Ex-inmates offer advice about lockup
The entrance to a federal prison camp in West Virginia.
John is in his early 50s. He's a little paunchy. He wears glasses. He's about to go to federal prison and he's scared.
Sitting across from him at the table at Denny's were two men. John was meeting with them at the advice of his sentencing judge. Both men have been to federal prison. They were meeting with John to tell him what to expect.
"Do you hang around with drug addicts?" asked the older, burlier man. He is Italian.
"No," said John, somewhat taken aback. He has pleaded guilty to wire fraud. He stole from his employer to help cover medical bills for an ex-wife.
"Then you're not going to hang around with them in prison," said the man.
The second man — clean-cut, WASP-ish looking — took over. In a past life, he was a banker. He explained that John will be going to a federal prison camp. That is the least-restrictive environment in the federal system. The man explained that approximately 20 percent of the population will be white-collar criminals. The other 80 percent will be men who have worked their way through the system from higher-security installations.
Most of these men are drug offenders of one sort or another. Some of them are tough, but nobody wants to go backwards in the system. By the time they've arrived at a camp, they are not looking for trouble.
"It's called being closer to the door," said the second man.
"And you won't be hanging around with those guys anyway," said the first man. "Do yourself a favor and don't watch TV shows. A federal prison camp is not like 'Lockup.'"
In truth, the first man's knowledge of camps is secondhand. He did harder time. The second man did camp time. He began to tell John what to expect during his one-year term in camp.
You'll have a lot of time on your hands, he said. You'll make a few close friends — in that sense, it's almost like going to college — and you'll spend all your time with them. We used to walk on the track all the time, he said. Just walk and talk. I lost 40 pounds in 10 months.
The food is pretty good. The beds are bad. Cash is not allowed, so the currency is stamps. From movies, you might think cigarettes are currency, but they are not allowed. Of course, you can get them. You can get just about anything.
"But you won't," said the first man. "You just want to do your time."
John nodded. That is exactly what he wants to do. By the end of the meeting, he felt he was capable of doing it. In fact, the meeting so heartened him that he asked the two men to meet with his family — his wife, his daughter and his in-laws.
The two men went to John's house several evenings later. They gave the same general talk. People fear the unknown. We're here to answer questions, they said.
You have a responsibility, too, said the older man to the family. The worst part of being in prison is the realization that you can't help your family. So if the water heater goes out, don't tell him. Call us. We'll see that it gets fixed.
That reminded the second man of something. All letters are read. All phone calls are monitored. If you give him upsetting news, they might think he's going to run, he told the family.
Perhaps the most depressing part of the conversation concerned John's eventual release. Finding a job will be very difficult. John is a numbers guy. Those doors are shut. Both men suggested he consider something entrepreneurial. That's what you have to do when the only person who will hire you is yourself.
Later, I spoke with U.S. District Judge David Herndon, chief judge of the Southern District of Illinois. He said the former banker had spoken to a meeting of the judges about his experiences in the camp.
"It's unusual for us to get a briefing after the fact," said the judge. "He simply made the offer that if we have somebody who it would be appropriate for him to talk to, he'd be happy to do it."
A year ago, a lawyer from Alton committed suicide on the day he was to be sentenced for mail fraud. The judge knew him.
"These guys are providing a tremendous service," said the judge. "Loss of liberty is the punishment, not the kind of fear that causes that."
Largely working through the grapevine of defense lawyers, the two men have counseled approximately 10 men. They allowed me to sit in on the conversations with John — not his real name — and his family on the condition I not use names.
"We're not looking for publicity. Or for funding," said the first man.