Prisoner Perspective
Waiting for a Visit
Published July 06, 2009 @ 05:49AM PT
As a long-term prisoner, visiting has had different meanings for me at various stages of my confinement. In the beginning, after my initial arrest, I spent my first year locked inside a large county jail. I was only 23, and never having been confined before, I didn’t know much of anything about living in an institution. Visits gave me a break from the monotony.
Those initial weeks in jail, beginning in the summer of 1987, passed slowly. I had been charged with leading an “enterprise” that trafficked in cocaine. Although neither violence nor weapons were a part of our group, my leadership role in the crime exposed me to a possible sentence of life without parole and thus persuaded my judge to deny my release on bond. After pacing from wall to wall in my jail cell day after day, I looked forward to Saturday visits.
My ritual to prepare for the Saturday morning visit began the night before, when I would lay my pants and shirt carefully beneath my sleeping mat on the concrete platform that served as my bed. The weight of my body through the night would press creases into the drab clothing, and I hoped the effort would make me look sharp. I’d wake early. By knocking out several hundred pushups on the floor of my cell, I could get my blood pumping, swell my muscles, hopefully giving the illusion of strength. I’d take a bird-type bath in my sink, shave closely, then pull on my jail outfit, methodically folding up my sleeves to flaunt what I thought were impressive biceps. Then I sat on the corner of my bed, minimizing movement so as not to wrinkle my clothes, and waited for jailers to escort me to the visiting booth.
Ready for Release?
Published June 30, 2009 @ 04:44AM PT
Paul is being released from prison today, and I’m concerned that he will find himself poorly prepared to overcome the challenges he is about to encounter. An examination of Paul’s prison file would suggest quite the opposite.
To prison administrators, Paul has built the record of a model inmate. That means he has complied with all rules, he participated in available programs, and he did not burden staff members with requests that deviated from the norm. The irony was that in adjusting to live as a model inmate, Paul conditioned himself for institutional living. The flip side of such an adjustment meant that now, as Paul was ready to walk out of prison, he lacked the resources necessary for a viable chance at success in society.
My First Days: Adjusting to Life in Prison
Published June 15, 2009 @ 10:10AM PT
When DEA agents first arrested me in 1987, a cavalier attitude blocked my ability to grasp the gravity of my problems. As far as I understood, the government’s case against me hinged on the testimony of witnesses. They had been caught with cocaine or money from cocaine transactions; they bargained for a lower sentence by pleading guilty and cooperating with prosecutors in the case against me. Since the agents did not catch me with tangible evidence, I deluded myself into believing that a jury would not convict me. I was wrong. I was only 23-years-old then, and I didn’t know upon my arrest that I would serve decades inside the federal prison system.
It was not until after the jury returned its unanimous verdict of guilt on all counts that I accepted the mess I had made of my life. When the delusions of acquittal yielded to the reality of conviction, remorse began to take root. I realized the disappointment and shame I had brought to my family, my community. Those feelings inspired a need to change, a commitment to reconcile with society.
An inherent cynicism prohibited those in the judicial system from considering my expressions of remorse. The prosecutors and judge stood convinced that the only reason I felt remorseful was because I had been caught. They were correct, of course.
The Importance of Recreation
Published June 07, 2009 @ 04:46AM PT
[Editor's Note: The statement below was submitted as written testimony by Michael Santos to the New York City Board of Corrections, which held a hearing on Friday to consider a proposal to reduce the days of exercise at city jails from seven to five.]
Since 1987 I’ve been locked in prisons of every security level, and I expect to remain in prison until 2013. When I began serving this term I was 23 years old. Now I’m 45. I had never been confined before, but within months of being locked inside these boundaries, I knew that the culture of confinement was not for me.
That awareness helped me establish a deliberate adjustment plan, one that would ensure I emerged from my lengthy sentence in good health, and as a law-abiding, contributing citizen.
Besides developing skills and credentials that I hoped would overcome the stigma of my long prison record, daily exercise represented a key component of my adjustment plan. Daily exercise could alleviate the stress that accompanied my separation from home. Prisoners who neglected a personal commitment to exercise and physical fitness, I noticed, did so at their own peril.
Strategies for Successful Release
Published June 01, 2009 @ 11:26AM PT
I recently finished reading When Prisoners Come Home by Professor Joan Petersilia, who is now a Professor of Law at Stanford Law School. This book really opened my eyes to the struggles I can expect to face when prison gates finally open for me. I recommend it to readers at change.org, as it vividly illuminates the need for meaningful prison reform.
From this book I became aware of statistics that should concern every American citizen. One is the rapidly growing number of people who return to society from jails and prisons in each year. The Bureau of Justice Statistics reported that in 2000, American jails and prisons released 606,000 people. By 2005, that number had grown to 698,500 people. The Pew Charitable Trust estimates that by 2011, American jails and prisons will release 750,000 people each year.
What really troubles me about these numbers is that government statistics show that one in three of all released prisoners will face a new arrest within six months. During the first year of release, 44 percent will face a new arrest. Within three years, the government records show that 67.5 percent of all people released from jails and prisons will face a new arrest.
As a long-term prisoner, I cannot help but scratch my head with anxiety and frustration when I read these dire predictions about the obstacles that await my release. They should concern every prisoner and every citizen. Some readers live with misperceptions that anyone can succeed in society if they really want to live a straight life. Professor Petersilia’s book clearly identifies how the obstacles that all prisoners face complicate such possibilities.
