An Incorruptible Corrections Officer
by Richard Korn, Ph.D
In 1975 inmates at the virginia state prison sued in federal court, accusing
the prison administration of failing to protect them from other inmates.
It was a unique suit, the inmates demanding more rather than less security
and control. The ACLU agreed to represent the inmates, retaining me as their
expert witness.
I had only two days in which to conduct the investigation on the basis of
which I would testify in court. The prisoners were very forthcoming. But
none of the custodial or civilian staff would corroborate their testimony.
Without that corroboration by staff, testimony by inmates would not prevail.
One of the more serious complaints involved the "torching" of
inmates locked in their cells. A prisoner would somehow obtain a flammable
liquid. He would splash an enemy's cell, then toss in a lighted match. Within
seconds his victim would die a hideous death. Short of locking down the
whole institution, the only way to prevent such executions would be to maintain
a close control of internal movement. Traditionally this was done by means
of a pass system requiring individual inmates traveling from one place to
another to show a pass describing time and place of departure and approved
destination.
It was the afternoon of the second day. The ACLU attorney and I were standing
in the entry corridor of a cell block, observing the human traffic. The
Chief Deputy for Security and the State's Attorney watched with us as inmate
after inmate passed through without challenge by the cell-block officer.
A few inmates were carrying buckets which could have contained anything,
including the paint-thinner with which more than one prisoner had been incinerated.
Also standing by was a custodial corporal. He watched me as I observed the
procession of unchallenged inmates to and from his cell-block. "Don't
you have a pass system in force here?" I asked him. "Sure,"
he answered, but I can't get my officers to enforce it." It was the
first sign of a possible break in the wall of official denial. I said,
"Would you be willing to state that for the record tomorrow, curing
our final meeting with the Warden?"
"Sure," he said.
When he arrived at the Warden's office the next day for the show-down interrogation,
I sensed that there was something different in his appearance. Then I noticed
what it was. Instead of two inverted V's on his shoulder, there were three.
Overnight he had been promoted from corporal to sergeant.
We had lost. As one officer after another continued testifying in support
of the official whitewash, the new sergeant sat silently with what seemed
a sardonic smile on his face. I pointedly ignored him. The charade was drawing
to an end. We were dead in the water.
Finally I said, "Unless someone wants to make a statement, I have no
further questions." At that the sergeant spoke up. (I quote from the
taped record I kept of the meeting.) The Sergeant: "I'm just going
to tell the truth. I'm not going to lie for anybody. And I also presume
that my career in corrections at this point is zilch."
Korn: "No. I'm not going to take your answers. I'm going to stop this."
I turned to the last officer on my list. During a meeting on the previous
day he had given some indication that he might speak candidly for the record.
But now, in the Warden's office, he echoed the administration line. I got
up to leave.
Then the Sergeant spoke up: "I have a question. Why did you say you
didn't want to take my testimony?" Korn: "Because if I'm to believe
you that your career would be zilch, I don't want to be a party to that.
I'm serious. If you want to have a career in corrections . . ."
Sergeant: "Well, there's other states besides Virginia." We stared
at him. I agreed that there were other states which might want to hire him.
But again I indicated that I did not want him to jeopardize his career.
Brushing my objection aside, he made his statement without solicitation.
It was the whole nine yards.
"Shanks are available all over the institution. The Administration
takes measures to stop it, but there's so much traffic, so much movement
from place to place, so much movement within the cell-house, that it's very
difficult to stop it. Two weeks ago they took $190 off of one inmate.
Shortly before that they took $650 from another inmates. Works? This place
is needle park. It's worse than New York City. Access to shops? Yes, they
have a man at the gate, but you can bring stuff in and out of the shop in
the
laundry carts, in buckets that are supposed to have paint. Under-reporting
of offenses? In keeping with what has become a quiet joint, this institution
... we have an example where we caught a man with a straight razor, a straight
razor! All right, we locked him up and he did his 15 days for a straight
razor, not very much isolation time. He comes back onto the yard and the
next thing you know they take a shank off of him. He does another 15 days-then
right back into the section. It's easy to be an officer in Virginia. You
can be blind in one eye, and you're not expected to see out of the other."
There was our case. Whenever I find a need to challenge the stereotype of
the callous and indifferent prison guard-and in the circles in which I move
those occasions are frequent-I quote the statement of that officer.
