Rick My Friend is Dead

I don’t know where to start with this entry.  A mixture of anger, sadness, disbelief and disgust are combining to make it difficult to think.  My friend died yesterday.  He died right in front of our eyes.  He died while we stood by helpless or scrambling around trying to do something, attempting to show that we are not entirely powerless.  They rolled him out and lied to us, “He’s fine.”  They said, “He just likes to play it up to get more attention.”  How about the truth:  “He died because we did nothing to stop it.  He died because we just don’t care.”

I’m getting way ahead of myself.  Let me start at the beginning so you can decide for yourself what you think.  There are always two sides to any story, but I have no reason to lie to you.  I am in prison, with nothing to gain and a whole lot to lose.  The BOP is not fond of criticism.  The BOP does not like being exposed as a hypocritical bureaucracy that has lost touch with humanity.  For two years I have lived next door to Rick.  We shared a number, which is a big deal in prison.  That means we had the last three digits of our IDs in common, meaning we’re from the same district.  “Homeboys” in prison parlance.  We sat together in the tv room and crocheted or worked on art projects side-by-side every night.  We joked that we ran that corner for the 555 (not our real number, but you get the point).  Any new guys who arrived with the same number came to us to make sure they were situated, knew the ropes for using the tv room, the rec room, etc.   We talked every day at Count.  Challenged each other with obscure sayings that we then checked out in our Dictionary of Idioms and Slang.  We helped each other out when necessary.  Ultimately we did the most important thing you can do for another person in prison:  We treated each other with respect and shared a “life” that took us away at least for a little while, at least in our minds, from being in prison.  Was it funny to watch two guys debating crochet stitches for two hours in the tv room?  I’m sure it was.  Did that beat arguing and griping about the inmate’s life all day?  Hell yes!

All of the good times are now relegated to memories.  Rick is dead.  I watched him fight for his life for 45 minutes, writhing on the floor.  I watched helpless as my friend died.  We tried in vain to get him help, but our Unit Officer on Duty just sat in his office with his feet up on the desk, chomping on a snack, waving us off with, “Ah, he’s just faking.  I don’t give a f**k what you inmates think I should do.”  When confronted by a medical doctor, now imprisoned, with the opinion that “if we don’t get this man some help in minutes he will die!” the guard yelled, “Keep flappin’ your gums Doc and I’ll lock you up and ruin you!”  For the whole 45 minutes of this ordeal no staff member attended to Rick.  The guard claimed Medical would not respond until he stopped being “over-dramatic.”  When Chow was called many of us scurried to find a staff member who might help.  Finally an officer saw fit to look at Rick.  Medical arrived ten minutes later without a gurney or medical kit.  Ten minutes after that they carried him out, no longer living.

There are so many details of this horrible day that I will never forget, details of this same pattern of callous, blatant disregard for human life.  This is not a case of exaggerated inmate rumor.  I saw it all with my own eyes.  The fallout?  Three inmates have been threatened with a “shot” for questioning the guard’s judgment and interfering.  How you can interfere with someone doing absolutely nothing but chewing on crackers, I don’t know.  They say an investigation is underway.  But is the guard on duty being put on leave?  Nope.  He’s at work on a different unit, just as smug and arrogant as ever.  At least 50 of us have written up the incident and turned it in to the Administration.  Black, white, Hispanic, young, old, you name it, all of us stepped up.  For once we are united.  No bickering or backstabbing. We all loved Rick and we want justice!  They told us when we were convicted and jailed that the system is blind, applied equally to all, but we have often been treated unfairly.  We have been over-punished.  We are locked up for longer and in greater numbers than any prisoners in any other so-called civilized nation in the world.  But we get up every day and carry on, doing what we can to survive.  Now we feel like it’s our turn.  We want some kind of justice for our friend.  We want the guard held responsible, the man whose wanton neglect, indifference, arrogance, and anger killed my friend.  He should not be held above the law.  But you know, mainly we just want Rick back.  My friend, may you rest in peace!