Traumatic Fall Ought to Break Hearts, Not Just Bones

 This past week, we had another traumatic experience in my housing unit. About a year ago, a distraught prisoner jumped from the second gallery in an attempt to end his life. He did not die, though the severity of his injuries probably made him desperately wish he had. 

This week another prisoner fell from the third gallery, about 25-30 feet down. He did not jump, but he rolled under the railing after falling and trying to get back up. He was apparently high after smoking something he bought in prison. I doubt he intended to fall. 

He, too, lived, though from what I hear his body is also very badly broken. Fortunately for him, a shower partition wall somewhat broke his fall, otherwise I'm sure he'd be dead or even worse off than he is. 

This fall happened around 8:15 at night, and our housing unit was closed for the rest of the night as the administration brought in an ambulance and then investigated what happened. To the administration's credit, they made a concerted effort to track down the sequence of events and hold the appropriate people accountable. 

One major thing differed this time compared to when the prisoner jumped. The next day, during our morning count time, four psychologists came cell to cell asking if we needed to talk or if we were okay. While I did not need to talk, I was extremely grateful for the gesture. Kudos to the administration, again. 

I'm not afraid to praise the Department when they get things right. It happens rarely enough that I think it's only right to highlight it. I would like to see some serious changes to the railing system, however. Our housing unit has five floors, and each floor above the base has four foot high two inch tube railings, but there is no cage or fencing. It's far too easy for a person, or even an object, to fall (or jump) from up to 40 feet in the air and land on someone below. I doubt that will change, unless someone files a lawsuit, but that's unlikely. 

What is also unlikely to change, sadly, is the responses, among both staff and prisoners, to these tragic events. Some have compassion and empathy, but others respond in cold cynicism. Yes, the prisoner was an idiot for smoking something illicit, but that doesn't mean he deserved what happened to him. 

It's easy to criticize staff for their cold cynicism, and frankly they ought to set an example of compassion. But, it's among prisoners that I hear the most disgusting comments. If we can't have compassion among ourselves, and treat each other with the dignity we demand of the system, how can we possibly expect the prison system to offer us compassion? 

I recognize the dynamic of using humor to deal with traumatic experiences. I was an EMT for a short while, and it's a common response in that field. But it's also common for people to treat you like you demand of them. When we, as prisoners, don't treat each other with dignity and respect, we ought to not be surprised when the prison system doesn't either. 

Erecting barriers to prevent falls or jumps is a good start to solve facility issues that contribute to that particular problem, but it's the structural issues among prisoners and between prisoners and staff that are the bigger problem. And that problem is a LOT more complicated to solve because it requires changing hearts and minds.