Dateline: February 20, 2009
MARK OBER’S SOFT SPOT FOR SERIAL KILLERS, PART I
Warning! Potions of the following court records involving Hillsborough State Attorney Mark Ober’s most infamous client, serial killer and rapist, Oscar Ray Bolin, are graphic and disturbing, and should not be read by anyone who is easily horrified. Proceed at your own risk. If you are a friend, employee, or campaign contributor to Mark (and many people fall into all three categories), after reading this, you may never look at Mark the same way again.
First, I want to state unequivocally that I have no personal animosity toward Mark Ober, despite all the unethical actions he has directed toward me over the past thirty years or so, the use of suborned perjury, the withholding of evidence, the false statements he’s made, all pointing toward a level of personal animosity and vindictiveness that recalls the old Sicilian concept of vendetta. After I rejected all Mark’s offers of plea bargains and reduced sentences in exchange for my guilty plea to a murder I did not commit, Mark did his best to strap me into “Old Sparky,” the electric chair. When the judge and jury rejected his arguments, he took it personally. It’s okay, Mark—I forgave you a long time ago.
That doesn’t mean I can’t inform the public of certain acts of hypocrisy that Mark has committed since that time, especially concerning his vigorous defenses of Oscar Ray Bolin, perhaps the most notorious serial killer in Hillsborough County history.
Did you know that Mark accused me of “moral turpitude” before the Florida Parole Commission in 2002? That was in addition to his other false, misleading, and malicious statements meant only to keep me in prison for a crime I didn’t commit.
Do you have any idea what “moral turpitude” means? It really shocked me to read the transcript of the hearing, and to find out that I was guilty of moral turpitude, so I looked it up in “Black’s Law Dictionary:”
“Moral turpitude means, in general, shameful wickedness—so extreme a departure from ordinary standards of honest, good morals, justice or ethics as to be shocking to the moral sense of the community. It has also been defined as an act of baseness, vileness, or depravity in the private and social duties which one person owes to another or to society in general, contrary to the accepted and customary rule of right and duty between people.” (50 am.Jur. 2d Libel and Slander 165 at 454 (1995) ).
Pretty scary stuff, huh? It was in fact, a false accusation, and I won’t even bother going into the basis of all that now. Let’s get back to Mark’s favorite client, who made him famous, the infamous, Oscar Ray Bolin, Jr. There is too much material here to cover in one account, so I will start with Part I, then proceed from there.
For those who are anxiously awaiting more about “Millionaire Mark Ober and His Gifts and Campaign Contributions questions,” I’m still researching that subject, waiting for more outside information to come in. Be patient.
Oscar Ray Bolin drove a truck back and forth between Florida and Ohio for some time. He had a pretty good M.O., as serial killers and rapists go. While driving up Interstate 75, he’d pick an exit, get off at some random town, snatch up an unsuspecting victim, have his way with her, discard her, get back on the interstate, and be miles away before anyone even discovered the body. Lots of little roads, lanes and ditches out there in the woods on either side of the interstate. Look at a road atlas, trace I-75, and you’ll see how huge Oscar’s hunting ground was. No one will ever know how many victims he actually has out there.
Miraculously, one escaped from him in Ohio after he raped her, and before he could kill her, or the toll might have been much higher. He went to prison in Ohio, where he sat when his ex-wife spilled the beans about Oscar’s exploits in Hillsborough and Pasco Counties.
Three young women, Teri Lynn Matthews, 26 years old, Natalie Blanch Holley, 25 years old, and Stephanie Collins, 17 years old, fatally made the acquaintance of Oscar Ray Bolin over a short period in 1986.
While in the Hillsborough County Jail, Oscar tried to cheat the executioner by attempting suicide. He left a stamped envelope addressed to Captain Gary Terry in the cell, quoted as follows:
“P.S. these were the only five for the state of Fla. That I knowed anything about. If there’s Ever anything Else that you really want to know about then you’ll haft to ask [Coby—his ex-wife], Because she knew just about Every thing that I was Ever a part of. She help spend the money from most of all the armed Robbery’s, and she know about all 3 of these homicide which I’m charged with.”
You might wonder why a hotshot defense attorney like Mark Ober would take on the case of a sick puppy like Oscar Ray Bolin, especially after reading that letter and viewing the evidence against him. “Publicity hound.” Does that make sense? Mark wanted all those prospective paying criminal clients to see his name and photo in the Tampa Tribune and St. Pete Times every day for the weeks, months, and years all his death penalty trials and appeals would dominate the media. You can’t buy such publicity:
“Fred, who do you think I ought to hire to defend me on this cocaine case? “
“Well, that guy, Mark Ober, used to be a prosecutor. He can cut any kind of deal you want. And since he’s defending that notorious serial killer and rapist, Oscar Ray Bolin, you know he has the moral code of an alley cat. That’s your man. Give him a call.”
And they did—enough to make Mark a millionaire before he decided to run against the tainted Harry Lee Coe in 2000, who supposedly blew his brains out before the election, paving the way for Mark to become a public servant. (You’ll have to read my book about the Mafia in Tampa to learn about an alternate theory of Hanging Harry’s death.)
This, in brief, is what the Florida Supreme Court had to say about one of Bolin’s victims:
“Stephanie Collins was last seen on November 5, 1986, in the passenger’s seat of a white van. On December 5, 1986, her body was discovered alongside a road in Hillsborough County. An autopsy revealed that Collins sustained a number of stab wounds and several potentially fatal blows to the head.”
The investigation into Collins’ murder proved unavailing until July, 1990, when Danny Coby telephoned Crime Stoppers in Ft. Wayne, Indiana, with information about the murder. Danny Coby obtained the information from his wife, Cheryl Coby, who had acquired the information during her prior marriage to Bolin. After Mr. Coby’s call, Mrs. Coby told investigators that on November 5, 1986, Bolin, her husband at the time, picked her up from a restaurant, and took her back to their travel trailer. Coby stated that while they were driving, Bolin made several attempts to explain the presence of a dead body in their trailer. Bolin finally told Coby that he had killed a girl by hitting her over the head and stabbing her. Coby further explained that upon their arrival at the trailer, she saw Bolin load what appeared to be the body wrapped in a quilt into his truck. He and Coby then drove to a spot where Bolin dumped the body. Coby later identified that spot to police. When she returned to the trailer, Coby observed that everything inside, including a knife beside the kitchen sink appeared wet. Coby also noticed several blood stains in the trailer.
After Coby’s disclosure, Bolin was extradited to Hillsborough County to await trial for the murder of Stephanie Collins. On June 22, 1991, Bolin attempted suicide.
Despite Mark Ober’s most valiant efforts, his favorite serial killer was convicted of three murders and was sentenced to three death penalties. How could there be any doubt as to his guilt? But thanks to some legal technicalities, Bolin’s murder cases were overturned, he was retried, and sentenced to death again.
Teri Lynn Matthews’ poor mother stated to the newspaper, “How do you get three murder convictions and not be guilty of something? This is a sham of justice. And it’s draining the life out of all of us.”
Had Mark Ober had his way, and the jury believed him, Oscar Ray Bolin would have been found not guilty of all those murders, and could be walking the streets today. Of course, considering what a homicidal maniac he is, odds are that he would have been caught for more murders later, anyway. Somehow, though, the fact that Mark tried so hard to free Bolin scares the crap out of me. I wonder what depths of moral turpitude poor Mark reached when he signed on to that case?
More on that later.
Charlie
Friday, February 27, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
MILLIONAIRE MARK OBER RAKES IN THE GIFTS
Dateline: Wednesday, February 4, 2009
MILLIONAIRE MARK OBER RAKES IN THE GIFTS
What do you give the state attorney who has everything? If you’ve been racking your brain what to get Mark Ober (state attorney of Hillsborough County) for his birthday on May 18th (he’ll be 58), let me make a few suggestions, based on Mark’s quarterly gift disclosures to the Commission on Ethics, along with some other public records we’ll get to later.
New York Yankees patriarch, George Steinbrenner, really likes Mark Ober. How much does he like him? Enough to keep Mark in free tickets to baseball and football events for at least three games in 2008. “The Boss” Steinbrenner gave Mark two tickets to the Yankees/Orioles game last July 30th ($100). That was a Wednesday and Thursday. No mention is made of what Mark was otherwise doing in the Big Apple.
On Saturday, August 23, 2008, “The Man” treated Mark to the Tampa Bay Bucs/Jacksonville Jaguars game, two tickets valued at $914.00 (nice seats). I hope Mark and his friend enjoyed the game.
Earlier in the season, Mark’s friend, Doug Cone, of Ocala, gave Mark four $100 tickets to watch the Yankees and the Houston Astros on March 7th, then Big George stepped up to the plate and gave Mark two $100 tickets to watch the Yankees play the Tampa Bay Rays on March 21st, followed by the Yankees/Pittsburgh game on March 27th, only one ticket this time, for $75. Two of those games were on Fridays, and one on Thursday. I suppose Mark deserves some time off during the week for a ballgame every now and then. His felony bureau chiefs can hold down the fort.
Dick Crippen of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays (pre-name change) only gave Mark tickets once, on July 12, 2007, but they were nice ones, four tickets, $280, to watch Tampa Bay play the Yankees.
Going back over Mark’s quarterly disclosure forms, good old Doug Cone gave Mark four cheap tickets (at $25 per) to see New York play Minnesota on March 7, 2006.
Seems like the only thing Mark likes better than free tickets is cash. Doug Cone shared his wealth with Mark Ober on December 13, 2007, writing him a check for $500 from “Cone Distributing, Inc.,” of Ocala, the maximum campaign contribution allowed by law, and the same day, December 13th, writing him an extra $500 from the account of the “Douglas P. Cone Revocable Trust,” also at the same 500 NW 27th Avenue address in Ocala.
Be careful, Doug, about those $500 contributions! We have some pretty strict campaign finance laws in Florida, especially for exceeding limits, having other people contribute money for you in their names, bundling, and other sneaky tricks used to help out the candidates.
Before I go any further, I want to say that I have the utmost respect for Mr. Steinbrenner and the NY Yankees. As a child the highlight of my spring was when our father would take my two brothers and me to Al Lopez Field to watch the Yankees play the Reds, the spring training game of the season. And I understand that “The Boss” is not only the consummate sportsman, but also a business genius, so I’m sure he has reasons to shower tickets and cash on Mark Ober, as he’s been doing for years.
Most recently, George Steinbrenner, III, gave Mark five hundred bucks on November 21, 2007, to keep the family tradition alive, followed up by two more nice checks the same day, $400 from “Kinsman Properties Corp.,” same address (P.O. Box 25077, Tampa, 33623) and $500 from “Kinsman Companies Partnership” at 1 Steinbrenner Drive in Tampa. Son-in-law, Steve Swindal, gave Mark a nice chunk of change for Mark’s 2004 election campaign, but since he got kicked out of the family, his contributions dried up.
I’m reading these numbers from the Florida Department of State Division of Elections, Campaign Finance Data Base for the 2008 General Election, State Attorney’s race, Hillsborough County. The illustrious Mark Ober, on the particular printout, had 492 contributions for $138,517.80 (come on, people, make your checks out to round numbers) a total of 186 of those contributions were for the maximum, $500, or $93,000, the bulk of the money.
