From Prison Guard To Prisoner

I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out why I can’t upload images right now. Hopefully this is one of those problems that just goes away on it’s own. I’ve spent way too much time on that problem, and no time at all on a new post, so here it goes, short but sweet.

I was a prison guard for five years. I was put under investigation for the actions of another guard. During a takedown (subduing an uncooperative inmate) an inmate was roughed up.

I was one of the two officers involved in the take down. This was my first use of force on an inmate in my entire five years with the department. This was a spontaneous take down (not planned at all) and I was concerned for my safety and the safety of the other officer, so that’s where my mind was as this all unfolded before my eyes.

I ended up on the ground with the inmate in a headlock. I was facing away from the other officer at this time, and all I could think was “this dude’s gonna bite me” but he never did, but he put up one hell of a fight.

After the inmate was restrained and put in a cell it was paperwork time. Any time anything happens in a prison those involved have to fill out incident reports. As we started writing the other officer said to me “write it like it happened, If you saw me hit that inmate, put it in the report” and I assured him my report would contain all the facts. That was the extent of our discussion on the subject.

The next day I was asked to rewrite my report by my supervisor. He said it was lacking details. So I rewrote my report, being as detailed as possible. Well it turns out the details missing from my report were the facts that while I was worrying about getting bit, the other officer was working this guy over behind my back.

I wasn’t worried about the other officers actions during this ordeal, I was worried about safety. I was scared. That’s where all my attention was. Getting this inmate down and cuffed, and walking away without a trip to the medical unit. That report had all the facts and I remembered them.

The other officer included all of his misdoing in his report. Shortly after he was given two weeks off without pay. I on the other hand was put under the microscope, because surely I was lying to cover up for another officer’s actions.

Long story short, this drug on for months. It was very stressful, and not very pretty at all. It was turned into this really big deal and a witch hunt. I ended up quitting due to job related stress, but my files shows “resigned in light of investigation” or some crap like that.

After walking away from a job that up until then I was very happy with, I quickly fell into a very deep depression, which quickly led to my being broke. I gave up on live and took refuge on my couch.

It wasn’t long before a concerned friend of mine came to my rescue. He knew “a guy”, who knew “a guy”, that needed someone to drive a car, and he pays pretty good. What’s the catch? The car is full of marijuana, and you’ll be driving it all the way across country.

This was something I would never have done in my right mind, but under the circumstances it sounded like a great idea. “The marijuana relocation program” is what I later came to call it. I jumped at the opportunity to get away from it all and catch up on my bills.

I ended up doing this as a way of living for about three months. That all came to an end when I was pulled over by the cops, “for speeding” they said. Yeah right! Anyway, I spent a few weeks in jail, but was bailed out. I spent the next seven months fighting it in court, and in my spare time I tried drinking the trouble away, unsuccessfully.

It ended with me being sentenced to three years in prison (they were originally shooting for three twelve year sentences). I had just gotten married the month before my sentencing, believing that things were gonna work out, and hanging on tightly to my love in the event things didn’t go as I hoped.

I had to serve 85% of the three years (approximately two and a half years), but they got their other 15% in the form of probation, that included random urinalysis, tons of harassment, and a $250,000 fine. They must want me to go back to a life of crime if they expect me to pay that back. My sweet, loving, angel of a wife stuck by my side the whole time.

To think it could have all been avoided had I just lied, and said “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell the whole truth in my report”, but anyway, there you have it. My life on both sides of the bars, and yes, this was the very, very, very short version.

Any questions?