128. Earning Freedom (7.3), by Michael Santos
I\u2019m continuing to read from my book Earning Freedom: Conquering a 45-Year Prison Term. This is the third installment of chapter 7, covering months 93 through 95 of my confinement, in 1995.
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Other prisoners have told me that the bus ride to FCI Fairton only takes a few hours, and I\u2019m determined not to waste this opportunity to enjoy our American landscape.\xa0 Still in a state of euphoria over news of my transfer, I don\u2019t nap as we drive the two-lane highway that feels far too narrow for this bus. Other than a few days in Manhattan, I\u2019ve never been in the Northeast. The road signs that announce the Delaware River, Philadelphia, The Ben Franklin Bridge, and The George Washington Bridge remind me of American history. The irony of the moment isn\u2019t lost on me. I\u2019m in the birthplace of our nation, close to the Liberty Bell, the places where early American leaders signed The Constitution and The Declaration of Independence, guaranteeing freedom for all, and I\u2019m in chains.
My only essential need at Fairton is permission to receive packages of books from the university library. I\u2019d like to have access to a word processor, but if the education department denies that, I\u2019m confident my professors will accept handwritten term papers.
Radio station announcements I hear through the bus\u2019s speakers inform me that we\u2019re near a major metropolitan area. I like the idea of being in the most densely populated area of our country. Fairton is close to New York, Washington, Philadelphia, and even Boston. Certainly Bruce will find it easier to travel here for visits. Maybe Dr. DiIulio will bring more students from Princeton for another field trip.
When we pull into FCI Fairton, I see that like McKean and Miami, it\u2019s a modern facility, with clusters of stone buildings on manicured lawns, all enclosed by high chain-link fences and coils of shiny razor wire. I actually welcome the sight of those fences. They\u2019re so much more inviting than the high, impregnable penitentiary walls topped by gun-towers.
After the processing ritual of forms, fingerprinting, mug shots, and strip searches, I carry my bedroll to the D-right housing unit. In this population of 1,500, a few familiar faces from McKean and Atlanta welcome me.\xa0 They lend shoes, sweatshirts, and toiletries until my belongings arrive from McKean.
I\u2019m assigned to a room with Henry, a Colombian who is my age and doesn\u2019t speak English. Although I\u2019m not fluent, I\u2019ve learned enough Spanish to express myself and I understand his explanations about the routines at Fairton. Henry helps me secure a job as a unit orderly, and I assume responsibility for cleaning toilets in a common-area restroom. I\u2019m grateful for a job that will give me sufficient time to study after I make the necessary arrangements with the education department.
The number of books in Fairton\u2019s library impresses me. I browse through rows of bookshelves and see thousands of paperbacks with titles by Hemingway, Faulkner, Fitzgerald, and other writers of classic American literature, few of which I\u2019ve read. The heavy coursework I\u2019m studying limits my reading to nonfiction, mostly from the social sciences. To round out my education, I want to read these authors, but right now leisure reading isn\u2019t a luxury I can afford. Time is a precious resource, and despite the length of my sentence, I don\u2019t have enough of it.
I began college as a way to overcome the stigma of my crime. Not being a natural scholar, I have to work hard, but as I\u2019ve progressed through my confinement, I\u2019ve come to love the process of learning. Now I look forward to doing the critical analysis and writing required to earn my doctorate.
Reluctantly, I leave the shelves of fiction and present myself at the office door of Ms. Howell, Fairton\u2019s supervisor of education. She wears her black hair tightly pulled back in a severe bun. Her glasses hang from a burgundy strap like a necklace. She\u2019s at her desk when I knock on her open door. As she lifts the glasses to her eyes and looks at me, my immediate impression is that she\u2019s a woman who considers herself a correctional officer first.
\u201cMay I speak with you?\u201d I ask.
\u201cGot a pass?\u201d she barks back, confirming that my assessment is correct.
\u201cYes. It\u2019s right here.\u201d I hold up the slip of paper from my unit officer that authorizes me to be in the library.
\u201cLet me see it.\u201d
I hand her the pass.
\u201cThis pass was issued 20 minutes ago. I could lock you up for being late. Why didn\u2019t you bring it to me at once?\u201d
\u201cI saw you on the telephone. I was standing right over there, by the bookshelves.\u201d
\u201cNext time an officer gives you a pass to my library, I suggest you have me or one of my staff sign it before you start looking around. If I catch you late again, I\u2019ll lock you up for being out of bounds.\u201d
\u201cYes ma\u2019am. I apologize, and I\u2019ll try to do better.\u201d I\u2019ve learned that this type of response generally appeases staff members who covet power.
\u201cNow what is it you want?\u201d Ms. Howell signs my pass, completing my authorization to be in the library.