This list makes very interesting reading. You’d be amazed at how many “PA’s,” lawyers, gave money to Mark (DUH!), and how many “PA’s,” (lawyers) did not list the “PA” by their names, like Wayne Chalu, one of Mark’s trusted employees, and my former P.D.’s office appellate lawyer, who listed his home address in St. Pete, along with his wife, Cynthia, $500 each. Perhaps someone could figure out how to make it a payroll deduction. Wayne and Cynthia gave Mark the grand on November 21, 2007, and December 17, 2007, respectively, dates that reoccur often on the list.
There are so many fascinating facts on this one database that I’m going to take a timeout, do some more research, and come back to this subject again. Some of these entries have a strong odor about them, like that rotten thing in Denmark, and bears more scrutiny. So far, I’ve counted at least 115 lawyers or law firms confirmed on the list, and there are some interesting correlations.
If you’d like to check out the list yourself, type in http://election.dos.state.fl.us/cgi-bin/contrib.exe then 2008 General Election, Candidate Ober, Mark. If you come up with any interesting observations, I’d like to hear them.
Back to Mark’s gifts—Paul Teasch, CEO of the St. Pete Times, gave Mark two tickets to the Tampa Bay Lightning hockey game ($150) on December 2, 2005, but nothing since then. Wassamatta, Mark, don’t like hockey?
Fishing equipment is also a good choice. Glenn Chaney of Brandon gave Mark a nice Shimano Stradic 4000 FH fishing reel ($140) in July, 2005. That was awhile back, so he could probably use a new one. Don’t forget some of that fancy new microfiber fishing line; all they had was cheap monofilament when I was out there last in the 1970’s. Sandra Spoto bought Mark a nice “Bait Stik” Sabiki Rod and Shimano Reel – 4000 FA ($120) a few months before Glenn gave him the reel, so that’s probably taken some wear, too.
Mark loves tenderloin steaks! Connie Freeman gave him a box of Williams and Sonoma Perini Ranch Tenderloins ($429) on December 2, 2004; nice post-election Christmas present, Connie, but why haven’t you given him any more in the past four years?
Dennis Lopez got on his good side with some “Arturo Fuente Hemingway Cigars” ($218.95)—watch out for lung cancer—which Mark only smokes when he has something to celebrate, like giving somebody the death penalty.
George and the Yankees kept Mark in Bucs tickets—versus Houston ($457—09/01/05) Bucs vs. Denver Broncos ($457—10/03/04), then Mark hit the jackpot with two really nice Christmas presents in 2004—a “Joe DiMaggio Autographed Baseball” ($855.44)—just think, Mark, the hand that held that ball was married to Marilyn Monroe, and a “NY Yankees Watch!” ($150). Now I’m becoming envious. I had a baseball autographed by Mickey Mantle once, but it got lost in an orange grove. Oh, well.
Mark likes wild game! Ernie Center gave him three tickets to the Brandon Rotary Club Wild Game Cookout, $225. And the felony bureau chiefs gave him a $200 gift certificate to the Sports Authority.
I saw in the “Tampa Tribune,” what’s left of it, that the Sports Authority had a big sale on Rawlings baseball gloves—$6.74 - $224.99. That might be a nice gift for Mark. He can catch a foul ball, get someone to sign it.
Those felony bureau chiefs also bought Mark two pairs of nice dress shoes ($145 and $285). Maybe some silk socks would be a nice touch.
Whoa! Look out! Robert P. Polli gave Mark a Ruger Super Black Hawk .44 magnum pistol ($305). Robert lives in a P.O.Box in Kilauea, Hawaii. Be careful—that thing might go off. How about a nice leather holster for Mark’s gun, or a box of bullets? Maybe some human silhouette targets to take out to the pistol range. Burglars stay away—Mark’s packing big heat. Wasn’t that the same caliber “Dirty Harry” used to blow away the scumbags in Frisco in the ‘70’s?
That’s enough for now. I’m not going to discuss the Mont Blanc pen Ed and Donna Schmoll ($175) got him, or the bottle of champagne Frances Toledo gave him. I’d hate to see Mark drunk and firing that pistol some night! Someone might call the cops on him. I hope you have some good ideas of what to get old Mark for his birthday now. Me, I’m not sending him anything. He’s still fuming over that Christmas card I sent him in 1980—“Merry Christmas from Raiford, wish you were here.” And a Happy Valentines Day to you, too.
Charlie
MILLIONAIRE MARK OBER RAKES IN THE GIFTS
What do you give the state attorney who has everything? If you’ve been racking your brain what to get Mark Ober (state attorney of Hillsborough County) for his birthday on May 18th (he’ll be 58), let me make a few suggestions, based on Mark’s quarterly gift disclosures to the Commission on Ethics, along with some other public records we’ll get to later.
New York Yankees patriarch, George Steinbrenner, really likes Mark Ober. How much does he like him? Enough to keep Mark in free tickets to baseball and football events for at least three games in 2008. “The Boss” Steinbrenner gave Mark two tickets to the Yankees/Orioles game last July 30th ($100). That was a Wednesday and Thursday. No mention is made of what Mark was otherwise doing in the Big Apple.
On Saturday, August 23, 2008, “The Man” treated Mark to the Tampa Bay Bucs/Jacksonville Jaguars game, two tickets valued at $914.00 (nice seats). I hope Mark and his friend enjoyed the game.
Earlier in the season, Mark’s friend, Doug Cone, of Ocala, gave Mark four $100 tickets to watch the Yankees and the Houston Astros on March 7th, then Big George stepped up to the plate and gave Mark two $100 tickets to watch the Yankees play the Tampa Bay Rays on March 21st, followed by the Yankees/Pittsburgh game on March 27th, only one ticket this time, for $75. Two of those games were on Fridays, and one on Thursday. I suppose Mark deserves some time off during the week for a ballgame every now and then. His felony bureau chiefs can hold down the fort.
Dick Crippen of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays (pre-name change) only gave Mark tickets once, on July 12, 2007, but they were nice ones, four tickets, $280, to watch Tampa Bay play the Yankees.
Going back over Mark’s quarterly disclosure forms, good old Doug Cone gave Mark four cheap tickets (at $25 per) to see New York play Minnesota on March 7, 2006.
Seems like the only thing Mark likes better than free tickets is cash. Doug Cone shared his wealth with Mark Ober on December 13, 2007, writing him a check for $500 from “Cone Distributing, Inc.,” of Ocala, the maximum campaign contribution allowed by law, and the same day, December 13th, writing him an extra $500 from the account of the “Douglas P. Cone Revocable Trust,” also at the same 500 NW 27th Avenue address in Ocala.
Be careful, Doug, about those $500 contributions! We have some pretty strict campaign finance laws in Florida, especially for exceeding limits, having other people contribute money for you in their names, bundling, and other sneaky tricks used to help out the candidates.
Before I go any further, I want to say that I have the utmost respect for Mr. Steinbrenner and the NY Yankees. As a child the highlight of my spring was when our father would take my two brothers and me to Al Lopez Field to watch the Yankees play the Reds, the spring training game of the season. And I understand that “The Boss” is not only the consummate sportsman, but also a business genius, so I’m sure he has reasons to shower tickets and cash on Mark Ober, as he’s been doing for years.
Most recently, George Steinbrenner, III, gave Mark five hundred bucks on November 21, 2007, to keep the family tradition alive, followed up by two more nice checks the same day, $400 from “Kinsman Properties Corp.,” same address (P.O. Box 25077, Tampa, 33623) and $500 from “Kinsman Companies Partnership” at 1 Steinbrenner Drive in Tampa. Son-in-law, Steve Swindal, gave Mark a nice chunk of change for Mark’s 2004 election campaign, but since he got kicked out of the family, his contributions dried up.
I’m reading these numbers from the Florida Department of State Division of Elections, Campaign Finance Data Base for the 2008 General Election, State Attorney’s race, Hillsborough County. The illustrious Mark Ober, on the particular printout, had 492 contributions for $138,517.80 (come on, people, make your checks out to round numbers) a total of 186 of those contributions were for the maximum, $500, or $93,000, the bulk of the money.
This list makes very interesting reading. You’d be amazed at how many “PA’s,” lawyers, gave money to Mark (DUH!), and how many “PA’s,” (lawyers) did not list the “PA” by their names, like Wayne Chalu, one of Mark’s trusted employees, and my former P.D.’s office appellate lawyer, who listed his home address in St. Pete, along with his wife, Cynthia, $500 each. Perhaps someone could figure out how to make it a payroll deduction. Wayne and Cynthia gave Mark the grand on November 21, 2007, and December 17, 2007, respectively, dates that reoccur often on the list.
There are so many fascinating facts on this one database that I’m going to take a timeout, do some more research, and come back to this subject again. Some of these entries have a strong odor about them, like that rotten thing in Denmark, and bears more scrutiny. So far, I’ve counted at least 115 lawyers or law firms confirmed on the list, and there are some interesting correlations.
If you’d like to check out the list yourself, type in http://election.dos.state.fl.us/cgi-bin/contrib.exe then 2008 General Election, Candidate Ober, Mark. If you come up with any interesting observations, I’d like to hear them.
Back to Mark’s gifts—Paul Teasch, CEO of the St. Pete Times, gave Mark two tickets to the Tampa Bay Lightning hockey game ($150) on December 2, 2005, but nothing since then. Wassamatta, Mark, don’t like hockey?
Fishing equipment is also a good choice. Glenn Chaney of Brandon gave Mark a nice Shimano Stradic 4000 FH fishing reel ($140) in July, 2005. That was awhile back, so he could probably use a new one. Don’t forget some of that fancy new microfiber fishing line; all they had was cheap monofilament when I was out there last in the 1970’s. Sandra Spoto bought Mark a nice “Bait Stik” Sabiki Rod and Shimano Reel – 4000 FA ($120) a few months before Glenn gave him the reel, so that’s probably taken some wear, too.
Mark loves tenderloin steaks! Connie Freeman gave him a box of Williams and Sonoma Perini Ranch Tenderloins ($429) on December 2, 2004; nice post-election Christmas present, Connie, but why haven’t you given him any more in the past four years?
Dennis Lopez got on his good side with some “Arturo Fuente Hemingway Cigars” ($218.95)—watch out for lung cancer—which Mark only smokes when he has something to celebrate, like giving somebody the death penalty.
George and the Yankees kept Mark in Bucs tickets—versus Houston ($457—09/01/05) Bucs vs. Denver Broncos ($457—10/03/04), then Mark hit the jackpot with two really nice Christmas presents in 2004—a “Joe DiMaggio Autographed Baseball” ($855.44)—just think, Mark, the hand that held that ball was married to Marilyn Monroe, and a “NY Yankees Watch!” ($150). Now I’m becoming envious. I had a baseball autographed by Mickey Mantle once, but it got lost in an orange grove. Oh, well.
Mark likes wild game! Ernie Center gave him three tickets to the Brandon Rotary Club Wild Game Cookout, $225. And the felony bureau chiefs gave him a $200 gift certificate to the Sports Authority.
I saw in the “Tampa Tribune,” what’s left of it, that the Sports Authority had a big sale on Rawlings baseball gloves—$6.74 - $224.99. That might be a nice gift for Mark. He can catch a foul ball, get someone to sign it.
Those felony bureau chiefs also bought Mark two pairs of nice dress shoes ($145 and $285). Maybe some silk socks would be a nice touch.
