Category Archives: solitary confinement

One Battle Won

ANNE

As Vince has written, the tourist trade in Lanesboro dies off in winter, so he goes on seasonal unemployment. The State loads his weekly payment onto a debit card which is managed by Mega Bank. When he was arrested, he was no longer eligible to receive additional payments; fair enough. However, he still had a balance in his account, which he couldn’t access.

So I started calling Mega Bank. I will not bore you with the details of how much time I spent on hold, making copies, faxing and mailing and emailing the Power of Attorney form Vince had painstakingly found in the prison library, and doing it all over again because Mega Bank claimed they never received it, and so on. Months passed.

My friend Stephanie, who came with me to visit Vince, works for a big consulting firm. I said to her, “I feel so cynical! I wonder if big corporations ignore people like me until we give up, and then they keep the money, and all those tiny accounts add up …” She laughed and said I wasn’t being cynical at all, that that’s exactly what they do. They wait you out. They do nothing. They make a nice profit.

But I am a fighter. Hearing Stephanie’s take on it made me mad, which energized me. I called the Minnesota Attorney General’s Office. When a real person answered the phone and asked me to describe my complaint, I was tongue tied for a moment. “I…I wasn’t ready to talk … I’m not used to a government agency or company that actually answers the phone.”

The AG sent a letter to the CEO of Mega Bank, asking him to respond within five business days. Mega Bank ignored the letter. I don’t know what transpired after that but I received a check for $154.03 within a couple weeks. In particular, I’d like to recognize Joao Halab in the AG’s office for pursuing this on my and Vince’s behalf.

A hundred and fifty bucks may not sound like a lot of money, but it meant coffee and ramen and pens and paper to Vince. And to give Vince credit, he told me to keep $50 for m effort, which I did.

I’ve got other battles going as well. They are mostly internal ones; I am choosing not to expend my energy on them because I know I cannot win them.

I wrote that I have to move because I am being priced out of my apartment. I haven’t found a new place yet. It seems there are either spacious penthouses with doormen and champagne happy hours for $2,000 a month, or dark cramped rat holes for $800 a month, and not much in between.

My landlord has started showing my apartment, which amps up the pressure. I called a friend who lives in the building and asked, “Should I make a point of being home when they come in with the potential renters, so I can make sarcastic remarks about how they’re taking advantage of the economy to jack up rents?” She said NO without hesitation. I knew that was the right answer, but I needed to hear it.

But when I came home from seeing yet another “no-go” apartment, there were people in my living room. These potential new renters gushed about what a beautiful apartment I have. I kept my mouth shut.

The poor leasing agent is also being priced out of his apartment, which he’s been receiving as a benefit of being an employee, so he’s very sympathetic. He called me a couple hours later to say that a corporation had rented my apartment sight unseen but would be sending someone the next day just to verify the square footage. They’ll be using it to house MBA interns. I asked which company it was a company that makes industrial chemicals.

This is me a couple years ago reveling in the view from my apartment:

740View

My other internal battle is a February work trip to the Occupied Palestinian Territories. I can’t say much except that it adds inherent complicated stress and additional pressure to find a new apartment by the time I leave, because I’ll come back and need to move five days later.

 

Solitary

VINCE

Boring!  That’s the only way to describe my time here so far.  I got to choose a couple real winners from the seg book cart the other day.  When I asked the Native man about a couple authors I was interested in, he stared at me with his mouth wide open.  That’s it.  Just stared.  Eventually I pointed to a red one and a blue one, and he responded to that.  Unfortunately I only have 1,000 pages to last me until I get out of here.  On the up-side, I read terrible books really slowly!

A CO went around and knocked on a few doors asking if people wanted to use the phone.  I knocked on my side of the door and asked if I could use the phone.  He said, “No, not your day.”  No shit.

I’ve heard that Moose Lake is an old psych hospital. At the very least, it is an old hospital.  From what I saw of it four days ago, the outside is all red brick and barb wire.  The inside is very sterile.  White on white, all high-gloss, splatter-resistent walls.  I can’t wait to get out and explore.

