PFW Old Wall, 1960.
(Courtesy Corrections Service Canada Museum)
2
Mary Ann’s First Week in the Prison for Women
The next morning, I interviewed Mary Ann. I asked her how her first night had been. Mary Ann commented that she had to get used to the noise from the cell doors being opened and closed. She stated she did not know any of the other six inmates in protective custody. Although I had read Mary Ann’s file, I wanted to hear her story in her own words. She opened up and spoke freely. She told me that she had been sentenced to life after removing a newborn baby from the maternity floor at St. Mary’s Hospital in the Vancouver area.
After telling me that she had stolen a baby, Mary Ann seemed a bit apprehensive while telling me the rest of her story. Mary Ann explained that she left Canada and travelled to San Francisco. I asked Mary Ann, “Why did you return to San Francisco?”
Mary Ann responded convincingly, “I missed my children. I needed to see them and ensure they were all right.” Mary Ann’s drive to return to her children’s birthplace was like a robin returning to my grass-covered field each spring.
I asked Mary Ann, “Can you tell me why you took the baby from the hospital?”
There was a long pause and silence. Small tear droplets oozed out of her eyes like a spring rain and fell to the floor, spattering on the papers lying on the floor. Agonizing pain seemed to reach Mary Ann’s soul. She began to cry. “I miss having little children near me. I can’t breathe without them. I am dead, like a corpse in a casket.” She cried uncontrollably. Given her extreme vulnerability, I backed away from the cell bars.
Looking back, perhaps it was wrong to ask sensitive questions at this time, but I felt Mary Ann needed to relieve the pain in her heart. Many months later, Mary Ann thanked me for helping her relieve the guilt and pain she had felt for her selfish act of removing a baby from the hospital. Mary Ann ended by saying that she trusted me and had never really told her complete story to anyone before.
I told Mary Ann that she would be assigned to the school program, and later that day she could expect an interview from her classification officer. Initially, the classification supervisor stated he would handle her case until his most experienced classification officer returned from his holidays in three weeks. He was aware that Mary Ann was a very insecure girl who lacked self-esteem.
During the next couple of weeks, the AW Security received daily reports from her security staff that Mary Ann was fitting in okay in the PC unit. The schoolteacher, who was aware of Mary Ann’s fragile background, signed her up for Grade 8 and 9 lesson plans.
After the first six weeks, I observed that Mary Ann was getting friendly with two of the other inmates in the PC unit. One of the inmates had strangled her child in a drunken rage after a fight with her boyfriend. The little girl survived. The Children’s Aid Society removed the child from the inmate’s custody. One Friday afternoon, this inmate, whose name was Tanya, received two negative communications. First, Tanya was denied day parole in the early afternoon. The Parole Board said that she was not ready to return to the community. Inexplicably, in the late afternoon Tanya received a telephone call from the Children’s Aid worker in Edmonton telling her that her child had died from complications from her injuries. Tanya went bananas. She cried out loud and presented a liturgy of profanities against the world. Tanya became very depressed and shouted that she did not want to live. Her extreme rage disrupted the entire unit. Tanya was removed to the hospital and placed under the doctor’s care. The minister and psychologist were called to help this inmate. Solace and dead silence filled the PC unit. A caring guard reported to me that all the inmates went to their cells and cried.
When I toured the PC unit at approximately four-thirty p.m., Mary Ann was very upset that her friend had received such bad news. Mary Ann started to cry and said that she could not talk to anyone today. I agreed to see her on Monday morning.
When interviewed, Mary Ann opened up. She said, “Mr. Caron, I don’t know if I can live in this environment. There is so much hurt and pain.” I indicated that she would have better days. She asked me if I had a cigarette. I sheepishly stated I only had a pack of filtered cigarettes. I kept a pack of smokes for exactly this reason. Mary Ann reached over and said, “Thank you, I need a smoke badly. I tried to quit, but smoking helps resolve the pressure in me.” She took a big drag like it was her last cigarette on earth.
I informed her that the schoolteacher had advised me that she was doing very good work and had almost finished her first lesson plan for grades 8 and 9.
I saw Mary Ann in the PC unit weekly and noticed some progress. I recall the first week in December. One day Mary Ann really opened up. I let her talk. She told me that she was born in New Mexico. Her mother and stepfather were mill workers. She was twenty-three years old and had left home when she was seventeen. Mary Ann felt compelled to push out her unhappy childhood memories. She said, “I did not get along with my stepfather. He drank too much. He became aggressive towards my mother when he became intoxicated. When I reached my teenage years, he tried to have sex with me but I was able to beat him off mainly because he was so drunk.” She took two more big drags from her cigarette and remarked that she made sure she was never alone with him.
“Did your mother suspect anything?”
“I don’t believe she did. I never had the guts to tell her.”
Mary Ann opened up a large gusher. Her voice trembled as she spoke. She wanted the pain to leave her heart. She told me that she rode with her husband, seated behind him on his Harley Davidson motorcycle. Her husband’s name was Willy. He was the leader of the San Francisco chapter of the Hell’s Angels motorcycle gang. She had been exposed to poison in her life. She had witnessed criminal acts and lots of violence. Willy and Mary Ann were together for five and half years. They had two children, Molly, age two, and John, age four. Willy pressured Mary Ann to have sex with other full patch (fully fledged) members. Mary Ann said she could not do what he asked her to do.
Looking back, Mary Ann remembered Willy going ballistic one night in Oakland. The club executive members attended a party where drugs and excessive alcohol were consumed. Willy approached Mary Ann in the bathroom and said, “Kid, it is necessary for you to have sex with Danny and Chief.”
Mary Ann snapped back. “What? Are you kidding? I can’t fuck these guys. I love you, but if you make me do this, I will leave you.” Tears ran down her face like a waterfall in a small canyon. “I can’t breathe. I have to get out of here.” Mary Ann went outside and walked for several blocks. Willy was so loaded that he did not remember her leaving. She caught a taxi and went home.
The next day, the tension in their home was unbearable. Willy, still high on drugs, grabbed Mary Ann and fucked her without her consent. “Listen, bitch, I need you to fuck Danny and Chief. My leadership depends on it.” Mary Ann grabbed a whisky bottle, drank it all, and fell into unconsciousness.
Mary Ann said she could not do what her husband wanted. Willy threatened her and said that if she did not fuck the two gang members, he would make it difficult for her.
Several days later, in mid-1979, Mary Ann decided to leave with the clothes on her back. Willy told her he would hurt her bad if she left him. Furthermore, if she did not do what he asked, he would make sure that she could not see her children.
