*Please note, names have been changed for the protection and consideration of all involved.*
No Place to Pee
~ by Taj Mahon-Haft ~
I confess that I did not know Hooch at all before this event, and I still only know him through a few harried conversations.
Prison is funny that way. I know a decent amount about his character because he spends his entire life within 100 yards of me and I see him nearly daily interacting with people I know well at the “chow hall” and on the rec yard. Yet we live on different floors of a “controlled movement” building, so we are not officially allowed to interact the vast majority of the time.
Still, I have seen enough to share that he’s a young man who is often laughing and smiling, leading others around him to do the same. He hangs primarily with guys from his home town, some of who are friends of mine. He’s a pretty good baller–I’m slightly envious because he’s my height and can dunk–and does not start arguments. By all accounts, he’s a genial guy, fairly new to the system, and his youthful impulsiveness is probably behind his trouble.
When we finally met after his cousin, Matt, found out I wanted to help him out, I know he was extremely polite and appreciative. With a firm handshake, contrary to prison fist bump standards, and his actual name, defying penitentiary norms, he introduced himself. To my principled outrage at his situation was added liking him, too, so my determination to do all I can to help.
Hence, I find myself writing about the tragic visit he had. I was there and saw it personally.
Mother’s Day, and I could see he was stoked when he walked in to the visitation room. It’s small and there are regulars, but he and she were both new. Beaming smiles.
Turns out it this was his first visit ever, that special day, first time they’ve seen each other since he was locked up, the first real hug the man’s had in years.
Their joy was evident. They were laughing continuously.
Then “count time” was announced. He was unaccustomed, so he didn’t know we cannot leave the room during that stretch.
As soon as he realized this, he told them he had to pee. He told Officer Miller first, around 1140. He’d been sipping soda, a special treat, and had to go soon. Miller told him he had to wait, but did nothing else. In fact, Hooch told him again before he left and Officer Robeson entered to take over visitation duties. It was then around 1 o’clock, and he’d been holding it a long, long time.
When Officer Robeson took over, Hooch explained to her that the situation had grown urgent. She called on the radio to ask for someone to come let him out, finally, but did so without urgency.
She also failed to use the key on her belt that opened the bathroom inside the visitation room. Technically off limits for absurd “security” reasons–even though we get into giant onesies to go in and receive fully intrusive searches leaving visitation–there has been a bathroom within the same room this whole time.
Once it hits nearly 130, nearly two hours after telling people that he needed to use the restroom, Hooch could take it no longer.
Suddenly, we all heard the distinct sound of a lot of change being dumped out. I look up and he has poured out the quarters his Mom brought for the soda machines and is standing, doing that infamous dance. His Mom stands, alarmed, and unzips the ridiculous suit in a hurry. He has the bag in his hand.
“I can’t hold it any more. I’m sorry,” he explained to the officer. She said she called but that she couldn’t let him out, even though she could have fixed the situation numerous ways.
Instead, she laughs a little and walks to the other side of the room–seemingly for either privacy or plausible deniability. She was fully aware of the whole situation.
Hooch positions himself as deep in the corner of this rectangular, open room as possible, behind the large support beam. He has no choice except to pee in his pants in front of anyone, we could all tell. So he goes in that bag, as privately as possible, not exposing himself at all. He then waited and they finally came to let him officially go, and he took the bag with him and returned. Robeson made no effort to stop him or warn him it would be a problem.
No one was offended or bothered. We all felt badly for the poor guy. But we returned quickly to our own visits.
About an hour later, a ranking officer shows up and unceremoniously kicks his Mom out, ending early their joyous time with further embarrassment. For both of them.
Worse, they took this young man straight to The Hole and placed him under investigation. He had to sit in solitary confinement for five days and they gave him an institutional charge that came with the loss of future visits for months.
Because he had to go and couldn’t hold it any longer after nearly two hours.
He wrote a complaint about the incident quickly, before I connected up with him, but they conveniently lost it and he has not gotten a receipt or response.
Then, weeks later, when he went to defend himself against the charge, rather than a fair trial, they suddenly upped the infraction. Hooch was informed that it was now a 100-series charge, indecent exposure, that stands to take his visits even longer. Worse, he will not be able to get a job and he will lose about a month and half or two of good time… meaning, yes, he’ll have to stay in prison months longer because they didn’t let him for hours when he had to pee.
He’s fighting this, of course, but given that they already lost a complaint and upped the charge, it is an uphill battle. Defying logic and justice, rubber stamps tend to find these situations around here.
More broadly, this is a basic human decency issue, illustrative of how dehumanizing the mindset is amongst the administration around here. No one should ever be disallowed the chance to use the restroom for hours. No one should ever have to pee in a corner after their Mom had to help them out of a suit zipped in the back. No one should ever have a Mother’s Day end like that.