INMATES TARGET STRICTEST OFFICERS

Jessup Prison's Lax Culture Problematic, Workers Say

Amid the steady flow of drugs, tobacco, cell phones and other
contraband at the Maryland House of Corrections, officers who
strictly enforce the rules end up putting targets on their backs, say
former inmates and those who have worked in the Jessup prison.

Officer David McGuinn, who was not one to look the other way, was
stabbed to death last week by inmates who, according to colleagues,
considered his diligence an annoying burden. Since March, three
inmates were stabbed to death and two officers were wounded with
homemade knives.

The long-ingrained culture of laxness by some prison staff that led
to the violence has been building for years and won't be solved
easily or quickly, according to prison system administrators,
correctional officers and former inmates.

Threats against McGuinn's life were carried out after two inmates
allegedly jammed the locks to their cell doors and emerged to stab
him as he walked a notoriously dangerous tier in the prison's west wing.

"McGuinn was straight up and down," said Erika Ballard, a former
correctional dietary officer who went through a training academy
program with McGuinn.

While he "wasn't a mean person or the kind who would be involved in
beating an inmate up," McGuinn didn't cut inmates any breaks when it
came to enforcing rules, according to Ballard.

"They [inmates] said last summer they were going to kill him before
the summer was over," Ballard said. "It was like a joke."

Corrections officials have acknowledged that they assigned McGuinn to
outside duties for a time, where he would be away from inmates. They
have not explained why his supervisor recently reassigned him to work
back inside the housing units.

Timothy Smith, a correctional officer at the Jessup prison for three
years, said doing the job properly - as McGuinn and another officer
who was stabbed and wounded in a March attack tried to do - marked
you as an oddball and could put your life in danger.

"If you are a by-the-book officer, you are basically ridiculed," said
Smith, who quit the job in March 2005 for other employment and to go
back to school. He described a lax attitude among some officers who
would do favors for inmates.

Indeed, prison administrators believe that staff members have been
the source of cell phones brought in to prisoners - a security
concern because they can be used by inmates to coordinate criminal
activity inside and outside prisons. Legislative proposals to make it
a felony to possess a cell phone inside the secured area of a prison
have died in committee.

"We acknowledge that some staff may be corrupt, but we have every
belief and confidence that the majority of our staff are hard-working
and dedicated officers who come to work who want to operate a safe
prison," said Maj. Priscilla Doggett, a spokeswoman for the prison system.

"We do not tolerate, condone or accept corruption at any level of our
organization, and when we find that it is occurring and the facts are
available to make a solid case, we will deal with it no matter where
it falls," Doggett said.

In her first public comments since McGuinn's stabbing death,
Department of Public Safety and Correctional Services Secretary Mary
Ann Saar said Friday that the recent eruption of violence at the
Jessup prison appears to have been sparked in part by determined
efforts by corrections administrators to change the long-standing
culture at the House of Correction.

She also said Maryland's prison system, as is the case for others
around the country, is dealing with more violent gang members as part
of the prison population.

"I think the more that you ratchet down on inmates and make sure they
are following your rules and regulations, initially there is going to
be a reaction," Saar said.

But Saar said it is important that prison staff send a firm message
that they - not inmates - control the institutions.

"We are going to run an efficient, safe and secure system, and I
don't care if the inmates don't like that," Saar said.

To stem the flow of contraband, administrators recently installed
new, more sensitive screening devices that staff and visitors must
pass through to enter the prison. And, Saar said, they are making a
concerted effort to find and root out corrupt staff.

"I know for a fact that we have terminated a number of corrupt
officers out there," Saar said, referring to firings at the House of
Correction.

Ron Bailey, executive director of American Federation of State,
County and Municipal Employees Council 92, acknowledged cases of
fraternization and contraband. But, he said, "to say it is ingrained
in the culture - I'm not going to go that far."

Bailey said he counsels officers not to do small favors, such as
bringing in cigarettes for inmates, because it leads to escalating
demands. But, he said, "I keep getting word that a lot of officers do
a lot of things for inmates because they fear for their safety,"
adding that some officers hope an inmate will step in to protect them
if they ever need it.

"The union's position is certainly [that] that's not something we
sanction," Bailey said.

Dealing with staff is a challenge in itself because many are hired
from the same poverty-stricken neighborhoods in and around Baltimore
where the inmates grew up.

"Most know the inmates because they grew up together," said Melton
Williams, 50, who spent 23 years behind bars, including a stint at
the House of Correction, for a murder and kidnapping in Prince
George's County. He has been out of prison since 1997 and has a job
supervising and training cleaning crews.