Whoa! Look out! Robert P. Polli gave Mark a Ruger Super Black Hawk .44 magnum pistol ($305). Robert lives in a P.O.Box in Kilauea, Hawaii. Be careful—that thing might go off. How about a nice leather holster for Mark’s gun, or a box of bullets? Maybe some human silhouette targets to take out to the pistol range. Burglars stay away—Mark’s packing big heat. Wasn’t that the same caliber “Dirty Harry” used to blow away the scumbags in Frisco in the ‘70’s?
That’s enough for now. I’m not going to discuss the Mont Blanc pen Ed and Donna Schmoll ($175) got him, or the bottle of champagne Frances Toledo gave him. I’d hate to see Mark drunk and firing that pistol some night! Someone might call the cops on him. I hope you have some good ideas of what to get old Mark for his birthday now. Me, I’m not sending him anything. He’s still fuming over that Christmas card I sent him in 1980—“Merry Christmas from Raiford, wish you were here.” And a Happy Valentines Day to you, too.
Charlie
Sunday, January 25, 2009
BURT REYNOLDS, “THE LONGEST YARD,” AND WATCHING TV IN PRISON
Dateline: January 24, 2009
BURT REYNOLDS, “THE LONGEST YARD,”
AND WATCHING TV IN PRISON
One recent Saturday night the TV network broadcast the Adam Sandler/Chris Rock remake of the early 1970’s movie, “The Longest Yard.” In the original movie, Burt Reynolds starred as the washed-up quarterback who led Palm Beach police on a merry car chase and wound up serving time at a fictional Florida prison based on my alma mater, “The Rock,” AKA Raiford and Union C.I. The Florida prison people must have still had a bad taste in their mouths at how they were portrayed in “Cool Hand Luke,” with Paul Newman in the starring role, a few years before since they wouldn’t cooperate with Burt Reynolds’ movie production. Instead, Jimmy Carter gave them permission to film at the equally infamous Reidsville, Georgia, prison made over to appear to be in Florida.
That was then. The 21st century remake, cleaned up and more politically correct than the raw original, was situated at a ragged, corrupt federal prison in West Texas, sort of a Judge Roy Bean meets Mad Max. It had its moments, though, and a few flashes of humor channeled from the classic original.
If you’ve never spent Saturday night in a tiny, crowded TV room packed with prisoners watching a movie on a very small screen with a malfunctioning speaker, take my word for it that its an experience. Elbow-to-elbow with murderers, robbers, rapists, kidnappers, dope dealers, and crackheads is not my idea of an optimum evening, but after over thirty years in prison, what choice did I have? I’d seen the original at least 35 years before at a theater in Tampa. In my wildest dreams, I’d never have imagined that in the next century I’d be watching its remake in prison.
This is reality: most men in prison are homosexuals. I looked around at the men seated on the cold steel benches beside, in front, and in back of me, and realized that a Cuban and I were the only non-gays in the audience. Some prisoners are more overtly gay than others, though, and the front bench was filled with “sissies,” effeminate men with shaved eyebrows, chests, and legs, wearing homemade makeup and tight shorts, giggling in falsetto voices, going into hysterics when the movie “cheerleaders” appeared on the screen, encouraging the prison footballers. The muscle-bound testosterone prisoners who played the “man roles” as well as the outnumbered “straights” laughed equally hard.
Sitting there comparing the old with the new, I couldn’t help but flash back close to twenty-six years before when I was at Raiford and my brush with Burt Reynolds, “The Longest Yard,” the Tampa Bay Bandits football team, and owner, John Bassett.
Tom McEwen was the “Tampa Tribune’s” iconic sports editor. His daughter, Ginny, and I were King High School classmates in the 1960’s, and I bagged his groceries when he shopped most every Friday evening at the Kwik Chek grocery in Temple Terrace. I read his column, “The Morning After,” religiously.
Perhaps you’ll remember the USFL, the upstart football league that challenged the NFL for about three seasons in the early 1980’s. John Bassett, the Canadian millionaire, father of teen tennis star, Carling Bassett, and the man who helped singer, Gordon Lightfoot, get his start, became the majority owner of the Tampa Bay Bandits. Burt Reynolds, in his prime and height of popularity, bought a minority interest and became the public face of the Bandits.
Tom McEwen interviewed Burt for “The Morning After,” and asked him questions about the Tampa Bay Bandits and the role he would play. Burt told him that since he was so closely associated with his hit movie, “The Longest Yard,” that the team’s first football game might be against a prison team. That prompted me to write him a letter, in care of Tom McEwen.
I challenged Burt and the Tampa Bay Bandits to a football game against a team of prisoners at Raiford, the real “bandits.” I did it as a joke, not expecting anything to come of it. Little did I know.
A week later they summoned me to see my classification officer, Mr. Hicks. He told me that Mike Flanagan, a “St. Pete Times” reporter, had requested a telephone interview. Would I agree to it? I had no idea what it was about. He told me it had something to do with Burt Reynolds. Okay.
The reporter called from John Bassett’s office. Tom McEwen had forwarded my letter to him, and he called a friendly reporter. Mr. Flanagan wanted to ask me some questions about my challenge for an article. Fine. John Bassett wanted to talk to me, too. I didn’t talk to many millionaire team owners in my diminished circumstances, despite some early associations with the fledgling Tampa Bay Bucs in 1976, so what did I have to lose?
The reporter relayed John Bassett’s response that Burt was only kidding when he said he wanted the Bandits to play a prison team. Bassett didn’t want his players to get hurt before their season ever began. The reporter asked if I had a reply to that. I told him, “If Burt’s scared, just say he’s scared.” A series of guffaws from the other end erupted from the speakerphone.
We had a good time. John Bassett was a good sport, and he liked my sense of humor. We hit it off like old friends reunited. Even though he didn’t want to play our prison football team, he did promise to bring the Bandits, Burt, and some cheerleaders to Raiford for a visit and get together. A publicity stunt, but that was fine, too.
The visit was coming together until the last minute, when the prison people abruptly denied it. Perhaps those “Cool Hand Luke” hard feelings were still near the surface. Perhaps it was a failure to communicate. I don’t know. You never get a straight answer from those folks.
John Bassett had befriended me, taken me under his wing, so to speak, and accepted my collect phone calls. He sent “Bandits” banners and collectibles, which the prison allowed me to get in and pass around. The immediate success of the Bandits, Coach Steve Spurrier, and quarterback John Reaves from Tampa, compared to the inept Bucs, made them a prison favorite. I had told John about my case after he asked if I was willing to talk about it, which I was, and he volunteered to help me. I had no money, no lawyer, and no prospects beyond a life sentence for a murder I hadn’t committed, so his appearance in my life and desire to help me, all because of a joking letter, seemed like divine intervention. Then he fell ill.
He wrote me about it before it got too bad. We talked about it on the phone. I organized prisoner prayer groups to ask God to spare him, but the malignant brain tumor showed no mercy.
The last letter I got was from his manager who regretted to inform me that my friend was near the end and wouldn’t last much longer. But he wanted me to know that John had valued our friendship, that I’d brought him joy, and the get-well card that we’d all signed was in his hospital room. A week later, the “Tampa Tribune” reported that John Bassett was dead at 46, a life cut short. I said prayers for his family and his soul and grieved for a lost friend.
I am 59 years old now. Burt must be at least 70. But there he was, on the TV, taking the ball from Adam Sandler and running for a touchdown. Run, Burt, run! We applauded him.
I couldn’t tell any of those men in the TV room about all that past. They wouldn’t understand. Most of them weren’t even born when Burt played his original role and was seduced by Bernadette Peters in the warden’s office. Bernadette who? Nevermind. Burt’s still running, and so am I.
Charlie
BURT REYNOLDS, “THE LONGEST YARD,”
AND WATCHING TV IN PRISON
One recent Saturday night the TV network broadcast the Adam Sandler/Chris Rock remake of the early 1970’s movie, “The Longest Yard.” In the original movie, Burt Reynolds starred as the washed-up quarterback who led Palm Beach police on a merry car chase and wound up serving time at a fictional Florida prison based on my alma mater, “The Rock,” AKA Raiford and Union C.I. The Florida prison people must have still had a bad taste in their mouths at how they were portrayed in “Cool Hand Luke,” with Paul Newman in the starring role, a few years before since they wouldn’t cooperate with Burt Reynolds’ movie production. Instead, Jimmy Carter gave them permission to film at the equally infamous Reidsville, Georgia, prison made over to appear to be in Florida.
That was then. The 21st century remake, cleaned up and more politically correct than the raw original, was situated at a ragged, corrupt federal prison in West Texas, sort of a Judge Roy Bean meets Mad Max. It had its moments, though, and a few flashes of humor channeled from the classic original.
If you’ve never spent Saturday night in a tiny, crowded TV room packed with prisoners watching a movie on a very small screen with a malfunctioning speaker, take my word for it that its an experience. Elbow-to-elbow with murderers, robbers, rapists, kidnappers, dope dealers, and crackheads is not my idea of an optimum evening, but after over thirty years in prison, what choice did I have? I’d seen the original at least 35 years before at a theater in Tampa. In my wildest dreams, I’d never have imagined that in the next century I’d be watching its remake in prison.
This is reality: most men in prison are homosexuals. I looked around at the men seated on the cold steel benches beside, in front, and in back of me, and realized that a Cuban and I were the only non-gays in the audience. Some prisoners are more overtly gay than others, though, and the front bench was filled with “sissies,” effeminate men with shaved eyebrows, chests, and legs, wearing homemade makeup and tight shorts, giggling in falsetto voices, going into hysterics when the movie “cheerleaders” appeared on the screen, encouraging the prison footballers. The muscle-bound testosterone prisoners who played the “man roles” as well as the outnumbered “straights” laughed equally hard.
Sitting there comparing the old with the new, I couldn’t help but flash back close to twenty-six years before when I was at Raiford and my brush with Burt Reynolds, “The Longest Yard,” the Tampa Bay Bandits football team, and owner, John Bassett.
Tom McEwen was the “Tampa Tribune’s” iconic sports editor. His daughter, Ginny, and I were King High School classmates in the 1960’s, and I bagged his groceries when he shopped most every Friday evening at the Kwik Chek grocery in Temple Terrace. I read his column, “The Morning After,” religiously.
Perhaps you’ll remember the USFL, the upstart football league that challenged the NFL for about three seasons in the early 1980’s. John Bassett, the Canadian millionaire, father of teen tennis star, Carling Bassett, and the man who helped singer, Gordon Lightfoot, get his start, became the majority owner of the Tampa Bay Bandits. Burt Reynolds, in his prime and height of popularity, bought a minority interest and became the public face of the Bandits.
Tom McEwen interviewed Burt for “The Morning After,” and asked him questions about the Tampa Bay Bandits and the role he would play. Burt told him that since he was so closely associated with his hit movie, “The Longest Yard,” that the team’s first football game might be against a prison team. That prompted me to write him a letter, in care of Tom McEwen.
I challenged Burt and the Tampa Bay Bandits to a football game against a team of prisoners at Raiford, the real “bandits.” I did it as a joke, not expecting anything to come of it. Little did I know.
A week later they summoned me to see my classification officer, Mr. Hicks. He told me that Mike Flanagan, a “St. Pete Times” reporter, had requested a telephone interview. Would I agree to it? I had no idea what it was about. He told me it had something to do with Burt Reynolds. Okay.
The reporter called from John Bassett’s office. Tom McEwen had forwarded my letter to him, and he called a friendly reporter. Mr. Flanagan wanted to ask me some questions about my challenge for an article. Fine. John Bassett wanted to talk to me, too. I didn’t talk to many millionaire team owners in my diminished circumstances, despite some early associations with the fledgling Tampa Bay Bucs in 1976, so what did I have to lose?
