Negative Lessons

I have made mistakes in my life, everyone has, and I've done things, said things, and have carried myself in ways I am not proud of. On the whole, however, I believe that I have lived an ethical, noble, and generous life. I have always tried to treat my fellow human beings with kindness, love, and respect. This whole prison experience has truly challenged and shaken many of the beliefs that I hold to be honorable. The characteristics that society extols as righteous, and that we try to convey to our children, are not only absent from the whole judicial journey but are often discouraged in favor of lesser quality. I hope to illustrate some examples through this essay.

Honesty is a trait I have always revered. I have attempted to practice and model it throughout my life. Honesty has been discouraged and punished throughout the duration of this experience. It started when the letters of honesty, admission, explanation, an apology sent to Jess were turned over to the police as evidence against me.

The very first thing that all the attorneys I spoke with said was "say nothing to no one." This notion was further reinforced when my therapist phoned police regarding issues that had been discussed in complete confidence (or so I was led to believe). Had I lied, or kept silent from the outset, things would have been different.

The "prison culture" also discourages honesty to the point where correctional officers are told that everything inmates say is a lie. This is certainly a gross exaggeration, but it's not without some merit.

Communication, I've always believed, is an essential component of conflict resolution. Virtually all attempts at dialogue with my ex fiancée have been met with silence. Even when communication was present, Jess' content was short on substance and full of false hope. 

This policy of non communication is reaffirmed in prison, the courts, and in county jail. "Do not discuss your charges", "show no weakness", "shown no vulnerability", and other similar ideas are reinforced in words and actions. I've even discovered that efforts to manage my anxiety through medication and counseling (for the few months it was available) have increased my "risk score" in the prison classification system.

Perhaps the greatest revelation is the inherent injustice of the justice system as a whole. Justice is not blind, it is led by politics, economics, and personal ambition. "Innocent until proven guilty" is rhetoric fed to schoolchildren with little relationship to the way things are. I once imagined a judge to be a wise and unbiased pillar of society, carefully examining evidence and weighing the claims of the opposing parties. In truth, the prosecution really controls the proceedings. Plea bargains are coerced by threatening absurd sentences - (in my case 100 to 300 years!) And this results in a forfeiture of many of one's constitutional rights to due process of law.

I was flabbergasted to learn recently that the role of the prosecutor, according to the Arizona Supreme Court, is to seek the ends of justice, to refrain from bias, exaggeration, and sensationalism. The reality is to secure a conviction, but any and all means necessary, as quickly and extremely as possible.

The "negative affirmations" of prison itself are every bit as devastating to the soul and spirit of a convict, and ultimately to society itself. The idea that we are "pieces of shit" is repeatedly conveyed by the attitudes of staff and through the media. That we all have positive qualities and a capacity for success is not a message conveyed by the system. It is systematically hammered out of us through unfair treatment, irrational and capricious policies, and a lack of courtesy and respect.

The prison culture, unfortunately, is no better. The ideas of racism and segregation are among the first lessons that are conveyed. "This is the white area of the dining hall," "that is the black ramada", "be ready to stand up with your race if any kind of trouble develops" are some of the messages given. Even in signing up for a volleyball tournament, there is a section for race on the signup sheet.

By and large, to secure a position of authority within the prison society, it is done through physical intimidation, fear, and threat. Violence is the first and often the only way to settle disputes. The white "heads of the yard" have their own table in the chow hall, further alienating and illustrating their "status". I suppose this is not so entirely different from our elected officials, but that does little to foster trust or any sense of involvement in one's community.

The policies of incentive are woefully counterproductive. The idea of "time off for good behavior" is really an ancient relic. Parole is not even available for those sentence after 1996 (the system was abolished then). One can seek a commutation of sentence, but in spite of a number of positive recommendations by the clemency board, the governor has steadfastly refused to grant these reprieves.

Arizona does offer an 85% "good time release" to many prisoners, depending on the sentence. However, this is pretty much guaranteed and offers little incentive in terms of behavior. It's true that it can be denied for extremely disruptive conduct, but it's pretty much a given for most who have it available.

The "earned incentive program" of the DOC policy is similarly weak in offering real incentive. The perks for good behavior are increased pay, more phone calls per day, more visits per week, and higher limits on store spending. That sounds pretty good, but the difference in pay from save 25¢ to maybe 45¢ per hour does not nearly allow for additional phone calls or additional "store" limits. Many in here do not have much of a support network outside these fences, due in part to many of the policies inherent in the system, so more calls, more visits, or higher store limits are meaningless. Even at the highest pay rate, we don't make enough for the minimum spending limit. Even with family members who are supportive and visit, I have never used up all of my weekly visits; and phone calls are financially too prohibitive to make more than a couple times a month - less than that if the inmate has to pay from their wages.

