What would the average citizen say if it were proposed that police officer be assigned to a neighborhood which was inhabited by no one but criminals and those officers would be unarmed, patrol on foot and be heavily outnumbered? I wager that the overwhelming public response would be that the officers would have to be crazy to accept such an assignment. However, as you read this, such a scenario is being played out in all areas of the country.

I am a New York State correction officer, not a guard, who is a person that catches school crossings. I work in a maximum security correctional facility. I am empowered by the State of New York to enforce its penal laws and the rules and regulations of the Department of Correctional Services. In short, I am a policeman. my beat is totally inhabited by convicted felons, who, by definition, are people who tend to break laws, rules and regulations. I am outnumbered by as much as 20, 30 and even 40 to 1 at various times during my workday, and contrary to popular belief, I work without a sidearm. in short, my neck is on the line every minute of every day.

A correctional facility is a very misunderstood environment. The average person has little knowledge of its workings. Society sends its criminals to correctional facilities and as time passes, each criminal's crime fades from our memory until the collective prison population becomes a vision of hordes of bad people being warehoused away from decent society in a place where they can cause no further harm. There is also the notion that prison inmates cease to be a problem when they are incarcerated.

Correctional facilities are full of violence perpetrated by the prison population against each other and the facility staff. Felonies are committed daily but they are called "unusual incidents" are rarely results in public prosecution. Discipline is handled internally and, as a rule, the public is never informed of these crimes. In the course of maintaining order in these facilities, many officers have endured the humiliation of being spit upon and having urine and feces thrown at them. Uncounted correction officers have been punched and kicked, bitten, stabbed and slashed with homemade weapons, taken hostage and even murdered in the line of duty, all the while being legally mandated to maintain their professional composure and refraining from any retaliation which could be the basis for dismissal from service.

In addition to these obvious dangers, corrections officers face hidden dangers in the form of AIDS, tuberculosis, hepatitis B and hepatitis C. Courts are now imposing longer sentences and the prison population is increasing far beyond the system's designed capacity. As the Public demands more police on the street, governments everywhere are cuffing police in prisons where violence reigns supreme, jeopardizing all those still working behind prison walls.

Although you will never see me on "RESCUE 911" or "TOP COPS" I am a law enforcement professional. I am THE FORGOTTEN COP, hidden from public view, doing dangerous thankless duty on the world's most dangerous beat, hoping someday to received the respect of and approval from the public whom I silently serve.

Written by: Donald E. Premo, Jr.
New York State Correction Officer
Coxsackie Correctional Facility

SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT... 

THE CORRECTIONAL OFFICER 

The professional correctional officer follows a strange calling. He keeps people where they don't want to be and don't want to stay and no one likes him for it. By doing his job well he helps inmates in ways they may not appreciate or acknowledge. 

The correctional officer protects inmates from the anger and guilt they feel for other reasons. He enforces rules which protect them from themselves and from one another in subtle ways civil rights lawyers never suspect. 

The correctional officer knows inmates as people, 24 hours a day. He knows them as does no other employee in the justice system. Their snores, coughs, moans and screams, and their fitful sleeplessness at night, their bathroom and eating habits, their bullying, their remarkable idiom and symbols, and unique body language, the kindness and tension rise and subside to mysterious, unconscious tides and social rhythms no sociological treatise will ever explain. 

Scholarly criminologists who never carried the keys frequently remark that correctional officers, like inmates, are "doing time". It is usually said for effect... but it says nothing to the initiated. It isn't true. 

Correctional officers don't do time. No one should try to lay that on them. They needn't accept a transfer of guilt from quarter. Not from inmates, surely, because, correctional officers have not done the crimes that bring people to prisons. 

If he is professional, the correctional officer does his job knowing he will not be romanticized by t.v. like police. 

By those who want him to be a helping person, he will be seen as punitive. They usually don't consider how hard it is for the normal person to routinely inflict discomfort without provocation. 

He will absorb and contain hostility without being himself hostile and will pay the price of that. He is the stuff high blood pressure is made of. 