\u201cI\u2019ve been incarcerated for a long time, and the pursuit of my education has been essential to my adjustment.\u201d
\u201cGood. We\u2019ve got plenty to offer. GED, typing. We\u2019ve got independent study on the computer with courses like Fun with Math and Spelling Wiz.\u201d
\u201cI\u2019m enrolled in an independent study program at the University of Connecticut. What I need is authorization to receive books from the university library.\u201d
\u201cI\u2019m not authorizing any packages. You want to study in college, we support courses in bookkeeping and janitorial services through a local vocational school. That\u2019s all we\u2019re set up for. You can enroll in the programs we make available here.\u201d
\u201cMs. Howell, please. If you\u2019ll look at my record, you\u2019ll see that I\u2019m not any trouble. I don\u2019t need anything from the institution.\u201d
\u201cYou said you needed a package permit.\u201d
\u201cJust to receive the books that the university would send.\u201d
She shakes her head. \u201cNot on my watch. We offer all the books you need. Got cases of bestsellers.\u201d
\u201cI\u2019ve seen the books, it\u2019s a great library here. The best I\u2019ve seen. But if you\u2019ll look at my record, you\u2019ll see that I\u2019ve been enrolled in correspondence study for several years. I\u2019ve already earned two degrees, and if you let me receive the books, I can finish my program without being any trouble to you or your staff.\u201d
\u201cWhat are you? Stupid?\xa0 You\u2019re giving me trouble right now. I told you I\u2019m not accepting any packages from an outside university. That\u2019s final. If you don\u2019t like it, file a grievance report on me. This isn\u2019t a college.\xa0 It\u2019s a prison and don\u2019t forget that.\u201d
Ms. Howell peremptorily signs my pass again, indicating our meeting is over. When the guard who controls the PA system announces \u201cmovement,\u201d I return to the housing unit, down, but not out. She has given me a setback, but it\u2019s not the first I\u2019ve faced and I\u2019m confident I can maneuver around her. When she dared me with a \u201cfile on me,\u201d I know she meant for me to file a grievance through the administrative remedy procedure, but filing the paperwork only wastes my time. She\u2019s a department head and has discretion to run the education department as she chooses. I know that studying through correspondence has been a privilege other administrators have extended to me, not a right.
Also, filing paperwork puts me on weak ground. The default response from \u201ccorrectional\u201d staff is to deny, knowing that their colleagues will support their categorical \u201cNo.\u201d When I worked for Ms. Stephens, she told me that her colleagues mocked anyone who made life easy for prisoners, labeling them as \u201cinmate lovers,\u201d or \u201chug-a-thugs.\u201d Denying prisoner requests is always easier and more consistent with the culture of corrections.
Instead of going through the futile process of appealing and getting a rubber-stamp denial, I go to the chow hall where I can approach the warden directly. He\u2019ll make the ultimate decision anyway. I\u2019ll take my chances of talking to him face-to-face rather than trying to rationalize my request in writing.
Warden Morris isn\u2019t hard to spot. He wears a navy suit, a white shirt, and a gray tie, looking every bit the CEO of Fairton, an institution that employs more than 300 people. He holds court each day in the center of the chow hall during lunch. Three or four senior staff members always kowtow around him. I throw away the remains of my taco casserole, hand the plastic tray over to the guy on dishwasher duty, and I walk over to stand behind two men waiting to speak with the warden. My turn comes.
\u201cWarden Morris, my name is Michael Santos, and I\u2019d like to speak with you about my education program.\u201d
At six-feet-two, he\u2019s taller than I am.
\u201cOkay,\u201d he says as he looks down and nods his head, indicating permission for me to continue. When he does, Mr. Trevor, his executive assistant, inches closer, ensuring that he\u2019ll hear every word.
\u201cI\u2019ve been incarcerated since 1987 and I have 17 more years to serve. Since I\u2019ve been in prison I\u2019ve used educational programs to help me prepare for release.\u201d
\u201cHow long have you been in my institution?\u201d
\u201cThree days.\u201d
\u201cAnd you\u2019ve already got a problem that needs my attention?\u201d
\u201cIt\u2019s a problem that your discretion can fix, and I hope you\u2019ll hear me out.\u201d
\u201cWhat is it?\u201d His forehead creases as his eyebrows come together. I sense that he\u2019s already denied me as a matter of course, but I press on.
\u201cI\u2019m enrolled in a graduate program at The University of Connecticut.\u201d
\u201cNo you\u2019re not,\u201d Mr. Trevor interrupts. I wasn\u2019t speaking to him, but as the warden\u2019s sidekick, he interjects with his authority.
\u201cYes, sir, I am,\u201d I counter firmly.
\u201cWe don\u2019t have a relationship with that school.\u201d Mr. Trevor addresses the warden rather than me.
