In my new and yet to be released book entitled “New Slaves, Same Ol’ Economy” I made a vow of self-preservation by promising not to write about any place where I had personally been incarcerated. I have a couple of reasons for that decision, the first one is I simply did not want it to read as autobiographical (I am working on an autobiography, “Shattered”). The second reason is the self-preservation I mentioned earlier. Often there is a heavy toll exacted from those who speak the truth to, or about, power. I do not think that anyone would list me among cowards, but too, I must confess that I am not an overly brave soul either. I believe that discretion is the better part of valor, translated: a good run beats a bad stand. I am not necessarily reneging on that vow, as no such writing will appear in the book (it is headed for press), however I must use this present forum to bring you up to speed on the current inhumanity that I and about 2500 others are suffering through. That item that you saw blowing in the wind was caution.
Everyone who reads my writing, or knows my story, is aware that my misconduct netted me sentences both in Iowa and Illinois. Although I am in the middle of a Master’s program, that I will never be allowed to complete in Illinois, the state of Iowa paroled me to that outstanding Illinois detainer. With the help of some gracious corrections officials we hatched a plan that would allow me to get processed in Illinois and then transferred back to Iowa under the Interstate Compact agreement. This would not only allow me to finish my statistics degree, but to perhaps pick up an MBA as well. Not to mention continuing to be close to my family. On Thursday February 11th, I was transported to the Northern Reception and Classification Center for the Illinois Department of Corrections at Stateville. I have continuously bounced between shock, awe, and disbelief since I arrived.
When we arrived we spent approximately an hour in the transport van waiting to get into the sally port to unload. While there were law enforcement agencies from other counties around the state waiting to drop off prisoners, the wait can primarily be attributed to Cook County/Chicago. Cook County makes the short trek out to Joliet four times a week to feed the mass incarceration meter, and each time they bring approximately 120 new slaves. Incredible.
As I waited in the back of the van with Rock Island County’s other seven prisoners I stared at the wall of the actual prison, Stateville. I stared at the place that had confined Richard Speck and John Wayne Gacy. I stared, and I wondered what the hell I had done to my life.
The Reception Center looks like some highly secure warehouse or farm building constructed of concrete and corrugated steel. Once we were finally inside the first thing I saw was several birds flying near the ceiling, and the first thing I heard was a guard yelling to another group, “sit down and shut the fuck up!” They are not Iowa nice. After the leg irons and restraining belts were removed we were each given a warm carton of milk and a soy/mystery meat sandwich with bread that had to have been baked sometime during the Jackson’s Victory tour. With our inedibles in hand, we were directed into one of five holding cages that the inmates refer to as “bird cages.” I assume because there is no wall, everything on the cage, including its roof, is made of rubber covered chain link. These cages sit at the far edge of a room that was approximately 45 o F. All of the guards had on winter garb. The cages have enough wooden benches to seat about 40 people in each. I counted 92 souls in the cage that I was in.
My group arrived at about 7 a.m. and from then until 8 p.m. we were shuffled in and out of the “bird cage”, with no particular order to various stations: strip search, personal property, medical, dental, ICE, identification, etc. During that same time span, we were called one name after another: stupid motherfuckers, bitch motherfuckers, motherfucker motherfuckers, you name it, they said it.
Given the low level of cognitive ability on display by both the captors and the captives, I consider myself blessed to have ended up with the cell-mate that I got. However, the cell. The cell walls were filled with graffiti and pseudo-philosophy, and it looked as if it had never been cleaned. It had not. They do not make cleaning supplies and disinfectants available at NRC. I cannot articulate the filth that one is submerged in.
Speaking of items not made available, you are not provided with, nor allowed to purchase, a spoon or any other eating utensil. I have used a combination of my hands and the back cover of a paperback book to eat chili, beans and casseroles. I have never felt so dehumanized in my life. In the mornings I take a handful of cereal followed by a small sip of milk.
The meals are horrendously small, but too from that misfortune: they only give us one roll of toilet paper per week. Thus, the fewer bathroom visits from food intake, the better.
The slaves on this particular plantation are only allowed one shower per week as well, which I assume justifies the motel size bar of soap that one receives along with the toilet paper.
Although one’s stay here is two to six weeks or longer, the only jumpsuit you will receive is the one issued to you the day of arrival. No, it will not be washed.
If you were fortunate enough to bring an envelope and stationary here with you from the county jail, you will still be forced to barter items from your pathetic meal trays to use an ink pen. This facility does not sell or give out pens and pencils. If you have no envelopes that costs you another item. No paper, you know the drill. In order that you may read this present writing I surrendered tonight’s dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast.
When I arrived here I had just a shade under eight years left to serve. My out date is 1-6-24. However, the record office has made such an incompetent mistake that they have my out date at 7-5-65, an unbelievable 49 years from now. They will not listen to reason that this is 36 years beyond what I was ordered to serve at any point for Illinois. No, it is MY responsibility to hire an attorney to fix it. Speaking of attorneys, mine wrote me on the 12th and I did not receive it until the 20th. It takes them 7 to 14 days to give you your mail.
Not unlike many other places, they have a Muslim problem here as well. The Chaplain offered up Christian religious material to the Christian inmates, but when he got to my cell and I told him that I was Muslim, he informed me that he was not an imam and had nothing for me. I’m sure it was not only my religion that offended him, but my breath as well. I was issued some 1-1/2 inch apparatus along with a tube of what looks like hair gel, to handle my dental hygiene.
These practices are far beyond the pale of decency. I realize that some of it is related to budget; more people are locked up than can be afforded. Further, some of these woes are related to poor staffing. There are simply some human beings who should not be allowed to work with other human beings. However most of the problem is previously failed leadership. From a distance, I know the man that now heads the Illinois DOC, by virtue of him having formerly headed the Iowa DOC. I do not believe that he will allow this madness to continue, that is assuming that the atrocities are not so interwoven into the fabric that he is compelled to throw up both hands and walk away.
Initially I balked at the cost my wife and I would incur for the interstate compact, however tonight, I could easily be persuaded to give up a kidney in order to get back to Iowa.