Sold Short In America. Richard A. Altomare
"Are you O.K.?” As he came to my window, I said, "May I" ... and he continued running past the doors and out of the area with the cell doors locking behind him. He spoke to no one. His time on our ward was less than one minute!
As I was writing to you, over eight suited officials now visited. One of them, I'm told, is Warden Star - the others have badges and name tags but they are unreadable as they walk through. I did stop one and asked him if I could be moved from solitary confinement after fifteen days for civil contempt - His answer was ''It doesn't matter what you are here for murder - arson - or no cause at all" you are here and when they get to your name on the "list" - they will move you. What list? Move where? By the way, the “suits” were deep in discussion on improving the Special Housing Unit [SHU] wing by moving the bunk beds one way instead of another. Eight salaried professionals and that is the only innovative thought they were discussing today or any day I observed them.
I then demanded to speak to the Warden. They said he had left the area. I said "May I speak with him". They said "Maybe, next Thursday".
Let me go back to reading about suicide. This bureaucratic, politically placed bunch of hacks, really don't care about the rehabilitation of those inmates within these walls. They are only focused on their small job within their fiefdom called the Metropolitan Correctional Center (MCC).
Today after the psychiatrist's Mad Hatter "Alice in Wonderland" experience I thought that the only thing missing may have been the psychiatrist's wearing of a big watch and a top hat.
I would like to explain how one actually reads in solitary. One may lie on the hard bed and slant the book towards the wall lights, which are on the opposite wall. Or one can sit on the sixteen inch hard circular metal desk chair until your back or your posterior hurts. Finally you can sit on the small desk bolted to the wall, place your feet on the chair and keep your back against the wall until your back or backside hurts from the cold steel or the damp wall.
Today I await some toiletries from the commissary! My only toothbrush is a borrowed two inch brush, which I have had since day five, but today I may actually receive toothpaste. To think I would send back a drink, in our society, if I didn't like the mix of vodka and juice or the size of the glass in which it was served. My situation certainly has changed.
My two hour shower last night caused an event to occur which may have captured the entire prison institutionalized mind-set for me.
I have explained the process of shower shaving before, and the magnetic "razor" sign, which is attached to the fence engulfing the shower. It reminds the guards that the inmate has a razor. As I touched the magnetic sign, it fell down and became hidden between the floor and the stair edge. When the guards came to get me (one hour waiting with only a towel wrapped around me) I told them that there may be a security flaw in the system because an inmate not wishing them "well" could knock down the magnetic sign and the guard might forget to check for a razor with no visible sign to remind them. They thanked me, and I handed them the razor. Then they told me to turn around in my 1'x2' fenced in area because I may poke them in the eye as they retrieve the fallen razor sign. My response was one of disbelief. "Would the one who pointed out the problem, returned a razor you didn't know I had, then poke someone with my finger"? "We have policies sir", was my officer's response. Could this mind set have won World War II?
There are many issues that still amaze me. Pens are forbidden in the cell. All of my forms, documents, requests and even letters of complaint have been in ink. No one has ever asked how I got a pen. Another astonishing occurrence was that I did receive a handful of books today. Unfortunately, they were in Spanish and Chinese! The predominant language spoken amongst the guards is Spanish. Many are bi-lingual, but when given their choice they often choose Spanish. All night and early morning many speak quite loudly in their Spanish language. Add that to dealing with the gang slang and you may wonder how one ever sleeps in prison.
The legal visits for over a thousand prisoners contain four 10x10 conference rooms. The wait for attorneys when the room is occupied can be hours before they are allowed to come in to actually meet with their clients. Add that to the length of time to get the inmate or the attorney to the legal section and it is difficult to get representation. On paper, legal assistance is always available. In reality, the inmates have very little opportunity to defend themselves.
I submitted a request today for toilet paper and socks. I was told maybe Monday on the socks, but they'll see what they can do with the toilet paper request. A few hours passed and one of the more violent and hardened inmates called for toilet paper this way "Hey, toilet paper, mother fuckers, - not next year - now!" The paper came within minutes for him and me! I hope he's also without socks, because I could use them as well. Insanity begets insanity in this institution.
The Mad Hatter psychiatrist came to the cells again today. I stood naked as he repeatedly asked, "Are you alright?" "Are you alright?" to the cells not really waiting for a response and not really loud enough to be heard. He stopped at my window - he stared - I said "I'm glad you" ... and he was gone! The Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland - A true caring professional. I feel psychologically better already. What is he paid? What does he do for these needy men?
The weekend prison meal requires further analyzing. I simply do not understand it. One portion of oatmeal, one portion of boiled potatoes, one egg and one piece of inedible mystery meat (it may be tongue or baloney or something else because after 60 years of eating foods from various cultures, I have not been able to figure out what it is!) The same meal repeats like clockwork every weekend. I just wish I could grasp the reason for this uneaten combination and the origin of the meat.
Today I asked if I could go to the clinic to cut my nails and be weighed, since I am losing weight (total weight loss 40 pounds). You would have thought I had asked for a sex change operation. Good news I am "on the list" for a visit. I am reminded of the Seinfeld Chinese Restaurant episode and can imagine months after I depart from here that my name will come up on the "list" and some other poor soul will be waiting because he was still on "the same list".
Yesterday when I came off the elevator at the same time as the Chaplain, who is now on jury duty, I was hustled away from an ongoing extermination process - water bugs the size of mice or birds! That night, unfortunately, I was served some sort of water bug looking black bean sauce, which I just couldn't try. I still await my mouse traps for my room. I'm on the "list" for them so I shouldn't have to wait that long. The mice are lucky there's a "list" system here. They are safe for a while. Today's breakfast and lunch dirty meal trays are still here at almost dinner time. I guess the weekend crew doesn't have the same time schedule as the weekday crews. I am only concerned with insect and rat attractions and our general cleanliness.
Tonight the word on the ward is that the old man (that's me) had some extra writing paper so one of the new inmates sent a line across the floor for me to pass him envelopes and paper. I may remind you this is the counselor's job. The young inmate was creative as he ripped a thread from his blanket - that was his rope. He tied it around a small salad dressing packet that was the weight on the end of the line. He threw it until it came to the front of my door. I attached it to an envelope with paper and a pencil. He pulled it back to his cell. A 60 billion dollar budget and an innovative creative young man has to do this to reach out to his family from prison. Tonight after fifteen days my phone call home was still not recorded by the phone system. It astounds me that Mrs. Andrews (my counselor) can be permitted to negatively influence prisoners’ lives due to a broken system or her own incompetence. She also has three different names and enjoys confusing the inmates by pretending to be different people.
Tonight the guards have their own partying lives going on the Day Room. They are not any quieter at night than they are during the day. Their radio playing, TV sounds and laughter are annoying throughout the entire night.
In addition, we do have one prisoner who must have a variation of or actual Tourette's syndrome. He gutturally screams at constant intervals throughout the evening hours. The guards simply laugh and argue with him to cause more turmoil to this lost soul. This personal guard "fun time" saddens me and speaks volumes of their professionalism and undeserved and unchecked power.
The Chaplain visited me today and we spent 30 minutes speaking. He also apologized for my incarceration shocked at the "debtors’ prison"