\u201cI enrolled before I arrived here, when I was at the previous institution, and I\u2019d like to continue my studies while I\u2019m here.\u201d
\u201cWhere\u2019d you come from?\u201d Mr. Trevor demands, clearly annoyed. His blatant efforts to shut me down strike me as an effort to impress the warden, while his condescending tone reveals his mind-set about prisoners.
\u201cI came from FCI McKean.\u201d
Mr. Trevor looks up at Warden Morris and smirks.
\u201cThat explains it,\u201d the warden chuckles as he returns Trevor\u2019s smirk. \u201cWhat is it that they were doing for you at The Dream McKean that we\u2019re not doing for you here?\u201d
\u201cIn order to complete my studies I need permission to receive academic books through the mail from the university library.\u201d
\u201cWhy can\u2019t you use the books we make available through our library?\u201d The double team continues, with Mr. Trevor\u2019s interference.
\u201cI\u2019m in a graduate program, studying toward a doctorate. I need specific texts and reference books to complete my term papers. We don\u2019t have those kinds of books here.\u201d
\u201cA doctorate? In what?\u201d Mr. Trevor is incredulous.
\u201cI\u2019m studying the American prison system, sir. I earned my master\u2019s last year from Hofstra.\u201d
\u201cLet me get this straight,\u201d Warden Morris pipes in. \u201cYou want to study prison, earn a doctorate, from inside my institution?\u201d He looks at Mr. Trevor with mock incredulity as if I\u2019ve just asked him to release me.
\u201cYes sir, with your permission.\u201d I meet the warden\u2019s eyes.
\u201cDid you see the sign when the bus brought you in here? It said Fairton Correctional Institution, not Fairton University. We\u2019re not going to receive any books from your university, especially not books on prisons.\u201d
The discussion is over. His decision is final and I hear the two of them laugh as I walk away, deflated.
By years\u2019 end, 1995, I force myself to accept the possibility that my formal education has come to an end. Administrators in two separate prisons have now blocked my studies. This way of thinking represents the wave of the future, a commitment to tougher prisons, isolation, punishment. Last year, after legislators decided prisoners shouldn\u2019t have the privilege of earning university degrees, Congress eliminated Pell grants to fund undergraduate programs for prisoners. I know that Bruce and Norval may be able to help me sort this out, and I\u2019m hopeful they\u2019ll succeed in persuading senior administrators in Washington to intervene on my behalf, but discouragement is seeping in.
\u201cIt\u2019s not going to happen,\u201d Bruce tells me during a visit about a conversation he had with Sylvia McCollum, his contact in Washington. \u201cShe confirmed what you told me. Wardens have discretion on these matters and she\u2019s not in a position to overrule such decisions.\u201d
Norval couldn\u2019t help either, despite his serving on the board of the National Institute of Corrections with Dr. Kathy Hawk. Since he knows her well, he spoke with her about the problems I was having, trying to persuade her to authorize my transfer to a minimum-security camp. Norval mailed me a copy of the note Dr. Hawk sent him in response. She wrote that she had looked into my case personally, but since I have more than 17 years remaining to serve, my placement in an unsecured camp wouldn\u2019t be appropriate.
This news leads me to accept that I\u2019m not going to be earning a doctorate during my imprisonment.\xa0 The punitive changes in the prison system suggest that if I hadn\u2019t already earned my other degrees, those also would\u2019ve been beyond my reach.
The political climate is cold, with Newt Gingrich leading the House of Representatives in what he calls \u201cThe Contract with America.\u201d Besides calling for fewer privileges in prison, he seeks tougher legal sanctions as well. If Gingrich\u2019s proposals become law, the Continuing Criminal Enterprise crime I was convicted of committing would warrant the death penalty. I\u2019m thankful that my legal proceedings concluded long ago, and grateful that at least I\u2019ve had school to sustain me until now.\xa0
Education has been my solace, an exciting and challenging escape from the monotony of confinement. I have to think through this change, because other than studying and working for the next degree, I don\u2019t know how to distinguish myself, or how I\u2019ll show my commitment to redemption.
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It\u2019s Christmas Eve, 1995, and as I\u2019m walking through the housing unit, I turn when I hear my case manager calling me.
\u201cI received a letter from the pardon attorney,\u201d she says.
\u201cYes, what about?\u201d I ask, bracing for bad news.
\u201cDid you submit a petition for clemency?\u201d
\u201cI submitted it more than two years ago, when I was in Atlanta.\u201d
\u201cWell it\u2019s denied.\u201d
\u201cAny reason why, or advice on what I can do to improve my chances next time?\u201d
\u201cNope. I was instructed to tell you your petition was denied. That\u2019s it. Sorry.\u201d
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