If you’re not familiar with the content of Scared Straight, it follows juvenile delinquents as they spend time with actual inmates in prison. The idea being that these crazy kids would get scared straight, leave the prison, and conform to society’s expectations. From personal experience, I can say it hardly works.
When I was a young lad coming up, my High School thought it would be a good idea to implement their version of Scared Straight believing the program would effectively change the outcomes of delinquents such as myself, so they partnered with the county prison.
A Bit of Back Story
I moved out to Denver, Pennsylvania in the ninth grade. My mother had enough of my shenanigans and thinking my father could whip me in to shape she sent me to live in God’s Country. I didn’t live in a sprawling metropolis before residing in Lancaster County, but the town I did live in at least had more than one traffic light.
The school I attended was literally in the middle of a cornfield. During gym class, you had to dodge cow patties while trying to play soccer. The local shops had hitching posts out front for the Amish community. I stuck out like a sore thumb. Soon I was given the nickname “Mennonite Gone Wrong.”
Why “Mennonite Gone Wrong,” because the first thing my father did was take me shopping for clothes. No more offensive T-shirts or ripped pants or painted nails. It was the season of tucked in IZOD shirts, loafers, and khaki pants. I nearly died.
On With the Show
I suppose now would be a good time to mention why I went on this little trip. Well, I was suspended from school first for smoking on school grounds and then again for huffing rubber cement outside of art class.
I joked with my father; “I have a soft spot on the back of my head.”
“Stop huffing glue you moron,” was his appropriate response.
Since I had issues at school before moving to Denver, I was a prime target for the school’s project. With about ten other boys and one girl, I got on the bus to the Lancaster County Prison.
Mr. Haviland’s Castle
Located on East King Street, the prison construction began in 1851. Philadelphia architect, John Haviland constructed the penitentiary to resemble a castle in Lancashire, England. Haviland decided to use Cocalico sandstone, which gave the building a red tone.
When we pulled up, my initial reaction didn’t make the teachers happy. This castle had a drawbridge looking entrance, and I half expected there to be a moat. Was this a prison or a Disney attraction?
Life on the Inside
Once inside, we had to check in like any other prisoner handing over personal belongings. A guard had us line up. In a booming voice, he explained, “First will take you through gen pop, then out to the block, and finally the yard. Any questions.”
I heard someone whisper, “When is lunch?” I tried so hard but coughed trying to hold back my laughter. The guard immediately approached me and got close enough that I could smell what he ate for breakfast.
“Something funny?” he asked.
Before I could even answer, I was thrown into a cell and instructed to place my toes along with the tip of my nose up against the wall. What followed was a lot of screaming. Once the guard felt satisfied, I was allowed to return to the line.
“Anyone else with a problem? Good, now let’s move to the block.”
Out of Gen Pop and Into the Block
The inmates in general population were riled up shouting obscenities while we moved through the hall.
“What’s up fresh meat?”
“Hey little fish, I’ll school you.”
“Come here little man; I’ll make you my wife.”
It was apparent they were instructed to get us, the students, worked up before we moved into the block.
Once in the block, we were again placed in a line. Inside the unit, there were about ten solitary confinement cells with windows just large enough to see the faces of the inmate inside. A kid from class thought it would be a good idea to blow a kiss and then wink to one of the inmates. This action was not a good idea.
The entire block of inmates went wild kicking and punching their doors. The sound of screaming, exploding like dynamite, was so loud it was hard to hear the person next to you. I’ve never seen anything like it and was sure I didn’t want to see it again.
In the Yard
When you watch prison-themed reality TV shows, there are always scenes of the yard. It’s a place where the drama goes down, and tough guys lift weights. Thank god the prison had enough sense not to take us into the yard. Instead, we got to see a smaller version of a yard.
This space was a ten foot squared, all concrete area with ten-foot walls. Here is where solitary confinement inmates get to spend one hour of the twenty-four day outside in the sun. There’s nothing in the room. Here are an inmates options: pace, exercise, smoke cigarettes, stare at the wall or look up to the sky rain or shine.
If there was one part of the trip that impacted me this was it. I couldn’t image living in a cage and only get one hour a day to be outside. This place wasn’t for rehabilitation; this was a goddamn pound for dogs. These men locked up in this prison probably had many of the same issues as me but never received proper treatment.
Life on the Outside
After the trip to the prison, I would be hospitalized one more time and relapse two more times. When I finally hit the bottom of my hole, I realized that if I were to continue on this path that I would end up either dead or in prison. I was determined to live and never like a dog in the pound. There was a seed planted, but it took a long while for it to mature.
As of March 2017, 2.3 million people in the United States are locked up in various correctional facilities across the country. In State prisons, 208k inmates were held because of drugs, 97k in Federal imprisoned because of drugs, and in Local jails over 110k non-convicted held because of drugs. It makes me wonder if these folks had better treatment options, would the numbers be different?
Currently, 1 in 5 incarcerated people are locked up for a drug offense, nonviolent drug offenses being a defining characteristic of the federal prison system. Of those 1 in 5, how many have some mental illness? Has anything changed since 1851?
There has to be a better way, and programs like Scared Straight are not the answer.
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Originally Published on Charles Minguez
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