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Just one story for today, but it's a good one.
IM = Inmate
SST = Special Security Team Member (the group that gets to do most of the ass-kicking when there's trouble)
SGT = Sargent
ME = Myself
The word of the day is "Condition 30." It's radio-speak for "10-30," which means "Officer Needs Assistance."
Our story begins Friday evening at almost 8-ish. It's a cloudy evening in prison. I had just made my rounds and was logging my security check in the logbook. It was the 3rd of four Dayroom periods in the cellhouse I was in that shift, so it was kind of loud with inmates on the phone, playing Pinochle, and watching the Olympics on the TV. But suddenly I heard yelling and guys hitting their cell doors. I looked over and saw an inmate standing near the corner of the Dayroom and having some kind of spat with 2 cells on the upper level. The inmate on the floor was hispanic and the other 3 inmates were black.
The black inmates were screaming that they were going to kick his ass because he had dared to use words like "n*****" and "pussy" in their general direction. The hispanic inmate was just grinning and restating his opinion of them over and over. So I stepped in.
ME: Mr [Dumbass]?
IM: Yeah?
ME: Is there a problem here?
IM: Ah... no.
ME: Good. Then knock it off and find something else to do or you'll be locking down for the night. Got it?
IM: Yeah.
I then went up the stairs to talk to one of the other inmates.
ME: Mr [Inmate], is there a problem?
IM2: No Ma'am. I know I shouldn't have been yelling at him like that.
ME: Just tell me the truth. Is there going to be a problem?
IM2: No, nuh-uh. He just came over here and started running his mouth for no reason and sayin shit. I just got mad. I'm sorry.
ME: Just calm down and try to let it go.
IM2: Yeah, yeah. You bet.
And that was that. I kept an eye on the hispanic inmate, because he kept walking the length of the floor, and every time he went to that one corner, he gave those guys a dirty look. He was really trying my patience, but we were on minimal staff that day, so I decided that as long as he wasn't still causing a disturbance there wasn't much I could do. By minimal staffing, we had 3 officers. One on each side of the house and the control operator. We would normally have a SGT also, but a lot of people had called in sick that day. Besides, I knew the other inmates well enough to know that if they said they weren't going to jump the guy or anything, then they wouldn't do it.
The door was opened and one of our Porters (inmate janitor) came back to my side from the other side of the house. He just got the job and lived on my side also. He had just turned 19, a short black kid. I liked him as a worker, since he actually did what he was supposed to. I told him that I needed him to see if we had a pair of size 11 shoes in the Laundry room because an inmate had showed me his torn shoes earlier. He got a pair and went up the stairs to give them to said inmate.
A few minutes later, I heard the hispanic guy going off again.
IM: Hey, look at the big man up there! Haha, you're probably a fucking pussy too!
Porter: *ignore*
IM: Come on, tough guy! Why don't you fucking show me what you got?
Porter: I'm not going to fight you.
IM: Yeah, fucking n*****, that's what you are.
I decided enough was enough. I stood up and turned my back to them to get my radio clipped to my duty belt, since I had it on the desk at the time. When I turned back around, the porter was coming down the stairs. As soon as his feet touched the floor, the hispanic inmate charged him and slammed him into the wall.
ME: HEEEEEY!
Porter: I DON'T WANT TO FIGHT YOU!
I ran over to them, and the fight was on. The kid kept telling him that he didn't want to fight, but he was also exercising his right to defend himself with extreme prejudice. See, the hispanic inmate had already been sent to The Hole twice already for fighting. He can't fight, he just thought that since he's big and muscular, that he will automatically win the fight. Meanwhile, I have to get control of this situation. Now the other inmates out in the Dayroom are starting to crowd around to watch the fight.
VARIOUS IM'S: KICK HIS ASS! YEEEAAAAAH!
ME: GET BACK! GET THE FUCK BACK RIGHT FUCKING NOW!
PORTER: I *punch* don't want to *punch* FIGHT YOU! *punch*
ME: STOP IT! GODDAMN IT, I SAID STOP IT! STOP FUCKING FIGHTING!
PORTER: I CAN'T!
And he was right. The other guy had a deathgrip on his shirt collar and he couldn't get away.
