As I walked through the front door of Cell Block Four I was immediately overwhelmed by the sound. Over one hundred inmates were screaming, yelling, and howling at the same time. How did these guys get so riled up?
I looked around and spotted my partner for the evening, Officer Garand. Garand was a nice guy and we'd been friends for a few years, so at least I knew I had some competent help.
Me: "What in the hell is going on?"
Garand: "I don't know! I think the day shift gave them coffee."
Me: "Shit!"
I wasn't working in a 'normal' unit tonight. I was working a shift in 'The Fun House'. That's what we call the unit where we house all the mentally unstable inmates, and by mentally unstable I mean bat-shit crazy.
The Fun House is an entertaining place to work. The inmates are doped up on meds and are pretty mellow, but occasionally a guy will stop taking his pills and end up chatting with the light switches or talking to his pancakes. Sometimes the inmate will decide that he doesn't like what the light switch has to say or he's being threatened by his pancakes, so he'll flip out and start eating his own shit or cutting on himself with a sharpened piece of plastic he'd found.
I once watched a guy who had cut his abdomen open with a small piece of metal try to flush his own intestines down the toilet while he mumbled something about 'feeding the beast'. He was one of the extreme cases though. Most of the time we put them in a 'strip cell' when they get upset or become neurotic. A strip cell has had everything that could be potentially dangerous removed from it and has a camera mounted on the wall. The inmates are usually kept there nude with a special kind of blanket that is difficult to rip or alter so they can't hurt themselves. Then we wait them out and try to get them to take their meds.
Tonight we had 100 guys flipping out at the same time. A quick call to medical confirmed our fears. The guys that were covering the day shift forgot to take the coffee packets out of the meals and had made other mistakes that caused the inmates to become excited and upset.
It was explained to me that the caffeine in coffee doesn't mix well with some types of medication. Plus it's never a good thing to get mentally ill people worked up, which is what happens when you give coffee to people that haven't had any caffeine in months or possibly years.
The inmate's reactions were varied. Some just babbled and behaved abnormally, while others screamed and cried like the devil himself had come for them. Then there were the ones who go crazy because they don't want to be left out.
The only thing we could do was wait for the caffeine to wear off and keep a close eye on them. Eventually their meds would kick in. Garand and I decided to alternate checking the cells every fifteen minutes. I went first.
Some of the inmates seemed to be coming down already. That was a good sign since that meant that the others would be soon to follow. I had just starting to think that my shift was going to go pretty smoothly when I walked up to cell 301 and looked into the window on the door. The inmate was sitting on his bunk and jacking off. In prison it isn't uncommon to catch an inmate masturbating, but most inmates don't jack it until it bleeds. He wasn't gushing blood but it did have a pretty steady drip.
My attempts to get his attention failed so I keyed my radio and called for Garand to assist me.
Garand showed up a few seconds later and I showed him what was going on. He knocked on the door to get the inmates attention.
Garand: "Hey there! You look like you're doing some damage. You might want to take a break."
The inmate slowly turned his head toward us. "Huh?" He looked down, "Oh, yeah... I guess I am... Thanks." Surprisingly he stopped, pulled up his pants, and lay down on his bunk.
During this incident another crazy, inmate Jones, was yelling at us from his cell down the hall. He kept saying that he didn't like Officer Garand working on his block and that he would kick his ass if he didn't leave.
Jones: "I've got moves like Bruce Lee! I'll kick your ass you fucking cop!"
Me: "Why don't you like Garand?"
Jones: "That asshole pissed in my toothpaste!"
Garand: "I have no idea what you're talking about. Why would I urinate in your toothpaste?"
Jones: "Fuck you! I know you did it. They told me!"
Ah ha! The infamous 'they' that the crazies blame for everything.
Me: "Maybe 'they' lied to you?"
Jones: "Maybe you can suck my dick!"
Garand walked down to the cell.
Garand: "What's the problem? I've never even met you... Hey! Who left your cuff-port open?"
A cuff-port is a one-foot by six-inch waist high slot in the door that we use to handcuff and feed the inmates. They are usually locked shut and for some reason this one had been left open.
Garand reached down to close it when a hand holding a mug popped out and threw the contents up into his face. He stumbled away and when he turned toward me I thought he looked like he'd just been hit with a chocolate cream pie. It wasn't a pie though. He'd just been slimed. Realization crept into his eyes and he started gagging and yelling.
Garand: "What the..." [Heaving noises] "Oh my god!" [More heaving noises] "Somebody get me a towel! I think I'm going to... Blaaaaaah!" [Sound of puke hitting the floor]
Jones: "I told you I didn't want you here mother-fucker!"
I ran up to Garand and told him to go out to the yard to hose off. I then called for backup so we could take care of inmate Jones.
The officers arrived and started suiting up for a forced entry. I decided to chat with Jones a little to see if I could get him to surrender and cuff up. I quickly reached around and closed his cuff-port before I walked in front of his cell. When I looked into the window inmate Jones stood and smiled at me.
Me: "Jones, I need you to cuff up."
Jones: "No!"
Me: "I've got a bunch of guys getting ready to come in there to get you. You're coming out of there one way or another."
Jones: "Bring it on mother-fucker!"
I turned to the entry team and repeated what inmate Jones had said. Their eyes lit up in excitement. Most inmates give in at the last moment so having an inmate who is ready to go all the way is somewhat uncommon.
I turned back to Jones and watched as he poured the remainder of the 'slime' on his hands and then he reached into the toilet and grabbed some shit which he began smearing over his body.
I turned back to the entry team.
Me: "Hey guys, he's putting on his war paint. You might want to make sure you have all of your protective gear on."
Officer Johnson: "Jesus Christ! Of all the guys why do we get stuck with a shitter?"
I turned back to Jones.
Me: "This is your last chance. If you do not cuff up now we're going to come in there and get you. Are you willing to comply?"
Jones: "I'm willing to kick your ass!"
The five man entry team lined up at the door. The front guy, Johnson, held a large Plexan riot shield since he was the biggest and would be going in first. Two guys were designated to handcuff arms and the other two were going for legs.
Just as the team announced they were ready, I popped open the cuff-port and sprayed Jones with my OC spray. A good amount got him in the face and he started to try to wipe his eyes but his shit covered hands and arms didn't help much.
He seemed distracted so it was a good time to send the team in. I slid the cell door open and all five men rushed in at once. Johnson slammed into Jones with his shield sending Jones flying back until he bounced off the wall and fell face first onto the floor. The team pounced on him and quickly had him cuffed. They then hauled him out of the cell so he could be hosed off, evaluated and sent to an appropriate housing area.
The entry team seemed to have escaped most of the shit storm except one officer, Larsen, had a brown hand print on his crotch. Jones had tried to grab Larsen's crotch while he was putting handcuffs on him, but Johnson used his knee to apply a little more pressure to Jones' neck. That seemed to change his mind.
Once Jones was hauled off I walked out to check on Garand. He was standing on the grass soaking wet but he and another officer had managed to spray most of the shit off. He still looked pretty pale though. I started to tell him how we got the stupid bastard when he began heaving again so I decide to wait until later to fill him in on the details.
One of the worst parts was that Garand had to be checked for blood borne diseases since the body fluids had hit him in the face. I can't imagine the stress he probably went through while waiting for the results of the multiple blood tests he had to take. He was eventually given a clean bill of health though.
Incidentally, inmate Jones was convicted of assaulting an officer but since he's already serving a life sentence I don't think he really cares.
