The first most outstanding thing that I notice is the quiet of the place. After almost a year in Sheriff Joe’s shithole of a jail, the constant clanging of doors, loudspeaker notifications and general overpowering racket of 90 men in a concrete and steel dorm, the silence is a welcome oasis of joy. The official title of this place is the Arizona State Prison Complex, Douglas, Mojave Unit. I now call it home. One would think that a person would not be even O.K. upon entering a prison yard, I am actually quite happy. Happy because this is such a better cage to be in than where I spent the last 11.5 months. You see I am not really your typical convict type, I’m well educated, financially stably, generally responsible and a kind person but in a state that is big on mandatory minimum sentences for minor drug offenses I end up spending way too much time behind bars. I also have an attempted escape charge on my record stemming from a drunken incident in a Gilbert Sheriff Substation in which I almost walked away from a sheriff’s officer. I didn’t escape shit, I wasn’t even in handcuffs much less a cell but I was charged with it and it is that little mark on my file that has ended me up on this particular medium security controlled movement yard. It is that charge that I was never convicted of that has me now locked down 23 hours a day and cohabitating with some serious convicts who are serving time for everything up to life sentences for murder.
I told you all that to tell you this, after you get past the fact that you have lost every single person, possession and shred of dignity in your life and you are going to spend the next few years locked up in a violent environment with little or no personal freedom… well Douglas is going to be an ok place to be. The difference in being in here as opposed to the lower security level yards is that in here with the lifers there is a better quality of convict living, and it all starts with the silence. This most basic extravagance that I found so unexpected is necessary and vital simply because this is such a potentially violent environment. The residents here have necessarily been transformed into their most basic animal state struggling daily to get their needs met. There are murders here, there are shanks hidden under lockers, there are men walking around in packs whose specific job in this world is to inflict bodily harm on those who break the convict rules. And it makes the quality of life quite surprisingly good. Because the price to be paid is so extreme for any and all infractions, for any hint of disrespect for your fellow sufferers, most people most of the time treat each other and the environment with a level of care and respect I have not witnessed anywhere else in the world.
In this world, my new reality, there is no urine on the toilet seat. There is no toothpaste or whiskers in the bathroom sink. There are 16 men living in an area about the size of an average fast food dining area and I am not subjected to listening to another’s choice of music or television program. Headphones are utilized and the volume is kept at a minimal level. There is no trash on the floor, on the sidewalks, anywhere but in the trash can. When gaseous bodily functions are passes they are done with ones buttocks securely sealed onto the toilet and flushed immediately or they are shunted to the outdoors through a window. If a popular sporting event is scheduled like the super bowl or the World Series permission is gathered form all who might be affected before a semi noisy party is thrown. Beds are made and personal areas kept tidy because others don’t want to have to look at your mess or dirty laundry. Care is made and thought goes into every action because in these close quarters everything you do affects those around you. Casual conversations are carried out in low voices, the quietest you can speak without falling into a whisper. People are going through serious things here, they have been removed from their ability to live life, they must sit back and observe and do their best to try to deal with what is happening because they have lost control of their lives. Wives are sending divorce papers in the mail, parents and children are passing away and these men are locked in a cage helpless to do anything about these outside events. You might catch the wrong convict in the wrong mood after an unpleasant phone call home and he might just be looking for an excuse to vent his barely controlled rage about something like say, his girlfriend is turning tricks for drug money while his young children are left unattended all night. You might not want to be the one doing something very annoying in close proximity to that individual. You might want to be doing whatever it is you’re doing…. Quietly.
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