“D o you remember Bart, the new guy in our Unit?” I said. “He hasn’t worked here very long.”
It was another Tuesday when Richard and Benjamin and I would have an opportunity to discuss our urgent concerns over lunch. Today, I was thinking about Bart.
“Bart joined our Unit as a new caseworker a couple of months ago. Before he got here, he was a county mounty out of Saunders County,” I said. “He turned in his notice last week.”
“I’ve noticed a new guy at roll call,” said Benjamin, “it must be him.”
“What’s a county mounty?” asked Richard.
“It’s a Deputy Sheriff employed in the Sheriff’s office of one of the counties,” I said. “That’s what inmates call them. Inmates know all the former Deputy Sheriffs.”
“Why is he leaving? He just got here,” asked Benjamin.
“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk about,” I said.
“I’ve worked here long enough to notice some predictable patterns. Bart’s leaving is just the latest example of a former Deputy Sheriff having a hard time working here. He’s not the first I’ve seen bail out on us, and I wasn’t surprised when he turned in his notice. He had seemed tense and uncomfortable ever since he arrived on the Unit, so when I learned that he was leaving, I sat down with him and asked him to explain what had happened. He began by explaining why he had come.
“‘Here in Nebraska,’ he said, ‘if you work in law enforcement on the state level, you’re a State Trooper. If you work on the city level, you’re a Police Officer, and if you work on the county level, you’re a Deputy Sheriff. Deputy Sheriffs generally make the lowest salary,’ he said.
“So Bart came to the prison for better pay, but when he started here, he found himself working with some of the same people he’d arrested, and that made him very nervous.
“‘On the streets,’ he explained, ‘when law enforcement officers decide to make an arrest, three things are true. First, there’s a good possibility that the suspect will be armed. Second, you can plan out the arrest so you have an element of surprise, and third, there will be other officers nearby to back you up. Officers will find the suspect unprepared and outnumbered.’”
“Well,” I said, “we all know that in a prison, we can be pretty sure that the inmates are not armed, at least not with guns, but we never have them outnumbered. In one of our general population units, the inmate to staff ratio at any given time is 64 to 1.
“‘That’s 64 bad guys for every one good guy,’ he reminded me, ‘and good-guy caseworkers are usually alone, and they never carry guns.’ That’s what bothered Bart so much. Being unarmed and outnumbered 64 to 1 are terrible odds. Deputy Sheriffs disengage as quickly as they can on the streets when they find themselves unarmed, outnumbered, and surrounded. It’s their instinct to flee. When they get here and start working with prisoners, they have a hard time overcoming their instincts. Bart, coming from that environment, couldn’t get comfortable working here.
“I was thinking about his discomfort this morning, and I began to feel a little uncomfortable myself. Maybe his discomfort was contagious, but maybe he’s right. Maybe the odds really are terrible and none of us should be working here. Maybe it’s just too dangerous.”
“So that’s my topic for today. What do you think? Is it foolish to be comfortable working here?” I asked. “Is it too dangerous?”
Benjamin leaned in a little. “I think you’re asking two questions, James,” he said. “First, is it too dangerous for anyone to work here, and second, is it too dangerous for you to work here?
“Let me start with the first.
“Tell me if you remember hearing inmates use this phrase: ‘doing your job.’”
“Sure,” I said, “I hear it all the time. If I am conducting a room search, and the inmate returns to his room and finds me going through his personal property, he will always use that phrase. He may say ‘I know you’re just doing your job,’ or something along that line.”
“I hear it all the time, too,” said Richard. “If I’m getting resistance from an inmate, I’ll often find another inmate joining the conversation and reminding the resistant inmate that I’m ‘just doing my job.’”
“And inmates act out this phrase, too,” added Benjamin. “When we have to use restraints or physical force to gain compliance, inmates quickly give up the fight. With their actions, they are saying ‘you’re just doing your job,’ and they let us proceed. They don’t fight us, at least not for very long.
“Here’s what’s going on.
“Prisoners quickly learn the reality of being locked up, and we are one of their realities. We are the pathway for them to satisfy most of their needs and desires, and we are the enforcers of the rules that govern their lives, so understanding our role comes naturally and immediately.
