Tag Archives: diversion programs

Money for Nothing

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ANNE

Today, June 26, is United Nations Day in Support of Victims of Torture. Today also marks one year since Vince entered prison.

My organization will host a potluck supper at our clinic in St. Paul. We’re supposed to call it a healing center, not a clinic. It’s in an old renovated Victorian home. I think it’s actually Edwardian, but in Minnesota, we call everything “Victorian,” if it’s more than 100 years old. You can take a virtual tour of it if you like, or you can take a physical tour if you live in the area.

You would think I’d be used to dealing with the corrections system by now, but it still has the ability to throw me off guard. First, in keeping with my accidental theme of critiquing every word, why can’t we call it the prison system? Just what are they “correcting”? I have an image of them straightening out Vince’s limbs and brain with ratchets and wrenches.

On June 23 I got the following message from the corrections system email provider:

This email is to inform you that effective June 30, 2015 the Minnesota Department of Corrections will no longer utilize CorrLinks for inmate message transfers. The MNDOC agency option will no longer be available effective June 30th.

If you would like to request a refund of your balance you may do so by removing all of your contacts and closing your account.

Sincerely,

CorrLinks Support

I so wish I could be an emotional ninja all the time—ducking serenely to avoid upsetting news like this—but instead I flipped out.

UNBELIEVABLE! was my immediate reaction. CorrLinks is the one thing about the entire MNDOC that has actually worked. It’s affordable, simple, and it’s the one effing way I could reliably communicate with Vince.

I assumed they had found another vendor that would cost five times more and was owned by the warden’s brother in law. Or were they just going to discontinue the email option completely? What a joke.

—

I checked the DOC website and it had no information about the change. So I called the them. The person who answered knew nothing about it. She put me on hold and when she came back read me a memo she had managed to track down that said the same thing as the email. But it did go on to say there would be a new system called J Pay. (I wonder if J is for Jail?)

It will cost 40 cents per message instead of 30. Okay, I guess I can afford that.

I currently have a $4 balance with Corrlinks. Am I going to bother requesting a refund? Hell no! I’ll bombard Vince with emails—articles from the Atlantic are good for using up words.

But I bet there will be thousands of people who don’t ask for refunds.  Let’s face it, one week’s notice is not very much, especially for wives of prisoners who are working full time and have kids.  So let’s say there are even 1,000 people who leave $4 on the table. That’s a cool $4,000 for Corrlinks, or for the DOC.   In fact, I wonder if they switch systems every now and then just to get some quick cash.

Oh I am so cynical!  Probably the money will be donated to some prison-related charity, right?

Life Imitating Work

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ANNE

Once or twice a year, my organization sends out a list of items that our clients need.  I got the latest list the first week in June.  It had the usual things on it, like Target gift cards, quarters (for laundromats), umbrellas (they travel on foot or via public transport and it’s been a rainy spring), and shoes (in this case, men’s size 8, “preferably tennis shoes”).

Someone needed a suitcase.  As an asylum seeker he is not allowed to work and he also is not eligible for any public benefits, like housing.  So he is sleeping on someone’s couch—probably a friend of a relative of a friend who is the same nationality as he is.  The most common nationality we see right now is Ethiopians.

I had a giant suitcase that I was never going to use again so I arranged for him to have it.  Win-win situation: I didn’t have space for it; he needed it, good deed done.  I am so glad I’m not a social worker; our clients’ needs are endless and their stories are so sad.

A week later I got this letter from Vince:

Ms. Mom:

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about my release.  I’ve been here 100 days.  82 to go.

I’ve mentioned before that I won’t have much when I get out.  Nothing really.  But there are some necessities and even some convenience items I will need your help with.  You’re the only one I feel comfortable asking, but you may know some others that are willing to help.

