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I've been up in a tower most of the week due to some new-hires getting experience in the cell houses before going on shift, so not much happening right now. On the bright side, when I'm posted in a tower, I get a .357 Magnum, a rifle, and a shotgun. But so far I haven't had to shoot anyone. Not yet, anyway....
But last week was fun. It was a chain of events that culminated in one of the greatest experiences in my life. So let me relay the tale of Lil Gangsta.
It all started innocently enough. We had a newer inmate in one of our Segregation cells in our Intake house. He's a 19-year old scrawny kid who is in for second-degree murder. On the street, him and his gang-bangin' buddies did a drive-by and now he's Officer Kara's bitch.
I didn't think much of him at first. He was quiet, generally polite, and spoke softly. In my first encounter with him, he handed me a "Request to Staff Member" form he got back from a Corrections Counselor stating a request he had submitted to be allowed to make a phone call. The Counselor approved it, so I gave it to my Sargent. We put him in Belly Chains and walked him out to the phones in the Dayroom. He tried calling a few times, but didn't get an answer. We walked him back to his cell, and the SGT called Mental Health because she had noticed him crying in his cell earlier that day. A nurse from Mental Health came down and talked to him and everything seemed to be fine.
That was on a Sunday. I had my days off (Mon/Tues), and was posted in the same house on Wednesday. As I was making my rounds, Lil Gangsta stopped me.
LG: Hey, CO.
ME: Yes?
LG: I get a phone call this evening.
ME: Do you have any paperwork?
LG: Yeah, here.
He gave me a slip like before. I handed it to my Sargent (this time it was my Sargent and not the one that was in there Sunday), and she looked it over.
SGT: Negative.
ME *shrug*: Okay, I'll let him know. But he's going to ask why not, so let's save me a trip back.
SGT: This request is to make a phone call, but it needs to have the person's name and number that they are calling.
ME: Hmm, he handed one of these to us the other day and (OTHER SGT) let him make the call.
SGT: They shouldn't have done that. We need to know who they are calling and make sure that person is on their authorized calling list.
ME: Wait a sec. This is the same form. Look, he scribbled out the date and wrote today's date on it.
SGT: Yeah, he's beat.
I went back to LG's cell and let him know he wouldn't be making a phone call that evening.
LG: Wha.... Why not?
ME: Because this request doesn't have the name and number of the party you want to call.
LG: Okay, well, it's my grandma. I need to let her know how I'm doing.
ME: That's fine. Submit a new request with her name and number.
LG: Here, just let me write it on that form.
ME: I can't do that.
LG: Why not?
ME: You can't alter a request that's already been submitted and returned.
LG: So what are you saying?
ME: I'm saying you won't be making a phone call tonight. You need to properly fill out the request and submit it, and you should get a response tomorrow.
LG: Tomorrow? But.... Aw, damn. Come on, don't be like this. Just let me make my phone call.
ME: That's not going to happen.
LG: Then let me talk to the Sargent!
So she came over and went through the same thing with him. This is where things started to get fun. As my Sargent came back to the desk, Lil Gangsta decided to get cranky.
LG: HEY! Come on, I need to make my phone call!
ME: And here he goes.
LG: CO! CO! Come on, CO! You know this ain't right. You let me use the phone the other day.
ME: *Ignore*
LG: Hey! This is bullshit! I need to talk to my grandma!
This went on for a bit, and we finally decided to contact one of the corrections counselors to let them know that the jackass was trying to use the same form to get a phone call every day. We were told that the inmate can make a call UP TO 3 times a week, AT THE OFFICER'S DISCRETION. So we decided to let him have his damn call to talk to granny. We restrained him and escorted him to the phone and I overheard the following conversation:
LG: Yeah, yeah, what up, baby? Yeah, I'm just kickin' it. They got me in the hole, cuz I gots a murder charge. Yeah, they all afraid. I be missin you too. Missin that fine ass of yours.
This continued for awhile. He either lied about who he was calling, or he has a seriously twisted family tree. The kind that doesn't branch. Anyway, we locked him back up and he was quiet the rest of the night. Also, I saw an email that day that said the Inmate was badgering Mental Health staff and that they were tired of dealing with him and taking time away from inmates with real Mental Health issues. We were instructed not to contact them unless he threatened to harm himself.
Saturday night. I was up in Control for the same cellhouse. A relatively quiet evening, until I got paged from one of the in-cell intercoms. Surprise, surprise, it's Lil Gangsta. I knew exactly what he wanted.
ME: Control.
LG: Yeah, uh, can you let the officer know I need to make a phone call tonight?