“Whenever inmates come in contact with staff, they immediately assess whether or not a staff member is acting in accordance with the inmate's understanding of the staff’s job. If he is, then the inmate has been forewarned. He knows what to expect. It doesn’t matter who is making the demands of him. Any staff member will do or say exactly the same thing because it is their job to do so. The inmate will gain nothing by resisting or holding a grudge and resolving to get even. Any staff member will do exactly the same thing. Any successful confrontation with a caseworker that drives the caseworker away will only result in that caseworker being replaced by another caseworker who will do or say exactly the same thing because it is their job to do so.
“When you hear the words “doing your job,” the inmate isn’t even talking to you. He is actually talking to himself. He speaks these words to help himself control his emotions and his actions. He is reminding himself that neither anger or reaction will do any good. They will not bring a different result. It is your job.
“As long as a staff member is doing his job, he or she is relatively safe. A danger arises when the prisoner thinks you’re not doing your job. If you hear the words ‘that’s not your job,’ then you are in more danger. When an inmate says this, he is expressing alarm. Like a rattlesnake shaking his tail, he doesn’t know what’s coming next, and he will have to rely upon his own judgments which may be quite poor.”
“I’ve never heard that,” said Richard. “I’ve never heard an inmate say to me that something I was doing wasn’t my job.”
“I haven’t either,” I said.
“So there you have it,” said Benjamin. “As long as we do our jobs, and the inmates understand that these are our assigned duties, then they are forewarned. They will be compliant, and we will not be in too great a danger. It’s still not a safe place to work, but the danger is manageable.
“Two more factors:
“First, if you look at this environment, you see there are a lot of cameras mounted on the walls. They record everything that happens. Second, there are no escape routes. Inmates are locked inside, and anything violent or illegal they do here will be recorded - video recorded with no possibility of escape. That’s not the way criminals like to operate. They much prefer to get away with their crimes,” said Benjamin. “When you see people being led into a courtroom, they often cover their faces. They don’t want anyone watching their TVs to recognize them as someone who has victimized them. Once again, these conditions make it safer for us to work here.”
“We also give inmates with a specific sentence good time the day they walk into the prison,” added Richard. “Good time is a promise, a bargain we make with inmates. If they stay out of trouble, we will let them out of prison early. We will reduce their sentences and let them out. We even tell them when we’re going to let them go, the exact date. It’s the inmate’s tentative release date (TRD), and the only thing an inmate can do to change this date is to get into trouble and lose some of the precious good time we have given him. However, even then, if he stays out of trouble, he can apply to have lost good time restored to him and move his tentative release date sooner,” said Richard.
“Keeping control of yourself and staying out of trouble guards your good time and preserves your highly-prized tentative release date. It is a potent incentive that successfully competes with the pleasure inmates experienced before they arrived at the prison by committing crimes,” said Benjamin, “so a TRD helps encourage compliance.”
“Don’t forget Parole Eligibility Dates (PED). A lot of inmates have PEDs they’re carefully guarding, too,” said Richard.
“Now, onto the second question. This one is just for you, James,” said Benjamin. “Is it too dangerous for you to work here?,” he said addressing me.
“Well, I do my job, and I often hear inmates using that phrase. What else is there to consider?” I asked.
“Let’s start back at day one. There were a lot of factors I’m sure that were considered when you were hired,” said Benjamin. “But I’m sure one of them, which is obvious to the rest of us, is that you have empathy for the inmates. You can sense how they are feeling, and it matters to you. Inmates recognize this, and they appreciate interacting with people like you. That quality makes this prison a little safer for you than it is for someone who lacks empathy for the inmates.”
“It’s also true,” added Richard, “that you don’t hate the inmates. Some staff really do hate the inmates, and the prisoners can sense their hatred. These staff are in more danger than you are because inmates are afraid of them. You’re also not angry with inmates. You’re not mad at them for being criminals locked up in prison. That’s a problem for some people, too. These are issues for them, but they don't involve you.”
We were all quiet for a minute. I was thinking over everything Benjamin and Richard had said.
“Thank you gentleman,” I said. “Your thoughts are most encouraging. I feel better. I guess we better get back to work.”
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