So here’s my list of things.  Some of them explain themselves.  Some may not, so I will:

  1. Bed and bedding related items
  2. Clothing (from the ground up, figuratively and literally)
  3. Eye exam and contact lenses
  4. A vehicle and insurance. For this I may (will) need to take out a loan from a loving family member.  With only four hours of personal time per week, not to include AA meetings or physical activity, time management is going to be critical.  For me, a vehicle is one of the more important needs.  We’ll talk.
  5. Gym membership. We’ve talked.  [I told him the YMCA has a sliding scale system.]
  6. Cell phone, if my ISR agent allows one. I think I can pay for it.
  7. Well, that’s a good list so far.

This list wasn’t entirely my idea.  We are all encouraged to write to family asking for help when we get out.  They know we leave with nothing, and it’s good to prepare as soon as possible.

I have a new copy of my driver’s license in my file here, and soon I will have a new Social Security card, so I will leave here with the requirements to obtain legal work anywhere.  My chemical dependency counselor says it would be good for me to get work outside the foodservice industry, so keep your eyes peeled for factory work or anything really that you think I could do that would be felon friendly.

I’m not intentionally trying to add stress to your life so if I am, say so.  They say the more we prepare, the better our chances.  And our resources here are limited.  I know I’m going to be a bit of a burden for a while.  But I’m willing to pull my weight however possible.

I’m coming home with a positive attitude, a good work ethic, and a desire to be productive always.

I need to fill 90 hours of community service/volunteer work.  You mentioned a good volunteer is hard to find.  I volunteered in a nursing home the other day in Moose Lake.  It was very rewarding.

I love you, Mom.  Thank you, again, for all you continue to do.

Vince

Victory Lap

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VINCE

Sitting in my blue plastic chair, here’s what I see.  Three feet in front of me, my bunk mate is sitting in his blue plastic chair, facing me.  He also has folders on his lap, which we call our “desks.”

To my immediate right is our bunk.  My bed is on the bottom, our combined four foot lockers under my bed (not four feet long, four of them).  Blue blankets stretched flat with 45 degree angles on the foot end, our brown blankets stretched over our pillows with a 45 degree angle at the top.

To my left, three feet away, is the same thing.  To my right, the same thing five more times.  Like one of those infinity mirrors where the same scene seems to go on forever and ever.

Everybody is talking in different directions, some talking over others.  It’s louder than one might think.  A Correctional Officer just walked by and dropped somebody down for working on personal letters.  So that’s all for now.

—

Every other morning, well, actually every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I tell myself over and over that I will finish the run.  It’s still kind of tough, but I’ve only dropped out once in this past month.

Today, I struggled.  I really wanted to fall out after the first three laps.  Lap four came and when we were almost to the point where we have to yell, asking for permission to fall out, there was a C.O. walking around the small track, right where I would fall out.  I didn’t want to have to answer a bunch of questions about my motivation so I continued on.

It was very humid out.  I was drenched with sweat, and cramping up in my stomach.  All sorts of reasons to quit.  But I made it through lap six.  Then, the physical trainer leading the run decided to bring us around one more time.  It was the hardest lap of my life, but I did it.  Five miles (4.9, but we call it five).  I’ve felt great ever since.

So.  That’s what I did before 7:00 am.  How about you?

 

 

Toadally at Peace

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VINCE

I lifted weights for the first time in years this morning.  They’re still heavy like a remembered.  Free weights make a guy feel a bit awkward and off balance, but they really do a good job.  My goal was to lift 10,000 pounds, but I lost track after my first set.  I think I did a bit more though.

I saw myself in a full length mirror today.  My body has transformed considerably for just 2 ½ months.  I’ve lost most of my gut, and my chest sticks out by itself.  Most guys in prison stick their chests out to appear more threatening, much like a dog bares it’s teeth.  Now I don’t have to do that!  Either way I pose no real threat.

Today I’m feeling good about myself.

—

Today I left the grounds on RJWC—Restorative Justice Work Crew.  I spent six hours working very hard at a bible camp/retreat/campground sort of place.  My favorite part was being completely unsupervised for about an hour while I groomed a trail in the woods around a pond.

It was quiet.  I was surrounded by nature.  I spoke briefly with a couple toads.  They said nothing back, of course, as most toads and frogs speak little to no English.