ME: I'll let them know.
*phone*
Floor Officer: This is CO (Newbie).
ME: Yeah, this is Kara in Control. Cell (#) wants to make a phone call, so check with SGT.
FO: Alright.
I resumed my duties, primarily opening doors for inmates on the other side of the house that needed to get their meal trays and/or meds. Then I hear the "ding!" of my panel letting me know some retard wants something. Guess who?
ME: Control.
LG: Don't let them forget about my phone call.
ME: They already know.
LG: But I just want to make sure.
ME: Fine.
*phone*
SGT: What's up?
ME: LG is crying about his phone call again.
SGT: Yeah, well, he can wait. I have other things to do and I already explained to him that we'll get to it if we have time.
ME: I don't care if he gets it or not. I just wanted to let you know because he's bugging me again.
Back to doing actual work. It was time for the other side of the cellhouse to have dayroom, so I was running doors for that. It wasn't long at all before....
"DING!"
ME: Control.
LG: I WANT MY PHONE CALL.
ME (audible sigh): You'll get it if there's time.
*phone*
SGT: Let me guess...
ME: He's still bitching.
SGT: Well, he's definitely not getting that call now. I told him we're busy right now and he started yelling. I told him he's not getting it if he's going to be disrespectful, and he said, "You know I'm in for murder, right? You need to think about that before you go disrespecting me." So no, he's not getting a call.
I figured that would be the end of it. But, not 10 minutes later....
"DING!"
ME: What?
LG: I need to talk to Mental Health.
ME: Regarding what?
LG: You don't need to know that.
ME: Yes, I do.
LG: Get Mental Health down here, bitch! You don't need to know nothin about why I gots to talk to them. It ain't none of your damn business.
ME: It is my business when Mental Health instructs me to find out why you need to see them before I call them.
LG: Fuck this! YOU BETTA CALL THEM DOWN HERE NOW! I got problems going on, bouncin around in my head and shit, and I need to talk to Mental Health.
ME: I'm not going to be able to call them for that.
LG: FUCKIN BITCH! I GOT PROBLEMS! IN MY HEAD! IF YOU DON'T GET MENTAL HEALTH DOWN HERE AND SOMETHING HAPPENS, IT'S GOING TO BE ON YOU!
ME: That's a chance I'm willing to take.
I called my Sargent to let her know he was wanting Mental Health again and that I denied the request. She went to talk to him and I went about my duties as the Eye in the Sky. Then I heard LG screaming (through my protective bubble of bullet-proof glass), so I turned on his intercom and left it on so I could entertain myself by listening to him rant and rave. As long as I don't hit the "TALK" button, I can listen in to any cell and they can't hear me at all. He screamed for about an hour, but it was mostly the following over and over:
LG: BITCH! I'M IN HERE FOR MURDER! I'M GONNA GET YOU, JUST WAIT! YOU THINK YOU BAD TALKIN ALL THIS BULLSHIT, BUT I'M GONNA GET YOU! I NEED TO MAKE MY PHONE CALL! I NEED TO TALK TO MENTAL HEALTH! STUPID BITCH! UGLY-ASS STUPID BITCH!
He also kicked his cell door and started flushing the toilet over and over in an attempt to flood his cell. The Sargent decided to call Special Security Team to come down and have a friendly chat with him. Then, he started in with:
LG: YEAH, WRITE ME UP, BITCH! I AIN'T SCARED OF YOU! I AIN'T SCARED OF NO BLACKSUITS (inmate term for SST because they wear black uniforms instead of brown like regular officers)! BLACKSUITS AIN'T SHIT! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT NO BLACKSUITS!
Then I heard the Captain on the radio.
CAPT: (Call #) to available SST member.
SST: Go ahead.
CAPT: Would you and a friend come with me to (CELLHOUSE)?
SST: 10-4, en route in 2.
I laughed with sadistic delight and rubbed my hands together. I knew exactly what this meant. This was my favorite of the 2 Captains that rotates on my shift. She's a big, scary woman. She regularly chews us out when someone is found doing something stupid like bringing in a glass bottle of tea in their lunch or not wearing their stab vest in the Segregation Cellhouses like they should be. Nothing is more important to her than the safety of her officers and the facility. Some people mock her for constantly reminding us that each day could be our last, that shit can go down in the blink of an eye, but I take those words very seriously. I have a deep respect for her, and I know that the last thing you would ever want is to have her pissed off at you. I opened the front doors when I saw her approaching with 2 SST officers on my monitor, and then let them in the side where Lil Gangsta was still carrying on, oblivious to the force of destruction that was headed his way.