Mary Ann was extremely upset. She explained that she was scared to tell anyone that she was leaving. She trembled as tears were released from her eyes. This situation caused her great pain. Mary Ann mentioned that she borrowed some money from an old friend and caught a bus to Canada. She had seen a poster of Vancouver and it caught her attention. Mary Ann pointed out that she loved her children and it was difficult to leave them, but she feared for her life.
When the bus got near the Canadian border, Mary Ann’s heart started to pound. She started to sweat profusely. She was wound up like a jack in a box. The bus stopped at the border crossing. The door to the bus opened. The border agent walked down the aisle checking each passenger’s identification. Mary Ann remembered that she was so nervous, she had peed her pants.
The border agent asked, “Where were you born?”
“New Mexico.”
He continued, “What brings you to Canada?”
“I am going to Vancouver to visit Stanley Park and the zoo. I love killer whales.”
Suddenly, the agent said, “Welcome to Canada!”
The bus sped off, leaving a large plume of smoke. Mary Ann arrived in Vancouver at seven o’clock on Tuesday night. She found a cheap hotel downtown (weekly rate). The next day, she started to look for employment by reading the local newspapers. She was lucky; an opening had occurred in the nursery of a nearby hospital. A nursing health aide had been involved in a serious car accident and would be off for several months.
Mary Ann walked up to the personnel office in Saint Mary’s Hospital. She took the elevator to the seventh floor. When she exited the elevator, Mary Ann saw a sign that read “Human Resources Turn to the Left.”
Mary Ann walked into the office. “I am here to apply for the job advertised in the Vancouver newspaper.”
The young clerk, who was chewing gum, looked up at Mary Ann and said, “Which position?”
“I am interested in the health-care aide position for the nursery program.”
The clerk sat back in her chair and spat out the gum from her chubby cheeks. “Did you know that the position is only for four months?”
“No, but that is okay.”
The clerk explained that the incumbent was injured in a car accident and would be off for four months. The clerk handed Mary Ann some application forms that needed to be filled out. “Please fill out all three sheets and return them to me. There is a spare room across the hall.”
Mary Ann filled out the forms and noticed line 10 in the main form. Line 10 asked for related experience. Mary Ann thought about it for a few seconds and put down that she had worked at Mercy Hospital in San Francisco for three years, until 1978 when she moved away from a broken marriage. Mary Ann recorded that she had worked in the maternity ward, including the nursery, feeding and cleaning babies.
When Mary Ann returned the application forms to the clerk, a nurse supervisor walked into the room. “Good morning,” she said.
The clerk told the older nurse that Mary Ann was there for the nursing aide position. The older nurse, who had just come from the maternity ward, said they were already short two staff in the unit. “Two staff members are home with the ’flu.” The nurse, who wore dark glasses, reviewed Mary Ann’s application and said, “I see you worked at Mercy Hospital for three years.”
“Yes, I worked in the nursery room.”
“Good.” The nurse turned around and said, “Miss Harkness, could you start tomorrow?”
“Yes, I could.”
The nurse responded, “Do you have any problem with taking a ’flu shot?”
“No.”
“Great! Please report to room 705 in twenty minutes. They will sign you up. By the way, you are aware the job is only for four months?”
“Yes, I am aware of that.”
“Tomorrow, report at seven a.m. to Ms. Brooks. She is the nurse in charge of the nursery.”
“Thank you for the opportunity. I won’t let you down.”
Shortly after leaving the hospital, Mary Ann’s heart was beating like a large drum. She smoked four cigarettes in a row. She remembered smoking herself silly.
Mary Ann went back to her hotel room and celebrated her good fortune. She had two beers and set the portable alarm for 5:30 a.m. In case she did not wake up, she asked the hotel clerk to wake her at 6:00 a.m. The hospital was only an eighteen-minute walk away. She had a good night’s sleep.
Mary Ann remembered that she awoke at 5:15 a.m. She was in the shower when her alarm went off. She made herself a coffee and toast in a small room near the office and then headed for her new job. The outside temperature was around sixty-nine degrees. A little mist filled the air.
Mary Ann stated that she was determined to make her job a success. She arrived at the hospital at 6:45 a.m. She took the elevator to the tenth floor, where the maternity and nursery facilities were located. Next to the nursery there were two separate rooms where premature babies were being cared for and another secure room where specialized doctors and nurses cared for six very sick babies in incubators. These babies had received medical procedures and major surgery, such as heart operations; some had serious breathing problems.
Mary Ann approached a young nurse and asked where she could find Nurse Brooks. She was sent down the hall into a small office. Nurse Brooks was a recent graduate with a Masters in Nursing Science from the University of British Columbia. She had a cap on her head that read “RCH.” Later, she would find out that Nurse Brooks had studied nursing at the Royal Columbian Hospital in New Westminster and graduated in 1961.
Nurse Brooks was known as “Bubbles.” She was a heavy-set woman who had bright red hair and scores of freckles on her face and hands. She ran the nursery program. “Welcome aboard,” said Ms. Brooks. Mary Ann filled out some more papers and was given her hospital identification card and white coat to cover her street clothes. “You can wear white pants and a shirt.” Mary Ann told Ms. Brooks that she left California to escape a bad marriage. Ms Brooks advised Mary Ann that she could obtain a white nurse’s uniform across the street in a little shop.
“Come with me.” Ms. Brooks took Mary Ann to a room near the nursery. There were two other nursing aide workers in the room, and Mary Ann was introduced to them. Ms. Brooks explained that this week Mary Ann would be cleaning milk bottles and feeding babies. Next week, Mary Ann would be washing diapers and cleaning the sleeping areas.
Mary Ann watched the other nursing aides like a hawk. After several hours, she appeared to be performing the job like an experienced employee. Mary Ann was apprehensive because she had had no formal experience or training in looking after babies. At the end of the first week, Ms. Brooks stated that the lady that completed reference checks was away for four weeks because of a family illness. Mary Ann felt nervous, but did not comment.
Six weeks later, Ms. Brown appeared in the nursing station and advised Ms. Brooks that she was going to check the reference given by Mary Ann and that of a new nurse. Ms. Brooks said, “Check the reference for the nurse. I believe Mary Ann Harkness is okay, so forget about her reference check until you get back from your knee operation.” Ms. Brown had scheduled surgery and would be off for three months.
