Kerry WolfUnit: HackberryDate of narrative: July 21, 2008"Women were required to take drugs causing extreme sedation. ... If they became drowsy during group or closed their eyes, they were written up for 'refusal to comply with treatment.' If they did not take the meds in order to be able to stay awake, they were also written up for the same thing."My name is Kerry Wolf (formerly Culwell), and I just read of your work on the SAFPF charges brought by Jodi Stodder-Caldwell in The Austin Chronicle. I was overjoyed to read about this. I, too, am a victim of this brutal, inhumane torture factory.
I was at SAFPF on the Hackberry Unit in Gatesville (female special needs) from April of 2001 through February 2002. I was sent to special needs SAFP originally because I was pregnant, although I lost my baby at the Williamson County jail prior to being transported to SAFP due to being denied necessary medication by the jail. I was placed on anti-depressants after the stillbirth, so they decided that I should still go to the special needs unit for this reason. However, when I arrived at SAFP, they discontinued my medication, saying that they did not have any SSRI [selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor] anti-depressants on the prison formulary and instead prescribed Trazodone, an older drug that causes pronounced sedation.
Many of the women at this SAFP had serious medical or psychiatric conditions, such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, severe depression, HIV, Hep C, epilepsy, and diabetes. Many were on medications that were very sedating, yet the "bedtime" pill call came at 4pm. Therefore, the women were required to take drugs causing extreme sedation at 4pm and continue with groups and sessions up until 8pm. If they became drowsy during group or closed their eyes, they were written up for "refusal to comply with treatment." If they did not take the meds in order to be able to stay awake, they were also written up for the same thing. I was able to get the doctor to D/C [discontinue] my meds soon after arriving there, as my depression was not severe – but many others struggled with this the whole time.
Everything Jodi Stodder-Caldwell alleges is true. I do not know her in any way, but her allegations ring true and clear to me. SAFP was the worst, most frightening and humiliating experience I have ever had, and I emerged from it deeply scarred.
We, too, experienced the "tighthouse" – although on our unit it was referred to as "shutdown." We were threatened with it for months. A horde of guards burst into our dorm screaming and yelling, cursing and telling us to throw all our precious few belongings into a net bag immediately. Anything we could not carry in one trip would be thrown away. Any food supplies purchased from commissary would be ruined as they were to be stored on the upper floor of the gym in the blazing heat and with rats everywhere for the next month. We were quickly marched to the gym and strip-searched by brutal guards who made fun of a young 18-year-old girl who had no front teeth, saying that she was "probably a whore like the rest of them" and asking her if her customers enjoyed her "services" without her front teeth, as she stood naked in front of them.
When we returned to the dorm, the hard plastic chairs had been set up in rows in the day room. We were told to sit "in props," meaning no crossing legs or ankles, feet flat, hands on legs, eyes straight ahead. The clock was removed so we could not see the time. We were told that we were horrible mothers, that our families were much happier without us there, that we were nothing but "con-VICTS," and deserved whatever we got. We were told that for the duration of the shutdown, we were not to speak to anyone unless questioned by a staff member. We could not even ask for help in an emergency. The 9/11 World Trade Center attacks had occurred just a couple of days prior, but we were allowed no newspapers, no accounts of what was going on, and had no idea if we were at war, if loved ones were in danger, if we were in danger of an attack, etc. We were told that we needed to "focus on treatment."
During the first week or so of the shutdown, we sat in the chairs from 4:30am until 8pm, with brief bathroom breaks and meals. Whenever we walked anywhere, we had to walk "in props" with our hands behind our backs, even to the restroom. Further, every time we left the dorm to eat or shower, we had to "walk the perimeter" – walking all around the unit (a 20-minute walk) back to the dorm, only then being able to walk to our destination. At one point, a yearly mattress exchange was announced, in which we were to pick up the extremely heavy sawdust-filled mattresses and take them to the gym to exchange for another one. Even then, we had to "walk the perimeter" with the very very heavy mattresses. Many of the women were heavily pregnant, elderly, crippled, etc., but no one was allowed to help anyone else.
