Cold Storage

Human Rights Report

Khalfani Kaldun

myron walker

Eli naim

Anastazia Schmid

In regards to solitary confinement, no such thing exists in this prison (level 1 minimum), but of course it did at both of the women’s max prisons. I have experience with that at one, IWP, when we were in the old facility on Randolph St. There is such a thing as targeting that is alive and well within the system. What that means, is that, for whatever reason, or reason at all, certain staff members select certain incarcerated people to harass mericilessly. Often resulting in anything from petty offense sanctions to major violations (it is important to note that no such offense, in either regard, many have ever occurred. Write-ups almost always stick, even when proven false, the officer’s word will prevail in the majority of cases, especially if it is a high ranking official). So for the person who is targeted for say, being homosexual, of a minority race, too intelligent, gender non-conforming, being of a non-Christian faith, etc. they may fall under the wrath of the targeter. I was once one of those people, for several of the aforementioned reasons, and I’m certain, of others I may never know.

I believe it was 2007. I had just returned to the unit from a day long spiritual seminar. A close friend met me by the bathroom and asked me to come in and talk to her, she was crying, visibly upset about something. I went into the bathroom with her and stood next to her, leaning against the sink listening to her talk. Apparently her request to transfer facilities was denied and she was very upset about it. As we talked she noticed a braclet I was wearing. Commenting that she liked it, she reached over and touched it to feel the material. At that exact moment a new male officer walked by, freaked out saying “Oh hell NO!” and then asked for our badges. We had no idea what we had done or what he was talking about and began questioning what the problem was. He told us to shut up, do as he said and go up to center hall. We complied, confused. We were separated on opposite ends of the center and told to be quiet and sit there and wait. Still confused we waited for at least 15 minutes, at which time several higher ranking officers came in, pulling cuffs on their way, a few moving towards each of us. We were both forcefully pulled up from our chairs, turned around into the wall, cuffed and dragged out the door. The whole time asking what we had done, to no reply other than to shut up.

Solitary is known as “lock.” At that time it was located above the building that then housed the intakes (now intake is at RCF and has grown exponentially. When I arrived at IWP in 2002 there were roughly 40 women at any given time in intake. Today RCF houses well over 300 female intakes with numerous jails across the state overflowing DOC holding facilities where women wait to come to prison for lack of bed space). Protesting and questioning what we had done was futile. We were each stripped out and locked in cells on opposites sides of AS (administrative segregation). We would spend 8 days on that side of the unit without being told what we were being charged with. It turned out that being sent to lock without knowing why would prove to be the least of my problems at that time.

As was made up of non-self contained cells, meaning, there are not sinks or toilets in those cells, only a metal slab for the bed mat and a table/stool attached to the wall. In those days you were not allowed to have any of your belongings while housed there and wore state-issued orange scrubs, often without socks, and sometimes, without undergarments depending upon the mood of the staff overseeing the unit at the time. Hygiene products were minimal or non-existent as well. These cells are still kept locked down no less than 23 hours a day. A person inside one would have to yell through the barred door to hopefully get the C.O.s attention in order to be let out to use the restroom. This was problematic for several reasons. 1) there was a solid glass windowed door at the end of the hallway that closed off center hall from that wing of the unit, meaning, if the door was shut, the officers couldn’t hear you calling. There was no alert buttons in that unit as the prison itself was over a hundred years old, meaning the cells were old fashioned lock and key steel barred doors, with secondary metal doors in front of those. A prisoner in those cells could be closed in by just the barred door, or the outer door could also be closed completely sealing someone inside (this not only creates problems in regard to silencing and isolation, but also became an issue during extreme temperatures. The heat was poor in the winter and there was no air conditioning in the summer). If an officer had a vendetta against someone, they could additionally close the outer door to literally shut you up and shut you in completely. Often the center hall door would be closed to spite the entire hallway, sometimes for hours on end. Certain officers and certain shifts would only allow bathroom breaks on the bare minimum, often illegal, time increments. As one might imagine, this creates grave problems for the people locked inside such cells, especially those of us who happen to have health problems.

