I read the crime stories in our local newspaper, and I sometimes notice patterns. One pattern I’ve noticed involves sex offenders. Sex offenders, and especially men who victimize children, often repeat their crimes, and when they go before a judge, they usually get loaded down with a ton of time. Their prison sentences are routinely long.
It doesn’t surprise me. Sex offenders I've known in the prison often believe they’ve done nothing wrong. They believe their long prison sentences are a great injustice, and the “problem” lies with a society that narrowly defines normal sexual behavior to exclude their preferred choices. Their impulses are “normal,” they insist.
I’ve known many sex offenders, and one of them stands out in my memory. My encounter with Delroy one day left me with a permanent entry in my personnel record, and it reveals how sex offenders can be devious, cunning, and vindictive.
Delroy was small in stature, mid-thirties, average looking, and tidy in his appearance. We didn’t have to remind him to take a shower or clean his room. Wearing ironed clothes was routine for him. He was also a sex offender with a long prison sentence.
One day, I was in his room searching for contraband, and when I finished, I completed a Shakedown Report. I was sitting at his small desk working on this report when I noticed a framed 8 x 10 inch color portrait of a toddler sitting on his desk. It was obviously a family member placed in a prominent position. Just as I was thinking about this photo, Delroy returned to his room, and he found me sitting at his desk.
There was a place for him to sign the Shakedown Report if he happened to be present when the shakedown was completed, so I asked him to sign it, and then I asked him about the child in the picture. Was it a recent picture, a nephew or niece, perhaps?
It was recent, and it was his child, he said.
Now, I was really puzzled. Delroy had been locked up for years, and we don’t allow conjugal visits. How had he managed to impregnate a woman and father a child? He told me the story.
At the time of the child’s conception, our prison was experimenting with a work program inside the prison. We allowed a local telemarketing firm to install a bank of phones in an unused room. They employed well-vetted inmates to use those phones to answer calls. The job paid well, and inmates were anxious to get them. Delroy was a smooth talker and smart. He was ideal.
Supervising the inmates was a young woman. She wasn’t a state employee. I never saw the set up, so I can’t comment on the security arrangements, but they must have been inadequate because a romantic/sexual relationship developed between the supervisor and Delroy. The child was a result.
By the time the picture appeared on Delroy’s desk, much had changed. The telecommunications project had ended, and the young woman became merely another name on his approved visitors’ list. There would be no more children born through Delroy’s paternity. Certainly not in the crowded visiting room which was carefully monitored by on-site staff.
Not long after our conversation in his room, Delroy had an episode of temper. Something I had done angered him. I never learned what I had done, but he was mad and let me know how he felt with loud, angry, profane, and threatening language and gestures. We have a rule in our Inmate Code of Offenses that covers such actions, and this display of temper was clearly outside the boundaries of acceptable behavior. It was proper for me to write up the episode in a formal Misconduct Report, so I did.
When an employee files a misconduct report, it sets in motion a sequence of steps. The first step involves reading the report to the inmate and allowing him to explain his actions. This interview is carried out by an investigating officer. Sergeant Smith conducted these interviews. Kindly and impossible to excite, he was perfect for the job. Finally, a disciplinary court convenes, hears witnesses, including the reporting employee, and examines any evidence that may have been collected. Any information that could be considered is heard at this hearing. The final step is a finding of guilt or innocence and an imposition of a sanction if it is appropriate.
We went through this process with Delroy. He was found guilty, and some modest sanction was imposed, probably room restriction for a few days. Delroy accepted his punishment with equanimity. At least, I thought he had, but Delroy was not finished with the episode, and he wasn’t finished with me.
Once he’d finished his room restriction, he came to me. We sat at a table in the pantry, and he spoke of his great regret for speaking so angrily to me. He apologized repeatedly, but he insisted that an apology wasn’t enough. He wanted to do something to make amends for his behavior. Could he mop the floor? Clean my office?
We had inmates already assigned to carry out the tasks he listed, so I demurred on everything he suggested. Then I had a thought. Delroy was a proud man, and he had lost his temper. Perhaps he would gain better control of himself if he did something silly, something that would sting, something that would stick in his memory and wound his pride.
“OK,” I said. “How about going down to the day area and writing on the blackboard one hundred times: “I will keep control of my temper when dealing with others.”
I expected this suggestion to trigger a conversation about his temper and how best to head off explosions in the future that would get him into trouble. I didn't expect him to actually do it. But Delroy surprised me.
Delroy jumped to his feet and went straight to the blackboard and began to write. I followed behind and watched. I even called other staff’s attention to what was happening. Delroy wasn’t acting as I expected he would, and he didn’t return after completing the task to resume our conversation. I should have realized that he had set a trap for me, but I didn’t realize what had actually happened until the next day.
Bright and early the next morning, my supervisor called me into his office and read a grievance to me that Delroy had filed the previous day. The grievance was on me. I listened as the events of the sentence-writing incident were described by Delroy in the grievance.
The inmate grievance procedure has some similarity to the inmate misconduct reporting procedure, and this was the first step.
“Yes,” I admitted. “The facts as he described them are all true. I did tell him to write on the blackboard, but it was more of a suggestion than an order, and I wasn’t expecting him to actually do it.”
“No, I didn’t stop him. He did complete the task.”
“Well,” said my supervisor, “there is a charge here, imposing a punishment without a disciplinary committee hearing. I’m sure you can appreciate the importance of this rule, and you have just admitted to breaking it. I’m afraid I’ll have to refer this on for further administrative action.”
Oh, my. It was time to worry.
A few days later, I was called to the front offices. That’s a summons you never wanted to get. The facts were read to me once again, and I was advised that a date and time had been scheduled for a formal “Statement of Charges” hearing - on me!
Now, I was on trial. Me! The charges would be read again, and I could tell my side of the incident. I could call witnesses and plead any extenuating circumstances that I thought were pertinent, and when I had finished, the hearing officer would pronounce a finding of guilt or innocence and impose any appropriate sanctions . . . ON ME!
Good Grief!!
The trap Delroy had set for me had snapped tightly around my neck, and I would think carefully before I would be the author of any more trouble for Delroy in the future. At least that was Delroy’s hope.
The Statement of Charges hearing officer dealt kindly with me. I had learned my lesson, and I needed to go back to work with the inmates and be more mindful of the rule against imposing sanctions on inmates. Only the Disciplinary Hearing Officer can impose sanctions.
I also needed to be aware of the devious nature of inmates like Delroy, who will visit distress upon staff if they want to because they can. I was let off with a warning and a mark on my personnel record.
It was a lesson for me and a warning, too. I needed to be aware of traps that could be set for me by inmates with grudges they wanted to settle.
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