"They dated the same girls and went to the same schools," he said.
"They are the same ones now turning the locks and the ones who are
supposed to maintain control. ... It's very difficult."

Princess Logan, who worked at the House of Correction in the 1990s,
said that, in any event, officers need to stay on good terms with
inmates for their own safety.

"If you're not friendly to the inmates, they've got every opportunity
to get to you and do whatever they want," Logan said. "There are so
many dark places and nooks and crannies in that place."

Ballard, who said she was fired for failing to show up for work at
the prison and is now employed by a restaurant in Delaware, confirmed
that contraband trade is a lucrative business inside the Jessup
prison, with some officers cashing in.

"A cell phone was $300 - $100 more if you would bring in a charger,"
Ballard said. "Tobacco is a very big business in there. An $8 can of
tobacco sells for $150" to an inmate inside the prison.

Ballard said she was shocked by the lax security and open
fraternization that she routinely saw between some staff and inmates
during her time at the House of Correction. Supervisors would even
call inmates on their cell phones and say, "Y'all are getting shook
down tomorrow" to alert them when cell searches were planned, she said.

"Somebody really needs to investigate that place," Ballard said.
"That place is corrupt from the top to the bottom."

Williams also said most contraband comes in through correctional
officers. He said that practice has a long and deep history and isn't
something that can be solved in a day.

Some longtime prison system observers say that the current effort to
clean up the prison - also known as "the Cut" - is similar to one
launched in 1999.

William W. Sondervan, the state's prisons chief from 1999 to 2003,
said he decided soon after taking the position to target the Cut as
one of three "unacceptably poor performing" prisons that needed to be
cleaned up.

He said he found inmates were running drug operations in Baltimore
from inside the prison and controlled much of what went on inside the prison.

"There was a decision made that under my term we were going to run
the prisons; we weren't going to let the inmates run the prisons,"
Sondervan said.

Hundreds of officers launched a surprise sweep of the prison in 1999
and broke up the inmate leadership, Sondervan said. The most
influential prisoner, convicted murderer Dennis D. Wise, was packed
off and sent to Arizona in exchange for one of Arizona's more
difficult prisoners.

"After we did that, staff and inmates knew we were back in control,"
Sondervan said, adding that the corrections officials were able to
rid the prison of staff and inmates who were causing the problems.

George Brosan, who held the No. 2 position in the Department of
Public Safety and Correctional Services under Saar's predecessor,
Stuart O. Simms, said the current violence suggests the prison has
been allowed to relapse.

He said that politicians are letting down the honest correctional
staff by failing to provide them with the resources to perform their
jobs safely.

"They are not served well by the union or the politicians, and they
are treated as second-class citizens," he said. "There are no
profiles in courage among the politicians, but there are a plethora
of profiles in courage every day in prison."

Saar said Gov. Robert L. Ehrlich Jr. has done more for corrections
than his predecessor, Parris N. Glendening. Pay raises were granted
to correctional officers this year, she said, and additional money
has been budgeted for safety equipment and other needs.

"His predecessor did nothing for corrections," Saar said of Ehrlich.
"This governor has done many things for corrections."

Corrections officers employed by the prison system are barred by
policy from talking to reporters, but dozens voiced outrage over
McGuinn's death in e-mails and in phone calls to The Sun, in which
they requested anonymity.

Others who have left the system and are able to speak for the record
said the correctional system is in crisis.

"In 16 years in corrections, I can never recall this level of
violence against staff or inmates," said Michael D. Hoosier of Clear
Spring, who retired from the prison system as a captain in March 2004.

He blamed the problems on the policies of Ehrlich's public safety
team - Saar, Deputy Secretary Mary Livers and Division of Correction
Commissioner Frank C. Sizer Jr. - who he said have run off many
veteran correctional workers.

It isn't clear what impact the latest effort to clean up the House of
Correction will ultimately have.

Williams, the ex-inmate, said administrators are fooling themselves
if they think they actually run the prisons. "The reality is it is
the inmates' prison; this is their home," he said.

Williams said that "trying to impose rules that interfere with the
natural dynamic of prison culture" is a mistake and that authorities
need to work with inmate leaders to keep prisons safe and secure.

"Ninety percent of prisoners want to feel secure in the prison,"
Williams said. "They want shakedowns so there aren't knives. But at
the same time they also want to feel like other human beings in
society. There has to be some sense of empowerment."

He said young men in their 20s sentenced to multiple life sentences
with no hope of ever getting out stop caring about themselves or anyone else.

"There's really nothing in that place to give you any inspiration to
make you want to better your life. ... You have to tell yourself, 'I
want to be a better human being even if I die in here.' There is so
much apathy, so much hopelessness," Williams said.