The rest of the time I spent stacking wood, and raking up concrete and Styrofoam from an old shuffle board court.  I was with seven others from the India squad and we all sort of moved around to different projects.

It was a very fulfilling and productive day.  I will have the opportunity to be on RJWC every week or so for now, and it’s usually something /somewhere different every time.

—

I miss my dog, Willie.  I think about him a lot, and I wonder if he still thinks about me.

He was with me shortly before I was arrested, which is usually a sign that that person set you up to be busted, but I know he wouldn’t do that to me.  He’s not even a person.  He is, however, probably more loyal than most of the people I know in the meth world.

He is with my dear non-meth-using friends in Fountain, Minnesota.  He’s been living there without me for about a year and a half.  I just got a few pictures of him and my friends and it took everything I have not to break down crying in the middle of the other 5 guys in my barracks.

There’s so much of my life I wish I could do over.

All Those Pizzas

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ANNE

The last post, in which Vince and I recalled Aspen Glen, reminded me of a vivid memory from that time.

Vince came rushing in the door from school; I think he was in first grade so he would have been six or seven.  Before I could turn around from whatever I was doing in the kitchen to say hi, he was out the door again.

About an hour later, he came flying back in and flung himself to the floor, crying pitifully like his heart was breaking.  “What on earth is the matter!?” I asked in alarm.  Still prostrated on the floor, he sobbed, “We have to sell pizzas for a school fundraiser, and I went to every house in Aspen Glen and didn’t even sell one!  How am I ever going to sell all these pizzas!?”

I hid my laughter.  Every unit in Aspen Glen had kids, and they all went to his school.  Why would anyone buy a pizza from someone else’s kid, especially since we were all on food stamps?

—

I think about this story when I’m feeling overwhelmed with work or chores (or the demands of this blog).  I say in my head, “How am I ever going to sell all these pizzas!” and chuckle to myself.  It reminds me that nothing is that important that I need to fling myself onto the floor and sob.

But I do wonder if this little episode is emblematic of Vince’s personality traits that may have made drugs appealing.  I know, this is called “taking someone’s inventory.”  I am only supposed to take my own inventory.  But still.

Another example: Vince bought a pair of roller blades with his bar mitzvah money.  He laced them up, hobbled outside, and 10 minutes later crawled back into the house, ripped off the skates, and hurled them across the room, screaming, “I’ll never learn how to roller blade!”  Of course he was a master of it within a week, skating backwards and doing pirouettes in the street, which made me shudder.

And he often complained of being bored.  Lots of kids say, “I’m bored!” but he was saying it up until he was arrested, at age 35.

Okay I’ll just say it: I think Vince is impatient and impulsive.  He needs stimulation and instant results or he complains of boredom or finds something to fire him up.  Just a few years ago, he took a dare to eat a tablespoon of dry cinnamon.  Dry cinnamon!  Maybe a tablespoon doesn’t sound like that much to you, but try it some time.  No, don’t.  He was sick for days.  Why would anyone do that, if they weren’t looking for a little excitement and they didn’t care if it was positive or negative?

I am never bored, so it’s hard for me to understand.  I am also a high energy person, up at the crack of dawn, on the move, tackling my to-do list—go, go, go.  That has its own downsides.  But that’s why I’ve never even been tempted to try a drug that would pep me up, like cocaine.  I don’t need to be any more hyper.

If it’s true that Vince’s personality traits feature impatience, a need for constant stimulation, and impulsivity, how will he manage when he’s out, when he has every opportunity to relieve his negative impulses?

A Room with View

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VINCE

Today we watched a movie in treatment called 7 pounds.  (The number is shown in that form in the title so I can’t be faulted for not spelling it out.).  It stars Will Smith.  And it’s one of the better movies I’ve seen in a long time.  It’s really sad.  Funny in the right spots.  And at one point in the beginning he says to a man when asked why he was deserving of his help, “Because you’re a good person, even when you think nobody is looking.”

I liked that.  I want to be like that.

Throughout my life, I have always thought of myself as a good person.  Unfortunately, I haven’t actually acted like one very often.

