Maintaining Family Connections May Have Just Gotten Easier for Michigan Prisoners

In Safe & Just Michigan's (S&JM; www.safeandjustmi.org) Summer 2022 newsletter, their Policy Update section reported potential changes to the phone fees for Michigan's prisoners. 

Currently, phone fees are around $0.18 per minute; however, historically more than 2/3 of that rate has gone to the "special equipment fund" to pay for video cameras, tasers, and protective vests for corrections officers. Despite a legislative prohibition for "kickbacks" on prison phone rates, this fund has accounted for a large portion of the cost of phone calls for Michigan prisoners and their families. 

S&JM reports that the new state budget signed in July eliminates the special equipment fund. This elimination should result in a significant reduction in phone call prices. No announcement has been made yet telling us what the new rates will be, but the new fiscal budget begins October 1st, so we should expect an announcement soon. S&JM reports that the elimination of this special fund will save prisoners and their families over $11 million per year. 

Additionally, House Bill 6363, introduced by Rep. Tenisha Yancey (Harper Woods), would fully eliminate all fees for phone calls made from Michigan prisons. It's unclear how much bipartisan support she has for this bill, but it's refreshing to note that at least one representative recognizes the importance of family connections to reducing recidivism rates among prisoners. 

Yancey's bill also aims to guarantee that more phones are available for prisoner use and that prisoners would be guaranteed up to two hours of phone use per day. Currently, phone availability varies widely by facility and housing unit. The prisoners at some facilities have more money (or their families do), so the phones are always busy. Other facilities, or some housing units, the phones are often available for use. 

One major problem with phone use in some prisons, including where I am currently housed, is that gang members control who can use certain phones at certain times of the day. This practice, which goes unchecked by prison staff, makes phone usage tough for some prisoners. However, Michigan's policy, implemented just over a year ago, now requires prisoners to wait fifteen minutes in between their own 15-minute phone calls. This has freed up some phones that were once controlled for hours at a time by a single prisoner. Some prisoners have found work-arounds to this limitation, but it is still better than it used to be. 

I'm happy to see that phone calls will be cheaper in the short term, and perhaps free in the long term. Although I am in the last stretch of my prison sentence, I am a staunch advocate for supporting the maintenance of family and community connections. It's a no brainer for helping to reduce the likelihood that prisoners will return to prison after their release. 

For more information and insider tips about how to strengthen connections with an incarcerated loved one, please check out my book, Insider's Guide to Prison Life at Amazon.com. 

Corrections Officers - Time Punchers, Bullies, or Difference Makers?

 In my last post I broadly categorized prisoners, despite preferring to avoid over-generalizations. Nevertheless, categories do help to explain some things. It might help to understand typical corrections officers through broad categories too. Again, not every officer fits into one of these categories neatly. Some move between categories, and some start their careers in one and end in another. Others are difficult to categorize at all. 

Most corrections officers fit into the first category, Time Punchers. These officers come to work simply for the paycheck and benefits. They are the officers who, were it not for mandated overtime due to staff shortages, would work an occasional overtime day, but prefer to do their eight and out. They'll write prisoners misconduct tickets if necessary, but they prefer to do their half hour rounds and be left alone the rest of the time. They'll answer prisoners' questions if the answer is readily available, but don't count on them putting in much effort otherwise. 

Time Punchers take their jobs seriously, but only seriously enough to preserve the appearance of doing so. They'll almost always have their coworkers' backs, if necessary, but they don't relish prison drama. This job is just a job to them. Sometimes these officers have an, "I don't give a crap" attitude, frustrating prisoners who need something. -- What? You just rode in and need a pillow? Yeah, I don't know what to tell you. -- Otherwise, these are also the officers who don't usually go out of their way to make prisoners' time difficult. 

Another category of corrections officer, thankfully a minority of officers, is the Bully. Every prison has Bully officers, but they seem to be in greater abundance in higher level prisons. Perhaps the greater violence among prisoners in these levels appeals to the Bully? Whatever the motivation, Bully officers come to work each day intent on making prisoners' lives miserable. Sometimes they target specific segments of prisoners, like young gangbangers or prisoners who are working to better themselves. Who they target depends on their own motivation. 

Bully officers are eager to write misconduct tickets, confiscate property, make a prisoner leave the chowhall before eating, or simply degrade and disrespect prisoners. I've known Bully officers who have planted shanks in prisoners' cells, and lied on misconduct tickets (which almost ALWAYS stick). These officers are almost never punished when their their own misconduct is discovered. They may simply be transferred to another housing unit within the same prison. Often, Bully officers are promoted to a supervisor role so they are less likely to engage with prisoners. 

