CDC(R)

CDC

In his mid 20s Jerry got his first significant prison sentence—16 months. He didn’t quite remember why. He never did anything more than steal cars, tools, and furniture. Basically anything that he could flip and make a buck. Jerry had his share of narcotics cases as well. He had a lot of misdemeanor possession of narcotic paraphernalia—pipes and needles. Jerry usually consumed the narcotics within minutes of acquisition. That’s one way to beat the felony possession case.

Jerry was telling me some stories about life on the street and how he would acquire stolen items and sell them for drugs. During this time, Jerry says he drank a lot of whatever alcohol he could get his hands on. He told me of relationships he had with the Santa Ana and Stanton cops and how they were sort of fond of him. They cut him a lot of breaks.

 I told Jerry I was in the mood for some prison stories. Not that life on the streets wasn’t interesting, it was. There was definitely a pattern to it. He got out. He got bored. He went back (to jail).

He obliged me with the prison stories.  Similar to his first trip to the county jail, Jerry had some fear about going to state prison. In California, you could be sentenced up to a year and receive local county jail time. One year usually meant you served about 6 months. And with most felonies, you came out on formal probation and had to report to a probation officer. The minimum state prison sentence in California was 16 months. This meant you could serve 8 months in state prison. Upon release, you had to report to a state parole agent. Other states are different but in California county time equals probation; state time equals parole.  So Jerry tells me he was fearfully waiting for the CDC bus (California Department of Corrections). In 2006 Governor Schwarzenegger added the “R” for “Rehabilitation.  So now it’s CDCR. As he waited for the CDC bus in the county jail, Jerry felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. All the stories he’s heard until now were running through his mind. It turned out the ride to Chino was quiet. Jerry eventually got to the reception center at the California Institution for Men in Chino. Otherwise known as “Chino”. Upon arriving, he was astounded at the 18-foot gates as they opened to let him in. Chino was large and menacing compared to county. All 45 inmates in the bus were put in little tank in what CDC called “receiving”.  After many hours, Jerry and many others were put into a dorm living situation called “Madrone Hall”. Jerry told me he hated dorm living. It was row after row of bunk beds. Back then, all races were housed in the dorms together and it was very dangerous. “We didn’t sleep much”. “Guys were getting stabbed as they laid there on their bunk.” Within a few hours Jerry ran into friend he’s known since elementary school. This friend was able to give Jerry the break down of whom he should avoid and whom he needed to watch out for.  Jerry remembered during those times he had inadvertently began walking with a friendly guy that seemed very welcoming. It had been a few days since arriving. He was walking with this individual out to the yard. He remembered this guy telling him about the program as they walked. With in moments of entering the yard, 2 guys that were apparently waiting for him stabbed this individual repeatedly. Jerry jumped out of the way and watched his first execution. He wasn’t sure if the intention was murder this guy, but he did end up dying he found out later.  Jerry made it through 6 weeks at the west yard at Chino. Jerry blended in as he always did and, as usual, he was forced to defend himself offensively and defensively. He wasn’t afraid to fight; that reputation had followed him. He wasn’t a snitch and he liked to keep to himself.  In many respects Jerry was truly home. There was more freedom in prison—a lot more to do.  One could go to school, trade education or participate in work. More time in a yard and more time socializing and exercising. I’m sure Jerry had some pivotal points in his life where he had to make choices between good and evil.  In describing his first trip to prison, we stumbled upon one such crossing point.

