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The Lucifer Effect
"Burglary" or "armed robbery" or "breaking and entering" or "459 Code
violation" are the usual replies.
Some add, "But I am innocent" or "I was charged with .. . but did not do it,
sir."
The priest then says, "Good to see you, young man" or says the prisoner's first
name. He inquires about where he lives, about his family, about visitors.
"Why is the chain on your leg?" asks Father McDermott of one prisoner.
"I think it's to prevent us from moving around that freely" is the response.
Some he asks about how they are being treated, how they are feeling,
whether they have any complaints, and whether he can offer any assistance.
Then our priest goes beyond any of my expectations with basic questions about
the legal aspect of their confinement.
'Anybody post bond for you?" He asks one of them. Alternatively, of 4325 he
seriously inquires, "How does your lawyer feel about your case?"
For variety's sake, he asks others, "Have you told your family about the
charges against you?" or "Have you seen the public defender yet?"
Suddenly, we are all in the "Twilight Zone." Father McDermott himself has
slipped deeply into the role of prison chaplain. Apparently, our mock prison has
created a very realistic situation that has drawn the priest in, just as it has the
prisoners and the guards and me.
"We weren't allowed to make a phone call, and we have not yet been brought
to trial; no trial date has even been mentioned, sir."
The priest says, "Well, someone has got to take your case. I mean, you can
fight it from here, but what good does it do to simply write the criminal court chief
justice? It is going to be very slow to get a response. You want your family making
this contact with a lawyer because you don't have much pull at all in your current
state."
Prisoner Rich-1037 says that he plans to "be my own lawyer, because I will
be a lawyer soon after I finish law school in a few years."
The priest smiles sardonically. "It is my general observation that a lawyer
who tries his own case tends to be too emotionally involved. You know the old say-
ing Anyone who represents himself has a fool for an attorney' "
I tell 1037 that his time is up and motion to the warden to replace him with
the next prisoner.
The priest is taken aback by Sarge's excessive formality and his refusal to con-
sider getting legal counsel because "it is only fair that I serve the time I have com-
ing for the crime I am alleged to have committed." "Are there others like him, or is
he a special case?" McDermott asks. "He's our special case, Father." It is hard to
like Sarge; even the priest treats him in a patronizing manner.
Prisoner Paul-5704 slickly exploits this opportunity to bum a cigarette from
the priest, knowing that he is not allowed to smoke. As he lights up and takes a
deep puff, he gives me a shit-eating grin and a big "victory" sign—his nonverbal
Wednesday Is Spiraling Out of Control 103
"Gotcha." The head of the Grievance Committee is making the most of this pleas-
ant respite from the prison routine. I expect him next to ask for another smoke for
later. However, I notice that Guard Arnett is duly taking note of this affront and
know that he will make the prisoner pay dearly for the contraband cigarette and
his wise-aleck smirk.
As the interviews proceed one after another in small talk, complaints about
mistreatment, and violations of the rules, I am becoming ever more agitated and
confused.
Only Prisoner 5486 refuses to be sucked into this scenario, namely to play-
acting that this is a real prison and he is a real prisoner who needs a real priest's
help to get his freedom back. He is the only one who describes the situation as an
"experiment"—one that is getting out of control. Jerry-5486 is the most level-
headed guy in the mix but the least demonstrative. I realize that he has been a
shadow until now, not usually called upon by the guards on any shift for special
action and rarely even noticeable in any count, the rebellion or disturbances so
far. I will keep my eye on him from now on.
The next prisoner, by contrast, is eager to have the priest help get him legal
assistance. However, he is stunned by the awareness that it costs big money.
"Well, suppose your attorney wanted five hundred dollars as a retainer right now.
Do you have five hundred dollars on you? If not, your parents are going to have to
come up with that and more—right away."
Prisoner Hubbie-7258 accepts the priest's offer of assistance and gives him
his mother's name and phone number so that she can arrange for legal help. He
says that his cousin is in the local public defender's office and he might be avail-
able to bail him out. Father McDermott promises to follow through on this re-
quest, and Hubbie lights up as if he were Santa Claus giving him a new car.
The whole production is becoming ever more weird.
Before leaving, and after having talked in earnest with seven of our inmates,
the priest, in best priestly fashion, asks about the one reluctant prisoner, who
might need his help. I ask Guard Arnett to encourage 819 to take a few minutes
to talk with the priest; it might help him feel better.
During a lull, while Prisoner 819 is being prepared for his meeting with the
pastoral counselor, Father McDermott confides in me, "They are all the naive type
of prisoner. They don't know anything about prison or what a prison's for. It's
typical of the educated people that I see. These are the people you want to try to
change the prison system—tomorrow's leaders and today's voters—and they are
the ones who are going to shape community education. They just don't know
enough about what prisons are and what they can do to a person. But what you
are doing here is good, it'll teach them."
I take this as a vote of confidence, register his homily for the day, but am no
less confused.
Prisoner Stew-819 is looking terrible, to say the least: dark circles under his
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