The reporter relayed John Bassett’s response that Burt was only kidding when he said he wanted the Bandits to play a prison team. Bassett didn’t want his players to get hurt before their season ever began. The reporter asked if I had a reply to that. I told him, “If Burt’s scared, just say he’s scared.” A series of guffaws from the other end erupted from the speakerphone.
We had a good time. John Bassett was a good sport, and he liked my sense of humor. We hit it off like old friends reunited. Even though he didn’t want to play our prison football team, he did promise to bring the Bandits, Burt, and some cheerleaders to Raiford for a visit and get together. A publicity stunt, but that was fine, too.
The visit was coming together until the last minute, when the prison people abruptly denied it. Perhaps those “Cool Hand Luke” hard feelings were still near the surface. Perhaps it was a failure to communicate. I don’t know. You never get a straight answer from those folks.
John Bassett had befriended me, taken me under his wing, so to speak, and accepted my collect phone calls. He sent “Bandits” banners and collectibles, which the prison allowed me to get in and pass around. The immediate success of the Bandits, Coach Steve Spurrier, and quarterback John Reaves from Tampa, compared to the inept Bucs, made them a prison favorite. I had told John about my case after he asked if I was willing to talk about it, which I was, and he volunteered to help me. I had no money, no lawyer, and no prospects beyond a life sentence for a murder I hadn’t committed, so his appearance in my life and desire to help me, all because of a joking letter, seemed like divine intervention. Then he fell ill.
He wrote me about it before it got too bad. We talked about it on the phone. I organized prisoner prayer groups to ask God to spare him, but the malignant brain tumor showed no mercy.
The last letter I got was from his manager who regretted to inform me that my friend was near the end and wouldn’t last much longer. But he wanted me to know that John had valued our friendship, that I’d brought him joy, and the get-well card that we’d all signed was in his hospital room. A week later, the “Tampa Tribune” reported that John Bassett was dead at 46, a life cut short. I said prayers for his family and his soul and grieved for a lost friend.
I am 59 years old now. Burt must be at least 70. But there he was, on the TV, taking the ball from Adam Sandler and running for a touchdown. Run, Burt, run! We applauded him.
I couldn’t tell any of those men in the TV room about all that past. They wouldn’t understand. Most of them weren’t even born when Burt played his original role and was seduced by Bernadette Peters in the warden’s office. Bernadette who? Nevermind. Burt’s still running, and so am I.
Charlie
Thursday, January 22, 2009
TIM TEBOW, RELIGIOUS ZEALOTS, AND GOD IN PRISON
Dateline: January 16, 2009
TIM TEBOW, RELIGIOUS ZEALOTS, AND GOD IN PRISON
Since the Florida Gators football team and quarterback, Tim Tebow, won the BCS national championship, the media has focused attention on Tebow’s faith and open sharing of his Christianity. In this age of wacko and loony scammers (televangelists) living the jet set high life off donations from the gullible, it can only be expected that doubters would question Tebow’s sincerity, and try to figure out what his angle is.
After being in the front row to witness an incredible parade of nutcases, religious zealots, and con men intermingles with an occasional sincere “man of God” coming in to address us state prisoners for over thirty years, I’ve developed a fairly well-tuned sense of discernment when it comes to who is true or false. I’ve been watching this incredible young man, Tebow, for three years, and I can tell you right now that he is “the real deal.” You will hear a lot more from him in the coming years, and I don’t mean just on the football field.
You might not think that there is much humor in prison, but when it comes to God and man, you’d be amazed at how crazy and wild it gets sometimes, so weird that you couldn’t make this stuff up.
For several years in the 1980’s, I wrote a column titled, “Christ Is Alive and Well in Prison,” more of a serious recounting of prisoners whose lives changed through accepting Christ.
Prison is an evil place and many scoff at the “chain gang conversions” some prisoners profess. The ones who “fall back” and renounce their faith, or get out and screw up again make it hard on those who’ve had true life-changing experiences. But it is in society’s best interest, I believe, to encourage spiritual programs in prison, despite the phonies and poseurs. Who would you prefer to be walking the streets—an ex-con who’d forsaken his evil ways, found God, and led a law-abiding life, going to church every Sunday, or a heathen who worshipped Satan (we have plenty of those, too), who hated society, who lived to wreak havoc, sell drugs, burgle, rob, rape, murder, until he got caught? That’s a no-brainer, as they say.
There are many well-meaning religious zealots in prison, prisoners and guards, who, though sincere, are sometimes misguided. I want to tell you about two I knew at Raiford.
Tom looked like Clark Kent in a prison blue uniform, tall, handsome, clean-cut. Put him in a suit on the street, and you’d never guess he was a convicted felon. He took his religious conversion seriously, and like a chain gang John the Baptist, he spent his days trying to save as many lost souls as possible.
Raiford had a large school and vocational building. Ty Jordan, the education chief, had a fish pond built outside next to the school, perhaps three feet deep, and brought in a couple buckets of tropical fish to populate it. The fish reproduced so well that prisoners would scoop up guppies and swordtails to populate their own little aquariums spread throughout the prison.
Tom would go around every day preaching to anyone who’d listen. One day he pegged a guard who professed his desire to accept Christ. Tom told him he needed to be baptized. Fine. Where? The prison chaplain wouldn’t let them use the chapel baptismal font. Hey! How about that fish pond by the school? Perfect!
The water was kind of green and full of little fish, so Tom got a gallon jug of Clorox bleach to sanitize it. Worked fine—all the fish went belly-up in seconds.
A crowd gathered round as Tom and the guard climbed into Ty Jordan’s fish pond. Tom believed in full immersion baptism, just like John and the River Jordan. He said the words, dunked the guard, and everyone applauded.
It didn’t take more than a minute or so for someone to snitch them out. Ty Jordan was mightily offended that two nuts were wading in his fish pond, and all his fish had been killed. The “goon squad” appeared, handcuffed Tom and locked him up for “destruction of state property.” The newly-baptized guard, still soaking, was escorted out, chewed out by the colonel, then fired. I can’t imagine what the grounds were. Tom did no more baptisms in the fish pond. “C’est la vie.”
“Trooper” was the nickname of a wild-eyed guard who looked like a cross between Woody Allen and Charles Manson. When he was loose on the compound, he would approach prisoners and guards singly and in groups, pull out a handful of tracts, little religious booklets, and ask them questions.
“Are you a Christian? Have you been saved? Have you been washed in the blood of the Lamb? Where are you going to spend eternity? Heaven or Hell?”
These are important questions, but Trooper’s wide-open zealotry was a little too heavy for some people, and he scared many of them off. They’d see Trooper coming from one direction, and they’d head the opposite way. He was the butt of a lot of ribbing, too. He took it all good-naturedly.
One day Trooper was addressing a group of prisoners standing by the weight pile sharing his faith, when a prisoner asked him a question.
“Trooper, how can you call yourself a Christian when you’re up in that gun tower with a shotgun? I thought God said, ‘Thou shall not kill.’ True or false? Are you a hypocrite?”
Trooper thought for a moment and said, “I’ve told the colonel the very same thing. Why do you keep putting me in that gun tower? Thou shalt not kill. I wouldn’t shoot anyone.”
Hmmm… A couple of prisoners took him at his word. The next time Trooper was in the gun tower, they hit the fence. Raiford had three twelve-foot fences encircling the prison. They got over the first fence, were climbing the second fence, almost to the top, when there was a “BOOM, BOOM!” double shotgun blasts. They fell to the ground, wounded, but luckily not dead.
A month later, Trooper was back on the compound. Some prisoners approached him, and one asked, “Trooper, I thought you said God forbid you from shooting people?”
Trooper had a pained expression on his face, and answered, “You know, God doesn’t want me to lose my job!”
End of story. It takes all kinds. God bless ‘em.
Charlie
TIM TEBOW, RELIGIOUS ZEALOTS, AND GOD IN PRISON
Since the Florida Gators football team and quarterback, Tim Tebow, won the BCS national championship, the media has focused attention on Tebow’s faith and open sharing of his Christianity. In this age of wacko and loony scammers (televangelists) living the jet set high life off donations from the gullible, it can only be expected that doubters would question Tebow’s sincerity, and try to figure out what his angle is.
After being in the front row to witness an incredible parade of nutcases, religious zealots, and con men intermingles with an occasional sincere “man of God” coming in to address us state prisoners for over thirty years, I’ve developed a fairly well-tuned sense of discernment when it comes to who is true or false. I’ve been watching this incredible young man, Tebow, for three years, and I can tell you right now that he is “the real deal.” You will hear a lot more from him in the coming years, and I don’t mean just on the football field.
You might not think that there is much humor in prison, but when it comes to God and man, you’d be amazed at how crazy and wild it gets sometimes, so weird that you couldn’t make this stuff up.
For several years in the 1980’s, I wrote a column titled, “Christ Is Alive and Well in Prison,” more of a serious recounting of prisoners whose lives changed through accepting Christ.
Prison is an evil place and many scoff at the “chain gang conversions” some prisoners profess. The ones who “fall back” and renounce their faith, or get out and screw up again make it hard on those who’ve had true life-changing experiences. But it is in society’s best interest, I believe, to encourage spiritual programs in prison, despite the phonies and poseurs. Who would you prefer to be walking the streets—an ex-con who’d forsaken his evil ways, found God, and led a law-abiding life, going to church every Sunday, or a heathen who worshipped Satan (we have plenty of those, too), who hated society, who lived to wreak havoc, sell drugs, burgle, rob, rape, murder, until he got caught? That’s a no-brainer, as they say.
There are many well-meaning religious zealots in prison, prisoners and guards, who, though sincere, are sometimes misguided. I want to tell you about two I knew at Raiford.
Tom looked like Clark Kent in a prison blue uniform, tall, handsome, clean-cut. Put him in a suit on the street, and you’d never guess he was a convicted felon. He took his religious conversion seriously, and like a chain gang John the Baptist, he spent his days trying to save as many lost souls as possible.
Raiford had a large school and vocational building. Ty Jordan, the education chief, had a fish pond built outside next to the school, perhaps three feet deep, and brought in a couple buckets of tropical fish to populate it. The fish reproduced so well that prisoners would scoop up guppies and swordtails to populate their own little aquariums spread throughout the prison.
Tom would go around every day preaching to anyone who’d listen. One day he pegged a guard who professed his desire to accept Christ. Tom told him he needed to be baptized. Fine. Where? The prison chaplain wouldn’t let them use the chapel baptismal font. Hey! How about that fish pond by the school? Perfect!
The water was kind of green and full of little fish, so Tom got a gallon jug of Clorox bleach to sanitize it. Worked fine—all the fish went belly-up in seconds.
A crowd gathered round as Tom and the guard climbed into Ty Jordan’s fish pond. Tom believed in full immersion baptism, just like John and the River Jordan. He said the words, dunked the guard, and everyone applauded.
It didn’t take more than a minute or so for someone to snitch them out. Ty Jordan was mightily offended that two nuts were wading in his fish pond, and all his fish had been killed. The “goon squad” appeared, handcuffed Tom and locked him up for “destruction of state property.” The newly-baptized guard, still soaking, was escorted out, chewed out by the colonel, then fired. I can’t imagine what the grounds were. Tom did no more baptisms in the fish pond. “C’est la vie.”
