The Dynamic Duo

When I come to work at the prison, I never know what I’m going to find. Joe and Carlos will usually fill me in on camp happenings, and sometimes there have been some minor incidence or maybe even a funny anecdote. But when I arrived at work on Friday, and John filled me in on what had been going down, I was pretty badly shaken. Things had been going so smoothly for me, in my little store that I could tend to forget that this was, after all, a prison and that some of these guys were here for a reason. Anyway, a bad situation developed with the result that investigators came out from the big prison in Cedar,( where I had been going for training), to investigate. Carlos was an innocent bystander, but he was one of the prisoners who got accused of beating up a newly arrived inmate. When the new group came in Thursday afternoon,Carlos was excited. One of them he knew from “the yard”, where he had spent time before. He went down to “A” wing (for new guys and those needing more security) to catch up. But another one of the new guys was in trouble. Apparently someone remembered him from somewhere else too, but not in a good way, and a large group was recruited to rough him up. They wore scarves over their faces, and they beat him badly enough that he had to be taken to the hospital. Carlos turned away when the fight started, and was not involved in any way, but the man who was beaten saw him and identified him as one of the attackers. They “rolled up” about 10 inmates, including Carlos, for transport to Cedar for further questioning. There, they will spend time in “the hole”, a solitary cell, described to me by one of the officers as “hot, noisy, and…....like hell.” I am devastated for many reason. Carlos has been trying very hard to “keep his nose clean”, as he was up for parole very soon. He was an excellent store clerk and very nice to work with.
He never had Joe’s passion for store paperwork and order forms, but he was a very good clerk. I loved watching him and Joe work. After I ran the tickets, they would pull items for orders. When an inmate showed up at the window, he first had to show his ID. It didn’t matter if he had been there for years; no ID, no store. A list is posted on the window showing the number of the order. The erstwhile customer looked at the list, found his name and was ready to go when Carlos, usually the one at the window said “Number, number number.” Then, reading off the printed “pull sheet”, he would call off items to Joe. “One Nescafe.” “Uh, huh,” said Joe as he tossed the bag of coffee over, “Two Maui, one Barbecue.” “Yeah,” Joe would say as he pulled and tossed bags of potato chips. They were like a well-oiled machine. Carlos would usually send the customer away with “All right now.” But they did like to have their fun. One of Joe’s favorite pranks was to tell an inmate that instead of ordering , say, 3 coffee creamers, that he had written down 30. “You have to take it,” he would say. “You wrote it down wrong, and to give a refund will take about a month.” In reality, refunds were very easy to do. The victim of the joke would be relieved, though sometimes a little angry, when told he “had been had.” One day I asked them if the guys weren’t wise to that joke by now. “Thank goodness for the new guys,”Carlos said.
After Joe comes in and tells me Carlos will be leaving, I come out and hang back in the corner just watching the proceedings. I’m glad I had a chance to talk to Carlos before the van of officers showed up to begin the interrogations and hear his side of the story. I watch as officers haul inmate lockers into the rotunda. They go through each man’s earthly possessions, separating out the things he will be able to keep, and shoving them into a plastic garbage bag with name markered on. I have come to appreciate Carlos’ many fine qualities, and the whole thing ties my stomach up in knots. Noone seems to mind if I just hang around the rotunda and watch. A few of the officers come over and talk to me, trying to make me feel better. “You are really pale,” says one. “You need to go home and have a glass of wine.” I tell him that since I don’t drink, a diet cherry coke will have to be my drug of choice.
When I get home, I call Ida, the former camp storekeeper, to inform and seek consolation. She has know Carlos longer than I have, and is also certain that he wasn’t involved. I’m not saying that Carlos wouldn’t fight, but ganging up is definitely not his style. Nor is lying about it.
Anyway, tomorrow will bring many changes. With Joe’s considerable help, I will need to select another clerk. My supervisor Jackson, as luck would have it, is scheduled to stop by.
Hopefully, we will hear soon that Carlos has been cleared, but even then, he will not be back in our prison camp.
I’ll keep you posted.
Soberly,
UltraMom