GOTHIC PRISON

I drove way down south today to evaluate an inmate in a very old maximum security prison. It's a massive old gothic style--looks like a midevil castle with small turrets and little openings mimicking those little holes that midevil folks used to shoot arrows through. The place was built in the mid 1800's. It still functions as a maximum security prison--no air conditioning in summer, always damp and musty, little--sometimes n0 heat-- in the winter. So, it's always cold and damp in the winter and hot, sticky, and humid in the summer. Miserable place.

To reach the place you drive far to the south on a two lane highway interrupted every five or ten miles by towns of 300 people. Every now and then, the speed limit gets up to 55. Just when you get the car up to 55, the speed limit immediately drops back to 35. Takes forever to get there.

On the way, I have to pass an old maximum security mental health center where I worked many years ago. Even passing the place on the road gives me chills and shudders. Nothing by bad memories! Absolutely nothing, but bad memories and nightmares.. I dread going to do evaluations at this prison because there's no way to get there but pass the old mental health center. The memories and nightmares of the place just flood back over me. The memories and nightmares do not have to do with what was done to me--although plenty was done to me--the memories and nightmares has to do with what was done to the patients by staff. But, in the end, I blew the whistle and a number of staff went to prison.

Once past it, I drive on until I get to a road where I make a sharp right and immediately start dropping down a frighteningly steep hill. The hill is so steep that it has one of those runaway truck braking areas. At the very bottom of this hill is a narrow road that runs directly beside a railroad track and then suddenly drops off into the Mississippi River. The runaway truck braking area exists in the hope of keeping folks from losing control and plunging into the Mississippi. I make a right and drive down a very narrow road directly beside the railroad track to the prison. Once I reached the prison today and parked the car, I noticed that the officers had stacked sandbags well above my head in an attempt to keep the river from flooding the prison. If it does flood next week, as is expected, the flooding will cover the railroad tracks, the narrow road and invade the prison grounds (unless the sandbags hold the water back). I'm scheduled to go down again next week.

After parking the car, I walked to the building normally used as the gate house. The door was permanently locked. I wandered about until I found a non-inmate and asked how one gained admission. He thought it was down by the flag. So, I hiked the mile down to the flag and found the new gate house. One of the correctional officers told me that the old gatehouse has been condemned because the Governor approriated the capital improvements money and had a 1 1/2 million dollar drive way built at the Governors Mansion. The Governor does not live in the Governors Mansion. Neither does his wife or children. They all live in a big city way up north and he flies to work down in the center of the state when he goes to work at the state capitol.

After an hour of dealing with the people in the gatehouse, I gained admission. Even though they had been informed that I was coming none of the people in the gatehouse could find the memo or knew I was coming. I had my badge with me that is imprinted with 1/2 tall red letters saying "LEGAL", but that didn't help. I had printed off a copy of the notice informing them of my arrival and gave it to them, but they wanted their original memo and wouldn't accept my copy. Every single time I go to this prison, the problem is the same. No matter how many times they are informed an evaluator is expected, they lose the memo and it takes a least an hour to get in and usually several phone calls to DOC headquaters to get orders for them to let me in. It's just the way this prison runs. Sometimes, you just have to accept the things you cannot change.

Then, once in and back in Master Records, I was informed that I could review the records but the inmate had been moved to a different prison. Fortunately, it was just up the road a bit. But, I had to go through the same nonsense from the front gate a second time from the second prison.

Once I finally got to interview the inmate, he was one of the most polite cooperative people--not inmates--people I have ever interviewed.