Prison Puzzle Pieces 3. Dave Basham
you dead. You would prefer this to the wrath of Dodge. You’ve heard that rules were made to be broken; not this one.
Everywhere you perform your duties in the prison, there is a log book that you have to fill out. You must document everything that you do, others do and anything that happens where you are stationed.
Lawsuits are a frequent nuisance that have to be dealt with when working in a correctional facility. Some of these guys have nothing better to do than to try to create problems, such as bogus lawsuits.
There was a time when Sgt. Dodge had to testify in court. His logbook was used as evidence. A prominent attorney in Minnesota, tried to get Dodges logbook tossed out of court 3 times, but failed to do so. Sgt. Dodge’s credibility was beyond reproach. If it was in his logbook, that is EXACTLY the way it was and it was certifiable that no one else had touched it. No one dared to. Everyone knew that was taboo.
GUITAR
Sgt. Dodge loved to play guitar and sing. The inmates loved to hear him play and sing. At times they would play with him. They told me he preferred folk music. Whether it was playing in a cell with an inmate, on the flag or at the sergeant’s platform in D-Hall, he would play. He would also show them a thing or two about how to play.
I played guitar, but never in the prison. On the outside, I gave guitar lessons. This was a good neutral subject to have a conversation about with an inmate. Some wanted me to play for them, with them or show them things.
First of all, I did not think that was something I could do without getting into trouble. I did not have the clout that Sgt. Dodge had earned over his time in this place.
Second, I would not dare touch an inmate’s guitar. Strings break. Strings break very easily when I play. I never wanted to be the cause of an inmate not being able to play his guitar. There would be a large time delay on being able to replace them. They just can’t run out to the store and get them, they have to order them. I am not allowed to bring anything into the institution, so I would not be able to help. In addition to that, the paperwork would’ve been a major pain. I would have to write up an incident report and I don’t know what I would’ve had to do to be able to pay for the broken string or strings. Things that are simple outside of these walls can be real complicated inside these walls.
I decided it was best to only have one guitar playing officer in this prison. That was Sgt. Dodge’s territory.
The inmates would show each other different techniques. I would explain things and talk them through it. I viewed that as something that would be acceptable. I had lots of instructional sheets and music that I could bring in if it were authorized, but what you do for one, you must do for all. I could not bring in a musical scale and give it to an inmate. I had a conversation with my lieutenant. I asked him that if I posted materials on the bulletin board, so that all would have access to it, if that would be acceptable. He said it would and authorized it.
For over a year, I would bring in informational sheets and music and post them on the bulletin board for all to see. The guys really appreciated it. I would frequently see these guys copying this information down so they could work on it in their cells. This came to an end when B-West got double bunked. That’s when we wound up with too many clientele that just wanted to create problems.
GONE, BUT NOT FORGOTTEN
In January of 2003, Sgt. Dodge had been at a party with people from work. He had been tossing down a few beers and of course, playing his guitar. He lost his life on the way home that night. He was 60 years old.
Three inmates spoke at his funeral.
Inmates wrote letters of condolence to his family. One offender had me check it over for grammatical errors and type it up for him to sign. This letter was written by Boomer and is in the chapter about Boomer.
One of them wrote, "He taught us about change and forgiveness but never judged us. He would always say, 'If your heart is good, you are good. If it ain't good, you need to assess what's inside and make a transition.'”
At Dodge’s funeral, hundreds of people signed his guitar case. His kids put his remains in the case. His ashes were walked through the prison in his guitar case. Officers and inmates stood in silence and saluted as he passed by.
Sgt. Dodge had told his kids that he wanted a Viking funeral. The Vikings would pile up a lot of combustible material, put the body on top and set it on fire. His kids set the guitar case on fire with Sgt. Dodge’s ashes inside. They spread the ashes over Lake Superior.
He was just one of many good men that most people will never know about, but in Stillwater Prison, his legend will live on.
DON’T FUCK WITH BASHAM
We got word that we were getting a new sergeant in the block. Word around the institution was that he was an asshole. I prefer to form my own opinions. He wasn’t very social and neither was I. That upsets some people when you do your job rather than chatting all day.
Before he came to work in A-East, an officer that I worked with in B-West figured he'd help both the sarge and me out. He told the sarge, “Don’t fuck with Basham. Just let him run and he’ll work his ass off for you. You tell him what you want and you can just sit back and watch it happen.”
My time with the sarge was good. We worked well together and got a lot accomplished. When the other sergeant wasn’t around, things went great. Offenders created fewer problems, because they knew we would take care of business. They knew we were watching and doing our jobs.
I found out that he was bucking the old boy network too. There were times that officers left him no option other than to write them up. The old boy network screwed with him and he wouldn’t back down. I know how that goes. It gave him a bad rap. If there were more officers like this guy in this place, it would be a lot calmer nicer place to work.
A CALM SERGEANT BLOWS
Everyone has their limits. I was working for a really good sergeant. He was laid back, intelligent and handled this job very well.
On this morning, he had something important going on in the morning, so he was allowed to come in at 0900.
I was OIC until then. An officer that was a bit of a screw off was working in the block this day. I informed him that he was supposed to cover canteen at 0900. Instead, he left the block on a break. I was trying to shag him down when the sarge came in. The sarge had previous instances with this guy’s laziness and insubordination. When the screw off came meandering into the block, the sarge got on his case. The screw up gave him lip. The sarge blew up and called him a fucking asshole and a slug. They both wound up in the watch commanders office. Nobody could blame the sarge for blowing, but it was one of those things where the watch commander had to chew them both out.
If the sarge hadn’t blown up and been inappropriate himself, he could’ve written the guy up and not gotten in trouble himself. As it was, he basically did the jerk a favor. Nobody wanted to get the sarge in trouble, so they had to let the jerk off too.
GREAT STYLE
One of our larger officers was working the door post. This officer was intelligent, not easily rattled and a real decent guy. He had a good sense of humor, but was a no nonsense type of a guy.
Looking back on how I did things, I would’ve played it more like this guy. I should’ve been pushing that button a whole lot quicker and I wouldn’t have had to put up with so much crap. But it’s too late now. I don’t want to go back just to check out to see if a different style would’ve been better for me to use.
When he noticed an inmate out of his cell that was not supposed to be, he said, “Why are you out of your cell?
“I’m going to talk to the lieutenant.”
“You were ICR’ed this morning. You have to switch in.”