They opened his food pass and SST instructed him to cuff up. He complied, and I opened his door. There was nothing going on with the other side, everyone was locked down for the night, so I gleefully listened to every single word.
CAPT: Mr (LG), I am Captain (AWESOME). I want to make something perfectly clear. You do not threaten my officers.
LG: Hold on. That motherfuckin bitch-
CAPT: Shut up. I didn't come here to listen to you. And by the way, I am THE ONLY motherfucking bitch around here!
LG: But-
CAPT: I said shut your fucking mouth.
LG: You can't talk to-
CAPT: I can, I will, and I just did. I know you think you're hot shit. You're so big and bad out on the street, bangin with your buddies. But in here, you ain't shit. You're just another inmate; another number.
LG: Do you know what I'm in for?
CAPT: Oh yeah, I looked you up. You're pretty badass on paper. But in here, you're just a little piece of shit. You think doing a drive-by makes you something in here?
LG: I-
CAPT: Because it doesn't. I have 1,122 inmates in here, and several hundred of those are murderers. Not pansy-ass cowards, but real murderers.
LG: You-
CAPT:You're doing easy time right now. You've got it made. I could take you across the Yard right now and put you in a real Segregation house. You can live with the real killers. The lunatics who kill for fun. The guys who throw shit and smear it all over themselves. And you would be right there with them.
LG: They... they sleep on the floor there, don't they?
CAPT: Yes, they do. A mattress on bare concrete. If I even allow them to have a mattress. Because I can take it from you. I can take your mattress, I can take all your property, I can take your thoughts from you. I can tear you down to nothing if I feel like it. Is that what you want?
LG: N-n-no. No Ma'am.
CAPT: Then I suggest you lay there and do your time, and get the hell out of my facility. And if I EVER have to come down here again, or I even hear from someone that you threaten anyone on my staff, I will personally escort you to a Seg house, where you will do your time with psychos and cold-blooded killers, until you finally crack and start rolling in your own shit with the rest of them. Understood?
LG: Y-y-y-y-Yes Ma'am.
CAPT: Why is your floor wet?
LG: I... uh...
CAPT: I want that shit cleaned up before the next shift comes in.
And with that, they stepped out of his cell, I closed the door, they unrestrained him, and they left. I just sat there in awe, until my phone rang.
ME: Control.
SGT: Did you listen? What happened?
ME: The most beautiful thing I've ever heard.
But last week was fun. It was a chain of events that culminated in one of the greatest experiences in my life. So let me relay the tale of Lil Gangsta.
It all started innocently enough. We had a newer inmate in one of our Segregation cells in our Intake house. He's a 19-year old scrawny kid who is in for second-degree murder. On the street, him and his gang-bangin' buddies did a drive-by and now he's Officer Kara's bitch.
I didn't think much of him at first. He was quiet, generally polite, and spoke softly. In my first encounter with him, he handed me a "Request to Staff Member" form he got back from a Corrections Counselor stating a request he had submitted to be allowed to make a phone call. The Counselor approved it, so I gave it to my Sargent. We put him in Belly Chains and walked him out to the phones in the Dayroom. He tried calling a few times, but didn't get an answer. We walked him back to his cell, and the SGT called Mental Health because she had noticed him crying in his cell earlier that day. A nurse from Mental Health came down and talked to him and everything seemed to be fine.
That was on a Sunday. I had my days off (Mon/Tues), and was posted in the same house on Wednesday. As I was making my rounds, Lil Gangsta stopped me.
LG: Hey, CO.
ME: Yes?
LG: I get a phone call this evening.
ME: Do you have any paperwork?
LG: Yeah, here.
He gave me a slip like before. I handed it to my Sargent (this time it was my Sargent and not the one that was in there Sunday), and she looked it over.
SGT: Negative.
ME *shrug*: Okay, I'll let him know. But he's going to ask why not, so let's save me a trip back.
SGT: This request is to make a phone call, but it needs to have the person's name and number that they are calling.
ME: Hmm, he handed one of these to us the other day and (OTHER SGT) let him make the call.
SGT: They shouldn't have done that. We need to know who they are calling and make sure that person is on their authorized calling list.
ME: Wait a sec. This is the same form. Look, he scribbled out the date and wrote today's date on it.
SGT: Yeah, he's beat.
I went back to LG's cell and let him know he wouldn't be making a phone call that evening.
LG: Wha.... Why not?
ME: Because this request doesn't have the name and number of the party you want to call.
LG: Okay, well, it's my grandma. I need to let her know how I'm doing.
ME: That's fine. Submit a new request with her name and number.
