The pressure had been building for weeks. Outside exercise was cut. Food was reduced to bagged lunches. Then it was the stamps. Indigent inmates are given five first class stamps per month to write their family. Being indigent, this inmate needs stamps to communicate with the outside. One day instead of giving him his monthly stamps the Counselor walked by his cell. The inmate called out to him, but the Counselor kept walking. That was it; he'd had enough. He went to work on the innocent cell. BANG! SMASH! BOOM!--for three hours straight. The noise was ungodly. He rendered that cell into a pile of plexiglass shards and concrete rubble. The shower, table, bed, windows--all were worked over like a delinquent gambler.
The bulls up in the central room were well aware of what was going on. The Counselor had deliberately provoked the incident. But knowing that a demolished cell makes for a better Incident Report, they sat back and waited for him to finish.
The Lieutenant finally arrived with his extraction team in tow. “Are you going to cuff-out for me?” asked the Lt. “Or, are we going to have to come in and get you?”
The inmate cursed and shouted and threw his rebar spear at the extraction team. Having had extensive experience being gassed and beaten by the extraction teams, he agreed to cuff-out. The bulls cuffed him through the door slot and pulled him out of he cell, smashing his face against the exercise cage window across the hall. Blood from his nose ran down his chest and his legs and did a zigzag pattern on the floor.
He’ll spend the next month down in the “hole” in one of the dry cells. They’ll strip him of his property and clothes and give him a padded suicide gown. He’ll have no bed, no blanket, no toilet, no water--just a bucket to relieve himself in. If he bangs again, they’ll strap him spread-eagle to a bare concrete slab. And all of this over five stamps.
Another inmate was given the same treatment recently. Like the Demolition Man, this inmate is easily provoked. He was scheduled to go out to the exercise yard one day, but instead the bulls put him in one of the indoor exercise rooms. Asking why, he was told that he had a separation on one of the other inmates who was also scheduled to go into the yard that day. (A separation is an administrative measure used to keep two inmates apart who have a history of conflict with each other. They are rarely used as intended.) From now on he and the other inmate would have to alternate between the outdoor cages and indoor rooms. Thus this inmate's outdoor exercise was arbitrarily cut in half.
He started kicking the steel door of the exercise room and yelling over and over, “I ain’t got no separation on that dude. It’s my day to go out.”
“Stop kicking the door or you’re going to the ‘hole,’” said the bull.
BAM! BAM! BAM!--he smashed the door, yelling, “I ain’t got no separation on that dude. It’s my day to go out.”
Twenty minutes of this and the unit gate opened and the heavily armored extraction team arrived. First, the Lieutenant tried out his negotiating skills: “Are you going to cuff-out? If we have to come in there, it’s going to hurt.”
Again the inmate kicked the door, BAM! BAM! BAM!--yelling, “I ain’t got no separation on that dude. It’s my day to go out.”
Bean bags or gas, the Lieutenant wondered. The exercise room has a high ceiling and it would have taken a while to fill the room up with enough gas to choke him out, so he went with the bean bags. The bean bag gun fires a projectile capable of breaking bones or tearing an eye out. Getting down on one knee and taking aim at the slot, one guard prepared to fire. The Lt. opened the slot and the guard proceeded to track his prey. The inmate was running back and forth, trying to make the bull miss. BOOM! The first shot missed, shattering against the wall.
The guard calmly reloaded. This time the inmate tried desperately to climb the bars covering the huge windows. When he was about six feet up, the bull squeezed off another shot. The round caught him in the small of the back, sending him crashing to the concrete below. “Are you going to cuff-out now,” asked the Lieutenant.
Blood was running down his scraped leg as the inmate got to his feet. “I ain’t got no separation on that dude. It’s my day to go out!” he screamed in desperation.
The Lieutenant nodded to the shooter, who loaded another round and took aim. BOOM! This one caught the inmate in the belly, doubling him over face down on the concrete. His eyes were closed, his face twisted in pain.
“That one gave him a new belly button,” said the shooter. The Lieutenant gave him another round. But before he could load the round, the inmate got to his feet and stumbled to the door, putting his hands through the slot. Cuffs were slapped on. He was pulled out of the room and leg chains applied. As they dragged him out of the unit, the inmate was yelling, “I ain’t got no separation on that dude. It’s my day to go out!” Of course, the bulls didn’t answer.