The final category of corrections officer is the Difference Maker. Sadly, this is also a minority category, although there does appear to be a larger number of these officers among the Gen-Z population of officer. Perhaps it is their higher social consciousness than previous generations? Either way, difference makers are not necessarily advocates. They simply come to work prepared to see people as individuals. When they see prisoners who are working to improve themselves, they encourage that behavior. They take an interest in listening to prisoners and helping them problem solve. 

Difference Maker officers often unofficially counsel prisoners, helping them think through decisions by asking questions. The primary indicator of a Difference Maker is treating prisoners with dignity. Believing one has dignity makes all the difference in the world when prisoners think about their futures. Those who believe they have worth are more likely to live into that belief. Difference Makers focus on encouraging good behavior rather than antagonizing prisoners to behave their worst. 

To be fair, being a Difference Maker officer in prison is difficult. Some coworkers think you're wasting your time, and some prisoners might attempt to take advantage of these officers' kindness. I have to imagine it is quite difficult to maintain this posture under so much pressure and such frequent failure. 

Though I aim to keep the power differential between officer and prison in perspective, keeping appropriate distance, in my 13+ years in prison, I have encountered several officers who I just had to thank. A few of these officers I had an opportunity to thank for how they treated me and others as they retired. Several others I simply thanked when I transferred or moved to different housing units. It must have felt foreign to them having a prisoner thank them, but Difference Makers are too rare to go unappreciated. 

In a recent commercial seeking new corrections officers, the MDOC hints that they, too, like Difference Makers. Their commercial states that they are looking for compassionate officers, not unfriendly ones. I couldn't help but laugh at how preposterous that sounded. I only wish it were true in practice. Prisoners could, for sure, use more reinforcement of their inherent dignity.

Prisoners are Almost Always Users, Survivors, or Thrivers

 While I normally resist putting people into broad categories, I've noticed over my 13-plus years in prison that prisoners generally fall into three different categories (with exceptions and crossovers, of course): Users, Survivors, and Thrivers. 

Users are not just those who have addiction issues, though it often includes these. Users are those who use other people, usually with no shame, to fulfill their own desires. Prison predators are the most glaring example, but they are also the minority within this group. Prison predators might use other prisoners for sexual favors, store goods, or access to something else another prisoner has. Sometimes these predators use direct forms of pressure, but more often they use subtle manipulation. 

The larger subgroup of Users are those who manipulate and use people without a clear predatorial element. They simply see other people as a resource that they can manipulate to achieve their desires. This could include borrowing food, never intending to return it, "stealing" someone's time or expertise without recompense or apology, or simply pretending to be a friend but having no loyalty. 

The second category of people, Survivors, are those whose primary aim in prison is survival. They can focus on very little other than making it through another day. These people might be what the Michigan Department of Corrections call "Potential Victims," those most at risk of becoming a victim of some sort in prison. It's fairly easy to spot these prisoners, because they are often young (usually small) white guys, or old white guys. Not all young or old white guys are Survivors, but many Survivors come from one of these two subcategories. Since they are easy to spot, they are often targeted by Users, because Survivors usually have no way to defend themselves. Survivors often lack social capital or social intelligence needed to avoid the many clever traps Users employ against them. 

Another subcategory of Survivors are those who join prison gangs or religious organizations, mainly for the protection they provide. While these prisoners often appear to be Users, and sometimes are Users as well, many of them are, in fact, Survivors. They simply hide behind the cloak of "protection" afforded them within their chosen group. The group not only affords them social credibility, but it also teaches them how to become a User instead of a Survivor. 

The final category of prisoner is the Thriver. Most prisoners do not start out as Thrivers, but after a turning point in their incarceration, some grow into Thrivers. These prisoners rise above the petty politics of prison, as much as possible, rejecting the institutional behavior common among prisoners. Instead, they focus on bettering themselves. They might pursue education, develop skills to earn money (painting, crocheting, cooking, etc.), and/or become a mentor to other prisoners who are seeking to change. 

