Recently, another prisoner who is what we call a short-timer said to me that he was blown away by how corrupt the Michigan Department of Corrections (MDOC) is. This prisoner is nearly fifty years old, has never been to prison before, and believed in the criminal justice system prior to his incarceration for a somewhat minor offense. But since coming to prison, he has totally lost faith in the system. This prisoner was a well-respected person in his community and has deep attachments to academia. Like most people, he was conditioned to believe that the prison system is fair, just, and operating with integrity. Instead, he found rampant apathy, mismanaged money, cruel corrections officers, a culture of protecting corruption, and a totally broken system. Many people may discount his views because he is now a prisoner, but that's the rub. Why must someone actually be a prisoner in order to see the problems, especially when prisoners' viewpoints aren't trusted? The MDOC has very little oversight, almost no accountability, and those in Lansing and the courts give wide latitude to prison officials, even in the face of glaringly obvious evidence against them. Prisoners' reports and complaints are discounted out of hand, and MDOC misconduct is excused and justified. We prisoners are in prison because we broke the law and the court system held us accountable. Most of us deserve to be punished for our crimes, though some don't deserve prison, and others are simply innocent of their charges. But when the system that punishes us also routinely breaks its own rules, and approves of such conduct, how are we prisoners to learn the value of living according to rules? When the law only applies to those of us already being punished, and not to the punishers, how is that justice? Some people may chalk up my (and other prisoners') complaints to bitterness about our incarceration. I probably would too from the other side of the fence. But now that I've experienced the level of incompetence, corruption, and injustice found in the MDOC, to be silent would be injustice too. I deeply regret the injustice of my past. I know I caused harm, that I am 100% responsible for that harm. For the last fourteen years I've worked on my flaws, cultivating empathy for those I harmed and for others. It's only natural, then, for me to also recognize and speak out against injustice perpetrated by the very system that claims to carry out justice. Yet when I speak out, I've been silenced by the system that seeks to protect its injustice. It has unchecked power to do just that. I do have a sliver of hope that things will change (though a very small sliver) because some police officers are finally being held accountable for their injustices. Whether or not that movement will carry over to the less visible corrections systems is yet to be seen. The public still tends to believe that once convicted, people give up their rights to justice. Every day that goes by leaves me feeling less and less hopeful that the corrections system can be...well, corrected. We'll see. |
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