“Trooper” was the nickname of a wild-eyed guard who looked like a cross between Woody Allen and Charles Manson. When he was loose on the compound, he would approach prisoners and guards singly and in groups, pull out a handful of tracts, little religious booklets, and ask them questions.
“Are you a Christian? Have you been saved? Have you been washed in the blood of the Lamb? Where are you going to spend eternity? Heaven or Hell?”
These are important questions, but Trooper’s wide-open zealotry was a little too heavy for some people, and he scared many of them off. They’d see Trooper coming from one direction, and they’d head the opposite way. He was the butt of a lot of ribbing, too. He took it all good-naturedly.
One day Trooper was addressing a group of prisoners standing by the weight pile sharing his faith, when a prisoner asked him a question.
“Trooper, how can you call yourself a Christian when you’re up in that gun tower with a shotgun? I thought God said, ‘Thou shall not kill.’ True or false? Are you a hypocrite?”
Trooper thought for a moment and said, “I’ve told the colonel the very same thing. Why do you keep putting me in that gun tower? Thou shalt not kill. I wouldn’t shoot anyone.”
Hmmm… A couple of prisoners took him at his word. The next time Trooper was in the gun tower, they hit the fence. Raiford had three twelve-foot fences encircling the prison. They got over the first fence, were climbing the second fence, almost to the top, when there was a “BOOM, BOOM!” double shotgun blasts. They fell to the ground, wounded, but luckily not dead.
A month later, Trooper was back on the compound. Some prisoners approached him, and one asked, “Trooper, I thought you said God forbid you from shooting people?”
Trooper had a pained expression on his face, and answered, “You know, God doesn’t want me to lose my job!”
End of story. It takes all kinds. God bless ‘em.
Charlie
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
HOW TO SAVE THE STATE A QUARTER BILLION DOLLARS
Dateline: January 1, 2009
HOW TO SAVE THE STATE A QUARTER BILLION DOLLARS
When I came to prison, the system held about 20,000 unfortunate souls, guarded and administrated by several thousand public servants. Thirty years later, the system is bursting at the seams with ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND!—count ‘em—100,000 prisoners nervously guarded and administrated by a bloated bureaucracy that has equivalently swollen by FIVE HUNDRED PERCENT! That nearly seventeen percent annual increase has outpaced the Dow Jones, Standard & Poors, and NASDAQ indexes to a current budget of over $2.5 billion a year.
Now the Tampa Tribune reports that Florida citizens must bankroll the construction of nineteen more prisons over the next five years to contain the still-burgeoning prison population. In this era of economic collapse, decreasing tax revenues, budget deficits, widespread home foreclosures, job losses and bankruptcies, something’s got to give. How can we possibly afford to imprison an even greater percentage of our citizenry? It’s simple—we can’t. We must look in a new direction.
As someone who has lived under the long arm of the law and order, lock ‘em up and throw away the key criminal justice “philosophy” of the 1970’s, it seems clear that something drastic must be done to arrest these developments.
Open your eyes, people! This isn’t working. Cut four percent here, four percent there, that sounds good, but at the end of the day all we’ve done is dig the hole deeper. And the deeper we dig this giant prison hole, the harder it will be to climb out of it.
It makes dollars and sense that a new “philosophy” of crime and punishment in Florida must be implemented before this system swells to such gargantuan size that it collapses and implodes, creating problems unknown, unexpected, and unforeseen by our current “experts.”
From inside the fences we can see the seismic waves signaling the forthcoming 9/11 corrections collapse of the twin towers of crime and punishment. Why doesn’t the public pull its collective head out of the sand and do the right thing before it is too late? Good question. Now, for some answers.
You can’t unbuild a prison. It is a fact in Florida if you build a prison they will come and fill it. It is another fact that prison construction costs are one of the biggest hidden ripoffs you’ll ever find. Someone should check and see if that Ponzi-schemer, Bernie Madoff, invested in prison construction over the past twenty years.
I live in a concrete “cell” of a hair less than sixty-seven square feet. I share that sixty-seven square feet with a push-button toilet, a sink, two steel lockers, steel double bunk beds, and a cellmate. There’s not much room to maneuver. Close quarters.
We hear that word, “infrastructure,” frequently these days. Our nation’s infrastructure is aging and crumbling, and must be replaced at a cost of trillions of dollars. Along with that, all those cheaply-constructed prisons that were hastily built to house the current population of 100,000 people are aging and crumbling, too. Forget about the nineteen new prisons they want to build. We need to worry about the ones we have now that are falling apart and the escalating repair costs they require.
You think it’s tough living in a small bathroom-sized cell with another person 24/7, wait until you’re locked inside that cell with the water pipes broken, non-functioning toilets, and no drinking water for eighteen out of the past twenty four hours, as we have done this day, January 2, 2009. This is not a rare occurrence. We went for weeks without water a few months back when they had to dig up and replace several hundred feet of cracked pipes. And it is only getting worse. There is little money available for maintaining these aging prisons.
They price these prisons by the cost per cell. I don’t have the exact figure—you bet the DOC does—but some years back I was astounded that new prison construction averaged out at $50,000 a cell. $50,000! For my sixty-seven square foot cell, that comes out to about $746 a square foot. That’s right—$746. A square foot. Where is Conrad Hilton when you need him? Where are the rare carpeting and wood paneling, the gold toilet fixtures?
Those are the old numbers. The “new” numbers talk about $100,000 per cell, almost $1500 a square foot, or $120 million for a twelve hundred man prison. How can they get away with that? How can we afford it? We can’t.
Once you build them, the problems are just beginning. Now you have to pay to keep them running in perpetuity.
What is the greatest expense item in the prison department’s budget? Not construction, not prisoners’ food, not health care, but payroll, the salaries for the guards and administrators, and they never go down.
Recently I wrote about the high cost of prison discipline, how the “costs of incarceration” are increased by the lost “gain time” resulting from bogus and undeserved disciplinary reports written by malicious and vindictive guards. Those costs could be up in the millions, but they pale when compared to the incredible bi-weekly payroll checks sent out to the thousands of corrections employees.
Do you want to save a quick million dollars? Prison rules require all prisoners to be “clean shaven,” which entails issuing two disposable razors each week to 100,000 people, or over ten million razors a year. Surely those razors cost at least ten cents apiece, or over one million dollars. Dispense with the clean shaven rule, as many states and the federal government have done, let those who want to shave buy a cheap razor from the canteen, and shave off a million dollars from the budget. Chicken feed. That’s not a drop in the bucket.
Would you rather save a bigger chunk, up in the millions of dollars in health care costs? Quit selling tobacco products in prison, and ban all smoking on prison property for staff and prisoners. Millions upon millions.
Smoking-related health costs are skyrocketing. Recent studies have shown that secondhand smoke kills a minimum of 46,000 Americans a year from heart attacks. Although state and federal laws forbid smoking inside prison buildings, including dormitories, most guards don’t even try to stop it. Sometimes I’ll walk down the hall to the water cooler and almost choke on the billowing clouds of smoke pouring out from cells. The tiny TV room is even worse. One person surreptitiously lights up and threatens the lives of two dozen others. Quit selling tobacco products and reduce medical expenses.
That is a bigger drop in the bucket. We can do better than that. How? How can we save ten percent—$250 million a year, every year, starting in a year? Reduce the prison population ten percent—10,000 prisoners—reduce the staff ten percent—close ten percent of the prisons. Impossible? Not hardly. Tough times call for extreme measures. Let me tell you how.
Prison is a revolving door. Criminals get out, criminals come back in. The actual recidivism percentages are debatable and up for grabs. Some say fifty percent get out and come back in within three years of release. Some say two-thirds. Certain crimes result in higher recidivism rates while certain others are very low. Some prisoners never get out, but grow old in the decades inside, then die. But for the last ten to twenty years of those long sentences, those aging, toothless (literally) old men cost the taxpayers $100,000 to $200,000 a year and more, depending on their medical conditions. I heard of one man whose outside hospital cost $250,000. And he’s still kicking, running up an incredible tab.
Forget about rehabilitation. There wasn’t room in the budget. They cut that out over twenty years ago. The fact is that prison is a young man’s game. I see teenagers coming to prison every week, getting younger. They are mostly uneducated, ignorant, drug-addicted, ruthless, uncaring about society, amoral and uninterested in change. We are growing bumper crops of these people, and doing little to prevent them from coming to prison, or doing their short bits of two or three years, getting out, re-offending, coming back in for two or three years, hustling in and out of that revolving door, doing life on the installment plan.
We have two classes of prisoners I propose we focus our budget-cutting attention on the young and the old, the short-timers and the long-termers. I admit I have a self-interest in this. I am a long-termer, having spent thirty-one years in prison (that’s another story), and I happen to know for a fact that if they let me out tomorrow, I would spend the rest of my days as a law-abiding, tax-paying citizen, contributing to society. I’m not the only one. There are thousands more like me, men who’ve served decades in prison, rightly or wrongly, who, if they were released tomorrow would never see the inside of a prison again. Some of these men are fifty-sixty-seventy-eighty-even ninety years old. It’s ridiculous to keep them all in prison.
Let them go. If the person is fifty years old or more, has done twenty years in prison or more, put them on the list to be released. Take the oldest 5,000 prisoners in that category, screen them, and let them go. Don’t just kick them out the front gate and leave them to the wolves, but give them a chance to get out and stay out. You can do it. Try it—you’ll like it. Reduce the prison population by 5,000 of the oldest, sickest, least likely to re-offend, and save the state close to $125 million, or more, a year.
That’s half the plan. Now for the short-timers. That’s where they usually focus their early release attention, those serving the last thirty, sixty, or ninety days in prison, kick them out a little early, save a few million. Even so, there are hardcore law-and-order types who scream when somebody suggests “early release” of a month or so, people who are determined to squeeze the last drop of blood from the turnip, no matter how much it costs. For those people I say, get over it. We have to stop nitpicking. They’re going to get out soon, anyway. Go ahead and save everyone some money.
Make a list of the 5,000 prisoners with the least time remaining on their sentences. See where the numbers fall, It might be six months, even a year. Evaluate the list, figure it out. I’m not advocating for sex offenders—put an asterisk by their names, deal with them separately. Take 5,000 of the youngest, shortest-time serving, non-violent prisoners, and let them go. Save another $100-125 million dollars this year. Add it up—we’re talking a quarter billion dollars here. Close some prisons, don’t open them up. Cut the staff. Cut the budget. Put fiscal responsibility to the forefront.
I’m not saying it will be easy. It will take work. There are many considerations, such as re-training and re-hiring all those extra prison guards into different jobs, implementing the abandoned educational and vocational programs back into the prisons so that the remaining prisoners can be prepared for law-abiding lives in society. Education and job training are the biggest bargains in crime fighting, and the first ones to be cut when money is tight. That makes no long-term sense.
In addition, we as a society must rethink our ideas on crime and poverty, work toward reducing the precursors to crime, the unemployment, widespread drug use, failed school systems, the broken-down family structures that foster child neglect and abuse, all our societal ills that guide an innocent child down a crooked path that leads to eventual imprisonment. The money we spend to keep that eighteen-year old in prison for eighteen more years could have been better invested on the front end, when there was still hope for intervention, to save the life of that child and his brothers and sisters, to prepare them for college, rather than prepare them for trial.
