Sensitive Needs

Not exactly what you you - or pretty much anyone - might imagine...

I believe I have only mentioned in passing that the Department of Corrections maintains in certain adult institutions yards specifically intended to meet the protective needs of inmates with “special needs,” usually meaning anyone likely to be victimized or preyed upon if they were housed in the mainline, general population: elderly, physically disabled, impaired by mental illness, debilitating medical conditions, sex offenders, gang dropouts, and so on.

Not every institution has a specific unit, meaning that these individuals will be accommodated as best as possible, which can mean AdSeg, administrative segregation. where you are in cell 23 of 24 hours per day - which is often the predicament of sex offenders - allowed to shower & exercise alone on a reduced schedule, and take meals in your cell, for years at a time. The obvious advantage a specific unit or yard is that it is closed, and though a sex offender continues to be subject to the possibility of harassment and/or violence, it is considerably less likely. The odd man out is the “gang dropout.” These individuals, at least in my experience, never are actual “dropouts” as the name implies - meaning they literally approach custody staff and request to dropout from a street gang and offer to “debrief” the Gang Unit - but instead have been harassed into appearing as “snitches” in order to get information, leaving them with no alternative but to seek out protective custody. I have seen officers enter their cells - which, apart from a search or medical emergency, is considered an offensive invasion of privacy - and leave saying things like, “I really appreciate your honesty,” loud enough to be heard by everyone within earshot; the implication being, “snitch, despite the inmates equally loud protests. The ones that I have spoken to regarding parole were obviously concerned about the impact on their family - gangs get word on the street quickly (“Why were the cops in his cell?”) - and concerned about actually returning home themselves. But on the other hand, there are individuals who are altogether so fragile and vulnerable that I met in sensitive needs yards that never ceased to amaze me how they ever survived state prison in the first place.

As I walked in one morning and began to setup my things for the day to see patients, several officers came to the door and asked if a certain inmate was on my schedule, because he insisted he was, and was in full panic, demanding to see me immediately. When I checked my list, I confirmed that he was on the schedule to see me, and they may as well bring him immediately.

This young man took “immediately” literally, and before I could even open the bag to my coffee, he was pounding at the door. I asked him to hang on for a moment, but he was demanding just as the officers suggested. “Dude, you are number one, just give me one minute to start my computer and take my coat off…” “I need to talk with you NOW!” “I’m here! Come in and take a seat. I’ll be right with you. I just need to…” “No you need to listen to me NOW!” Madonna Mia! I sat down. Got a pen, “Tell me your name…” He got right to the point, “I went to chapel this morning, then to breakfast, and when I came back home, they had moved my cellie out! THEY HAD MOVED MY FUCKING CELLIE OUT!” “OK, OK. Calm down. Slow down. Tell me exactly what happened.” Immediately he was sobbing. “We’ve been cellies for six years. We both have autism. We’re best friends. It’s not sexual or nothing. We’re just best friends. We watch out for each, you know. We got each other’s backs, you know. And without saying anything, they just moved him! WHY? WHY WOULD THEY MOVE HIM?” “OK. Look, I’ll find out. Leave it up to me, alright. I will find out. You wait in the hall, and I will find out what happened.”

I had him sit down and walked down the hall to the lieutenant’s office and knocked on his door. He opened the door and and immediately said, “Come on in, I know exactly why you’re here.” I stepped in and he said, “I really screwed up and I accept full responsibility. I accidentally authorized moving the kid’s cellie because I thought your guy could help a newcomer and now they’re both destroyed. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I didn’t know about the autism. I have an officer bringing your guy’s cellie back with his stuff right now. I really apologize. I’ll come by later and apologize to both of them myself. I feel like such an idiot” I just stood there, apparently smiling. The lieutenant said, “You’re smiling.” “Yeah, well, I appreciate your candor. I just came to ask a question, and I turned out to be a confessor!”

As I made the long walk back to my patient, him following me wide-eyed my entire walk back, I opened the door to let him in. “Well, what did he say?” “He said ‘I’m sorry. I made a mistake. His cellie is being moved moved back as we speak.’” “HE DID!” “Yup.” He jumped up like he wanted to hug me, “Sit down, it’s OK. It wasn’t me. He said he is going to stop by later personally.” He sat down and cried. “On a positive note, he did this because he though highly of you, and trusted you enough to think he could place a new entry with you, and you could help him.” “He could have asked me first.” “I know, but it’s done. And you’re your 90-days to the house. We have business to take care of.”

