Criminal Justice: Pros and Cons

One Thursday afternoon I was "making my rounds" through various parts of the penitentiary. I was looking forward to a long weekend and thought I'd touch base with as many of the men as possible before leaving. About three-twenty I was coming through the gym from the main yard. Jimmy was shooting hoops with some of the Brothers. He was the only white guy who played regularly with the Blacks. The mutual respect was evident. "What's happenin' Doc?" he said lightheartedly. "Gettin' ready to split. Long weekend for me. Where are you off to?" I needled. "Same ol' shit here. But, will you be back Monday?" "Yeah, I'm here. I'll call you up for nine thirty." "Don't forget the mud you call coffee. I need my fix if I'm gonna stay awake all week,"he joked, casting a quick glance at his audience. I performed the ritual handshake with each man and left. Monday morning remains ingrained in my mind though it is now ten years past. As I sauntered past "Control 30", a security control post on the way to my office, an inmate sidled up to me. "How's it goin' this mornin' ...too bad about that kid who got it!" I turned to him abruptly but before I could utter a word, "the redheaded, English-speaking kid." Although I knew instantly, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach, "What happened?" "He got shived near the Socio, staggered to the gym and was dying in a pool of blood before them fuckin' screws got 'im to the hospital. He died there," he blurted out in one breath. He then slipped away as furtively as he had approached me a moment before; there are no long discussions over death in the Pen. Although I was never able to confirm this, I believe this inmate was sent by other inmates to prepare me. A number of the men knew that Jimmy was seeing me on a regular basis. They knew I cared. Nobody on staff ever mentioned a word to me. Some weeks later there was the mandatory Administrative Inquiry. A body of three people, one from outside the system, conducted interviews and studied written policies, procedures and technical implements such as cameras, static security posts, etc., for possible lapses. It was established that Jimmy had been playing basketball when approached by an inmate who told him someone wanted to see him at the Socio. He was next seen staggering back to the gym where he collapsed. The several knife wounds proved fatal and he succumbed to his injuries approximately an hour later in the hospital. No assailant or accomplices were ever positively identified. This was certainly not the first inmate with whom I had worked regularly to be killed. In a sense, though, he was the closest. He was the last man I had spoken to before leaving for the long weekend; our agreement had been to meet on Monday morning; I always prepared mentally for my counselling sessions. More importantly, however, was the fact that Jimmy really had no one in the world. There were visitors he sometimes alluded to but they were always coming "any day now". Although he insisted vehemently that his mother was in the past, I always suspected that if, by some miracle, she had been able to visit, he would have spirited himself to the visiting room "like Jordan goin' for a slam-dunk". This was never to be. Although I could not have hoped to fill the void Jimmy experienced, I do hope I provided some meaningful measure of human contact. It all ended Oct.31st., 1998. In a whited sepulchre, a veritable cauldron of seething hate, anger and pretence, a twenty-four year old man lost his life.