Now the moment of truth arrived. Sure, the hispanic guy was bigger than me, but I've also been trained in takedowns, arm bars, "fluid shock" (how to hit a pressure point just right and completely stagger your opponent), and basic ass-kickery. My impulse is to help the kid. But, then again, these are inmates, after all. So I have the devil on my shoulder saying "Kick his ass," and the devil on the other shoulder saying "Kick his ass." Then, the angel shows up and bitch-slaps one of the devils. "You can't jump in unless you have at least one other Officer in here with you," she says, "Call the condition." Ah, she's right.
ME: I HAVE A CONDITION 30 IN [Cellhouse]. INMATES FIGHTING!
By this point, it was so loud in the house that I didn't hear the alarm tones sounding on the radio.
ME: [Dumbass]! LET GO! LET GO OF HIM NOW! (To the crowd) DAMMIT, GET BACK! LOCK DOWN NOW!
The Porter managed to break free and shoved the other inmate. The door is opened and one of our SST guys comes tearing ass into the house. The hispanic inmate staggers a bit, then tries to make another charge at the kid. The SST guy jumps at him, kicks him in the face with his knee, drives him face-first into the floor, and holds down his head with his boot while he cuffs him. Meanwhile, I realized that I had taken my cuffs out at some point.
ME: Mr [Porter], are you going to allow me to cuff you?
Porter: You saw it! He attacked me! He wouldn't let go!
ME: I know that. But right now, you need to be cuffed. Will you let me restrain you voluntarily?
Porter: ...Yeah.
I cuffed him and they escorted both inmates to the Captain's Office. I had really hoped the kid would let me cuff him, because when you get called to respond to something, you don't know everything that's going on in there. He was legitimately defending himself, and I didn't want him to get the piss knocked out of him like the other guy. They are currently both in Segregation cells, awaiting their hearing.
I had to write both of them for fighting. It sucks for the kid, but when the hearing comes, I'll testify that he was only fighting in defense and that he honestly could not disengage. So his charge should be dismissed. The other guy, well, he deserved it. And I love the fact that he got his ass beat by a kid half his size. The kid didn't look like he was hurt at all, just shaky. The other guy though, he was already bleeding freely from his mouth before he was made to kiss the floor. It's almost poetic justice.
IM = Inmate
SST = Special Security Team Member (the group that gets to do most of the ass-kicking when there's trouble)
SGT = Sargent
ME = Myself
The word of the day is "Condition 30." It's radio-speak for "10-30," which means "Officer Needs Assistance."
Our story begins Friday evening at almost 8-ish. It's a cloudy evening in prison. I had just made my rounds and was logging my security check in the logbook. It was the 3rd of four Dayroom periods in the cellhouse I was in that shift, so it was kind of loud with inmates on the phone, playing Pinochle, and watching the Olympics on the TV. But suddenly I heard yelling and guys hitting their cell doors. I looked over and saw an inmate standing near the corner of the Dayroom and having some kind of spat with 2 cells on the upper level. The inmate on the floor was hispanic and the other 3 inmates were black.
The black inmates were screaming that they were going to kick his ass because he had dared to use words like "n*****" and "pussy" in their general direction. The hispanic inmate was just grinning and restating his opinion of them over and over. So I stepped in.
ME: Mr [Dumbass]?
IM: Yeah?
ME: Is there a problem here?
IM: Ah... no.
ME: Good. Then knock it off and find something else to do or you'll be locking down for the night. Got it?
IM: Yeah.
I then went up the stairs to talk to one of the other inmates.
ME: Mr [Inmate], is there a problem?
IM2: No Ma'am. I know I shouldn't have been yelling at him like that.
ME: Just tell me the truth. Is there going to be a problem?
IM2: No, nuh-uh. He just came over here and started running his mouth for no reason and sayin shit. I just got mad. I'm sorry.
ME: Just calm down and try to let it go.
IM2: Yeah, yeah. You bet.
And that was that. I kept an eye on the hispanic inmate, because he kept walking the length of the floor, and every time he went to that one corner, he gave those guys a dirty look. He was really trying my patience, but we were on minimal staff that day, so I decided that as long as he wasn't still causing a disturbance there wasn't much I could do. By minimal staffing, we had 3 officers. One on each side of the house and the control operator. We would normally have a SGT also, but a lot of people had called in sick that day. Besides, I knew the other inmates well enough to know that if they said they weren't going to jump the guy or anything, then they wouldn't do it.