There is no perceived value to showing initiative and responsibility through prison jobs. The pay is better than nothing, but only slightly, and there are other factors that discourage such efforts at productivity. I, myself, work on another yard, as the inmates at that yard are in maximum lockdown. Because of this, I get to wait hours and hours each week for the inconsistent bus to arrive both to and from the other yard. I have limited opportunities for library hours on my own yard. (In one 6 week period, we had library time twice.) I receive smaller rations of food, because the "lock down" inmates are deemed to require fewer calories as they have no physical exertion. The occasional "treats" that are available on my yard (such as cinnamon rolls and ice cream sandwiches) are not available to workers on the lockdown unit. There is no additional compensation for these workers, so many inmates will not do these jobs. I put up with these inconveniences because I like my job and my boss, but that only goes so far.

Taking initiative and attempting to suggest improvements to the system tends to be met with bitter opposition and can result in being labeled as an instigator or troublemaker. Life can be made even worse than it is already, encouraging us to remain passive and keep under the radar, rather than being proactive, creative, or taking initiative.

Attempts to seek any relief through the courts are met with similar resistance and obstacles. Access to legal resources is woefully incomplete, inadequate, and limited for those who have no means for legal representation.

The court system is a maze of hoops and procedures such that even educated inmates have little chance of navigating it successfully. And the truth is not nearly as relevant as procedure. An attorney once said to me that "I don't know of any cases where a decision was reconsidered because of the facts, only because of errors of procedure".

My most recent appeal was denied, as expected, but contained the most wonderful piece of legal speak I have read thus far: "...in this case, a reasonable probability is less than more likely than not, but more than a mere possibility." Apparently my assertions did not satisfy this crystal clear standard. In my case, the state filed the reply several days late with no repercussions, but a friend just had his petition dismissed when, although it was mailed prior to the deadline, it arrived afterwards.

All of these scenarios fan the flames of resentment, injustice, and futility that an incarcerated inmate is trying to overcome.

A whole other host of "negative messages" comes with the societal reactions to the scenario that prisoners find themselves in. We teach our kids that we all make mistakes, that we learn from them and become better human beings. Yet people who have committed offenses of a sexual nature seen excluded from this maxim. Lifetime probation and lifetime registration, with severe restrictions on residency, employment, and social interactions and are given in virtually all cases, regardless of the nature of the offense. We made mistakes, in most cases we acknowledged them and learned from them, so why destroy our lives forever with little opportunity for truly making amends?

My understanding of friendship and my faith in humanity have been challenged and tested from this experience. Many of those whom I considered to be true good friends have abandoned me completely. Others, who I might not have expected, have risen up to provide support and encouragement. Most people, it seems, do not really want to hear about a reality that might negate their preconceived notions about how things are. I suppose that's not surprising, but what is surprising is when it happens from people that you love and care for, from those you thought would believe you and offer support.

My "once best friend" provides an illustration of this. After the tragic incident, he suspended any and all communication for several months (perhaps at his sister's request). He agreed to communicate on the day before I was to turn myself into the police. I had hoped for some insight as to why and how his sister had chosen such a destructive and disruptive approach to the situation. His response was, "what else could she have done?".

Personally, I can think of many options that might have been more effective, productive, humane, and efficient, but it was clear to me that my "friend" had little desire to hear about that. He also asked me to leave Jess alone, completely. I know he was being a supportive little brother, which is higher priority than a friend, but it was also clear that he did not want to understand my reality, the love I have for his sister, or the love of a father for his child. I had hoped for an affirmation from a friend, that I was not a piece of shit or an evil monster. That affirmation never came, from him or from many others who I thought might believe in me.

And therein lies the real horror; that all of these "negative affirmations" feed us, that we might buy into them and believe them, that we might doubt ourselves and the qualities that we thought we'd possessed; that growth and improvement are futile, or even worse, impossible. That our hearts, our souls, and our humanity are without value, and are being chipped away a little bit every day.

I hope that I might have that faith in myself, and the strength to overcome these obstacles to development, but they are many, they are strong, and they seem never ending. Is it any wonder that our correctional institutions are having little success an affecting any positive outcomes?