Mary Ann remarked that she did an excellent job in the nursery and was given more responsibilities. After two months’ work experience, a nurse sometimes would ask Mary Ann to carry babies down to the discharge area on the first floor.
One night, Mary Ann telephoned a friend in San Francisco who lived near her former house. The friend told Mary Ann that her children were living with Willy’s mother in a house close to the Golden Gate Bridge until the end of August, at which time they would go to his sister’s house in Sacramento. Mary Ann thanked the woman and told her that she was in Nevada and missed the kids. Her friend said that she would not tell anyone that she had called.
During the early morning of the next day, in her seventh week of employment, Mary Ann became depressed and missed her children dearly. She had saved $1,500 dollars and enjoyed her job. Socially, Mary Ann had formed a relationship with another nursing aide worker.
Then Mary Ann broke down and cried. She felt guilty. She admitted that she became attached to a little baby girl born four days previously. The mother of the baby had three-year-old twin girls and a six-year-old boy at home. Mary Ann liked the mother but said few words to her. Mary Ann adored the baby.
The next day, Mary Ann had a difficult time bringing the baby to her mother for feeding. She explained that she did not understand what was happening to her emotions. She carried the little baby girl to her mother, who tried to breastfeed the infant. Mary Ann said, “I will pick up the baby in one hour.”
Mary Ann picked up the baby after one hour and returned the child to the nursery. After she left work that day, her mind went crazy. She wanted to see her children in San Francisco. She was fearful that if her children were moved to Sacramento she might not see them again. Mary Ann wanted a child. She felt a baby would fill her void. She did not believe she would see her children again.
Mary Ann emphasized that she had a very difficult night. She wrestled with her thoughts. Her mind raced forward and in reverse. “Child, children gone”; “I need help.” Mary Ann was overwhelmed with her situation. She knew the little baby she loved would be leaving the next day.
Mary Ann recalled that the next morning everything appeared normal at work. She remembered that at 10:45 a.m. her supervisor asked her to get baby Richards ready for discharge. According to Mary Ann, everything seemed normal until she picked up the baby girl to go downstairs to the discharge area on the main floor.
The new mother had already been escorted down to the discharge area. It would take fifteen to twenty minutes for the mother to be processed, depending on how busy they were. Mary Ann agreed to carry the baby down to the car after the mother completed her discharge papers.
Mary Ann stressed that she had worked there for two and a half months and had received excellent performance reports. She was trusted. Mary Ann told me she began to tremble. She started to feel guilty. Then she said, “I did it.”
“What do you mean?”
She had a sudden urge to leave with the baby. Mary Ann dressed the baby and placed her wallet, sweater, and pants under the blanket. She then took off the baby’s hospital identification wristband. She walked to the elevator. Her heart was racing. She entered the elevator and pushed the down buttons for the first and 3rd floors. Two floors down (8th floor), the door opened. She trembled. A skinny male orderly got onto the elevator. He pressed the 5th floor button and the door opened. Mary Ann related that she grabbed the elevator door with one hand and exited the elevator. She walked down the stairs of the hospital and left the building at the back door. She remembered walking quickly for two or three blocks and then got on a city bus and travelled for about five miles. She reached the bus station and exited the bus. She was absolutely compelled to take the baby to California.
I asked her, “Did you think of the baby’s mother?”
Mary Ann made no eye contact with me. She seemed dead inside. She appeared to be in a trance with no facial expression. She reported that she reached the bus station one minute before a bus was to depart for White Rock, British Columbia, a small town near the Canada/Washington border.
Mary Ann took a big drag on her cigarette and continued. She reported that she met a trucker from Oregon in a small café and asked him for help. “I am leaving Vancouver to escape an abusive husband.” She looked straight into the trucker’s brown eyes and asked him point blank, “Will you help me to get across the border? I don’t want my husband to know I entered the USA. He wants the baby. Will you hide me in the sleeping quarters? I will give the baby a sleeping pill to help her sleep when crossing the border.”
The truck driver was reluctant to offer help. Mary Ann used her charm and said there was something in it for him in Seattle. She implied sexual favours. The trucker agreed after getting a long kiss and a touch of her breast. Mary Ann shopped briefly at a nearby grocery store and bought several items, including baby bottles, diapers, and some milk.
They arrived in Seattle about three hours later during a rainstorm. The trucker experienced motor problems with his rig. He could not go any further until he had his truck engine repaired. Mary Ann agreed to meet him at the Holiday Inn near the highway in Portland, Oregon, two days later. The trucker gave Mary Ann $350 for expenses in exchange for her wedding ring.
Mary Ann never saw the trucker again. She got on a bus and travelled to Mount Shasta, California. She stayed overnight in small motel and the next morning took the bus to San Francisco, arriving the following day. When the trucker returned to Vancouver, he saw Mary Ann’s face on television. The trucker told police that he had picked up a hitchhiker with a baby near Bellingham, Washington, and had driven her to Seattle. He said she looked very similar to the woman on television.
The Vancouver police alerted the police in California and Oregon. They forwarded Mary Ann’s picture to the San Francisco police. Within two days, Mary Ann was arrested at a small motel. She was extradited and escorted back to Canada by police within three months. The baby was returned immediately to Vancouver to be united with her parents. Mary Ann went to court and received a life sentence for kidnapping the baby. She was eligible for parole in seven years.
After Mary Ann told her story, she cried and cried. She said, “Warden, I am so sorry for what I have done. I want to change my life.” Mary Ann indicated that tonight she would write a letter to the baby’s mother and father asking for their forgiveness. I stated that it was the right thing to do.
“Mouse, it will help to heal your pain.” (This was the first time I had called Mary Ann by her nickname.)
The months went fast. Soon it was Christmastime again, 1981.
One of the goals or desires of many inmates is the dream of escaping custody. Inmate escapes or attempted escapes in the seventies and eighties were more common than correctional officials cared to report. During my tenure in management, no inmate ever successfully escaped over the fence (I started in 1975). We had, however, a number of close calls. In 1974, two inmates escaped over the old sixteen-foot wall by climbing a tree and jumping over it. In 1973, one inmate hid herself in a truck and left the prison at the sally port exit, the area where large vehicles entered the prison to bring in supplies and equipment.
One day in late 1970, two inmates attempted to scale the new eighteen-foot reinforced concrete wall. They were almost successful. One inmate was close to the top of the wall, but a rope she was using snapped. She fell on the second inmate, who was below her. One inmate broke her leg, and the second inmate broke her arm. Both were found guilty and received an additional eighteen months to their sentence.