The door was opened and one of our Porters (inmate janitor) came back to my side from the other side of the house. He just got the job and lived on my side also. He had just turned 19, a short black kid. I liked him as a worker, since he actually did what he was supposed to. I told him that I needed him to see if we had a pair of size 11 shoes in the Laundry room because an inmate had showed me his torn shoes earlier. He got a pair and went up the stairs to give them to said inmate.
A few minutes later, I heard the hispanic guy going off again.
IM: Hey, look at the big man up there! Haha, you're probably a fucking pussy too!
Porter: *ignore*
IM: Come on, tough guy! Why don't you fucking show me what you got?
Porter: I'm not going to fight you.
IM: Yeah, fucking n*****, that's what you are.
I decided enough was enough. I stood up and turned my back to them to get my radio clipped to my duty belt, since I had it on the desk at the time. When I turned back around, the porter was coming down the stairs. As soon as his feet touched the floor, the hispanic inmate charged him and slammed him into the wall.
ME: HEEEEEY!
Porter: I DON'T WANT TO FIGHT YOU!
I ran over to them, and the fight was on. The kid kept telling him that he didn't want to fight, but he was also exercising his right to defend himself with extreme prejudice. See, the hispanic inmate had already been sent to The Hole twice already for fighting. He can't fight, he just thought that since he's big and muscular, that he will automatically win the fight. Meanwhile, I have to get control of this situation. Now the other inmates out in the Dayroom are starting to crowd around to watch the fight.
VARIOUS IM'S: KICK HIS ASS! YEEEAAAAAH!
ME: GET BACK! GET THE FUCK BACK RIGHT FUCKING NOW!
PORTER: I *punch* don't want to *punch* FIGHT YOU! *punch*
ME: STOP IT! GODDAMN IT, I SAID STOP IT! STOP FUCKING FIGHTING!
PORTER: I CAN'T!
And he was right. The other guy had a deathgrip on his shirt collar and he couldn't get away.
Now the moment of truth arrived. Sure, the hispanic guy was bigger than me, but I've also been trained in takedowns, arm bars, "fluid shock" (how to hit a pressure point just right and completely stagger your opponent), and basic ass-kickery. My impulse is to help the kid. But, then again, these are inmates, after all. So I have the devil on my shoulder saying "Kick his ass," and the devil on the other shoulder saying "Kick his ass." Then, the angel shows up and bitch-slaps one of the devils. "You can't jump in unless you have at least one other Officer in here with you," she says, "Call the condition." Ah, she's right.
ME: I HAVE A CONDITION 30 IN [Cellhouse]. INMATES FIGHTING!
By this point, it was so loud in the house that I didn't hear the alarm tones sounding on the radio.
ME: [Dumbass]! LET GO! LET GO OF HIM NOW! (To the crowd) DAMMIT, GET BACK! LOCK DOWN NOW!
The Porter managed to break free and shoved the other inmate. The door is opened and one of our SST guys comes tearing ass into the house. The hispanic inmate staggers a bit, then tries to make another charge at the kid. The SST guy jumps at him, kicks him in the face with his knee, drives him face-first into the floor, and holds down his head with his boot while he cuffs him. Meanwhile, I realized that I had taken my cuffs out at some point.
ME: Mr [Porter], are you going to allow me to cuff you?
Porter: You saw it! He attacked me! He wouldn't let go!
ME: I know that. But right now, you need to be cuffed. Will you let me restrain you voluntarily?
Porter: ...Yeah.
I cuffed him and they escorted both inmates to the Captain's Office. I had really hoped the kid would let me cuff him, because when you get called to respond to something, you don't know everything that's going on in there. He was legitimately defending himself, and I didn't want him to get the piss knocked out of him like the other guy. They are currently both in Segregation cells, awaiting their hearing.
I had to write both of them for fighting. It sucks for the kid, but when the hearing comes, I'll testify that he was only fighting in defense and that he honestly could not disengage. So his charge should be dismissed. The other guy, well, he deserved it. And I love the fact that he got his ass beat by a kid half his size. The kid didn't look like he was hurt at all, just shaky. The other guy though, he was already bleeding freely from his mouth before he was made to kiss the floor. It's almost poetic justice.
One of my favorites. 
Pwned.
)
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