At some point in the process, Jerry was placed with a cellmate that he discovered was a prominent member of a prestigious prison gang.  For a lot of reasons, specific names of individuals or organizations will either be changed or omitted.  Out of boredom, Jerry assisted his roommate by sharpening some hand made weapons. As all roommates do, they chatted.  So not only did Jerry learn of his roommate’s affiliation, he was eventually asked to join.  Jerry was well liked and to his own dismay, stayed sober in prison custody for the most part. He could be trusted and he didn’t owe any body anything. Jerry was offered all the major perks of this prison gang. The money, the prestige, the outside groupies and the protection were all very attractive aspects to consider. The over all power was intoxicating to weigh in his mind as well. But Jerry was solid in his eventual rejection of the offer. This was the proverbial angel and devil on his shoulders as he described it. In his own mind, Jerry says he was very deliberate in his efforts to stay out of hell. Jerry wasn’t particularly religious, but he had lines that he wasn’t ready to cross. When pressed on why he felt it best to avoid the gang, Jerry had no deep insights. He had seen guys that had similar lives to him. They had equally as hard of an upbringing. There was no real reason he was given insight to make this wise decision. Most people in his circles joined up. Jerry knew that this decision was a choice to enter a very violent world. Despite the perks, he knew that he would be asked to commit violent acts that would bend his morals in ways he feared. It was a world that didn’t end once you left the prison. Very diplomatically and respectfully Jerry said “no thanks.” This decision was respected. The only aspect that his cellmate wanted to confirm was Jerry’s secrecy. He wanted to assure that Jerry would not inform CDC of his prison gang status. He also wanted Jerry’s assistance when it came to race wars or any yard riot. If you were confirmed as a prison gang member you were transferred to the Special Housing Unit (the SHU). This was also referred to as Administration Segregation (Ad Seg). Inmates were locked down most of the day. They enjoyed considerably less privileges and no contact with the main population. It was its own hell. To be confirmed as a prison gang member, an inmate had to have a total of 3 “kites”. A kite was an anonymous letter sent to the CDC correctional officers. They were slid under their cells like a tightly wrapped paper football.  The correctional officers (COs) would receive the kite being careful not reveal the identity of the sender. If the identity of the sender were revealed it would mean certain death at the hands of the organization that was being revealed. A prison gang member in the SHU had a difficult time participating in gang business. It wasn’t impossible, just considerably more difficult. And being in the SHU was a miserable existence. Some considered it cruel and unusual. So Jerry agreed to assist with yard politics and his silence. He did this for years. Jerry speculates the reason this path was a viable option was due to his reputation that started in Juvenile Hall and foster care. In prison, if you didn’t know Jerry, you knew someone who knew Jerry. He was easily vetted. There was other’s like Jerry. Savvy dudes that knew the system inside and out. Jerry didn’t know the statistics and neither did I; but the average life expectancy of prison gang member was considerably less those in the general population inside of prison and out. This is more evidence that Jerry wanted to live. There was (and is) an innate will to make life last as long as possible.

When pressed about the allure of gangs either inside or out, Jerry had his formula. He was a respectful loner. He never did anything for the benefit of the gangs when on the streets and he did what he had to on the inside. To continue to be the respectful loner, Jerry had to participate in the occasional riot—race or otherwise. Jerry tells me that there was a lot of prisoners that made similar promises that suddenly became ill on the morning of a planned riot. These were guys that were out in the yard every day rain or shine no matter what. After a being absent for a riot, life became harder inside. If you fought once every couple of months, you know fought every other day--sometimes everyday. “Those guys were considered punks,” Jerry says with a plain face. “I didn’t want to fight ever day or every other day,” Jerry said.

More about the Soup Tank

So I know there was more about the Soup Tank that Jerry didn’t share. So I called him yesterday and asked him to tell me another story about the Soup Tank.  This time, Jerry quickly remembered his first stay at the Tank. He was only around 19. It was his second time in adult jail. The first was only for about 10 days or so. So long haired Jerry gets put in the tank after doing a day in the loop. The loop was a series of cells that a new arrival had go through for booking, medical evaluations etc. Time in the loop lasted for approximately 24 hours.  So immediately after being placed in the Tank, two guys started to harass Jerry.  They were on the other side of the cell having a conversation about assaulting and raping Jerry. Both of the guys came over and indicated that due to Jerry “new” status, he was going to have to get “fucked”. Jerry didn’t know if they were serious or not. He was in fear and wasn’t sure how to handle this. He wasn’t sure if they were going to rape him or if they were taking about just giving him a beating. Jerry had served time before in Juvenile Hall but this was where the big boys were. The politics were different he assumed. These two guys kept it up for a few minutes. They were making kissing noises and telling Jerry to pull his pants down. After a while, Jerry got up from his bunk and went to get a drink from the sink. The two cornered him and said something like “its time.” With all of his might, Jerry hit the smaller of the two in the face and knocked him off balance. The remaining inmate immediately started to punch and kick Jerry all over. Jerry fought back until the other guy regained his composure and started to help his partner give Jerry a beat down like he’s never received before. Jerry was on the ground shortly there after realizing there was no escape. The blows were like flashes of white light and pain. Jerry assumes he was knocked out because the next thing he remembered was lying on his lower bunk in a pool of his own blood.  Jerry said he laid there for two days not moving. He was in pain. His face was puffy and throbbing. “It hurt to breath” he said.  “The most terrorizing part was that these two guys were in the next bunk.” “I was in paralyzing fear that it was going to happen again.” Jerry had been beaten up before. That wasn’t the problem. He would recover. It was the fact his attackers were 3 feet away at all times. Jerry speculates they may have taken pity on him due to his atrocious facial injures. He described his face as raw hamburger meat. So it was the end of the second day after the attack. Jerry had been lying in his blood dirt the whole time. Just before dinner, Jerry noticed that one of his assailants was having a rather heated discussion with large white inmate that was walking buy. Jerry assumed it was a “trustee” (an inmate with laundry delivery privileges).  The large inmate outside the cage informed Jerry’s attacker that Jerry’s beating was unauthorized and that if Jerry didn’t get out of bed for the next meal, there was going to be a worse payback. Jerry’s attacker obviously felt intimidated by this individual and attempted to explain that they were only joking with Jerry and never intended to attack Jerry. They only hurt Jerry because he threw the first punch. After hearing this Jerry mustered the strength to get out of bed. A Sheriff’s officer noticed Jerry’s purple face and pulled him out to interview him. Since it had been only a few days since his arrival, Jerry told the Sheriff that the arresting cop did it. Not really satisfied, the Sheriff let Jerry be and put him back in the cage. Not to long after, Jerry was pulled out by the same Sheriff. He told Jerry that he went and looked at his booking photo and he didn’t have a scratch on him. Jerry knew he was safe for now but to be a snitch was much worse. That would only cause more problems. The Sheriff figured it out and put Jerry in a cell population with younger newer inmates. Jerry said the Sheriff looked at him right in the eye and said, “you were never supposed to be in there with them.” “You’re much to pretty to be there.”