PFW Old Wall, 1960.
(Courtesy Corrections Service Canada Museum)
The new wall, 1980.
(Courtesy Corrections Service Canada Museum)
In the early fall of 1981, staff intercepted a major escape plot. A Quebec inmate who had been convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to life with no parole for twenty-five years, wrote a note to her boyfriend in Quebec outlining the details of her escape plan. The inmate in question, Josee, had been a strip dancer at a night club in Hull, Quebec. Josee was a very attractive twenty-eight-year-old woman with long, blonde hair and large, firm breasts. She was a sexy woman who used her assets well.
I clearly remember the day Josee arrived at the prison. It was about eleven forty-five a.m. when I looked outside my window and observed two Quebec Provincial Police cars driving up to the front of the prison. Four heavily armed police officers with side revolvers, rifles, and a shotgun exited the cars. My eyes were glued on their prize. The police were escorting Josee to the prison. A few minutes before, the police had escorted a high-profile male inmate and deposited him at Kingston Penitentiary, located a short distance down the street. Josee was handcuffed and wearing leg irons. She walked awkwardly from side to side like a penguin as she slowly approached the front stairs. The scene was unreal. I don’t recall ever seeing such strong police presence for one inmate. The Quebec police were very concerned that Josee’s gang members would attempt to assist her to escape from custody. Josee was involved with a gang of high-level gangsters. Her boyfriend was the leader of the gang.
The large oak doors to the prison opened. Once they were inside the front hall, the large, metal, electronic doors opened with considerable noise. Josee was escorted into the foyer. The police removed her handcuffs and leg irons. The Inmate Sentence Administrator reviewed the documents and admitted Josee to her new home. The police exited the prison. Josee passed through another metal electronic door before she was escorted into the belly of the prison. I am sure the opening and closing of the large metal doors had a deliberate impact on all new inmates arriving at the Prison for Women. It was a rite of passage for all imperfect people entering the institution.
Early one morning when the inmates were at a medical clinic, the Institutional Preventive Security Officer (IPSO) received word that Josee was planning to escape. The IPSO searched Josee’s cell and found a letter dated the night before and ready for mailing out of the institution. The IPSO photocopied the note and returned it to its hiding place inside a Bible.
The note stated that Josee had a medical appointment with a specialist at Hotel Dieu Hospital on October 2 at one p.m. Josee asked her boyfriend, Pierre, to arrange for two members of his gang to come to Kingston. One member was to drive the getaway car. The second member was to dress up like a Franciscan priest. Two guns would be concealed under the priest’s cassock. The gang member with the guns would take the doctor hostage until Josee was out of the building and in the car. The gunman would join Josee and the driver in a nearby parking lot. Once outside the city, the small car would be driven into a large transport truck, thereby concealing it. The truck would travel to Eastern Quebec near a small airport. A small float plane would fly to northern Quebec. The plane would land near Mt. Saint Marie on a small lake. After four weeks, the trio would travel by float plane to a location near Cornwall, Ontario. A small boat would take the trio into the USA. Forged passports and identification papers would be arranged. The plan was very detailed. Once Pierre received the note, he was to send a letter to Josee telling her that he was buying a small yellow convertible. This was the password indicating that the escape was on. The IPSO arranged for the plan to be shared with the RCMP, the Kingston City Police, and the Ontario Provincial Police (OPP).
On the day of the medical appointment, Josee was locked in segregation. The police were waiting for the disguised priest. Before one p.m., the disguised priest was captured in the parking lot before he could enter the hospital. He was found with no guns but did have counterfeit passports and identification papers for Josee and the gang members. The gang member who had dressed up like a priest was taken to a provincial jail. Several weeks later, he died in hospital after suffering a heart attack. The second gang member who was the car driver was never found. He escaped with guns and lots of cash.
We were lucky to intercept this note. It is quite possible Josee would have made good her escape attempt. The OPP and RCMP worked with the Quebec Provincial Police to place surveillance on the gang in Hull, Quebec. Josee was not charged with any additional offences. It seemed as though she would remain at the PFW for many years. In 1988, Josee was transferred to a female prison in Quebec.
The weeks seemed to go by quickly for staff. Inmates, on the other hand, found that the weeks and months went by slowly. Mary Ann continued to work really hard on her education. She told me that she would stay up late at night and work on her assignments. Sometimes she would be up until four a.m. The teacher praised Mary Ann, telling her that she was one of the most motivated students in the prison. Mary Ann continued to make great progress in the PC Unit; in fact, she appeared to be one of the leaders.
The days in December disappeared. Soon Mary Ann was celebrating her second Christmas at the prison. I remember the Salvation Army representatives bringing small bags of goodies for the inmates in segregation. Mary Ann and the other inmates in PC were so appreciative to receive some small personal items. Mary Ann received no visits or mail. It was like she had fallen into a deep hole and no one knew where she was. I continued to encourage her, telling her that 1982 would be a good year for her.
As the months passed, there were always events that occurred that required my attention. Given the loneliness and despair that some inmates experienced without the presence of loved ones or family to help balance their lives, the need for affection grew greatly. Sometimes inmates became romantically involved with staff. During my tenure as warden, I encountered four employees that crossed the line and got involved with an inmate. Two staff when confronted admitted their love for an inmate and resigned. One employee was fired, and another was transferred out of the prison and reassigned to Regional Headquarters.
In 1979, I received information from inmate sources advising me that a psychologist was having an affair with an inmate named Helen. This was a seriously sensitive allegation that required close attention and prudence. After receiving three separate confidential verbal reports from inmates within two weeks, including a discussion with a former chairperson of the Inmate Committee who shared their concerns, I knew I had to act. The reports continued to strongly suggest that the psychologist was involved with a certain attractive twenty-seven-year-old white female serving seven years for importation of drugs.
This confidential matter was discussed with the AW Security, AW Inmate Programs, and the AW Administration. The psychologist and inmate were watched very closely, but we could not obtain sufficient evidence to confront the psychologist.
One month later, Helen submitted a request for an escorted temporary absence (TA) pass to attend a specialized medical clinic and an AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) meeting in the community. The escort was the psychologist. The pass was to take effect in two weeks. The TA was discussed with the IPSO, AW Security, AW Inmate Programs, and the AW Administration. The decision was to approve the TA. The day the TA was granted, the psychologist was to return the inmate at 7:30 p.m. At 7:45 p.m., the psychologist telephoned the institution and stated he had car problems and would be back by 10:15 p.m. When the psychologist returned to the institution with the inmate, two staff members reported that the psychologist smelled of alcohol.
