Though
There is a guy who won a lawsuit, and he got paid tons of money by the state. He, uh. loves ducks. LOVES them. The kind of love that gets you put in prison. He was caught loving a duck, and his nickname is "Quackers." The other inmates in his cellhouse go nuts when he is taken out for showers (since he's in Segregation because he also killed someone). The inmates all start screaming "Quack quack!" and "Aflac!" The problem was, there were a few officers doing it too, hence the suit.
Hangman
I was making my rounds in one of my regular posts, and I noticed an inmate had tied his bedsheet to the top rung of the ladder to the top bunk in his cell. He doesn't have a cellmate, but most of the cells are set up to hold 2 men. He was leaning back, with the sheet held level with his throat, pulling against the sheet with his full body weight. He was already on Crisis Level I, which just means they are concerned he might do something at some point, and he had been found to be spitting out his anti-psychotic meds the last few days, so I knew something wasn't right. I realized he was testing the durability of his knot, making sure it would hold him, and told my Sergeant. We notified the Mental Health nurse, and she authorized us to remove his sheets. We asked him to hand them to us through his Food Pass, and he complied. SST showed up soon afterwards, and he was moved to a Booty Cell and placed on Crisis Level II. This meant he had to be monitored ever 15 minutes, and his activities had to be logged by the control officer. He was only allowed to have his boxers, no shirt, sheets, or anything. He told the Mental Health nurse when she came by to talk to him that he did have thoughts of hurting himself. He agreed to not harm himself so a Mental Health Doctor could come down and talk to him the following day.
It wasn't until I got home several hours later that I saved someone's life. If I had come a few minutes later, it could have been over.
Then again....
Today, I heard another officer talking to my Sargent about the same I/M.
CW: So, I hear they're about to do a Forced Cell Move on (I/M).
SGT: Today?
CW: Yep.
SGT: Is he poopy? He was poopy yesterday.
SGT: I don't know. They just decided to wait until today to figure out what to do with him.
ME: Um.... hold on. I haven't been in that cellhouse since Sunday when he tried to hang himself. What did he do?
SGT: Oh, yesterday he smeared poo all over his window in his cell door, all over his walls, and himself.
Me; Lovely. So he's going to be taking a trip down to Infirmary to be strapped down for awhile.
SGT: Yeah, he still isn't taking his meds, so now they're going to inject him with them.
That'll teach me to save someone's life. Fun Fact: If an inmate dies, we just file an incident report and that's that. Sometimes it seems easier.
I love ducks too, but damn! 
about the Quackers and barbecue threat guy.
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