In modern days, the new IWP no longer has such non-self contained cells in solitary confinement, instead they have developed a whole new disciplinary unit known as “Grace.” This unit is scarcely different than solitary except that it holds 2 person cells and one large 10 person room. However, neither cell type is self-contained. This unit is chronic for “disciplining” those housed there by purposely withholding bathroom “privileges.”

During the days I spent on AS awaiting screening for my charge, I became the target of yet another officer, notoriously cruel and hateful. It was about my 4th day on the unit. We had not been let out for a bathroom break since early morning, right after the 6 am breakfast. It was now lunch, still no break. We were told by said officer that we wouldn’t be let out again until after lunch was cleared (this could sometimes take well over an hour before someone would come back around to collect those trays). I had already spent the last hour desperately requesting a restroom break, to no avail. On that day the door was shut off to center hall after they delivered those trays and it was kept closed for the next hour despite the increasing loud demands from the women on the hall to use the restroom. The worst of which was coming from me. I have had bladder issues since I was a child. Being in those circumstances proved far more torturous for me than it might for the average person. Eventually they opened the center door and sent someone down to collect the trays, but still did not come to let us out for the restroom. The officer stayed at the desk screaming obscenities down at us to “shut the fuck up,” followed by a string of explicites to categorize us. I am more familiar with policy and procedure than the average incarcerated women, well aware of the rules and my rights, so I began vocalizing as much along with my desperate pleas for relief. Even before this incident I was public enemy #1 to that C.O. so she began personally verbally abusing me telling me she didn’t give a fuck what I knew or said, I could just “piss on the floor like the dog I {was}.” Needless to say after being left in there for an extensive amount of time, by then nearly 7 hours, I became physically ill and had an accident, followed by justifiable upset and anger.

After she knew what had happened, she slowly sautered down the hall towards my cell, laughing at the sounds of my cries calling me every name in the book. Her behavior was so deplorable that every other woman on the hall began protesting what she was purposely doing to me. Knowing it was too late at that point, she unlocked the cell with a sadisti
c smile painted on her face and said in a sing-songy voice, “You can go to the bathroom now.” Followed by “oops, my bad, looks like you already did, sick ass fucking DOG! Come on BITCH, get the mop and clean up your mess, you sick ass bitch…” Other women continued to yell at her that she wasn’t right for what she was doing and to leave me alone, but the torment persisted.

She followed behind me, directly on my back to the point I could feel her body pressing into my back as she shove-walked me down the hall, the entire time spitting obscenities in my ear. This would be an awful experience for anyone, but for a woman with chronic PTSD it was nearly too much to bear. She continued in this fashion pushing me all the way into the mop closet in the corner laundry room. By now her fellow officer who had been in the center the entire time begame aware of what she was doing. She rushed into the laundry room and literally pulled her off my back chanting, “Leave it alone Clay, leave her alone, come on, that’s enough, leave her alone, leave it alone, before something happens…” She placed herself between me and the offending officer gesturing her out as she quietly told me it was alright, just go clean my room. Thank Goddess for that intervention! Though by that time I was hysterical. I loudly expressed that I would be putting that on paper, and this would be a double incident since I had a medical for my bladder condition (a few years earlier I had went through similar harassments by an officer in the education building that was denying me restroom use. At that time my vocational instructor helped me file the report and sent me to medical so I would have a medical report on my packet stating that I was allowed to use the restroom as needed). For those who are unaware, any grievance an incarcerated person has must go through several steps and the chain of command, and there is a time limit for reporting/filing. If you are not given the forms in a timely manner, or do not have access to that chain of command, the grievance is moot. Likewise, if the incarcerated person ends up receiving a disciplinary report over the time of the said incident, the conduct report trumps the greivance. In this particular incident I could hear the other officer telling her she had “gone too far this time.” We could hear their conversation since the door was opened. The offending officer told her she “didn’t have anything to worry up…[she ] has friends, and [she] was writing [me] up anyway.”The next conversation I heard was her calling medical to speak with one of her “friends,” the male nurse on staff. She chatted for a bit then proceeded to tell a tale about me involving all sorts of explicits, followed by “you know these lyin’ ass offenders…” she then instructed him to go into my file to “get rid of the medical she knew [I] didn’t have about my bladder.” The next days were filled with torment, little did I know that was the least of what was yet to come.