The following morning, I had the psychologist report to my office. The AW Administration and the AW Security were present. The psychologist was advised that we had evidence that he was having an affair with Helen. I told the psychologist that he had two choices: he could resign or he could be terminated. The psychologist asked to speak to Helen alone. Helen was called to my office. After five minutes, the psychologist advised me that he would submit a letter of resignation. The psychologist stated that he loved Helen. He requested permission to visit Helen on a regular basis, which was granted. Three months later, Helen was granted day parole. She eventually received a full parole. The psychologist married Helen one year later.
The following year, I encountered another inappropriate relationship between a staff member and an inmate. This was an incident involving a very attractive, dark-haired, twenty-six-year-old recreation officer who was responsible for recreation activities in the gymnasium area and outside exercise classes. It was not uncommon to find Mrs. Weaton in the gymnasium day or night with several inmates at her side. Mrs. Weaton had two assistants. One older woman from Poland was a cleaner. The second assistant was a twenty-nine-year-old white woman named Nancy who was very athletic and in great physical shape. She was Mrs. Weaton’s recreational helper.
It seemed that every time I toured the gymnasium area, I saw Mrs. Weaton and Nancy together. Nancy was a very aggressive, determined lesbian who had had relationships with several attractive inmates during her four-year sentence. Her last relationship had ended five weeks previously, when her partner was released on parole to Western Canada. Nancy was in her last year of her sentence. She applied for parole and hoped to be released in two months.
One day, seven weeks later, I received a visit from Klassy, the recreational supervisor and Mrs. Weaton’s boss. Klassy was somewhat nervous and had a difficult time speaking.
I said, “Klassy, what is on your mind?”
Klassy spoke quickly. “One of the inmates that I have a good relationship with told me that Mrs. Weaton and Nancy are having an inappropriate relationship. It seems that one inmate surprisingly caught them together in one of the backrooms of the gym in a sexual encounter. Apparently both women had removed their clothes.”
I thanked Klassy and told her to lock the backrooms up and not give the key to anyone. I asked her to keep me informed. I discussed this matter with the AW Security and the AW Inmate Programs and asked that they monitor the situation.
Two weeks later, Nancy received parole to live in the community while she attended Saint Lawrence College. She had some money and rented an apartment. One afternoon, I received a call from Klassy asking to see me. Klassy told me that Mrs. Weaton had quit her job, left her husband, and was now living with Nancy. It was a difficult situation. Mrs. Weaton had been married to an army officer. Apparently he was completely surprised that his wife had left him.
It was not the last inappropriate relationship between staff and inmates that I had to deal with.
During the first part of 1982, Mary Ann had completed all outstanding courses for Grade 12. She was happy to start work on her Grade 13 assignments. As Mary Ann was proceeding full steam ahead, other problems were unfortunately emerging in the institution.
Generally, the Doukhobor inmates presented few problems, since they continued to reside in segregation. Two Doukhobor inmates completed their sentence and were released on Mandatory Supervision to Creston, British Columbia. During the first week in April, we had an incident with one of the two leaders of the Doukhobor inmates. Somehow Marta B., while waiting to see the doctor, obtained some matches from an inmate cleaner who worked in the hospital. Marta B. returned to her cell and during the night she started a small fire in her cell. Using toilet paper to start the fire, Marta was able to burn her sheets and her pyjamas. The correctional officers rushed to her cell and put out the small fire. Marta stood in her cell and recited a Russian–Doukhobor prayer. I was called at home and advised of the incident. I didn’t realize at the time that this was the start of a long journey into hell.
The next night, three of the Doukhobor inmates threw everything in their cells except their blankets through the bars onto the range floor. They somehow got matches and burned toilet paper and their pyjamas, and threw them into the hallway floor. They also kept their blankets. Oddly, other inmates in segregation started yelling and throwing their personal items into the hallway corridor. Several inmates started throwing urine and feces as correctional officers walked by. It took staff three hours to clean up the mess and gain control of the situation. The inmates finally went to sleep at 3:30 a.m.
The next day, the Doukhobor inmates started to sing their songs together. Something was agitating them. They were becoming difficult to manage. Two days later, Marta B.’s and Molly A.’s husbands appeared in the afternoon at the front door of the prison and asked to visit their wives. I discussed their request with the senior staff. I agreed to allow closed visits in the visiting and correspondence room after three p.m. The husbands had come a long way and were concerned after they had received no communication from their wives. The two younger Doukhobor inmates that were released two months ago had probably given them a complete briefing.
The visit of the two Doukhobor men seemed to help. The Doukhobor inmates settled down and presented no problems for several months.
“A” Side, or South Cell Block.
(Courtesy Corrections Service Canada Museum)
New Inmates and a Business Proposal
There are so many small stories and events happening in a prison that sometimes it is difficult to keep up. During my tenure as warden, I encountered a number of firsts. I vividly remember the first week in May 1982. We received three new inmates from Toronto West Detention Centre. When possible, I tried to personally interview all new inmates within a day or two of their admission into the prison. One Tuesday morning, I was informed by the Inmate Sentence Administrator that three new inmates would arrive at the prison early the next day. At eleven a.m. the next day we actually received four new inmates. The fourth inmate had withdrawn her appeal and wanted to get her sentence started.
I interviewed the first two inmates before two p.m. They were both older and were convicted of fraud and drug activities. Both inmates, who had lengthy criminal records, exhibited numerous tattoos. These two inmates knew the drill and asked no questions. They were both returned to “A” range within minutes.
The third inmate was called to my office. When the door opened, I was completely taken aback. The inmate, named Angie, was a twenty-four-year-old dancer charged with her first sentence for drug possession. Angie was five foot nine inches tall, had long, blonde hair, and possessed beautiful facial features. She was an extremely attractive woman with a striking figure. Angie had large, firm breasts that were her greatest assets. I realized right away that the lesbian inmates in the population would immediately seek her attention. I tried to protect and warn Angie by saying that because of her good looks she would be targeted by aggressive homosexual inmates. I suggested that she pick her friends wisely.
Angie responded, “Don’t worry about me, Warden. I am heterosexual and not interested in being with women.”
I wished her good luck in completing her sentence at the prison. Angie had a Grade 12 education, but needed two courses to receive her diploma.