LG: Here, just let me write it on that form.
ME: I can't do that.
LG: Why not?
ME: You can't alter a request that's already been submitted and returned.
LG: So what are you saying?
ME: I'm saying you won't be making a phone call tonight. You need to properly fill out the request and submit it, and you should get a response tomorrow.
LG: Tomorrow? But.... Aw, damn. Come on, don't be like this. Just let me make my phone call.
ME: That's not going to happen.
LG: Then let me talk to the Sargent!
So she came over and went through the same thing with him. This is where things started to get fun. As my Sargent came back to the desk, Lil Gangsta decided to get cranky.
LG: HEY! Come on, I need to make my phone call!
ME: And here he goes.
LG: CO! CO! Come on, CO! You know this ain't right. You let me use the phone the other day.
ME: *Ignore*
LG: Hey! This is bullshit! I need to talk to my grandma!
This went on for a bit, and we finally decided to contact one of the corrections counselors to let them know that the jackass was trying to use the same form to get a phone call every day. We were told that the inmate can make a call UP TO 3 times a week, AT THE OFFICER'S DISCRETION. So we decided to let him have his damn call to talk to granny. We restrained him and escorted him to the phone and I overheard the following conversation:
LG: Yeah, yeah, what up, baby? Yeah, I'm just kickin' it. They got me in the hole, cuz I gots a murder charge. Yeah, they all afraid. I be missin you too. Missin that fine ass of yours.
This continued for awhile. He either lied about who he was calling, or he has a seriously twisted family tree. The kind that doesn't branch. Anyway, we locked him back up and he was quiet the rest of the night. Also, I saw an email that day that said the Inmate was badgering Mental Health staff and that they were tired of dealing with him and taking time away from inmates with real Mental Health issues. We were instructed not to contact them unless he threatened to harm himself.
Saturday night. I was up in Control for the same cellhouse. A relatively quiet evening, until I got paged from one of the in-cell intercoms. Surprise, surprise, it's Lil Gangsta. I knew exactly what he wanted.
ME: Control.
LG: Yeah, uh, can you let the officer know I need to make a phone call tonight?
ME: I'll let them know.
*phone*
Floor Officer: This is CO (Newbie).
ME: Yeah, this is Kara in Control. Cell (#) wants to make a phone call, so check with SGT.
FO: Alright.
I resumed my duties, primarily opening doors for inmates on the other side of the house that needed to get their meal trays and/or meds. Then I hear the "ding!" of my panel letting me know some retard wants something. Guess who?
ME: Control.
LG: Don't let them forget about my phone call.
ME: They already know.
LG: But I just want to make sure.
ME: Fine.
*phone*
SGT: What's up?
ME: LG is crying about his phone call again.
SGT: Yeah, well, he can wait. I have other things to do and I already explained to him that we'll get to it if we have time.
ME: I don't care if he gets it or not. I just wanted to let you know because he's bugging me again.
Back to doing actual work. It was time for the other side of the cellhouse to have dayroom, so I was running doors for that. It wasn't long at all before....
"DING!"
ME: Control.
LG: I WANT MY PHONE CALL.
ME (audible sigh): You'll get it if there's time.
*phone*
SGT: Let me guess...
ME: He's still bitching.
SGT: Well, he's definitely not getting that call now. I told him we're busy right now and he started yelling. I told him he's not getting it if he's going to be disrespectful, and he said, "You know I'm in for murder, right? You need to think about that before you go disrespecting me." So no, he's not getting a call.
I figured that would be the end of it. But, not 10 minutes later....
"DING!"
ME: What?
LG: I need to talk to Mental Health.
ME: Regarding what?
LG: You don't need to know that.
ME: Yes, I do.
LG: Get Mental Health down here, bitch! You don't need to know nothin about why I gots to talk to them. It ain't none of your damn business.
ME: It is my business when Mental Health instructs me to find out why you need to see them before I call them.
LG: Fuck this! YOU BETTA CALL THEM DOWN HERE NOW! I got problems going on, bouncin around in my head and shit, and I need to talk to Mental Health.
ME: I'm not going to be able to call them for that.
LG: FUCKIN BITCH! I GOT PROBLEMS! IN MY HEAD! IF YOU DON'T GET MENTAL HEALTH DOWN HERE AND SOMETHING HAPPENS, IT'S GOING TO BE ON YOU!
ME: That's a chance I'm willing to take.