Another man I met in our prison and then enrolled in our rehab parole program was in his early 30’s, having already served a 3-year sentence for sexual harassment and assault of a police officer.

The way he explained it, he had been diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder approximately 10-years previous, and had a very difficult time relating to others generally, and women in particular: “I’m very intimidated & afraid of women, and I just can’t ‘read’ them.” His sister had introduced him to a friend from school, and they had gone to a bar after a movie. They were casually talking, they kissed, and he touched her breast. She immediately slapped him across the face. He was shocked. She got up to leave & he grabbed her arm as he tried to apologize and explain, and she slapped him again. The bouncer stepped in & he pushed the bouncer, who took him to the floor, holding him as he struggled, while the other bouncer called the police.

When the police arrived to take custody of him, he attempted a “kick move” he had seen in a movie & kicked an officer in the face, breaking his nose and breaking several of his teeth. He was rewarded with a considerable beating and was hallucinating as he was arrested. His Public Defender basically ignored his psychiatric diagnosis and florid, unmedicated psychotic symptoms during the course of this ordeal, and recommend he plead guilty. Not only did the judge accept his guilty plea, but also assigned him two-strikes under California’s Three Strikes Law, which effectively doubled his sentence to 3-years in state prison. A third strike “serious” or violent felony triggers a mandatory 25-years-to-life sentence ( in late 2025, the CA Supreme Court did establish a stricter standard for approving “strikes” & allowing for petitions for re-evaluations of old convictions).

In any case, this man needed special attention in our rehab because he was, first, frightened of our Iceman, mentioned previously, and tended to stay in his room during periods where he could be mixing with peers, for example, in the large group room/lounge. Further, patients would tell staff that they thought he was up late after “lights out” watching porn on his phone. What to do, what to do? His counselor sent him to me, of course, where he admitted to me he watches porn every night & masturbates. “Look,” I told him, “ you have told me before that you are lonely and that you have difficulty with women. I have invited you twice to come to my group on Friday afternoons where you can discuss your problem with woman with your peers and perhaps get some real assistance, rather than watching porn. The dorm is simply not the place for this. People are complaining about your behaviour and I can’t have that happening. Do you understand that?” “Yeah I understand.” “We settled the issue with the Iceman, right?” “Yeah, we talk once in a while.” “So what prevents you coming to my group?” “I don’t really like groups. I get nervous.” “What could I do to help you. Give me a few clues to make you more comfortable. Would it help to sit next to me or directly across from me?” “OK, I’ll try directly across from you.” “May I call on you if you if you don’t speak up?” “I guess.” “Is that a ‘yes?’” “Yes.” He actually came to group & actually participated, graduated from our program & moved to a group home, and last I heard, was doing well. We even convinced him to go to Legal Aid to petition about his CA Strikes.

Last is a man who predated the transgender movement, and I suspect would have been unwilling to identify as such. He was a Black sex worker who assumed a female “identity” but identified as homosexual in prison. He was being treated for AIDS and who also had gone across the boarder to Mexico at some point for breast implants (which later turned out to be plastic bags filled out with some sort of industrial “gel” that eventually seeped through the bag and caused a ridiculous infection in his chest that resulted in emergency surgery) and “butt implants,” as he described them (which were discovered to be a mixture of portland cement and a solvent to prevent them from hardening, which also needed to be surgically removed) both of which were purchased at a “Today Only!” price guaranteed by a street hawker who led him into a street clinic for the procedure from a “surgeon” who conducted on a table covered by butcher paper with injections of local anesthetic, accepting only US cash. Caveat emptor, indeed. When we met, he told me he felt sick most days and had no idea how he would live on parole. He was 61-years old, no longer the “desire” of other inmates, who not only no longer find him particularly attractive, but also fear his illness. And likewise, men in prison are no longer willing to settle for just his ability to do their laundry without sexual services, when younger men, who are more fit choices are available. Personally, I found articulate, friendly, and a warm personality, but men in prison won’t pay for companionship either. So, I did what I could: offer assistance in applying for Supplemental Security Income (SSI), help him find a supportive group home, and arrange for on-going medical when he paroles. I called his Parole Agent and apprised her of his health and need for ongoing care, and she was greateful for the information & promised to be sure he followed up with the applications and referrals. What is heartbreaking is that, while assisting him, there are far too many like him who “fall through the cracks” and will return to either sex work and prison, or to crime to support themselves and return to prison. And I am here to help so few.