George came into the Infirmary screaming. He wasn't screaming about the disposable razor handle he'd surreptitiously lodged into his urethra, but the fact that he was being restrained and that we were going to remove the object.
George: "Motherfuckers! Let me go! I didn't do anything wrong!"
George is one of our 'unstable' inmates, and among other things, he enjoys sticking things into his penis. As with the other guys who are into penile penetration, I call George a 'pipe-fitter'. He'll put anything in there. Pens, batteries, fingers, it doesn't matter. I guess he gets some form of sexual gratification from it. Or maybe he just likes pissing us off. Either way, he shouldn't have had a razor in his cell in the first place.
During a routine strip-search an officer discovered the razor handle in his penis, so he told him to remove it. When George refused, the officer's only option was to transport him to the Infirmary and have the medical people extract it. George wasn't happy with the decision and it took four officers to subdue him and load him onto a stretcher.
After much screaming and cursing the handle was successfully removed. I then took him to an isolation cell to monitor him for the night. The cell was of standard size with bars instead of a door so we could easily observe the inmates' activities. It contained just a bunk, a blanket, and a toilet. We keep these cells pretty sparse so the inmates won't have much to mess around with or hide behind. Also, the inmates are usually stripped down to their underwear to prevent them from attempting suicide, but since George wasn't showing signs that he was suicidal I allowed him to keep his clothes.
George: "I never got any dinner. Can I have something to eat?"
Me: "Ok, here's a box-lunch but I need you to behave, alright?"
George: "Sure, what can I do in here?"
I went back to my office to start on the report, and an old nurse named Dorothy came in.
Dorothy: "He had that razor stuck in pretty far."
Me: "Yeah, I can't believe he could fit that in there."
Dorothy: "You think that's bad? He had an entire toothbrush stuck in there last time."
Me: "Ouch!"
Dorothy: "He just giggled the whole time. I think we should just let him do it until he splits the damn thing in half. Then he'll think twice about it."
Me: "I don't want to think about it anymore. It's giving me a stomach ache."
About an hour later I returned to check on George. He was sitting on his bunk eating some baby carrots from his box lunch.
Me: "How are you doing George?"
George: "I'm alright. I'm still pretty hungry though."
Me: "Well, you'll have to wait until breakfast."
George: "That's ok. I'm sure I'll find a way to entertain myself."
Me: "What do you mean?"
George: "Do you promise not to freak out if I show you?"
Me: "No... Don't play any games with me. If you don't show me I'll just come in there and find out for myself."
George: "Oh you're going to love this..."
As he said that he pulled down his pants and showed me his penis. I looked up to tell him I wasn't interested in his worn out dick, but then something caught my eye. The color wasn't right.
I slowly lowered my eyes again and noticed a little speck of orange at the tip. When I met George's eyes, he had a funny grin on his face. Like he'd just let me in on a major secret that he was barely able to contain.
Me: "Is that...? Don't tell me... That isn't what I think it is... Is it?"
George: "Yep! It's a carrot!"
He said it so cheerfully that I had to look again to make sure we were talking about the same thing.
Me: "Jesus Christ George! I thought we had a deal? You said you were going to behave."
George: "Well, what can I say? I'm an inmate."
He had a point.
Me: "Any chance you'd remove that so we won't have to do it for you?"
George: "No, and I'll just find something else to stick in it anyway. You can't stop me."
I thought about just leaving him that way. I really didn't think a baby carrot would to do much harm. Maybe he'd just get tired of waiting and take it out himself. I think George could tell that I might not play his game, so he upped the odds and produced a small piece of plastic from his pants pocket. Then he began cutting on his arms with it.
Me: "George, I need you to stop doing that. Just toss me the piece of plastic and we'll leave you alone."
Unfortunately I don't think he wanted to be left alone. George apparently likes attention.
Me: "George, I'm ordering you to hand over the plastic. If you refuse we'll take it from you, remove the carrot, and then we'll put you on the restraint board for the rest of the night. (The restraint board is a flat backboard that has multiple straps and cuffs to immobilize an inmate and prevent him from hurting himself.)
George just laughed and said, "We'll see." Then he started cutting one of his legs.