While we were in the chairs, it was extremely hot. We were supposed to have AC on our unit, as it was a medical unit, but it did not work. The buildings were brick with tin roofs. Our fans had been confiscated for the shutdown. We were not allowed to use cool towels, wear shorts and T-shirts, etc. like the regular units but had to dress in full uniform and steel-toed boots every day, to sit in the chairs. Many women could not tolerate it either physically or mentally. Almost every day, someone would begin screaming and crying, begging for the torture to stop. They were usually hauled off to the Skyview psych unit for a few days (another horror story). Other women would faint or have seizures. However, even as they lay jerking and frothing on the floor beside us, we were admonished to ignore them – not to break their fall or help in any way, as that would be breaking the SAFP cardinal rule of no physical contact, ever. We were told that "group is up here" and to keep our eyes front at all times. Sometimes, they called medical, but it often took an hour or more for help to arrive as the nurses had to be brought over from another unit and then hike a good distance from the gate to the dorm. When they did arrive, they usually just laughed at the inmates, prodded them with a shoe, and did nothing to help them. One of the nurses, speaking to a counselor, said that the inmates would likely try and "play sick" during shutdown to get a lay-in but that she would not be giving any lay-ins "unless they are literally dying" (an example of the crossover between TDCJ [Texas Department of Criminal Justice] medical and the Gateway staff).
During the shutdown, the counselors would occasionally enter the silent dorms to scream at us, call us names, and encourage everyone to write each other up. What we could write each other up for was a mystery since we were not allowed to move or talk. However, they said that if the box remained empty we were "letting our sisters drown" by not reporting them and that we would never get off shutdown like this. So, the desperate women frantically wrote each other up for things like closing their eyes or whispering, etc. Then, the counselors screamed at and berated them for having too many write-ups, saying that this meant that they were not ready to come off shutdown. There was no way to win. Many of us realized this at the outset, but others were trying so pitifully hard to please the counselors, only to fail no matter what they did – which was the point. The idea was supposedly to see how they would react under severe stress and mixed messages, but it in no way resembled real life.
The constant pressure to "tell" on each other was brutal and led to a junior high type atmosphere of people writing up anyone they did not like and vice versa, and fear and terror were constantly with us. And the "Encounters" group, where inmates sat in a circle and ripped into each other with curses, wild accusations, insults, and character assassinations, was conducted daily, and all the inmates were encouraged to jump in and hurl their own invectives at the victim while they sat in silence. This often resulted in an eruption of violence, with mentally and emotionally fragile inmates exploding into rage, throwing chairs, and others breaking down into hysterics, having flashbacks of abuse, etc.
In the second week of "shutdown," we were often required to "circle up" the chairs and were given a tablet and pencil and told to write a 1,000-word essay on a topic like: "Why complaining will only keep me here longer," etc. We were not allowed to cross our legs to prop up the tablets, and there was no desk or table, so we had to crouch over the tablets on our laps as we wrote with feet flat on the floor. These essays were never read by the staff but simply tossed into our file. (As the counselor's clerk, I knew this.)
In the afternoons, we would have "cop outs," where we were pressured to not only admit publicly to everything we had done wrong at SAFP but also to call out everyone who had done wrong that we were aware of – the pressure to do this was incredible – we were told we would get an extension on our time if we did not. However, doing so might cause you to become someone's sworn enemy – someone who could pose a real threat to you both there and on the outside. The pressure was awful – to snitch and go home earlier but be the target of the rage of some mentally unstable gang member or to not snitch and spend two more long, torturous months away from your family and get an unfavorable report to your judge.
Two women were discovered to have written love notes to another woman in the program. One was punished by having the note pinned to the wall in the dining hall so that every passing inmate could read it as they stood in line. The other was called up in front of the whole unit in the gymnasium and had her note read to the unit by the lieutenant and a counselor, interspersed with their derisive comments and laughter.
Suicide attempts were common. Women cut themselves, slit wrists, attempted to choke themselves, etc. Many of the inmates were so mentally challenged that they were unable to complete the coursework (essays, etc.), and so they were assigned a "big sister" who had to do it for them, as well as her own. Many were not capable of comprehending why they were being treated the way they were.