The Soup Tank

These memories are from the same interview I had with Jerry last Tuesday. Jerry spent a little time telling me how when he was 19 he entered the Navy for about 2 weeks. He was discharged honorably due a heart murmur that he didn't even know that he had. The truth was that Jerry did what he did best--he split in the middle of the night from boot camp. Long story short, the Navy wasn't for him. He found out later that they discharged him honorably because at the time he ran, his medical evaluation came back. He was going to be let go anyway due to his heart murmor. What was interesting was that Jerry inadvertently remembered that before and after the Navy experience, he was incarcerated at Orange County Jail in California of course. The charges rarely changed--Petty theft with priors.  He told me he was locked up in a 6-man cell affectionately known as the "Soup Tank". These cells were originally formed for inmates that would not cut their hair or shave. Being the hippy that he was, Jerry qualified. In the tank there was enough room to hold 3 double bunk beds a toilet and a sink. There was enough walking room to move in between beds and that was about it. The Sheriff's officers that ran the jail paid little attention to what happened in the cells. Jerry described the Soup Tank as a gladiator hell. Everybody had 5 enemies. Tensions were high to say the least. Jerry tried to make himself invisible but that was impossible. Everybody wanted to be in charge and everybody literally battled for his rank. If you looked at someone wrong, you fought. If your toilet use smelled too much, you fought. If you accidentally moved the property of a cell mate, you fought. There was no yard time; there was no time out of the cell for any reason other than visits or medical treatment. There was no commissary or printed material allowed. The worst part was you literally could not escape your enemy. There were no weapons, only fists. Jerry has spent most of his life locked up. He has witnessed every horrible thing that occurs in prisons and jails. Jerry feels that his time in the Soup Tank contributed the most to his mental twistings. "The paranoia I developed was at a new level." "Looking over my shoulder was a gross understatement of how I lived after the Soup Tank". 

The fights in the tank were no more brutal than any fight Jerry was involved in. The problem was you couldn't escape your opponent. When asked to describe what it was like sleeping right next to the guy that was pounding your face just hours prior, Jerry could not. "Sleep was difficult in general. Sometimes I would finally get to sleep only to wake to the sound of flesh falling and hitting the cement."  In normal incarceration, battle participants usually got split up. Either by the guards, rubber bullets or by an emergency trip to the infirmary, opponents were split up any way you looked at it. Not in the Soup Tank. It was the psychological aspect of being in the same cage as the guy you beat down or the guy that beat you down. "It was torture", Jerry says. Everyone was in terror waiting for the next battle. "You didn't know who or why, but you knew it was coming. That was for sure." Jerry tells me he would meet guys years later and swap Soup Tank stories. Soup Tank survivors shared a common bond. They were like survivors of the Titanic. "There was an instant connections with guys that survived the Soup Tank", Jerry says. "We all got fucked up physically and mentally." When asked how the name "Soup Tank" was coined, Jerry says that every day at lunch (and most dinners too), the jail would serve warm water with salt and called it chicken soup. To make matters worse, the Soup Tank was a cell for those serving out a sentence. This was not a temporary place for anyone. Jerry said he served three sentences in the Tank. First was a month. Second was 8 months and the third was about 6 months. Jerry was fortunate enough to be among some of the last inmates to serve time in the Soup Tank. In his last stint, Jerry got word that members from a Grand Jury was to visit the facility to assess the conditions of the Soup Tank. Jerry was chosen to be in group that was to be interviewed about life in the Tank. Long story short and thanks to Jerry and other inmates interviewed, the Soup Tank shut its doors and inmates were dispersed into the main population. There were a total of 6 Soup Tanks in Orange County Jail. Each holding 6 inmates.