The correctional officer will do his job knowing that citizens who demand big time sentences for criminals will not pay big taxes to buy the painfully expensive maximum security space that these sentences require. As always however, the job will be done though the risks are increased. The correctional officer is not doing time. He is doing a job and that's enough. 

By Robert Barrington, Professor,
Department of Criminal Justice,
Northern Michigan University 

Policeman's & Corrections Officer's Judgment Day

The Officer's stood and faced their God,
Which must always come to pass.
They hoped their shoes were shining.
Just as brightly as their brass.

"Step forward now, Officers.
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My church have you been true?"

The men squared their shoulders and
The Policeman spoke first
"No, Lord, I guess We ain't,
Because those of us who carry badges
can't always be a saint.

We've had to work most Sundays,
and at times our talk was rough,
and sometimes we've been violent,
Because the streets are tough.

The Guard then added,
But we never took a penny,
That wasn't ours to keep...
Though we worked a lot of overtime
When the bills got just too steep.

And we never passed a cry for help,
Though at times we shook with fear.
And sometimes, God forgive us,
We've wept unmanly tears.

Together they say,
We know We don't deserve a place
Among the people here.
They never wanted us around
Except to calm their fear.

If you've a place for us here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
We never expected or had too much,
But if you don't...We'll understand.

There was silence around the throne
Where the saints had often trod.
As the Officers waited quietly,
For the judgment of their God.

"Step forward now, Officers,
You've borne your burdens well.
Come walk a beat on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in hell."


Dedicated to our Policemen & Correction's Officers

Doin’ Time


Morning role call and a new day begins, we all hear about the prior days sins,
They call out our names one by one; we all get a list of watches to be done,
Then off to the units to do our yard walks, we trudge through the mud, sludge and grass stalks,
Over the PA’s we call "Time for hands on trap!" if they are all out of bed we cheer and we clap,
Occasionally they grumble and won’t leave their bed, a shop spend when offered is something they dread,
A weak without smokes drives the best of them batty, on their cellies and mates they do turn really catty,
When hands on traps done and count’s correct, we unlock all their cells and they are usually upset,
Over the PA we call "Time for morning morning meds!" most of them are now done and few still come from their beds,
Ten o’clock arrives and time for morning meeting, we check all their beds to see they’re not cheating,
With the meeting now over and on with cell checks, the cells are chatty and resemble ship wrecks,
We tell the prisoners their cells must be clean, if this does not happen, we’ll really be mean,
Three nights without telly is awfully long, for a dirty cell this price is really a song,
Meal trolley arrives and midday muster is near, ten minutes to count over the PA is now what we here,
We call them up, by the doors they must stand, "TV’s off, remain silent and ID cards in your hand!"
When the count is done and we’ve concurred, we call control with our number and ensure it heard,
Twelve-Fifteen arrives and our count is correct, normal prison movement resumes with little effect,
Meals are dished up as are lunchtime meds, the prisoners go off to their programs or off to their beds,
The day now falls quiet and few are in our sight, we hear raised voices, some ones started a fight,
A response team is called to help us lockdown, we break up the fight and we seem to now frown,
The instigator is now off to the spine, on the way he grizzles and whinges and whine,
The unit is unlocked and the prisoners are happy, they are settled again now that the mood is not crappy,
We do four o’clock meds and the boys seem to cluster, we stare down the barrel of five o’clock muster,
Five o’clock muster is done and the boys are now fed, they play pool, table tennis and watch TV on their beds,
Seven o’clock comes around and medication again, the boys play more pool, table tennis and then,
Five minutes to lockdown is finally here, the prisoners sombre, the officers cheer,
Seven -thirty arrives, time for lockdown we call, , in line by their doors do the prisoners fall,
With the tick and flick done and the count rang through, all that is left is the mail to do,
Now count is correct and the night staff ‘s are on site, we give them hand over and we say good night,
We head to the car park and drive home then, tomorrow we come back to do it all over again.