I grabbed a couple of officers and male nurses to assist me. We threw on our protective gear and slid open his cell door. He laid face-down on the floor and put his hands behind his back before we even touched him. After snapping cuffs on him, we hauled him into one of the examination rooms so the nurses could remove the carrot and check his cuts.
I didn't watch them remove the carrot. It made my penis hurt to even think about it. He was yelling and screaming the whole time but I think it was more for attention than any pain.
When they were finished one of the nurses informed me that the cuts were all superficial 'attention getters' and had stopped bleeding on their own. Then she showed me the carrot. It was about half an inch across and as long as my pinky.
Me: "How the hell did he fit that in there?"
Nurse: "Practice, I guess."
I asked a couple of other officers and a nurse to assist me in taking George back to his cell and placing him on the restraint board. A Lieutenant from one of the housing units arrived and asked us to brief him on the situation.
I didn't know Lt. Puck very well but I'd heard a couple of unflattering stories about him. I gave him a chance anyway and filled him in as we escorted George from the Infirmary. When we got to his cell, I grabbed the restraint board and laid it on the floor. While I was directing the other officers on how to secure George onto the board, Lt. Puck stepped in.
Lt. Puck: "Hey Hadley, I'll handle it. I've done this before."
Me: "Ok Boss, have at it."
I don't claim to be an expert at using the restraint board (I had only seen it used once before), but as I watched Lt. Puck fumble with the various straps and restraints I suspected that he really didn't know what he was doing. When he was finally finished I could tell that he'd gotten a few things wrong but it still looked pretty secure. One of the nurses checked the straps to ensure that George had adequate circulation to his extremities and then we locked his cell.
Most of the officers returned to their posts except for Lt. Puck who stuck around to flirt with one of the nurses. I guess rank does have its privileges. I got started on my report.
After a few minutes I figured I should check on George. Policy required that he remain under close supervision while he was on the board so I didn't feel comfortable leaving him alone for more than five minutes at a time. As I approached the cell I noticed that George was not on the board anymore. He was sitting on his bunk scratching his leg.
Me: "What the fuck George!? Why..."
Then I noticed that he wasn't scratching his leg. He was digging at it. I had heard that he sometimes cut himself with his fingernails and would dig until he hit a vein. Then he'd use the blood as 'war-paint' or to 'decorate' his cell.
I immediately called for another emergency response.
After a few guys arrived we began suiting up. Lt. Puck conveniently showed up after enough officers were prepped to handle the cell entry.
Lt. Puck: "You guys need any help?"
Me: "No, I think we have enough to do the entry."
Officer Hansen looked at me and whispered, "It's funny that it took him so long to show up when he was only a couple of rooms away."
We lined up at the door and Lt. Puck popped it open when were ready. As we rushed in George once again dived to the floor and placed his hands behind his back. I realized that even though George likes to hurt himself he doesn't like anyone else to hurt him. We held him down while a nurse checked and bandaged the hole he had made in his leg.
With that completed, we placed George back on the restraining board. I had learned from the Lieutenant's mistakes and thought I knew what to do differently this time. Lt. Puck had other ideas and insisted on doing it himself again, with George taunting, "I thought you said you knew what you were doing last time .You can't stop me from getting out."
Fifteen minutes later I was calling another emergency response, while I watched a once-again unrestrained George calmly pick at the hole in his leg.
George: "Nobody can keep me locked up. I've got powers and shit."
Me: "Why are you doing this? Wouldn't you rather be back at your unit, watching TV and hanging out with your buddies?"
George: "No, that's boring... I'd rather mess with you."
The hole in George's leg had gotten substantially larger and was steadily dripping blood. The nurse walked in and put another bandage on it. He started to warn George to leave it alone but he quickly realized the futility of it and walked away. Just as I was about to fasten the first restraint on the board, Lt. Puck arrived and took over.
Me: "Hey Lieutenant, I think you're getting the straps wrong. That's why he's getting out."
Lt. Puck turned and gave me a look that said, "Shut the fuck up!"
I decided not to hassle him any further so I sat back and watched as he put the straps and restraints on George again.
George: "Are you sure you know what you're doing? I've never had such an easy time getting out of this thing."
Lt. Puck: "You're not getting out this time."
George: "Sure I am and you're going to look like a god-damn moron for fucking this up again."