Let’s do something drastic. Let’s do the right thing. What do we have to lose? A quarter billion dollar debt
HOW TO SAVE THE STATE A QUARTER BILLION DOLLARS
When I came to prison, the system held about 20,000 unfortunate souls, guarded and administrated by several thousand public servants. Thirty years later, the system is bursting at the seams with ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND!—count ‘em—100,000 prisoners nervously guarded and administrated by a bloated bureaucracy that has equivalently swollen by FIVE HUNDRED PERCENT! That nearly seventeen percent annual increase has outpaced the Dow Jones, Standard & Poors, and NASDAQ indexes to a current budget of over $2.5 billion a year.
Now the Tampa Tribune reports that Florida citizens must bankroll the construction of nineteen more prisons over the next five years to contain the still-burgeoning prison population. In this era of economic collapse, decreasing tax revenues, budget deficits, widespread home foreclosures, job losses and bankruptcies, something’s got to give. How can we possibly afford to imprison an even greater percentage of our citizenry? It’s simple—we can’t. We must look in a new direction.
As someone who has lived under the long arm of the law and order, lock ‘em up and throw away the key criminal justice “philosophy” of the 1970’s, it seems clear that something drastic must be done to arrest these developments.
Open your eyes, people! This isn’t working. Cut four percent here, four percent there, that sounds good, but at the end of the day all we’ve done is dig the hole deeper. And the deeper we dig this giant prison hole, the harder it will be to climb out of it.
It makes dollars and sense that a new “philosophy” of crime and punishment in Florida must be implemented before this system swells to such gargantuan size that it collapses and implodes, creating problems unknown, unexpected, and unforeseen by our current “experts.”
From inside the fences we can see the seismic waves signaling the forthcoming 9/11 corrections collapse of the twin towers of crime and punishment. Why doesn’t the public pull its collective head out of the sand and do the right thing before it is too late? Good question. Now, for some answers.
You can’t unbuild a prison. It is a fact in Florida if you build a prison they will come and fill it. It is another fact that prison construction costs are one of the biggest hidden ripoffs you’ll ever find. Someone should check and see if that Ponzi-schemer, Bernie Madoff, invested in prison construction over the past twenty years.
I live in a concrete “cell” of a hair less than sixty-seven square feet. I share that sixty-seven square feet with a push-button toilet, a sink, two steel lockers, steel double bunk beds, and a cellmate. There’s not much room to maneuver. Close quarters.
We hear that word, “infrastructure,” frequently these days. Our nation’s infrastructure is aging and crumbling, and must be replaced at a cost of trillions of dollars. Along with that, all those cheaply-constructed prisons that were hastily built to house the current population of 100,000 people are aging and crumbling, too. Forget about the nineteen new prisons they want to build. We need to worry about the ones we have now that are falling apart and the escalating repair costs they require.
You think it’s tough living in a small bathroom-sized cell with another person 24/7, wait until you’re locked inside that cell with the water pipes broken, non-functioning toilets, and no drinking water for eighteen out of the past twenty four hours, as we have done this day, January 2, 2009. This is not a rare occurrence. We went for weeks without water a few months back when they had to dig up and replace several hundred feet of cracked pipes. And it is only getting worse. There is little money available for maintaining these aging prisons.
They price these prisons by the cost per cell. I don’t have the exact figure—you bet the DOC does—but some years back I was astounded that new prison construction averaged out at $50,000 a cell. $50,000! For my sixty-seven square foot cell, that comes out to about $746 a square foot. That’s right—$746. A square foot. Where is Conrad Hilton when you need him? Where are the rare carpeting and wood paneling, the gold toilet fixtures?
Those are the old numbers. The “new” numbers talk about $100,000 per cell, almost $1500 a square foot, or $120 million for a twelve hundred man prison. How can they get away with that? How can we afford it? We can’t.
Once you build them, the problems are just beginning. Now you have to pay to keep them running in perpetuity.
What is the greatest expense item in the prison department’s budget? Not construction, not prisoners’ food, not health care, but payroll, the salaries for the guards and administrators, and they never go down.
Recently I wrote about the high cost of prison discipline, how the “costs of incarceration” are increased by the lost “gain time” resulting from bogus and undeserved disciplinary reports written by malicious and vindictive guards. Those costs could be up in the millions, but they pale when compared to the incredible bi-weekly payroll checks sent out to the thousands of corrections employees.
Do you want to save a quick million dollars? Prison rules require all prisoners to be “clean shaven,” which entails issuing two disposable razors each week to 100,000 people, or over ten million razors a year. Surely those razors cost at least ten cents apiece, or over one million dollars. Dispense with the clean shaven rule, as many states and the federal government have done, let those who want to shave buy a cheap razor from the canteen, and shave off a million dollars from the budget. Chicken feed. That’s not a drop in the bucket.
Would you rather save a bigger chunk, up in the millions of dollars in health care costs? Quit selling tobacco products in prison, and ban all smoking on prison property for staff and prisoners. Millions upon millions.
Smoking-related health costs are skyrocketing. Recent studies have shown that secondhand smoke kills a minimum of 46,000 Americans a year from heart attacks. Although state and federal laws forbid smoking inside prison buildings, including dormitories, most guards don’t even try to stop it. Sometimes I’ll walk down the hall to the water cooler and almost choke on the billowing clouds of smoke pouring out from cells. The tiny TV room is even worse. One person surreptitiously lights up and threatens the lives of two dozen others. Quit selling tobacco products and reduce medical expenses.
That is a bigger drop in the bucket. We can do better than that. How? How can we save ten percent—$250 million a year, every year, starting in a year? Reduce the prison population ten percent—10,000 prisoners—reduce the staff ten percent—close ten percent of the prisons. Impossible? Not hardly. Tough times call for extreme measures. Let me tell you how.
Prison is a revolving door. Criminals get out, criminals come back in. The actual recidivism percentages are debatable and up for grabs. Some say fifty percent get out and come back in within three years of release. Some say two-thirds. Certain crimes result in higher recidivism rates while certain others are very low. Some prisoners never get out, but grow old in the decades inside, then die. But for the last ten to twenty years of those long sentences, those aging, toothless (literally) old men cost the taxpayers $100,000 to $200,000 a year and more, depending on their medical conditions. I heard of one man whose outside hospital cost $250,000. And he’s still kicking, running up an incredible tab.
Forget about rehabilitation. There wasn’t room in the budget. They cut that out over twenty years ago. The fact is that prison is a young man’s game. I see teenagers coming to prison every week, getting younger. They are mostly uneducated, ignorant, drug-addicted, ruthless, uncaring about society, amoral and uninterested in change. We are growing bumper crops of these people, and doing little to prevent them from coming to prison, or doing their short bits of two or three years, getting out, re-offending, coming back in for two or three years, hustling in and out of that revolving door, doing life on the installment plan.
We have two classes of prisoners I propose we focus our budget-cutting attention on the young and the old, the short-timers and the long-termers. I admit I have a self-interest in this. I am a long-termer, having spent thirty-one years in prison (that’s another story), and I happen to know for a fact that if they let me out tomorrow, I would spend the rest of my days as a law-abiding, tax-paying citizen, contributing to society. I’m not the only one. There are thousands more like me, men who’ve served decades in prison, rightly or wrongly, who, if they were released tomorrow would never see the inside of a prison again. Some of these men are fifty-sixty-seventy-eighty-even ninety years old. It’s ridiculous to keep them all in prison.
Let them go. If the person is fifty years old or more, has done twenty years in prison or more, put them on the list to be released. Take the oldest 5,000 prisoners in that category, screen them, and let them go. Don’t just kick them out the front gate and leave them to the wolves, but give them a chance to get out and stay out. You can do it. Try it—you’ll like it. Reduce the prison population by 5,000 of the oldest, sickest, least likely to re-offend, and save the state close to $125 million, or more, a year.
That’s half the plan. Now for the short-timers. That’s where they usually focus their early release attention, those serving the last thirty, sixty, or ninety days in prison, kick them out a little early, save a few million. Even so, there are hardcore law-and-order types who scream when somebody suggests “early release” of a month or so, people who are determined to squeeze the last drop of blood from the turnip, no matter how much it costs. For those people I say, get over it. We have to stop nitpicking. They’re going to get out soon, anyway. Go ahead and save everyone some money.
Make a list of the 5,000 prisoners with the least time remaining on their sentences. See where the numbers fall, It might be six months, even a year. Evaluate the list, figure it out. I’m not advocating for sex offenders—put an asterisk by their names, deal with them separately. Take 5,000 of the youngest, shortest-time serving, non-violent prisoners, and let them go. Save another $100-125 million dollars this year. Add it up—we’re talking a quarter billion dollars here. Close some prisons, don’t open them up. Cut the staff. Cut the budget. Put fiscal responsibility to the forefront.
I’m not saying it will be easy. It will take work. There are many considerations, such as re-training and re-hiring all those extra prison guards into different jobs, implementing the abandoned educational and vocational programs back into the prisons so that the remaining prisoners can be prepared for law-abiding lives in society. Education and job training are the biggest bargains in crime fighting, and the first ones to be cut when money is tight. That makes no long-term sense.
In addition, we as a society must rethink our ideas on crime and poverty, work toward reducing the precursors to crime, the unemployment, widespread drug use, failed school systems, the broken-down family structures that foster child neglect and abuse, all our societal ills that guide an innocent child down a crooked path that leads to eventual imprisonment. The money we spend to keep that eighteen-year old in prison for eighteen more years could have been better invested on the front end, when there was still hope for intervention, to save the life of that child and his brothers and sisters, to prepare them for college, rather than prepare them for trial.
Let’s do something drastic. Let’s do the right thing. What do we have to lose? A quarter billion dollar debt
Friday, January 9, 2009
BLAME IT ON ANNE FRANK—NOTES ON NEW YEAR’S IN PRISON
Dateline: January 3, 2009
BLAME IT ON ANNE FRANK—NOTES ON NEW YEAR’S IN PRISON
I’ve gotten much positive feedback from some surprising sources on Jessica Gresko’s Associated Press article and Suzette Laboy’s video clip on the Anne Frank Prison Diary project. My friend, Libby, was surprised when she turned on her computer and saw my face on the Yahoo News site. A Google search of Anne Frank + Charles Norman turned up dozens of newspapers and web sites that picked it up.
At our prison visit a young correctional officer told Libby and me that she’d read the story on DOC Web, which I assume is the prison system’s employee web site. Several guards reacted positively to the article in the local Daytona Beach newspaper. I haven’t been pepper –sprayed, Tased, or shipped off to some distant prison near the Alabama border (knock on wood), so I suppose the DOC powers-that-be weren’t offended either.
I am thankful for some of the interesting responses from concerned citizens to the Free Charlie Now web site and the blog. I appreciate new friend, “Vox Populi” and his/her advice. Others I won’t mention, but will reply to personally.
I shouldn’t be surprised, but the widespread anger generated by Hillsborough County’s notorious state attorney, Mark Ober, continues to bubble to the top. Each week, it seems, we find out more and more about the man behind the mask. Thanks for sharing.
There have been numerous comments about the blog, “The High Cost of Prison Discipline,” and I am following that up with “How To Save The State a Quarter Billion Dollars,” my proposal to reduce the prison population and budget by ten percent, rather than building nineteen more prisons in the next five years and wasting more money we don’t have. If you could forward this blog to legislators, other Tallahassee politicians, and anyone else possibly interested in new solutions, I’d appreciate it.