From dealing drugs to stealing anything that wasn’t nailed down, to abandoning friends and family alike, I’ve done nearly everything possible to be a bad person.

I’ve looked into that a lot over the last two months, done a lot of soul searching, taken my moral inventory.  I can see the harm now in the things I’ve done.  Now I’m starting to build myself back up.  To gain the confidence I never had.  I can be that good person I’ve claimed to be.  I am going to be a good man.

—

Last night at 2100, like every other night, we stood at the POA at our bunks, waiting to be counted.  This time I noticed that it was still light out.  It reminded me of my childhood in Aspen Glen, the suburban subsidized housing complex we lived in until my mom met Kermit.  I remember staring out the window at the other kids still playing outside.  I don’t remember how old I was, or what time I had to go to sleep, but I do remember hours of boredom.

No boredom here.  Today we were allowed to raise our Reebok Step up to ten inches.  Ugh. What a difference.  For 40 minutes, they extra two inches made me sweat like a hog.  (That’s what she said?)  It was a good workout.

[ANNE: I feel myself getting defensive as I read Vince’s memory of Aspen Glen.  There must have been hundreds of kids who lived there.  We moved in when Vince was four.  Maybe he was staring out the window at the other kids because he was four and I actually enforced a bedtime, unlike a lot of the other parents.  There were good parents there, but there were terrible ones too.  And a lot of them, like me, were completely overwhelmed and exhausted with work, school, household chores, and parenting.  Sometimes I couldn’t stay awake past 9:00.  Unlike me, Vince is a night person, so I can imagine he was bored because he couldn’t go out and play and he couldn’t go to sleep.  But it’s not like I kept him locked in his room and slid trays of food under his door—just to be clear.]

Brown Hat, Hurrah!

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VINCE

We finally had our red-hat reviews. A week late—better late than never.

I did about as well as I thought I would. No formal discipline. No major issues in Physical Training, Chemical Dependency, or Military Bearing. I will get my brown hat tonight.

What does that mean? Well, all of us that passed (14 out of 17) will have a higher level of responsibility.

We will be lifting weights now twice a week. And we have to do 30 pushups when we are informally disciplined. It’s time to really step it up. I will.

The three members of our squad that didn’t make it will have a chance in a week to get their brown hats. They accumulated too much discipline over a short amount of time. My prediction: one of them will be held back a month. He hasn’t lost his attitude. But…it’s not my job to worry about him. I can only control myself.

—

We got a new squad in our barracks. There are 12 squads, four in each of the three barracks. Two squads leave and arrive each month. Anyhow, it’s amazing to see the new guys and see how far we’ve come in 2½ months. They are a mess. They have a constant look of fear about them and are totally disorganized. I can’t believe we were like that, but all new squads are.

—

Yesterday I worked KP for the first time. It was nice to be back in a kitchen setting, however I was quite disappointed with the overall operation.

First, for what their labor cost is, it should have been the cleanest place in the world. But I saw obvious signs of neglect. After breakfast, lunch, and dinner service, I spent my time cleaning nooks and crannies using only a large towel. There are no useful cleaning tools (like steel wool or green scrubbers). And we aren’t allowed to spray cleaning chemicals, only pour them on towels.

The worst parts were two equally horrible things:

  1. I have never seen so much useful food thrown away in my life. Hundreds of pounds of cooked, edible food, tossed in a garbage can. They only let the offenders eat a certain amount of food. It’s plenty, but I don’t see a reason to not let us get seconds on things like broccoli, bread, or salad. Or how about doing something cliché like somehow getting the extras to homeless shelters? I dunno. Things like that get to me. What a waste.
  1. The kitchen staff (not state employees) use the power they have to degrade and belittle the offenders. Unfortunately I can’t write more on that, but I will when I am a free man.

[ANNE: I kind of feel like one of the old geezers on Sesame Street, commenting from the peanut gallery on Vince’s posts. But since we only get 13 minutes to talk on the phone every two weeks, we don’t waste time clarifying the finer points of the blog. So. I don’t get why he was so looking forward to getting his brown hat. It sounds like it just makes life more demanding—I mean, 30 pushups? I can barely do three.