Lt. Puck: "Shut the fuck up! You better watch your mouth or..."
George: "Or what? You'll spank me and take away my birthday? You really are an idiot. There isn't anything you can do or say to me that hasn't been done a thousand times before. I'm immune to this shit. It's a game! IT'S A FUCKING GAME!"
Lt. Puck finished up and stormed out of the cell.
Even though I don't really like the Lt. I could understand his frustration. In 'The Good Old Days' we could have beat George to death and nobody would have even raised an eyebrow. Nowadays inmates have rights, and free lawyers, and civilian representation groups to catch even the slightest abuses. I'm not saying that there aren't cases of officers assaulting inmates anymore, there are, but more and more often they are getting caught and punished for those kinds of mistakes.
We shouldn't be able to assault an inmate just for pissing us off but not having the option does change prison dynamics. It can be pretty hard to keep the convicts in line when they don't fear you. Worse, an inmate with no interest in keeping any of the privileges that motivate most inmates to behave is at best a waste of resources and at worst deadly.
With George strapped down for the third time, I thanked the officers who had assisted, and Hansen yelled out as he left, "See you in fifteen minutes!" I'd started calling George 'Houdini' in my mind, and soon thought it might not be a bad idea to check in on him. As I walked up to his cell I noticed that he was wriggling and straining at the restraints. I was about to tell him to stop when I realized that I had an opportunity to figure out his escape method.
I peeked around the corner and watched as he wormed his way around and slowly worked the chest strap over his head. Then he sat up and used his teeth to undo one of the leather hand restraints. Once that was done he used his free hand to undo the other straps.
I stepped back out of view for a minute so he wouldn't know I had watched him and then I walked up to his cell. He sat on his bunk and worked at the hole in his leg. A steady stream of blood ran down his calf.
Me: "Well this is it, George. You're not getting back out again."
George: "Hahaha! You guys are so fucking stupid. Just give up."
Me: "I would leave you alone, but you need to stop cutting yourself."
George: "It's my body and I'll do what I want with it."
Given that George likes to paint his cells and body with blood, I really didn't feel like letting him have his way.
Me: "Normally I wouldn't care what you do to yourself, but you're under my supervision and I can't allow you to harm yourself. I know what you do when you are allowed to cut yourself."
He looked up at me knowingly.
The other officers arrived a few moments later.
Hansen: "Well, isn't this a shock!"
Me: "Where's our favorite Lt?"
Hansen: "Surprisingly he found something really important to do. He sends his best wishes."
As we rushed the cell and removed George, he talked shit, laughed, and tried to flick blood at us. We hauled him to the Doctor on duty so he could stitch the hole in his leg. George was still defiant, "I don't know why you're bothering. I'm just going to rip them out." With fresh stitches and a bandage, he was back in his cell. Then we laid him on the board.
George: "Where's that dumb-ass Lieutenant? I want to watch him fuck this up again."
Me: "He isn't here. I'm doing it this time."
George: "This should be fun."
First I secured George's legs. He didn't resist at all. Then I did his arms. He just laughed and said that I was tickling him. When I put the strap across his chest I ran it under his arms instead of over them. He immediately started telling me that I was doing it wrong. As he got louder I realized that he was panicking. He knew that I had caught on to his trick.
George: "Hey man! I promise that if you let me out I won't be any more trouble."
Me: "You lied to me before. I'm not going to trust you now."
George: "But I was just playing with you. I'm serious now."
Me: "I was serious the whole time. It seems you fucked up, George."
George: "But I'm claustrophobic! I can't be trapped in this thing!"
Me: "Then don't do the kind of stupid shit that gets you put into it!"
After the nurse checked the restraints a final time we left George alone to think about his situation. He didn't escape again that night.
I finally released him a few hours before morning when he agreed to start taking his meds again. I found out from Nurse Dorothy that George is pretty normal when medicated. He was then transferred back to the psych housing unit, a.k.a. The Fun House, where he could run and play with all of the other criminally insane boys.
Inmates who suffer from severe mental illnesses make up a significant percentage of the population housed within US prisons. While we are victims of their crimes they are victims of their minds. I'm not saying they are innocent or that they shouldn't be incarcerated, but I do take their conditions into account when determining how to handle them. In any case, it's a sad situation.