When Angie left my office, I was convinced that she could handle herself. She was assigned to “A” range, where the majority of difficult inmates resided. The next morning, I was making my rounds in the prison and I observed Angie walking near the classification office. I was completely surprised at what I saw. I noticed Angie’s neck. It was full of hickies, perhaps suggesting she may have been involved in sexual activity with another inmate during the night. Later the same day, I saw Angie with Carole, a thirtyeight-year-old hard-core lesbian drug addict.
I was convinced Angie was involved with Carole, not because of sexual attraction, but because Carole could give her drugs in exchange for sexual favours. Several weeks later, I was informed that Angie was very intoxicated and had to be taken to segregation. Angie told an older, trusted correctional officer that she was giving sex for cocaine and other drugs. She admitted to being a hopeless drug addict. Angie, who was a first-time offender, was released on full parole one year later. I later learned that Angie overdosed on drugs in Toronto four months after receiving parole. Her body was found in an abandoned drug house. The police found her with a needle in her arm and drug paraphernalia near her body. A young woman with great potential had died prematurely.
The fourth inmate I interviewed was Sonyia. She was a forty-two-year-old Slavic woman, tall and attractive. Sonyia was very intelligent and in control of herself. As a first-time offender, Sonyia had received a three-year, six-month sentence for drug importation. Sonyia was cautioned that she might be approached because of her good looks and nice figure.
Sonyia laughed, “I am married to a doctor and I am not interested in such things. I can handle myself.” Sonyia was a woman of means and she let you know it.
The next morning, I saw Sonyia coming down the staircase from “B” range, where she was assigned a cell. Right beside her was “Mugsy,” a large Native Cree inmate from western Canada who used her muscles to get what she wanted. Mugsy was walking in lockstep with Sonyia. I could not figure out the relationship. Mugsy was basically illiterate, poor, and adversely affected by much abuse in her life. Sonyia was educated, intelligent, wealthy, and very self-confident.
One week later, Sonyia requested an interview with me in my office. Sonyia walked in and briefly looked out the window to the street in front of the prison. I suspected her mind was centred on the free people walking by the prison. Before I could say anything, Sonyia spoke. “I know it looks bad, Warden, but I am not involved with Mugsy. I agreed to pay her five dollars per week for protection from hard-core lesbians and other toughs in the prison.” I didn’t comment. I understood her predicament. She was determined to complete her sentence and return to Toronto.
Sonyia then sat down and made a request that I never expected. Sonyia told me she had an import/export business that imported mainly olive oil and dates from Lebanon and North Africa. She had ten staff members working for her business in Toronto. Her husband was a doctor and had no time to run her business. She said, “My business takes in $25,000 per week.” She further remarked, “I don’t need a job here in the kitchen or cleaning floors.”
Sonyia went on. “Can I talk openly? The drug possession charge was not my fault. One of my employees, an illegal immigrant from Africa with a small baby, arranged for drugs to be brought into Canada using my shipping cans. I saved her life. I agreed to plead guilty of the possession charge. The original charge was for trafficking, but there was no evidence. I was told by my lawyer that I would get three years because of the small amount of drugs and being a first-time offender. My lawyer advised me that the woman (Shasa) responsible for the drugs would be married to a Canadian man within days and should receive her Canadian papers within six months. As soon as Shasa receives her Canadian papers, she will tell authorities that she was responsible for taking drugs into Canada to pay for medicine for her ill baby. Shasa is not a drug user and her prospects for being a responsible Canadian citizen are good.”
Sonyia stressed that her business was legitimate and very profitable, and that she did not use drugs and never would. Her husband also did not use drugs.
After spending two hours with Sonyia, I was totally convinced that she was not a drug user and that she did indeed have a business venture in Toronto.
Sonyia looked at me and requested point blank something I never encountered before.
She said, “I want to run my business affairs from here. My husband would come weekly and discuss my business activities with me. I am prepared to open an account in the prison so that my financial dealings are processed in prison. I will take a salary of $3,000 per month.” At first, I thought that her business dealings somehow might be involved with organized crime. Before leaving, Sonyia asked that I keep our conversation confidential and away from other inmates. I told her that I would look into the matter and get back to her.
Before she left my office I commented, “Please submit to me your business plan and how it would work in the prison.”
I called a special meeting of the assistant wardens of finance, administration, inmate programs, and security. They were all skeptical but said it could work.
After I received Sonyia’s business plan and her official request, I referred the matter to the security administrator at our Regional Headquarters. He in turn requested various police agencies, including the RCMP, OPP, City of Toronto police, and Interpol to comment. After four weeks, the answer came back positive. The police had no concerns about Sonyia’s business plan. I reviewed our commissioner’s directives and there was a section that allowed an inmate in rare circumstances to operate a business. I must admit that this was the only time I ever had an inmate request to operate a business from prison.
After reviewing all the positive reports, including recommendations from my staff and regional headquarters, I submitted the complete package and request for a business to National Headquarters. The request would have to be approved by the Commissioner of Corrections. RHQ Security contacted the Canadian Security Intelligence Centre (CSIC) and asked them for their views on this matter. To my surprise, CSIC and all the police forces had no objections to the plan. In three months, the Commissioner of Corrections approved the plan. I suspected that CSIC and the RCMP were going to watch this activity closely.
Sonyia operated her business openly. She opened an account and paid herself $3,000 per month. One of the assistant wardens remarked that she made more in one week than I made in a month. Sonyia’s husband visited her weekly. He carried, in his briefcase, business papers that were searched by staff each time. In twelve months, Sonyia received a full parole.
In 1988, I met Sonyia by chance in a Birks Toronto Eaton Centre jewellery shop. She thanked me for my support for her business plan. She explained that after six years, her business was very successful and grossing five million dollars per year. She employed twenty people, including one inmate she met at the prison who had been doing time for beating up her cheating ex-husband. Sonyia stated that she had received a complete pardon after Shasa admitted her responsibility for the crime. It was very rewarding to witness a successful inmate in the community.
One sunny day when many inmates were outside in the yard trying to get a tan, I made a deliberate tour of segregation. I consciously made a strong effort to visit segregation once or twice per week. Periodically I visited segregation every day during the week. Sometimes I went during the day, other times at night, and occasionally over the weekend. The inmates in segregation were generally the most vulnerable and in need of human contact. In some instances, even a visit from the warden received some reaction. The human spirit is complex and not fully understood. Perhaps I identified with the inmates in segregation. Selfishly I was very aware that outside agencies and political watchdogs would be quick to respond if a major incident occurred in segregation. I was a strong advocate for staff to ensure that all visitors and staff signed the visitor’s book. Some days there were twenty people who entered segregation and signed the segregation logbook.