I called my Sargent to let her know he was wanting Mental Health again and that I denied the request. She went to talk to him and I went about my duties as the Eye in the Sky. Then I heard LG screaming (through my protective bubble of bullet-proof glass), so I turned on his intercom and left it on so I could entertain myself by listening to him rant and rave. As long as I don't hit the "TALK" button, I can listen in to any cell and they can't hear me at all. He screamed for about an hour, but it was mostly the following over and over:
LG: BITCH! I'M IN HERE FOR MURDER! I'M GONNA GET YOU, JUST WAIT! YOU THINK YOU BAD TALKIN ALL THIS BULLSHIT, BUT I'M GONNA GET YOU! I NEED TO MAKE MY PHONE CALL! I NEED TO TALK TO MENTAL HEALTH! STUPID BITCH! UGLY-ASS STUPID BITCH!
He also kicked his cell door and started flushing the toilet over and over in an attempt to flood his cell. The Sargent decided to call Special Security Team to come down and have a friendly chat with him. Then, he started in with:
LG: YEAH, WRITE ME UP, BITCH! I AIN'T SCARED OF YOU! I AIN'T SCARED OF NO BLACKSUITS (inmate term for SST because they wear black uniforms instead of brown like regular officers)! BLACKSUITS AIN'T SHIT! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT NO BLACKSUITS!
Then I heard the Captain on the radio.
CAPT: (Call #) to available SST member.
SST: Go ahead.
CAPT: Would you and a friend come with me to (CELLHOUSE)?
SST: 10-4, en route in 2.
I laughed with sadistic delight and rubbed my hands together. I knew exactly what this meant. This was my favorite of the 2 Captains that rotates on my shift. She's a big, scary woman. She regularly chews us out when someone is found doing something stupid like bringing in a glass bottle of tea in their lunch or not wearing their stab vest in the Segregation Cellhouses like they should be. Nothing is more important to her than the safety of her officers and the facility. Some people mock her for constantly reminding us that each day could be our last, that shit can go down in the blink of an eye, but I take those words very seriously. I have a deep respect for her, and I know that the last thing you would ever want is to have her pissed off at you. I opened the front doors when I saw her approaching with 2 SST officers on my monitor, and then let them in the side where Lil Gangsta was still carrying on, oblivious to the force of destruction that was headed his way.
They opened his food pass and SST instructed him to cuff up. He complied, and I opened his door. There was nothing going on with the other side, everyone was locked down for the night, so I gleefully listened to every single word.
CAPT: Mr (LG), I am Captain (AWESOME). I want to make something perfectly clear. You do not threaten my officers.
LG: Hold on. That motherfuckin bitch-
CAPT: Shut up. I didn't come here to listen to you. And by the way, I am THE ONLY motherfucking bitch around here!
LG: But-
CAPT: I said shut your fucking mouth.
LG: You can't talk to-
CAPT: I can, I will, and I just did. I know you think you're hot shit. You're so big and bad out on the street, bangin with your buddies. But in here, you ain't shit. You're just another inmate; another number.
LG: Do you know what I'm in for?
CAPT: Oh yeah, I looked you up. You're pretty badass on paper. But in here, you're just a little piece of shit. You think doing a drive-by makes you something in here?
LG: I-
CAPT: Because it doesn't. I have 1,122 inmates in here, and several hundred of those are murderers. Not pansy-ass cowards, but real murderers.
LG: You-
CAPT:You're doing easy time right now. You've got it made. I could take you across the Yard right now and put you in a real Segregation house. You can live with the real killers. The lunatics who kill for fun. The guys who throw shit and smear it all over themselves. And you would be right there with them.
LG: They... they sleep on the floor there, don't they?
CAPT: Yes, they do. A mattress on bare concrete. If I even allow them to have a mattress. Because I can take it from you. I can take your mattress, I can take all your property, I can take your thoughts from you. I can tear you down to nothing if I feel like it. Is that what you want?
LG: N-n-no. No Ma'am.
CAPT: Then I suggest you lay there and do your time, and get the hell out of my facility. And if I EVER have to come down here again, or I even hear from someone that you threaten anyone on my staff, I will personally escort you to a Seg house, where you will do your time with psychos and cold-blooded killers, until you finally crack and start rolling in your own shit with the rest of them. Understood?
LG: Y-y-y-y-Yes Ma'am.
CAPT: Why is your floor wet?
LG: I... uh...
CAPT: I want that shit cleaned up before the next shift comes in.
And with that, they stepped out of his cell, I closed the door, they unrestrained him, and they left. I just sat there in awe, until my phone rang.
ME: Control.
SGT: Did you listen? What happened?
ME: The most beautiful thing I've ever heard.
He just got knocked down so many pegs, he's knocking on the door to hell.
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