Locked up in Vermont:
corrections officials, prisoners
recount life in nine state facilities

Editors Note: This if the first of a three-part series exploring life in Vermont prisons.

By Hilary Jean McElroy
Norwich Guidon Staff Writer

Michael Hemond thought he had seen just about every type of inmate. But then one guy surprised him.

As a corrections officer, Hemond is supposed to keep order in one of Vermont's busier facilities, a challenge he faces each day. But when one male inmate insisted on dressing as a woman, it caught him off guard.

"One of the most bizarre instances that I've gotten to witness was a man who managed to get a dress brought into his unit because there was nothing ever said about not wearing dresses," Hemond recalled. "So he dressed himself up in this dress and went into the chow hall and started acting like a woman, because he could. He was pretty much allowed to dress in drag, because there was nothing that said he couldn't. There is now a rule that prohibits this."

Just all in a day's work for the authorities who police the nine Vermont corrections facilities, working daily with men and women sent there for a variety of crimes.

According to the 1999 Vermont Crime Report, published by the Vermont Department of Public Safety, larceny, DUI, fraud, family/child offenses, disorderly conduct and burglary are the most common crimes committed in Vermont. In one year alone, more than 80,000 crimes were committed.

"Compared to national statistics, Vermont is a pretty good place to live if you want low crime rates," said David Marcotte, a spokesperson for the Bureau of Justice Statistics.

In December 2000, when seven prisoners successfully escaped from a maximum-security corrections facility in Texas, questions arose in other states about the security and safety of their own prisons.

"The Vermont Department of Corrections has nine corrections facilities and 17 community-based facilities. The community-based facilities, also called field offices, are delineated by the services they focus on providing," said Karoline Jackson, the Administrative Operations and Management Officer at the St. Johnsbury Corrections Facility.

Like the Texas inmates who escaped, Vermont prisoners have also attempted to break out of the facilities.

"People have tried to escape. People are always trying to escape. There was one resident who escaped through a recreational yard. He went over a wall and got tangled up in the razor wire," said Hemond, a corrections officer at the Chittenden (County) Regional Correctional Facility in South Burlington, Vt. "There are always attempts, but there hasn't been a successful escape since I've been there."

But for some prisoners, escaping from the facility is not an option.

"I have no need to escape. It is much easier to just finish my time in here, than it is to attempt to escape and fail. They [corrections officers] are constantly watching us, anyhow," said Adam Quigley, 27, from Burlington, Vt., who is currently serving a 30-day sentence for vandalism.

Not all prisoners think as Quigley does, however. Many will attempt to escape repeatedly until they are successful.

The Chittenden County Correctional Facility is one of the state's largest facilities, housing both male and female felons. "This is a minimum/medium security prison, Hemond said, We currently have between 185 to 190 prisoners," adding that to escape from this facility, you almost have to be a genius.

"You've got at least two doors to freedom. No matter where in the building you are, there are at least two doors to freedom. Between the exterior doors, of which there are only two, there are the receiving two doors and there are the front two doors," Hemond said, "And both of those doors are controlled by the operator, who has visual control at all times. So you can't get out, unless the control operator sees you and sees who you are and lets you go."

Quigley knows about the doors; he also knows about other barriers which are designed to prevent escape.

"There is razor wire everywhere," Quigley said. "There are iron bars over the windows, strong glass and security cameras everywhere."

Hemond pointed out that a few units overlook the yard, and the windows those rooms have are no taller then four inches high and about two feet wide.

"The overall window is normal sized, but made up of those individual panes separated by iron bars," Hemond said. "And there is a wire mesh over that, which is locked. So [prisoners] can't really get them out."

He added that there are also two chain-linked fences, which have a motion sensor and doubled stranded razor wire around the perimeter.

According to Hemond, the men's maximum unit at the facility houses 16 felons. In every unit, the office is in the center, with two wings to the left and right. There is one hallway with four rooms on it. They are all on the interior side, and those are the maximum-security cells.