It turns out they were charging my friend and I for a sex act! Pretty much any type of contact was considered that, no matter what actually happened and that type of charge is nearly impossible to beat. My friend and I were finally sent to see the conduct board on the 8th day, she went in before me and looked hopeful as I walked past her on my way in. In those days the board was made up of three officers, supposedly so that a person had a fair and impartial panal to plead their case to. If one or two didn’t think you were guilty of the charge, they could dismiss the charge or lower it for a lesser sanction. (Today those “boards” are a solitary officer. Woe be it for the person that is targeted by THAT person, their time in prison is almost assured to be filled with conduct reports and hefty sanctions, usually more time in prison. This was the case with a friend of mine at IWP. The Conduct adjustment board (CAB) officer despised her. She spent the better part of three years cycling in and out of lock and Grace, ending up with 57 conduct reports!!!) Apparently my friend and I told identical accounts of what happened, that she was crying to me about her transfer being denied and just touched my braclet. We were granted a “verbal warning and time served.” Nonetheless 8 days in solitary plus all the abuse was a pretty severe punishment for someone touching your bracelet.

Beyond that, I would later learn that that “sex act” stayed on my packet. We were both happy because we would be sent back down to open pop after shift change that night. About an hour or so later, the officer came to my cell telling me the screening officer was ready to see me…”What? for What?!?” I hadn’t done anything, why was I receiving another write up? That was only the beginning of my nightmare. My friend would return to open pop, I would stay in lock…Shortly thereafter our joy over soon-be-released ended when the CO came to my cell to taking me to the screening officer. “Screening? For what? I haven’t done anything!” She looked at me snidely retorting, “Of course you have. Now cuff up!” She didn’t say another word despite my inquiries. I was met with the evil eye as I entered the room and the cold command, “Sit Down!” She had a whole stack of paper in front of her. Shuffling through muttering under her breath about what a “problem” I am. She stopped at one set of papers and said, “Well let’s get started with the first one, you want me to read it to you, or maybe I’m too ‘ignorant’ to read it.” I look at her incredulously and said “First one?! What you mean? What are you talking about? You can read it.” She began reading reading me a small selet passage out of a journal. and then tossed the papers across the table at me, and I had to lean in to try to catch them before they fell to the floor, no simple task when you are hand cuffed. I was flabbergasted as I read the report. Apparently upon going through my property when there was no contraband to be found, they decided to read one of my journals. Actually the journal the then psychologist told me to keep to write out all my thoughts and feelings, especially when someone or something had upset me. Basically as a catharsis, so I could vent on paper. The charge was a class B “possession of offensive material.” (A class B sanction is like the internal equivalent of a Class B felony in the outside world).

As I re-read over the small select section they chose to write me up on I became infuriated at the ways this was being twisted and used against me. Turns out she skipped over several words as she read the passage, large words and a few that were in a foreign language. She coldly told me to sign it. I retorted that no, I wouldn’t sign a lie of a charge, and perhaps I should have read it myself because she missed several words, would SHE like Me to read them to HER? This certainly didn’t help my situation but I was already on a sinking ship. The next write up was for “Lying to staff.” Over my request to have my medical records to use for a greivance against the earlier offending CO. I refused to sign that as well.

When my hearing finally came for the new charges, I would be found guilty of both, denied evidence, and denied contact with staff members who could have supported my claims. I would spend the next 75 days in the hole.

Aaron isby