When I visited the PC area, Mary Ann was cheerful and energetic. Mary Ann’s taste in music changed greatly from when she was first admitted to the PFW. Her music interest changed from rock and roll to classical. Mary Ann always had classical music playing softly in her cell. She particularly enjoyed Glenn Gould’s piano concertos and opera music, especially that sung by Joan Sutherland and Marie Callas. That day I asked her what was the beautiful music that she was listening to. She said it was music from Madame Butterfly.
I commented, “You are in a great mood. Is there something that I should know?”
Mary Ann looked at me with a smile on her face and said, “The teacher advised me today that in addition to regular pay she was paying me extra for being a tutor to three students in the PC area.”
I replied, “Great! You deserve it, Mary Ann.”
Her smile was infectious. She even laughed today. Mary Ann was gaining more and more confidence. She continued to work hard on her lesson plans for high school courses. She was a few months away from completing her Grade 13. Mary Ann received excellent school marks. They were all A’s or B’s. Her reading skill had greatly improved. She was reading more difficult books.
I also toured the other side of segregation. The inmates were all listening to some quiet music. Two Salvation Army staff were making their rounds from cell to cell. One inmate in segregation because of heavy drug usage asked me to come to her cell. Pauline was a young Native woman from a reserve in Northern Saskatchewan. She had received a letter from her father advising that he would be passing through Kingston in one week on his way to Montreal. He did not know that the Independent Chairperson (a judge) had sentenced Pauline to twenty days in segregation for intoxication and destroying some prison furniture.9
Pauline said in a quiet voice, “Warden, would you please give me permission to see my father next week? I haven’t seen my family members for two years.”
Inmates in segregation, for disciplinary reasons, did not receive visits, but in this case I approved Pauline’s request for a closed visit. As previously stated, in my view visits are very important to help with an inmate’s rehabilitation.
Pauline looked up and said, “Thank you, Warden.” I observed small tears rolling down her face. Nothing more was said.
I passed by the Doukhobor cells and they were all lying down sleeping, since they had been up until three a.m. I exited segregation and continued my tour of the institution.
The months disappeared quickly. Soon it was Christmas 1982. A week before Christmas, Mary Ann gave me a portrait of myself that she had done. I was touched by her action. I generally don’t buy Christmas gifts for inmates. This Christmas, however, I bought Mary Ann a little book entitled The Little Prince.
I lived close to the prison. Every Christmas morning, I made a special quick visit to the institution to wish inmates and staff a Merry Christmas. This was a difficult time for inmates. It is hard to walk by some inmates and wish them a Merry Christmas, knowing that I had turned down their Christmas pass one week before. Sometimes the community assessment for a three-day Christmas temporary pass was negative. Either a family member or child did not want the inmate to come home, or, in some cases, the inmate’s behaviour in the institution did not warrant a pass. In other cases, the possibility of drinking excessive alcohol or using drugs in their own community was too great and posed too much risk. In some communities, the police would be adamantly opposed to any pass home, especially if the inmate had killed someone or caused serious bodily injuries.
I wish I could have approved all temporary passes at Christmas and New Year’s, but it simply was not possible. For lifers, the Parole Board of Canada had to approve a temporary absence program. If the Parole Board did not approve, my hands were tied. In exceptional cases, the warden could recommend a special pass on humanitarian grounds.
Two days before Christmas, I was in the local city library and I read a small article in a Vancouver newspaper that got my attention. The article said that several buildings had been set on fire in the Kootenay Region of British Columbia. The RCMP strongly suspected that the Sons of Freedom Sect Doukhobors were responsible for this arson. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this was the first sign that something was troubling the Doukhobors in the eastern interior of British Columbia.
Group Therapy in Protective Custody
In 1983, Mary Ann was the unofficial leader in the PC unit. One afternoon in early January when I was visiting the PC unit, I went to Mary Ann’s cell. She was listening to music from one of Puccini’s operas. Mary Ann made a comment about my social work background and interest in females who abused children. During a previous discussion at her cell, Mary Ann was aware of my thesis on child abuse.
I remembered telling her that in 1971–72, I had counselled a female offender who had received life for killing a foster child in her care. The inmate was transferred to a mental hospital in Edmonton because she was depressed and refused to accept responsibility for the child’s death. I saw this inmate weekly for one year and four months. During the second-last counselling session with her and her husband, Barbara finally admitted that she deliberately shook the baby foster child too hard and it broke the child’s neck. It was difficult for her, but going over the events time and time again, she finally opened up. Her husband kissed her and said that was the first time in seven years that she had confessed to the crime.
Within six months, Barbara appeared before the National Parole Board. The chair of the National Parole Board and two other members went to the mental hospital and reviewed her application for full parole. The chief psychiatrist and I spoke in favour of her application. During the interview, Barbara admitted that she shook the baby hard and the baby’s neck had broken. Barbara thanked me for helping her to come to terms with her actions and the child’s death. She received full parole to return to her home and family. She was prohibited from having small children in her house. Four years later, I learned that Barbara had given birth to a little boy one year after receiving full parole.
Mary Ann asked me if I would conduct group therapy sessions for her and four other inmates. All five inmates had committed offences against children. I agreed to lead the group only if all five inmates participated. This was the only time as warden I ever conducted counselling sessions for inmates. (When I was a parole officer in 1973, I conducted a group session for eight male sex offenders.) Before I commenced the sessions with the PC inmates, I ran the idea past the inmates’ classification officers. The classification officers all agreed with the sessions and commented that it would be a positive experience.
The first session started on Monday afternoon. I arranged that the assistant warden be informed that I would be asking the two correctional officers that sit in the PC area to move to the segregation side until the group sessions were over after ninety minutes. Once inside the PC area, I asked the two female correctional officers to position themselves behind the door in the segregation area. The guards could look periodically through the door window to ensure everything was okay. This would allow the inmates to speak more openly in a private area. I conducted the group sessions in the lower corridor hallway.
I conducted group sessions for five months. Initially, two of the five inmates refused to accept responsibility for their child’s death. One of them broke down one afternoon and admitted that she was on drugs and did not mean to hurt her child. It was a major turning point in the group. The inmates did most of the talking. I let them talk. They got a lot of things off their chests.