I think this goes to show that many of us thrive when more is asked of us. I see this at work with volunteers. The ones whose supervisors “don’t want to overwhelm them” by giving them too much work usually don’t stick around. The ones who we pile work on, rise to it and usually do even more than we asked of them.

I always thought Vince’s problem was that he couldn’t handle stress; that was why he lived in the boon docks, didn’t own a car, never aspired to become a chef rather than a cook. But maybe I had it wrong. He seems to be thriving under high expectations. It’ll be interesting to see how he manages when he’s outside, with just the minimal expectations that he not use chemicals and not break the law.]

Red Hat Days

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VINCE

We still haven’t had our red hat reviews yet. This is very disappointing because two squads left today, and we would have been given our brown hats today. Hat color means a lot around here. Without brown hats, we get not weight room, no visits, no phone calls. There’s still time, but it’s kind of annoying. If we were late for anything, they would treat us as if we were idiots. Oh well. Only four months to go.

—

Our red hat review was postponed until Monday. We’ve been nervous about it all week, now we have to make it through the weekend. I’m not actually worried about anything, but a few of my squad mates are. Because, of course, they aren’t doing very well in one or all aspects.

I finished my fourth run today. I’m still amazed at the end. I’ve come so far.

—

Here are a couple things that are difficult, even after two months. The first one is a position we hold briefly before we march that gives us our proper alignment. It’s called “dress right, dress.” Upon the execution command of the second “dress,” we snap our left arm out straight left, and look directly right. Then we all move to touch the fingertips of the guy on the right. If we don’t do this correctly, and somebody wants to be mean, they will make us stand in that position for five minutes, without touching anybody else. You should try it at home. Just put your arm shoulder height, straight left, and see how long you can hold it.

—

Day 60. 1/3 of the way. 120 days to go. 360 meals, 52 runs. However I want to put it, I’m getting there.

Yesterday, 18 of us went out on a mission to plant trees on a Department of Natural Resources tree farm. We walked two miles on dirt and sand in our full khaki uniforms, coveralls, hat and gloves while carrying shovels. It’s a lot of work just to get to a job site.

Along the way, a few of us found a pretty good number of agates, which we tossed back to Mother Nature, as we are not allowed to have any contraband.

The planting trees part was actually quite peaceful. Quiet is what I enjoy most in any prison/jail setting, probably because it is so rare.

So the 18 of us planted 250 1-foot tall pine trees in an area similar in shape to, but twice as large as, a football field. It was warm out, but I hardly noticed anything but nature. It was a good day.

Fit, Fat, Ffffttt

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VINCE

This morning at 0645 hours I finally achieved my goal of completing a run. I ran 4½ miles without stopping. It hurt a lot, especially with some cramping near the bottom of my ribcage, and general soreness in my knees and thighs, but I was too happy to care. I did it.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it every time, but I do know now that it’s possible. On a side note, I started taking a probiotic supplement today. I think it’s supposed to help me with my poops. But for now it just makes me fart a lot. More on that later.

—

Two days later, 0633 hours. My down day, my second least favorite day. Yesterday was tough. For the first time since my arrival we did not go out on work crew assignments. We did, however, practice marching. The worst was from 1415 to 1610 [2:15-4:10pm] when we did half step march (120 steps per minute) up and down the side of the track. Half step is difficult because it’s faster and we have to pick our boots up about 6 inches from the ground every time to keep us all in line. It looks nice, but doing it for two hours hurt.

That wasn’t the worst of it. We had to wear our full khaki uniform and work gloves and a hat. Ugh. So hot. My gloves were soaked by the end. We did a total of five hours of marching yesterday. I’m still alive.

—

I completed the run again. 4½ miles. I even felt great afterwards. This is especially good because our brown hat review is in a few days. It’s the second of four big reviews. We will have a meeting with our case manager, counselor, squad officer and physical trainer. We will go over everything positive and negative from the past month. If all goes well, we get upgraded from red hats to brown hats. That means our seniority goes up, and we have more responsibility. More on that later.

