Thursday, March 10, 2011

Can We Say "Power Trip?"

Written Monday, February 7, 2011...

  Today started off like a typical Monday in D.C.I. Until after 12:15 PM count. It was time to do cell clean-up so I picked the cell up to get ready to sweep. As they worked their way down the hall from cell to cell my cellmate said hello to the female Sgt. who was supervising the cell clean-up. He then laughed about something someone said in the hall, so the Sgt. came to our door, opened the trap door, and told both of us that we were being loud and to keep it down. When she shut the trap my cellmate turned and said, “We weren't even being loud and you didn't even say anything.” I agreed, but the next thing you know she came back to the trap, opened it, and this time threatened to send both of us to the hole.

  I had enough at this point, so I said, “Wait a minute... WE weren't being loud, I didn't even say one word from before you started cell clean-up until just now when you threatened to send us to the hole. This is way out of line.” She just shut the trap.

  So I sat here with my cellmate in silence until she once again came to the trap, opened it, and told us we'll be cleaning last so she can keep an extra good eye on us. I waited until she opened the door to say anything to her. In a formal complaint process an inmate must address an officer personally to make an attempt to resolve an issue before filing his complaint. So, that's what I did. I told her that I hadn't spoken once in the duration of her complaining about my cell being disruptive and my cellmate even agreed with me.

  She told me, “Just forget about it and clean your cell.” So, I spent an hour at least debating whether I should file my complaint. I asked the swamper if we were being loud and he told me he spoke to her and clarified that I was never disruptive, disorderly or disobedient. So, I put off writing my complaint.

  After dinner and count we finally got mail passed out. I finally got a letter from someone other than my Mom and my attorney. At least someone knows I still exist and will get out of prison someday. I spent the next few hours writing them back. It wouldn't have taken so long if I weren't interrupted so many times. My cellmate asking all kinds of questions. About cars and women, the swamper passing out ice and toiletries and guess who? The same female Sgt. returned yet again.

  This time she directed her attention solely to my cellmate. She brought up his behavior from earlier and then mentioned his “card looked awful.” Apparently, every inmate has a “card” showing their past warnings and/or write-ups. She never looked in my direction at this time. Instead, my cellmate apologized yet again, and she left.

  I finished my letter and mailed it out just after 9:00 PM count so it would go into the USPS mail by the morning. After this I laid in bed listening to my cellmate tell another story before I read my book and fell asleep.

  Until tomorrow...

~J. Doe

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