Thrivers are also fairly easy to spot among prisoners. They carry themselves differently, looking a bit out of place in the prison environment. Other prisoners are quick to seek out Thrivers when they need help, like help interpreting a new legal case, filing a commutation, signing up for college classes, tutoring for vocational trades, or even counsel and guidance about family/relationship or prison issues. Thrivers are not always experts in these areas, but they often know who is, and they act as a kind of broker, pointing prisoners in the right direction, and doing so without expectation of anything in return. 

You see, for Thrivers, thriving is not a singular pursuit. It's important to Thrivers that all prisoners find purpose in their lives, that they make their lives count for something. And Thrivers will do nearly anything in their power to assist someone else who is serious about rejecting the status quo in prison and embracing a whole new way of life. Thrivers know that prison is a trap and prison culture is a parasite that slowly drains life and purpose from anyone who isn't laser focused on avoiding its vicious infection. 

Sadly, the majority of corrections staff don't appreciate or promote Thriver mentalities. Instead, they see Thrivers as a threat to institutional normality, because they reject pat answers and the classic "spin," and demand more than the status quo from staff. 

But doesn't society want prisoners who Thrive, who leave prison better people? You'd think so.

Prison Punishment Worsened by Administrative Ineptitude

 Transferring prisons is an exhausting and frustrating experience, but the frustration does not end there. 

Upon arriving at Parnall Correctional Facility in Jackson, Michigan, I had not showered since the night before, nor brushed my teeth since the morning. I felt dirty, sweaty, and tired. But I had none of my property, including a change of clothing and hygiene items for showering. "You should get your property tomorrow," we were told. That night, I slept in my sweaty clothing, after washing up as best as I could in the bathroom sink. 

The next day, the other two prisoners who transferred with me were finally able to make phone calls and access their emails. Mine was still not turned on at the new prison facility. We waited all day for our property, only to be told that it had not arrived with us. We would have to wait through the weekend and into the middle of the next week to get our property. 

Fortunately, after several requests and complaints, we were given temporary changes in clothing and a travel hygiene kit so we could brush our teeth and shower. We had to find our own shower shoes to borrow, and since I knew nobody to borrow from, I showered in my socks. It's a risky thing to go barefoot in a public shower! Still, a shower and brushing my teeth made me feel MUCH better!

All weekend, I tried to make phone calls to let my loved ones know where I was, but my communication options were cut off, at the mercy of some bureaucrat who didn't do his or her job properly. 

Finally, on Tuesday, five days after arriving at this prison, my phone and email were turned on, and I received my personal property. In the meantime, another kind prisoner, whom I'd never met before, had given me a spare pair of shower shoes so I didn't have to shower in my socks. It was a kind gesture not uncommon in prison, if one pays attention. 

The housing unit I was assigned at Parnall is a pole barn setting. I had spent 4 1/2 years in a pole barn at Lakeland Correctional Facility, but I had hoped to never have to bear that again. Fortunately, I was placed in a bunk away from the hallway, near a window. But then two or three days later, fortunately before I received my property, I was inexplicably moved within the housing unit. "Nobody" apparently knew why. Now, my entire bed lines the loud and bright hallway. 

The speaker right over my head blares numerous times a day and late into the night with officers calling this prisoner or that, or warning of pending count times and announcing when count is clear. These loud disruptions start just before 6AM and end after 11PM at night. I wonder how the prison administration expects prisoners to be rested for their classes. One of the first things I dug out after receiving my property was my earplugs. I hadn't had to use earplugs at the prison I just transferred from. 

Thankfully, the housing unit I am, at least temporarily, housed in is mostly calm and not especially loud (except for the officers shouting over the loudspeaker). Most of the prisoners here are in mandatory classes, like substance abuse and domestic violence prevention classes. Many are very close to paroling from prison. 

It didn't take me long to find a couple of guys to play Scrabble with, and I've already started a routine exercising each morning. Although I don't anticipate being here long, exercising is an important part of my routine that keeps me mentally and emotionally healthy. It's an outlet for stress that might otherwise leave me anxious all the time. 

Anyone who thinks American prisons are too easy on us prisoners ought to experience a day-long transfer in shackles and belly chains, the frustration of being unable to communicate with loved ones, and the nearly week-long loss of all one's property. They ought to experience living in a large, mostly open pole barn with only half walls with nearly 200 other prisoners. They ought to try sleeping while a loudspeaker over their head wakes them just as they start to doze off. They ought to try sleeping with their entire vulnerable body lining a hallway where dozens of other prisoners (including with violent pasts or currently mentally ill) walk past throughout the night. 

Yeah, prison is still punishment, still a tough experience to endure.