Please welcome our honored guest blogger today: Retired English teacher Vinnie Hansen. Vinnie pens a mystery series featuring the intrepid baker/private detective Carol Sabala. The author of many published literary short stories, Vinnie lives in Santa Cruz with her husband, artist Daniel S. Friedman. For more information, please visit www.vinniehansen.com.
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As we flew through San Quentin village, I barely noticed the charming community with its vistas of the San Francisco Bay. Hearts hammering, my husband and I raced to the building at the edge of the prison parking. Our alarm had not gone off! After driving up from Santa Cruz the night before, we had missed the Sisters in Crime tour of San Quentin.
Luckily, Sergeant Kilmer, the head of the prison museum, escorted Danny and me onto the grounds. At the beginning of its life, 1852-1862, San Quentin was a private enterprise, he informed us. The owners leased prisoners from the state and then rented them out as labor. The prisoners had one set of clothes, which they wore until freed.
“May I keep my pencil,” I asked at the Main Gate, where we signed in and showed our ID’s.
“As long as you don’t stab anyone,” the guard quipped.
When we visited (2003), San Quentin housed 5500 inmates and employed 800 officers, 90 sergeants, 30 lieutenants, and a few captains, with some staff—a plumber and assistant warden, for example—living on the grounds.
At the next gate, we signed in again and had our hands stamped. After two more gates, we stepped into a surprisingly pretty courtyard with flower gardens and a memorial to officers killed in the line of duty. Guard Post One reared up behind us and to our left the euphemistically named Adjustment Center housed Death Row inmates and notorious prisoners. Barbed wire curled on top the fence around its small exercise yard. The AC officers wore stab proof vests and the guard above the yard was armed with a .38 Smith and Wesson, a semiautomatic rifle, and a .37 mm projectile launcher for tear gas.
When we caught up to our group, the officer leading it carried only a walkie-talkie and a dangling whistle, but looked like he could bench press Danny and me—together. Sergeant Kilmer tagged along.
San Quentin serves as Reception Center for Northern California. Inmates arrive from all over to be processed, which takes about 60 days. The incoming inmates wear orange jumpsuits and reside in their own cellblocks. Most problems at the prison happen in the RC. Young criminals who have never done time need to be watched for suicide attempts.
Main Line inmates, serving their time at San Quentin, wear blue denim pants and blue chambray shirts, two of the many articles visitors are not allowed to wear. The prisoners in neon green jumpsuits (worn over underwear only) have earned the right to work outside of the prison perimeter.
The North Block alone has five tiers of cells, 42 cells per floor, for a total of 210 “houses,” as Sergeant Kilmer called them. The prisoners flowed around us during the tour, and one inmate in the North Block showed us his “house,” a snug 60 square feet. It contained bunks, a slim passage, toilet and small sink in the back. A shelf over his bunk held personal effects and an extra set of uniforms. He possessed a small television and a calendar although no nudey pictures or magazines are allowed.
“One prisoner on Death Row feng shuied his 'house,'” our tour guide remarked.
Prisoners can request new roommates and often do until they find someone compatible. The peer pressure to segregate racially is enormous, and the prison system does not interfere.
“What about prison rape?” I asked. “Is it common?”
Sergeant Kilmer said that reported prison rape was relatively rare; consensual sex was more common. He did not comment on unreported prison rape, and I wondered how consensual the consensual was.
Two huge tiled rooms with metal picnic-table seating make up the dining area for the Reception Center. A mural, coveted by the Smithsonian, sprawls over three walls, depicting the history of California. An inmate painted it, returning after his release to complete the masterpiece.
We didn’t see the infirmary, which handles anything short of an operation. As we approached, an alarm shrilled and the guards blew their whistles. Our guide waved us into a corner of the hall. The RC inmates around us froze and crouched. The Code 1 for a fight between two inmates lasted only a few minutes. Code 2 would indicate a brawl. A Code 3 calls upon all personnel.
When we exited the prison, we stuck our stamped hands under a light. “If you don’t glow, you don’t go,” quipped Sergeant Kilmer.
“Crime does not pay,” Danny said.
“Unless you’re on this side of the fence,” Sergeant Kilmer laughed.
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In Vinnie's latest Carol Sabala mystery, Death with Dessert,
Carol Sabala's mother dies, propelling Carol on a dangerous hunt for her long-absent father. As Carol ventures to Zihuatanejo, Mexico, the mysterious Mark Escalante snares her in a deadly pursuit.
Learn more about the Carol Sabala mysteries at http://www.vinniehansen.com/books.html
To order, go to http://www.vinniehansen.com/order.html
The books are also available as ebooks from Smashwords at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18885
