MISPLACED
As I lay in the bunk reading, I’m torn away from the pages by the unmistakable sound of gum shoes squeaking, property boxes bumping against the wall, and the thuds of fist crashing against bare skin. The occupants in the cell above mine were fighting. With my thumb in between the pages of the book, I laid it on my chest and listened to the altercation. As the fight intensified, the book slid diagonally across my chest and on to the bed as I sat up and put my feet on the floor. I was staring up at the vent from which the sounds escaped. After what seemed like minutes, but was actually only a few seconds, one of the men could be heard pleading with the other to “stop, I don’t want to fight any more.”
Fights are common occurrences in prison. But the difference between this fight and what’s considered a common fight is that this fight is between, for all intensive purposes, a normal inmate and an inmate who suffers from mental illness. After a spew of profanity and threats of a worst beating if the unstable guy does again whatever he had done to bring this beating on, the ruckus stopped.
It’s doubtful the mentally ill guy even knew what , if anything, he had done wrong. After all, it’s blatantly obvious to anyone who sees him that he suffers some form of mental illness. He talks to himself, sometimes using exaggerated forms of gesticulation; he is unclean; and he appears to always be spaced out. Guys like him, the mentally unstable, are prayed upon everyday. They are bullied, tricked out of the best food on their trays, strong-armed of their commissary, and along with being physically assaulted, some are sexually assaulted.
The incarceration of the mentally ill has been on the rise since the 1970’s. And considering the cuts in mental health budgets nation wide, the incarceration of the mentally ill will not decrease any time soon. So in the mean time, no help is coming literally or figuratively. As for the unfortunate guy in the cell above me, help never came. He has to sit in that cell in fear for his well being, if not for life, until the cells are opened for brunch, 10 hours from now.
If he makes it out of the cell, because of the bruises on his face, he will be stopped by a c/o, hand cuffed, taken to health care, then to seg where he will be placed under investigation. After a short investigation, his cell mate will also be placed in seg. Contrary to popular belief, the mentally unstable guy, being that he is vulnerable, will not be placed in protective custody or in a ward for the mentally ill. After serving a 30 day seg stint for fighting–in his case for being a human punching bag–he will be placed back in general population in a cell, for all intensive purposes, with a normal inmate who is ill equipped to deal with his special needs. So the chance that he suffers some kind of mistreatment at the hands of another inmate isn’t so few and far between, but it is strongly inevitable.
I was still sitting on the edge of my bunk peering at the silent, dark vent. Although the fight had ended, it took me a few minutes to shake off the thoughts of what could possibly happen to him if, unknowingly, he violates some prison mores. Contending with a feeling of unease, I finally lie back in my bunk, reopen my book, and gaze at the clock. It’s 11:15 p.m.- 9 hours and 45 minutes until brunch. Hopefully he climbs up into his bunk and doesn’t do anything but breath until then.
Written by Joseph L. Moore Jr. K-60703
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