Hemond said the cells have a one-inch steel door which has a 2x2-inch double-paned Plexiglas window with a little hole about the size of your finger that you can put a pencil through. There are two steel bunks and a toilet in the cell.

For those prisoners who are authorized to go outside, "they go into what is known as the bull-pen, which is a triangular yard that is inset in the main yard. It's got 2x2 foot iron re-bar over the top and wire mesh," Hemond said.

Even with all that security, it's not easy living near any corrections facility say some South Burlington Residents.

"We live just under one mile from the facility," said Trish Darigan, a homemaker and mother of three, from South Burlington, Vt. "We're cautious, but have not had any problems as of yet."

Hemond knows how the community views the facility. "The city of Burlington hates us. It's a jail, and it's in their town, and they don't like it," he said, "Would you want a jail in your back yard?"

"We've lived here for almost three years, and our neighbors have been here for longer. They rarely complain, but I know it's uneasy for all of us," Darigan said.

Hemond said the facility is "a safe place to live next to, absolutely. We transport inmates in arm and leg shackles, belly chain and hand cuffs. Whether it's to the hospital or another facility. They are always tied down."

The people who make sure these prisoners stay where they belong are called correctional officers (CO). "It's kind of like a chain of command," Hemond said, "You have CO 1, 2, 3 and 4 and then supervisors," explaining that he is a CO 1.

"My job description is to maintain safety and security within the units I am assigned, control contraband and monitor and control their behavior," Hemond said.

According to Hemond, the job can vary once the CO punches the clock. "You receive a radio and keys from whoever you are relieving. You run the chow hall, deliver packages, you monitor visiting."

Hemond said part of his job revolves around those coming to the prison to visit prisoners. He checks each visitor into the facility, making certain that no contraband is passed, be it drugs, weapons, lighters, anything like that.

After each visitor leaves, Hemond searches the inmates before they return to their cells, adding that the prisoners are allowed two visits per week.

"They are guaranteed one visit a week, and the other visit is depending on their behavior during the week. We have a point system, and if the inmate loses a point for smoking or having contraband, that second visitation privilege may be lost," Hemond said, explaining that they can also lose visitation if they're disrespectful or have bad hygiene, because they lose points for these infractions.

Quigley knows how closely inmates are monitored in the prison where he lives.

"The guards call us to chow when our units are called," Quigley said, "They monitor the hall to make sure there are no fights starting, and make sure people aren't stealing anything, be it food, coffee, sugar, or anything else we're not supposed to have."

Personal safety and security is an issue while at work as a correctional officer. According to Hemond, you have to expect everything, explaining that there are 36 inmates for each correctional officer.

"They are not locked in; they're running all around you," Hemond said. "We can get stones, batteries, and cups of hot soup thrown at us. They can attack us with mops, toilet brushes, fists, hands; it happens all the time."

"There is always conflict. There is always something going on. When you house that many people in that close of a space, 24 hours a day, seven days a week, with pretty much no chance of leaving, there is conflict. And that's pretty much what I do. There are certain units that have a different age population, and for those populations there is conflict a lot of the time," said Hemond. Quigley agreed, "There are constantly fights; they happen."

Very rarely does a major disturbance occur, however, Hemond said, because the COs in the area work together.

He explained that on the night shift if there is a major disturbance, then other officers from other areas are brought in, after which there will be a lock down. "I've seen up to six extra corrections officers in the one unit at one time."

"On the day shift, you can pull about seven or eight extra officers into one unit to hold them down," Hemond explained. "If something major were to happen, we have a local emergency response team; if they're coming in, then something is very wrong."

As a prisoner, Quigley said he has seen some of the violence which happens in Vermont prisons, whether it be harm to themselves or each other. People are constantly trying to commit suicide or harm other people.

"I've seen them tie together their bed sheets and try to hang themselves," Quigley said. "They'll break open a safety razor and slice their wrists. They'll try to poison themselves."

Hemond explained that every precaution is taken to prevent prisoners from hurting themselves or others, by conducting screening procedures when they are admitted to the prison to serve a sentence.