During the shutdown, they brought the "hoe squad" over from the regular units. With them, they brought a cage – like a zoo animal cage, with bars on all sides and the floor itself was just iron bars (so you could not sit down in it). The cage had a silhouette on the side depicting a girl hoeing and a man on horseback with a gun pointed at her. This was supposedly to show us what the future held if we didn't shape up. We were made to stand toe-to-toe in a long line, given a heavy iron "aggie," and told to lift it to the sky and bring it down to the ground as someone chanted a four-step call. On each fourth call we were to step forward one step. It was dangerous in the extreme, all these untrained, pregnant, and ill and delusional women swinging heavy, sharp hoes above their heads over and over. This was done for the entire day, three days running. For water breaks, we had to "short leg it" (run) hand-in-hand to a tanker truck filled with hot water and drink from a spigot in the side and run back. Anyone who fell, fainted, or became too exhausted to continue was put into the cage. The cage was in direct sunlight with no water or bathroom breaks and no way to sit down. You also received a major case. During these three days, the counselors brought lawn chairs out to watch us. They sat in the shade, laughing and pointing at us while eating pizza and drinking lemonade, with their feet propped up.
Some of the counselors left during this time, sickened and appalled by what they had to do. Two of these were men named Mr. Daniels and Mr. Brock. Mr. Brock, a kindly man, left shortly after being forced to bellow at a young teen who had inadvertently forgotten to remove the braid from her hair on the second shutdown day, which was forbidden (no styling of hair, ponytails, etc), reducing her to helpless tears. One of the guards was reduced to tears watching us sit hour after hour after hour in the day room.
As the shutdown drew to a close, we were called into the gym for a "family meeting." We were told that they would be announcing who was getting off shutdown and who was not. Some, they said, would receive red badges and be forced to stay on shutdown even longer. Ironically, many of those who were given the red badges were those who had behaved in an exemplary fashion the entire time, striving as hard as possible to please the counselors and be a "good example." Again, this was to "test them" to see how they would react.
Everyone feared retribution from the staff and guards if they complained about anything in any way. I once filed a grievance, and that very evening the guard who had accepted the paper from me (and who was not a part of the grievance at all) came to my cubicle and tore it to shreds, stomping on my papers, ripping my photos, dumping out my food, etc., leaving it like a tornado had gone through it, saying, "That will teach you to file a grievance!"
Also, I wanted to mention the "family" groups they had each night. As Ms. Stodder-Caldwell stated, we were forced to sing children's nursery rhymes over and over. Songs had to be submitted to the counselors for approval – no love songs, etc. Pretty much the only things approved were kids songs and religious songs. We were forced to sing these songs even if it violated our religious beliefs (they were all Christian). Inmates patrolled the aisles during the singing, writing up anyone who was not clapping and singing as "refusing to comply with treatment." Often it took on the tone of a religious revival meeting, with songs about Jesus, crying, hands lifted into the air, etc. We often had religious groups (all Christian) come to the unit for "revivals." The counselors knew they could not force inmates to attend – however, we were told that if we refused, we would have to stay behind in the dorms scrubbing the floors with a toothbrush until it was over. In fact, scrubbing the floors with a toothbrush and water was a common "activity" during the later days of shutdown. After slaving for hours dusting and scrubbing, the counselors would come in, rub their fingers along something we knew was completely sparkling clean, and say, "This dorm is filthy! Do it again!" Some of the women would pretend to be cleaning under their bunks so they could shut their eyes for a few blessed seconds.
Well, sir, this has gotten way too long, and I apologize, but there is so much more than this that I could tell. So much brutality and evil and so much lying and covering up by TDCJ. I feared coming forward before now, as I was on probation until last April (2008). I was an RN who was addicted to Rx opiates, and my crime was calling in my own prescription for cough syrup. But now that I can speak up, I am so glad there is someone actually investigating this! Please let me know if I can help in any way, and feel free to use this information. Also, I give my consent to The Austin Chronicle reporter to contact me if she wishes, and please give my contact information to Ms. Stodder-Caldwell – I would love to talk to her if she would like.
Reporter's note: Wolf said that the lyrics inmates were forced to sing went like this:
Mama, Mama, look at me
I'm in a program called SAFP
I used to drive a little Ford
Now I'm cruisin' with the Lord
Another went like this:
I said recovery is cool
It'll blow your mind
If you work the 12 steps
You won't do no time
So, if it's not real for you
Like it is for me
And you want to stay out of the penitentiary
Go to SAFP!
Source:
http://www.austinchronicle.com/gyrobase ... d%3A714279