So I attempted to get more information about the Soup Tanks on line.  Jerry figured it was about 1985 give or take a year. It was no surprise to me that there was no reference to a Soup Tank in Orange County during those years. There was no Soup Tank at all that I could see. The name "Soup Tank" was given by its occupants not the jail. It's not that I think Jerry was lying, I just think that if there were any articles written about the Soup Tank it was probably referred to as "Mod J" or something like that. 

Another Foster moment

I met with Jerry again last Tuesday. He had been sick and he just found out he has diabetes. He still has an amazing attitude though. Still grateful for what he has. As I mentioned before, this account of Jerry's life comes out of order because that's how it comes out of his head. This time we're going back to age 14 and another foster home experience. 
I always ask Jerry if there was anything he wanted to add to his youth chronicles. He referred to his notes and quickly started sharing a time when he and another boy named Jerry were brought into a foster home situation in Buena Park California. It was just he and the other Jerry. Both were 14 and with a few years of experience in the system. So now was in a real looking family. A mother, a father and a brother. He and the other Jerry shared a room. The foster father worked as a longshoreman in Long Beach. He left super early and stayed away from the house most of the day.  Our Jerry started to notice that his foster brother Jerry was leaving in the middle of the night to sleep with the foster mother. At first he thought it was because he was just scared and he needed a "mother" figure for consoling.  Jerry soon became curious and confronted his foster brother. Jerry #2 reluctantly admitted to having sex with his foster mother and suggested that our Jerry do the same. This is the first time that I see a look of disgust on Jerry's face as he describes what he thought he had to do. After a few weeks of seeing his foster brother leave to go have sex with his foster mother, it was now his turn. One early morning Jerry was awakened by his foster mother and brought to her room. Jerry tells me he willingly had sex with her and that this was his first sexual experience with a woman. He said this happened about 4 or 5 times. When asked how he felt about it, Jerry was quick to yell out, "I hated it," "I thought it was what I had to do for rent or whatever." In Jerry's 14 year old mind, he thought that sex was a way to earn his "keep".  He believed that he and his foster brother must have sex with the foster mother in exchange for food and shelter etc. He was disgusted by the whole experience as he remembered that the foster mother always said..."don't tell anyone." This home lasted approximately 15 months.
I asked Jerry if he had any positive foster home experiences. I was happy to hear the next experience that Jerry had living in a foster home/dog kennel. This home was a shelter/kennel/pound. He wasn't really sure what exactly the business was. All he remembers was that he and approximately 3 other foster brothers stayed there and were used as slave labor to care for the animals. He tells this story not as a tragic abuse account but as his fondest memory as a kid. "I loved those dogs," "That's all I cared about was those animals, I wanted to be with them 24/7." Jerry was a big dog fan and didn't mind being used as free labor. The way Jerry describes it is like he was free from the anxiety of his life during those times. This reminded me of the evidence/research of dogs working with abuse victims and how they seem to cut through years of pain and the emotional walls that get built as a result. 
Unfortunately this was also a short lived foster experience. Jerry was off again to his next institution.

Jerry tells me of a time when he was 16 or 17. He's not sure how or why he was ordered to complete a job assistance program in San Bernardino. He quit after a week though. The strange thing was that when he called back a few weeks later to attempt to pick up some property, the staff took pity on Jerry and gave him a certificate of completion. Jerry was floored at this man's generosity. At the time this meant an almost guaranteed job. That's exactly what happened. Jerry was able to secure a job at a Tow company called Saddleback Tow. He kept this job for a year or so until the company went bankrupt. He tells me that he was fond of that job. The driver's were cool and they let him sleep in the trucks at night. He did everything there: security, custodial, maintenance and even tow assistance. Jerry was very proud to share a story of how he was instrumental at catching a tow yard thief that was  stealing expensive equipment from their trucks. Due to the fact Jerry slept at the tow yard he was able to identify an individual that was breaking into the facility and robbing them. For the first time in his life he was on the other side of the law and it felt good.