Prisoners are "given a mental and medical screening to see what your mental status is and how you are doing. If you come up as being a suicide threat, then you are placed on 15-minute checks," Hemond said. "We will physically come in and look at you to make sure you are all right."

"Since I've been here, about three men and six women have seriously attempted suicide," Hemond said.

At the Chittenden Facility, the men and women are segregated into different units. There are approximately 40 women in the facility and 140 men.

"There is no time when the men and women are allowed to freely intermingle, at all. There have been times when they pass each other in the hallway, but there are always at least two correctional officers looking at them at all times," Hemond said.

He said there have been a few incidents where males and females have tried to meet with each other in the laundry rooms.

According to Hemond, in the older men's units, where the average age is 35, it is like a graveyard. "These guys are pretty much self-run. You just have to sit there with them."

Depending on their age and how long they've been in the system, it can mean a world of difference in the way men usually act, Hemond said. "We've had people who come in and once they acclimate to jail they can go one of two paths: they either become a pain in the neck, or they become a mime."

"From what I see, women deal with a lot more separation anxiety, because women have children and being separated from them, makes it harder," Hemond explained. "The women kind of sit down and crochet, they do aerobics, they're not really loud or aggressive. They talk about their problems and talk about their feelings. If someone's sad, they have a little social gathering, and they all talk about it."

But for Quigley, being housed in the men's unit is vastly different. "I hardly talk with anyone," he said. "I've heard so many horror stories about prisons, that I'm just going to keep to myself; I get up when I'm told and go to sleep when I'm told."

Hemond said that "at 11 p.m. all units are locked down with lights off. The inmates are allowed to come out starting at 6 a.m."

Prison life can afford inmates opportunities similar to school. Many facilities are run like high schools, including classes, lunch and recess.

"They can attend classes, social studies, math, bible study, science, high school level classes mainly," Hemond said. "There are art programs; there's a library that's open, and you've got cable television. You've got three hours of recreation a day, which is optional."

The facility does not allow prisoners computer or Internet access, so Quigley occupies his time by reading, writing letters and daydreaming.

Although the Chittenden Facility meets all the Board of Health and Safety requirements, Quigley still says that it's dirty.

Hemond, however, is quick to point out that "it's not surgical clean. You've got so many inmates going back and forth all over the place. The inmates themselves have poor personal hygiene habits."

"Depending on where they are, they might be kind of dirty," Hemond said. "Sickness travels fast. It's a closed system; it can't be helped. There are germs everywhere."

Unlike most maximum-security prisons, residents at Chittenden County can wear their own clothes. But there are restrictions.

"They can't have pants with more than five pockets; they can't have steel-toed boots; they can't have belts with a buckle greater than one-half-inch dimension on any side; they can't have anything on their clothing that can be used to make a weapon," Hemond said. "They can't have rings, brass knuckles, but other than that, there aren't many restrictions."

Hemond said that even when sleeping inmates must comply with a dress code. Men must wear a "minimum of shorts when they sleep. Women have to have on boxer shorts and a sports bra minimum. Any violation could mean loss of tobacco privilege, visitation privilege, loss of recreation or TV privilege."

In order to become a correctional officer, candidates must complete one month of correctional camp training.

"You go through the four-week correctional academy, where you learn mostly communication skills, how to deal with inmates, the systems used. It is more of an overview," Hemond recalled.

"You learn advanced physical control techniques; you get an overview of the booking process; you get an overview of what to expect, and then when you get to the job, to the facility, that's where you get a lot of your security training," Hemond said.

Both men and women are encouraged to attend this, especially women.

"The employees here are mostly male; there are four to seven female employees out of about 40 correctional staff employees," Hemond said. "We need more women to work there. We've got women coming in, and we don't have the women staff."

"Our facility is very small, we have the highest turnover rate in the state. We've got residents with a 30-day sentence," Hemond said. "We've got people who are only there for seven days, and then we've got people who are there for 27 years. As we turnover so many, we don't like to keep long-timers there, because it stagnates the population."

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