In answer to “How in the world can you get internet in prison,” the answer is I can’t. I don’t have a computer. But I have dear friends “on the street,” in free society, who have computers and internet skills, and as long as I have paper, pencils, stamps, and envelopes, and The First Amendment is still in effect, my alternative voice will be heard. And thanks to the Tampa Writers’ Alliance, the PEN American Center and Jackson Taylor, The Anne Frank Center USA, and others who’ve helped me keep my works in print and available.
Hopefully 2009 will be more fruitful and less painful for all of us. I still seek freedom from wrongful imprisonment and will never quit fighting for it.
Charlie
BLAME IT ON ANNE FRANK—NOTES ON NEW YEAR’S IN PRISON
I’ve gotten much positive feedback from some surprising sources on Jessica Gresko’s Associated Press article and Suzette Laboy’s video clip on the Anne Frank Prison Diary project. My friend, Libby, was surprised when she turned on her computer and saw my face on the Yahoo News site. A Google search of Anne Frank + Charles Norman turned up dozens of newspapers and web sites that picked it up.
At our prison visit a young correctional officer told Libby and me that she’d read the story on DOC Web, which I assume is the prison system’s employee web site. Several guards reacted positively to the article in the local Daytona Beach newspaper. I haven’t been pepper –sprayed, Tased, or shipped off to some distant prison near the Alabama border (knock on wood), so I suppose the DOC powers-that-be weren’t offended either.
I am thankful for some of the interesting responses from concerned citizens to the Free Charlie Now web site and the blog. I appreciate new friend, “Vox Populi” and his/her advice. Others I won’t mention, but will reply to personally.
I shouldn’t be surprised, but the widespread anger generated by Hillsborough County’s notorious state attorney, Mark Ober, continues to bubble to the top. Each week, it seems, we find out more and more about the man behind the mask. Thanks for sharing.
There have been numerous comments about the blog, “The High Cost of Prison Discipline,” and I am following that up with “How To Save The State a Quarter Billion Dollars,” my proposal to reduce the prison population and budget by ten percent, rather than building nineteen more prisons in the next five years and wasting more money we don’t have. If you could forward this blog to legislators, other Tallahassee politicians, and anyone else possibly interested in new solutions, I’d appreciate it.
In answer to “How in the world can you get internet in prison,” the answer is I can’t. I don’t have a computer. But I have dear friends “on the street,” in free society, who have computers and internet skills, and as long as I have paper, pencils, stamps, and envelopes, and The First Amendment is still in effect, my alternative voice will be heard. And thanks to the Tampa Writers’ Alliance, the PEN American Center and Jackson Taylor, The Anne Frank Center USA, and others who’ve helped me keep my works in print and available.
Hopefully 2009 will be more fruitful and less painful for all of us. I still seek freedom from wrongful imprisonment and will never quit fighting for it.
Charlie
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
THE HIGH COST OF “PRISON DISCIPLINE”
Dateline Wednesday, November 26, 2008
THE HIGH COST OF “PRISON DISCIPLINE”
“Inmate X” is a prisoner serving ten years in a Florida prison. He has mental health problems, and takes medication for his bipolar disorder. Sometimes the prison is locked down, and Inmate X doesn’t get his meds, causing him to become “disruptive.” He yells for the correctional officer to come to his cell, tells “Officer Y” he needs his meds NOW!
Officer Y doesn’t like Inmate X. He has never been trained to deal with prisoners with psychological disorders who are required to take psychotropic drugs to control their behavior, and he takes it personally that Inmate X is talking to him in a loud voice. He tells Inmate X to shut up, or he will pepper spray him. Inmate X’s bipolar disorder kicks in, and tells Officer Y where to put his pepper spray.
Rather than call the psychologist on duty to come deal with Inmate X’s “psychological emergency.” Officer Y carries through with his threat and douses Inmate X with pepper spray. He then calls for backup, a “cell extraction team” with a riot shield enters Inmate X’s cell, pounds on him for a few minutes, chains his hands and feet, throws him in a “strip cell” for a few days and writes him “disciplinary reports” for disorderly conduct, disobeying a direct order, and assault.
Inmate X is found guilty, is sentenced to several months in lockup, in “disciplinary confinement,” and loses all his accumulated “gain time.”
What do the taxpayers of Florida lose? An estimated $78,000 in the increased costs of keeping Inmate X in prison longer due to the lost gain time, about 1200 days, that he would have otherwise been awarded had the incident with Officer Y been handled differently! And that is a conservative estimate. With 100,000 prisoners requiring a $2.7 billion annual budget, $75 a day per prisoner is a minimum figure for the costs of incarceration. For the thousands of “psych threes,” mentally-ill prisoners requiring thousands of dollars each for medication costs, and the thousands of dollars each for medication costs, and the thousands of prisoners suffering from HIV infections, hepatitis, heart disease, cancer, and other illnesses that cost the taxpayers millions of extra tax dollars, the annual costs of incarcerating one prisoner can easily reach $100,000.
Surely we can agree that maintaining discipline and order in Florida’s prisons can be a difficult, yet crucial commandment. “Care, custody, and control” are the three legs of the prison mandate. Problems develop when a certain class of “correctional officers” take their desires for “control” beyond their legislated authority and abuse their power to write “disciplinary reports” that are unwarranted, undeserved, and even false.
Perhaps it doesn’t seem like a big deal for prison administrators to give their guards a free hand in controlling prisoners, and if that means allowing some guards to be overly strict in enforcing rules, overlooking questionable actions and issuing blanket denials of grievance appeals of purportly false “D.R.s,” then so be it. And if a sizeable portion of the “D.R.s” written by a minority of these guards were “personal,” satisfying their own urges to inflict punishment, to teach someone a lesson, to bring someone down a notch, or even to jam his time, to intentionally write a bogus D.R. that will cancel a prisoner’s release on parole, in effect adding years to his sentence, so what? What’s the harm? It’s a difficult job, it’s hard to keep good people, so let them run the compound however they see fit. Right? Wrong!
What if you, the taxpayer, discovered that the unfettered writing of unwarranted or unnecessary disciplinary reports was possibly costing Floridians as much as $48.5 million to $251 million in increased costs of incarceration every year! Would you want a closer look taken at what is going on in your prisons? You betcha’!
Let’s look at the numbers. These are estimates, ball park figures, gleaned from prison staff and newspaper accounts, but more accurate numbers could be obtained from official Department of Corrections and Florida Parole Commission sources. They know exactly how many disciplinary reports are written each year, exactly how many parole dates are suspended for how many years, at what cost. For the sake of argument and enlightenment, let’s go to the ballpark, check out the scoreboard.
Florida prisons hold about 100,000 inmates. Thousands more are on deck in the county jails, waiting their turns. Let’s say those 100,000 inmates receive 50,000 disciplinary reports in a year. Some prisoners can go a year or more without receiving a D.R. Others might receive three or four at once, go to lockup, become targeted by a vengeful guard, and receive a dozen in a week, causing them to spend additional months in solitary confinement, or even get sentenced to several years of “close management” (C.M.), where they stay in extremely restricted lockdown conditions for long terms.
I’m not saying that all these D.R.s are unwarranted. There are many bad people in prison who have no intentions of mending their ways, who continue criminal activities inside, such as drug dealing, loan sharking, gambling operations, gangs, and other hustles and scams, and when they are caught with drugs, weapons, and other serious contraband, they are written up, got to lockup, rightly so. Some examples:
Two prisoners argue over a debt or a football score, get into a fight, and get D.R.s. An inmate causes a disturbance, incites a riot, he goes to jail. Cuss out a guard, refuse a lawful order, refuse to work, get caught in an “unauthorized area,” run from a guard, assault a guard, attempt to escape,--the list goes on and on. Happens all the time. “Be twenty-one,” they say, take responsibility for your own actions. But what about when you’ve done nothing wrong, you’ve broken no rules, but you draw the attention of a rogue guard who has a personal dislike for you, who abuses his authority, who writes a bogus D.R., who locks you up “on the house?” What can you do? Virtually nothing usually.
Get a D.R. for “verbal disrespect,” the guard locks you up, says you cursed him, it’s your word against his, no witnesses. Who are they going to believe? You have a parole date riding on this, you file the grievances, which are rubberstamped denied. “Based on an officer’s statement” is a good one. You can file in court, circuit court, state appellate court, federal court, up the ladder, filing fees, court costs, years of time and trouble, case dismissed. Nada.
Let’s say that twenty percent of the 50,000 disciplinary reports are bogus, false, unwarranted. That’s 10,000 D.R.s. Department of Corrections staff estimate that the paperwork costs, the costs of processing one D.R. is about
$ 1,100. That’s $ 11 million of taxpayers’ money squandered right there. But that is just the tip of a very large iceberg.
On a “minor D.R.” one can lose thirty days of gain time as a penalty, not counting the possible time spent in lockup. At a minimum, the inmate loses the twenty days usual monthly gain time award for any month that they receive a D.R. That’s fifty days minimum, at $ 75 a day, or $ 3,750, plus the $ 1,100 processing costs, or $ 4850 for a minor D.R.! That’s not chicken feed. Multiply that by 10,000 and you have a minimum of $ 48.5 million squandered on D.R.s that never should have been written. Add up the costs of “major” D.R.s, where prisoners can lose 180 days of gain time, up to all accumulated gain time, possibly thousands of days, we’re talking about over $ 25,000, and more, for a bogus D.R. That’s as much as $ 250 million in taxpayer money!
Recent news reports stated that the state budget shortfall was a billion dollars or more. The prison system is looking at $ 175 million budget deficit. One suggestion to recoup some of that money is to “restore lost gain time” that was taken for D.R.s. Ding, ding, ding—are the lights flickering on? That’s a good idea, restoring lost gain time, kick them out of prison a few months early to the same release date they were originally entitled to, save millions of dollars on the costs of incarceration, having to feed them, heal them, house them. Get them out of the system, get them jobs, support their families, pay taxes. But wouldn’t it be better if there was improved and better oversight of some of these rogue officers, so that a greater percentage of unwarranted disciplinary reports were never written at all?
There is a principle called “progressive discipline” that governs how prison guards are supposed to administer discipline and correct behavior. The first step in progressive discipline is the verbal warning. A correctional officer observes a prisoner committing an infraction and verbally warns him that his behavior is wrong, counseling him not to do it again. The second step is the “corrective consultation” or c.c., generally known as a written warning, still fairly informal, but logged on a “contact card.” So many c.c.s in a month can result in a D.R. The most drastic step, the D.R., is supposedly reserved for the worst cases, when the inmate has ignored repeated calls to adjust his behavior.
There are guards who brag that they haven’t written a D.R. in years. It’s not that they are lazy, or slackers, not doing their jobs, but the opposite—they know how to talk to prisoners, they are respected, and they are obeyed. They don’t have to run in, write D.R.s, and lock people up. They give orders, and the prisoners obey them. That method of carrying out your job is better for everyone. Think of the tax savings alone.
On the other hand, certain guards are so hateful and nasty that they try to lock up someone everyday, and if the person gets angry, resulting in a “use of force,” so they can beat them or gas them, so much the better. These guards brag about having written literally hundreds of D.R.s over the years, like it’s a badge of honor, rather than an incredible waste of millions of taxpayers’ dollars, notwithstanding the human costs their victims incurred and the increase in tension among the general inmate population, increasing the danger for all. There is nothing “progressive” about their discipline. Fire them, and save millions. We can’t afford them.
If you are shocked at how much you are paying to satisfy the punitive urges of guards who regularly write bad D.R.s, wait until you hear what happens at the parole commission as a result of their actions.