The one inmate (Maggie) who refused to participate in the group sessions had no interest in changing her life. She hated life. She hated her family, her husband, and her children. Maggie was released one year later on Mandatory Supervision. Six months later, she was killed during a robbery attempt in a small bar in Montreal. Maggie shot at a bartender who had a gun under the bar. He fired one shot as she was leaving the bar and hit her in the neck.
Mary Ann was finding it very hard being locked up in the small PC area. She had almost finished her high school courses, including Grade 13, and was looking into starting some university correspondence courses. She was doing her best to stay focused, but the period of dead time rattled her. She smoked a lot and drank lots of coffee.
Wardens and other administrators who are responsible for female inmates are sometimes faced with difficult decisions to save an inmate from harm or reach an inmate who is very depressed and in despair. I recall an incident in 1979 that required an extraordinary solution to solve the problem.
There was a small, wiry, middle-aged woman named Irene who was confined in segregation because of bizarre, disruptive behaviour. Irene was a fifty-three-year-old white ex-soldier who had a severe alcoholic problem. She was admitted to the PFW in 1977 for attempted murder. Irene stabbed a male suitor who refused to do something she wanted done. Irene was sentenced to six years. For two years, Irene’s behaviour was non-problematic. But in the spring of 1979, Irene had to be removed from the population and placed in segregation. She was acting crazy and disrupting the range where she resided. She would yell in her cell at the top of her voice late at night. Some of the negative things she screamed out were very disturbing. Irene would throw her clothes and personal effects out of her cell on to the corridor floor. Inmates complained that her antics kept the entire range up at night. It was necessary to place her in segregation.
Irene’s behaviour got worse in segregation. She would climb the cell bars like a monkey and hang in awkward positions looking down at people walking by in the range. She suffered from extreme hallucinations and bad dreams. Her previous alcoholic indulgences during her adult years had had an adverse effect on her health.
Irene was seen by the institutional physician, nurses, chaplain, psychologist, psychiatrist, classification officer, and senior staff. I don’t think there was any professional staff member who did not interview Irene or try to help solve her problems. She became very paranoid and talked to herself. After eight weeks in segregation, her behaviour became severe. She stopped eating. Between the nursing staff and the food steward officer, everything was done to help her gain some weight. The Chief of Health Care had Irene checked over by the institutional physician and the psychiatrist. The psychiatrist prescribed some medications for her depression, but they did not help. Irene’s flashbacks and bad dreams were getting worse. The doctor was at a loss. He suggested we find out what food Irene loved to eat and bring it to her. It worked for one week; then she stopped eating altogether. The doctor reported that Irene had lost twenty-five pounds, dropping from 110 pounds to 85 pounds.
A special meeting was called including myself, the Chief of Health Care, AW Security, and the doctor. We were desperate. Someone suggested that we get her a kitten. We arranged for a kitten to be placed in her cell. She neglected the kitten.
The doctor was concerned that Irene might have organ failure if she continued to refuse food. She did drink water and some tea. After six days of not eating, force feeding by tube was discussed. Someone said it was not medically ethical.
I remember the head nurse made a suggestion that flabbergasted the group. If Irene refused food for three more days, she could become very ill and would have to be placed in the prison health care centre. The nurse said she remembered an alcoholic patient who would not eat, so family members gave the patient some dark stout. After three days, the patient began to improve. The AW Security said no beer or other alcohol was allowed in the prison.
We were at a stalemate. What could we do? Finally a nurse said, “Let’s get some stout and smuggle it into the prison. It can be brought into the hospital and used for medicinal purposes.” After considerable discussion, there was agreement. A plan was put in motion. The institutional driver would pick up the beer and carry it in a large cloth bag past the two correctional officers that were stationed at the main front control post.
When the time came, one curious guard asked the driver, “Tom, what is in the bag?”
The driver replied, “Some medical supplies for the hospital.” The beer was delivered to the hospital and kept in the locked room where narcotics were stored.
It was arranged that Irene would be called up to the hospital after inmate medication parade was completed. The first time Irene was called to the hospital was priceless. A guard went to her cell and said, “Irene, get dressed. You are called to the hospital for some medicine.” Irene was escorted to the hospital and asked to sit on a chair and wait until she was called. The Chief of Health Care called Irene into the examination room and asked her to sit on a small table. Irene was very weak and could hardly speak. The nurse said to Irene in a loud voice, “I hear you are not eating and you have no appetite.”
Irene stared at the nurse in bewilderment. She did not speak. The nurse turned around and said, “Irene, I am going to give you something to help you regain your appetite.”
Irene looked at the drink before her. She sniffed the beer but did not take a drink. Irene was a bit paranoid at times. She did not trust the nurse. The nurse proceeded to work on her paperwork. After twenty-two minutes, Irene took a small sip of the beer. Her brain started to work. It sparked a reaction. It jump-started her memory. She took another sip, and then another. Yes! She remembered the good taste of beer. Within two minutes, the large beer glass was empty. Irene looked puzzled. I suspect she was wondering what the nurses were doing to her. Were they trying to poison her? Irene had not drunk alcohol in three years.
Irene was returned to her cell in segregation. She was called back to the hospital at 6:30 p.m. The nurse offered Irene another glass of stout. This time Irene finished the beer in three large gulps. Irene left the hospital with a little smile or smirk on her face. For three successive days, Irene drank two beers, one in the morning and one in the early evening. By the end of the third day, Irene finished the beer in one large gulp. She wanted a second beer.
Irene went back to segregation feeling good. A special meal — her favourite, a small steak with mashed potatoes and gravy — was brought to her. Irene slowly ate the entire meal.
Irene had two beers a day for six more days. She started eating regularly. By the end of day seven, Irene was escorted to the hospital. There was no more beer for her. The nurse gave Irene a mild sedative to help relax her and help her sleep. The next day, Irene saw the psychologist, who helped her understand her problems. Irene was free of nightmares and bad dreams. It took three weeks before Irene was eating and sleeping normally. Irene was returned to her cell on the range. In four months, Irene was released to a halfway house. I should comment that there were no entries in Irene’s medical file that said she received beer in the hospital. It was against prison regulations to bring alcohol into the prison.
Looking back, this was a risky move. Each time Irene was brought to the nursing station to receive a beer, the inmate cleaner, who had a drinking problem, was released to her living area. It was important that no inmates and minimal staff be aware of this plan to help Irene regain her strength. We were concerned that inmates would try to steal the beer if they knew it was in the hospital; or they might want the same treatment that Irene received. It was a bold, imaginative decision to allow beer into the institution just this once. In this case, it worked miracles. I don’t remember alcohol ever being brought into the prison again.