We had our monthly weigh-in this morning. I went from 194 pounds and 13.4% body fat to 189 pounds and 11.2% body fat. That’s pretty good for a month. It means I’m turning fat into muscle, I think.

[ANNE: Eleven percent body fat!? That’s so unfair! I signed on with a personal trainer for the first time in my life about a month ago, and she measured me at 34% body fat. Ugh. I’ve always loved weight training, and she has added all sorts of cardio, which I hate because I hate sweating. But I am doing it. And after three weeks Ta Da! Still 34% body fat, no weight loss, not an inch lost. Again, ugh. She told me not to be discouraged, to keep it up. I mentioned that Vince is at 11% and her jaw dropped: “That’s really, really good for a 36-year-old man,” she said. Skeptical analyzer that I am, I wonder if the devices at the Y and in prison are different? Maybe I could find some way to have them test my body fat when I finally get to visit Vince? No, that’s crazy thinking. Now I understand why there’s such an obsession with naming thing “boot camp,” if it gets those kinds of results.]

 

Nodrinkalotine

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ANNE

There seems to be all sorts of momentum to reform drug sentencing, to reduce mass incarceration, and to make it easier for ex-offenders to make it on the outside.

There was a full-page article in my favorite magazine, The Week, entitled “Opening the prison door: A new, bi-partisan movement is challenging the notion that jailing millions of Americans makes the U.S. safer.”  You have to be logged in to see it, otherwise I’d share it.  It cites the stats: taxpayers spend $80 billion a year to keep 2.4 million prisoners locked up.  It examines what’s going on in various states, including the reddest of red states, Texas. I never thought I would admiringly quote Texas Governor Rick Perry, but he said, “The idea that we lock people up, throw them away forever, never give them a second chance at redemption, isn’t what America is about.”

Current affairs geek that I am, I enjoy watching 60 Minutes on Sunday evenings.  I hate it when it is delayed for some stupid sporting event, like football.  ANYway, a few weeks ago they did a story on TED Talks, and one of the TED talkers they featured was Bryan Stevenson, a public-interest lawyer and the founder and executive director of the Equal Justice Initiative, which is challenging racial discrimination in the criminal justice system.

The Minneapolis Star Tribune is full of related articles.  One is about a couple of drug reform bills that failed to pass.  Hennepin County Attorney Mike Freeman is quoted: “Those people who possess large amounts [of drugs] for sale suffer from the disease of greed, and the answer to their problems isn’t treatment, but the big house.” The big house? Is he living in a Jimmy Cagney movie or what? Regardless, most people in prison on drugs charges, including Vince, were busted with small amounts of drugs.  Sigh.

There an article about how the DOC has succeeded in banning journalists from taking photos or video inside prisons.  To me, this sounds very much like the DOC has something to hide, and also like a slippery slope toward becoming more like North Korea or Iran.  I mean, freedom of the press is a pretty fundamental part of democracy, and nowadays visuals are so much more vital to reporting than ever.

There’s an editorial, “Restore voting rights to former felons.”  This is a hot button issue for me.  Because Vince was convicted of his first felony shortly after he turned 18, he wasn’t allowed to vote until he’d cleared his record–when he was 30.  It so happened that this was the year Barak Obama was elected, and Vince was jubilant.  “My team won!” he exclaimed.  I was so happy for him.  Now he’ll start from square one.

At work, I see all sorts of funding opportunities for studies of addiction. These are just two that I saw in the same day: “Second Chance Act Strengthening Families and Children of Incarcerated Parents” from the Department of Justice, and “Human Studies to Evaluate Promising Medications to Treat Alcohol Use Disorder” from the National Institutes of Health.

So there really does seem to be a movement to end mass incarceration, and there is promising research being conducted to get at the root causes of addiction. Someday maybe, when you take your 10-year-old kid in for his annual exam, the doctor will run some routine genetic tests. “Mr. and Ms. Jones, I’m afraid your son has inherited your family’s gene for addiction. The good news is, we can tweak is DNA, or put him on a course of Nodrinkalotine. Let’s discuss the pros and cons of each….”