“Presumptive Parole Release Date” (PPRD) is the operating term for those thousands of prisoners who are still under the authority of the Florida Parole Commission. The PPRD refers to the calculated date for a prisoner’s release on parole. This release date can be altered for “reasons of institutional conduct,” or D.R.s.
Let’s say a prisoner has served twenty years and has a 2008 parole date. He gets a bogus D.R., loses gain time, costs the state an extra $ 5,000 or so, but it doesn’t stop there.
As a result of the D.R., his PPRD can be extended two years, four years, or more. Some have served an additional ten years imprisonment because of one D.R. At $ 25,000 or so a year for cost of incarceration, that hapless soul could cost the taxpayers an extra $ 250,000 because a wrathful prison guard doesn’t like him and decided to jam his time. That’s for only one person.
In years gone by, when virtually every prisoner was under the parole system, it was a common practice for certain guards to wait until a month or so before an inmate was scheduled to go home, then plant some contraband on him, write him up, lock him up, and cause him to spend additional years in prison. Is that right? Of course not. But it still happens. Besides the moral costs to a society that doesn’t prevent such abuses by “public servants,” the financial costs, in these tough times, are too great for our fragile economy to bear.
Something should be done about it, but where do we start? Right here, right now, let’s get to the bottom of this, put a stop to it, do the right thing. It makes dollars and cents.
Charlie
THE HIGH COST OF “PRISON DISCIPLINE”
“Inmate X” is a prisoner serving ten years in a Florida prison. He has mental health problems, and takes medication for his bipolar disorder. Sometimes the prison is locked down, and Inmate X doesn’t get his meds, causing him to become “disruptive.” He yells for the correctional officer to come to his cell, tells “Officer Y” he needs his meds NOW!
Officer Y doesn’t like Inmate X. He has never been trained to deal with prisoners with psychological disorders who are required to take psychotropic drugs to control their behavior, and he takes it personally that Inmate X is talking to him in a loud voice. He tells Inmate X to shut up, or he will pepper spray him. Inmate X’s bipolar disorder kicks in, and tells Officer Y where to put his pepper spray.
Rather than call the psychologist on duty to come deal with Inmate X’s “psychological emergency.” Officer Y carries through with his threat and douses Inmate X with pepper spray. He then calls for backup, a “cell extraction team” with a riot shield enters Inmate X’s cell, pounds on him for a few minutes, chains his hands and feet, throws him in a “strip cell” for a few days and writes him “disciplinary reports” for disorderly conduct, disobeying a direct order, and assault.
Inmate X is found guilty, is sentenced to several months in lockup, in “disciplinary confinement,” and loses all his accumulated “gain time.”
What do the taxpayers of Florida lose? An estimated $78,000 in the increased costs of keeping Inmate X in prison longer due to the lost gain time, about 1200 days, that he would have otherwise been awarded had the incident with Officer Y been handled differently! And that is a conservative estimate. With 100,000 prisoners requiring a $2.7 billion annual budget, $75 a day per prisoner is a minimum figure for the costs of incarceration. For the thousands of “psych threes,” mentally-ill prisoners requiring thousands of dollars each for medication costs, and the thousands of dollars each for medication costs, and the thousands of prisoners suffering from HIV infections, hepatitis, heart disease, cancer, and other illnesses that cost the taxpayers millions of extra tax dollars, the annual costs of incarcerating one prisoner can easily reach $100,000.
Surely we can agree that maintaining discipline and order in Florida’s prisons can be a difficult, yet crucial commandment. “Care, custody, and control” are the three legs of the prison mandate. Problems develop when a certain class of “correctional officers” take their desires for “control” beyond their legislated authority and abuse their power to write “disciplinary reports” that are unwarranted, undeserved, and even false.
Perhaps it doesn’t seem like a big deal for prison administrators to give their guards a free hand in controlling prisoners, and if that means allowing some guards to be overly strict in enforcing rules, overlooking questionable actions and issuing blanket denials of grievance appeals of purportly false “D.R.s,” then so be it. And if a sizeable portion of the “D.R.s” written by a minority of these guards were “personal,” satisfying their own urges to inflict punishment, to teach someone a lesson, to bring someone down a notch, or even to jam his time, to intentionally write a bogus D.R. that will cancel a prisoner’s release on parole, in effect adding years to his sentence, so what? What’s the harm? It’s a difficult job, it’s hard to keep good people, so let them run the compound however they see fit. Right? Wrong!
What if you, the taxpayer, discovered that the unfettered writing of unwarranted or unnecessary disciplinary reports was possibly costing Floridians as much as $48.5 million to $251 million in increased costs of incarceration every year! Would you want a closer look taken at what is going on in your prisons? You betcha’!
Let’s look at the numbers. These are estimates, ball park figures, gleaned from prison staff and newspaper accounts, but more accurate numbers could be obtained from official Department of Corrections and Florida Parole Commission sources. They know exactly how many disciplinary reports are written each year, exactly how many parole dates are suspended for how many years, at what cost. For the sake of argument and enlightenment, let’s go to the ballpark, check out the scoreboard.
Florida prisons hold about 100,000 inmates. Thousands more are on deck in the county jails, waiting their turns. Let’s say those 100,000 inmates receive 50,000 disciplinary reports in a year. Some prisoners can go a year or more without receiving a D.R. Others might receive three or four at once, go to lockup, become targeted by a vengeful guard, and receive a dozen in a week, causing them to spend additional months in solitary confinement, or even get sentenced to several years of “close management” (C.M.), where they stay in extremely restricted lockdown conditions for long terms.
I’m not saying that all these D.R.s are unwarranted. There are many bad people in prison who have no intentions of mending their ways, who continue criminal activities inside, such as drug dealing, loan sharking, gambling operations, gangs, and other hustles and scams, and when they are caught with drugs, weapons, and other serious contraband, they are written up, got to lockup, rightly so. Some examples:
Two prisoners argue over a debt or a football score, get into a fight, and get D.R.s. An inmate causes a disturbance, incites a riot, he goes to jail. Cuss out a guard, refuse a lawful order, refuse to work, get caught in an “unauthorized area,” run from a guard, assault a guard, attempt to escape,--the list goes on and on. Happens all the time. “Be twenty-one,” they say, take responsibility for your own actions. But what about when you’ve done nothing wrong, you’ve broken no rules, but you draw the attention of a rogue guard who has a personal dislike for you, who abuses his authority, who writes a bogus D.R., who locks you up “on the house?” What can you do? Virtually nothing usually.
Get a D.R. for “verbal disrespect,” the guard locks you up, says you cursed him, it’s your word against his, no witnesses. Who are they going to believe? You have a parole date riding on this, you file the grievances, which are rubberstamped denied. “Based on an officer’s statement” is a good one. You can file in court, circuit court, state appellate court, federal court, up the ladder, filing fees, court costs, years of time and trouble, case dismissed. Nada.
Let’s say that twenty percent of the 50,000 disciplinary reports are bogus, false, unwarranted. That’s 10,000 D.R.s. Department of Corrections staff estimate that the paperwork costs, the costs of processing one D.R. is about
$ 1,100. That’s $ 11 million of taxpayers’ money squandered right there. But that is just the tip of a very large iceberg.
On a “minor D.R.” one can lose thirty days of gain time as a penalty, not counting the possible time spent in lockup. At a minimum, the inmate loses the twenty days usual monthly gain time award for any month that they receive a D.R. That’s fifty days minimum, at $ 75 a day, or $ 3,750, plus the $ 1,100 processing costs, or $ 4850 for a minor D.R.! That’s not chicken feed. Multiply that by 10,000 and you have a minimum of $ 48.5 million squandered on D.R.s that never should have been written. Add up the costs of “major” D.R.s, where prisoners can lose 180 days of gain time, up to all accumulated gain time, possibly thousands of days, we’re talking about over $ 25,000, and more, for a bogus D.R. That’s as much as $ 250 million in taxpayer money!
Recent news reports stated that the state budget shortfall was a billion dollars or more. The prison system is looking at $ 175 million budget deficit. One suggestion to recoup some of that money is to “restore lost gain time” that was taken for D.R.s. Ding, ding, ding—are the lights flickering on? That’s a good idea, restoring lost gain time, kick them out of prison a few months early to the same release date they were originally entitled to, save millions of dollars on the costs of incarceration, having to feed them, heal them, house them. Get them out of the system, get them jobs, support their families, pay taxes. But wouldn’t it be better if there was improved and better oversight of some of these rogue officers, so that a greater percentage of unwarranted disciplinary reports were never written at all?
There is a principle called “progressive discipline” that governs how prison guards are supposed to administer discipline and correct behavior. The first step in progressive discipline is the verbal warning. A correctional officer observes a prisoner committing an infraction and verbally warns him that his behavior is wrong, counseling him not to do it again. The second step is the “corrective consultation” or c.c., generally known as a written warning, still fairly informal, but logged on a “contact card.” So many c.c.s in a month can result in a D.R. The most drastic step, the D.R., is supposedly reserved for the worst cases, when the inmate has ignored repeated calls to adjust his behavior.
There are guards who brag that they haven’t written a D.R. in years. It’s not that they are lazy, or slackers, not doing their jobs, but the opposite—they know how to talk to prisoners, they are respected, and they are obeyed. They don’t have to run in, write D.R.s, and lock people up. They give orders, and the prisoners obey them. That method of carrying out your job is better for everyone. Think of the tax savings alone.
On the other hand, certain guards are so hateful and nasty that they try to lock up someone everyday, and if the person gets angry, resulting in a “use of force,” so they can beat them or gas them, so much the better. These guards brag about having written literally hundreds of D.R.s over the years, like it’s a badge of honor, rather than an incredible waste of millions of taxpayers’ dollars, notwithstanding the human costs their victims incurred and the increase in tension among the general inmate population, increasing the danger for all. There is nothing “progressive” about their discipline. Fire them, and save millions. We can’t afford them.
If you are shocked at how much you are paying to satisfy the punitive urges of guards who regularly write bad D.R.s, wait until you hear what happens at the parole commission as a result of their actions.
“Presumptive Parole Release Date” (PPRD) is the operating term for those thousands of prisoners who are still under the authority of the Florida Parole Commission. The PPRD refers to the calculated date for a prisoner’s release on parole. This release date can be altered for “reasons of institutional conduct,” or D.R.s.
Let’s say a prisoner has served twenty years and has a 2008 parole date. He gets a bogus D.R., loses gain time, costs the state an extra $ 5,000 or so, but it doesn’t stop there.
As a result of the D.R., his PPRD can be extended two years, four years, or more. Some have served an additional ten years imprisonment because of one D.R. At $ 25,000 or so a year for cost of incarceration, that hapless soul could cost the taxpayers an extra $ 250,000 because a wrathful prison guard doesn’t like him and decided to jam his time. That’s for only one person.
In years gone by, when virtually every prisoner was under the parole system, it was a common practice for certain guards to wait until a month or so before an inmate was scheduled to go home, then plant some contraband on him, write him up, lock him up, and cause him to spend additional years in prison. Is that right? Of course not. But it still happens. Besides the moral costs to a society that doesn’t prevent such abuses by “public servants,” the financial costs, in these tough times, are too great for our fragile economy to bear.
Something should be done about it, but where do we start? Right here, right now, let’s get to the bottom of this, put a stop to it, do the right thing. It makes dollars and cents.
Charlie
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