In Moose Lake there is no controlled movement.  Once I get down to general population, I can just sign out and go to the gym.  And I can spend some extra time in the library once I get out of the hole.  Of course, this is all just hearsay.  I haven’t actually seen any of it with my own eye, yet.  Fuck.  Did I ever even mention that I’m a cyclops?  But don’t tell anyone.

I wrote a kite to the staff about not getting a phone call and within 10 minutes of receiving it they brought down a phone and apologized for their oversight!  I’m impressed.  I wrote the kite in a respectful manner and in turn I was treated with respect.  I think I like it this way.

I believe it’s Sunday.  I’m still in the hole.  I haven’t spent one second out of my cell since Thursday morning.  A CO asked me if I wanted recreation.  I said yes.  Five minutes later, my door unlocked and I stepped out into the common area with my shower stuff, my mail, and a lot of questions.  The common area is a room with one table, four seats.  That is all.  Nobody else.  I didn’t get to shower, send out my mail, or speak to another human.  After an hour of sitting alone at the table an angry voice yelled, “Recreation is over! Stand by your door!”  I did.  And I have declined recreation ever since.  Still no shower.  I need one.

Welcome to Moose Lake

VINCE

It all happened so quickly: Monday night they called my name for a red box; Tuesday morning I packed up all my stuff; and by Wednesday afternoon I was way up north in Moose Lake State Prison.

I’m excited.  I’m not being stored in a county jail.  For a few days, however, I am being stored in a segregation unit, by myself, without any of my property, until there is an opening in general population.  I don’t really get why they took me from St. Cloud if they had no room here.  But I’ll accept the time in seg if it means they’re giving me an early start to Boot Camp.  All of the people that had been approved for Boot Camp and were being transferred with me were scheduled to enter Boot Camp two months from now.  So I’m thinking, hopefully, that somehow I got bumped up.

I’ve been in seg 2 1/2 days now and I still haven’t been able to make a phone call.  It kind of pisses me off that they treat me like somebody that has gotten into a fight or has broken the major rules. Not the attitude I had when I arrived.  Being in solitude has definitely changed my opinion.  It makes no sense to me.  Why am I here?

This really sucks.  Friday night and at the very least I’ll be stuck here for the weekend.  I still have no idea when I will be able to use a phone.  The schedule said today, but nobody ever came to let me know when.

When I was in Hazelden in 2001, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, although I think if I knew the correct responses to their questions, I could have been diagnosed with excessive flatulence and dementia.  If it had a pill, it could be cured at Hazelden Center for Youth and Families.

Anyhow…my mother is the only one other than them to inquire of my mental stability, repeatedly.  Looking back at just the first page I wrote since my arrival in Moose Lake, I can see some big mood swings.  Naturally I can deduct that my emotional stability, or instability, is a product of my environment.  Makes sense, since I have been in some pretty shitty places, the segregation unit of Moose Lake State Prison being one of them.  If I were at Disneyland, I would not need pills.  Here, I need pills, right?

[ANNE: In the Department of Corrections handbook, under “Prison Lingo”, Segregation (solitary confinement) is defined as a “restricted living unit used to house offenders who have violated major rules.” The United Nations Convention Against Torture considers solitary confinement and indefinite detention to be forms of cruel and unusual punishment, if not torture. The US is one of the big offenders, along with Iran, North Korea, and Saudi Arabia. Thing is, those countries are known for locking up political dissidents and throwing away the key—it kind of makes sense even if it’s horribly wrong. Vince is a petty drug dealer.

As an introvert who loves spending time alone, I had to think through why solitary is considered a form of torture. It goes back to my Christmas Day post, where I wrote about how human connections, while they can be challenging, are the ultimate source of meaning in life. While I enjoy being alone, I have a choice about it, and I can pick up the phone and call a friend or go hang out in a coffee shop whenever I want to end my isolation.]