He showed many of the signs of someone who was suicidal...
He was not himself at all.
Steven (pseudonym) is in his early 20s, and has been in prison for several years already as he serves out his 12-year sentence for shooting another man multiple times with a handgun as they argued on a Bronx street.
Fortunately for Steven, his victim didn't die. He just staggered away with three bullet wounds in his torso. But had Steve killed this man, he would be facing 20 years to life instead of what he "copped out" to in court.
As is often the case these days, his crime revolved around drugs. And with so many young inner city men packing guns, the days of resolving disputes with clenched fists are pretty much over. When I saw Steven earlier this afternoon, he looked awful. He was sitting on his bunk, showing me a pathetically sad countenance, and his head was hanging down. He did not make eye contact with me as he normally would do. Instead, he kept his head facing down toward his right hand, where, using his left hand, he was painting bright red crosses with a small brush on the top of his right hand with some kind of ink.
Steven was also wearing a large white crucifix that was attached to a set of milky white rosary beads that encircled his neck. The white crucifix seemed to stand out even more because he had on a dark green sweatshirt.
I've seen this look before. And when I asked him how he was doing, he just mumbled something that I could not hear, as he continued to paint himself. I then asked a neighbor in the cell next to his if he had seen Steven giving away any of his possessions to the other inmates. He admitted that Steven did so. I quickly realized what was up.
After I watched Steven for another minute or so, I then went downstairs to the first floor of the cell block. I asked one of the correction's officers who was on duty if I could speak with someone from E-North's mental health staff.
The officer then gave me the okay to go to the offices where the mental health people work. When I spoke to a counselor and a social worker and appraised them of the situation, they then made a phone call and requested that Steven be escorted to their office by a guard.
My job was done. Having reported the incident, they, along with a psychologist, examined Steven and determined that he needed to be placed in the Observation Unit for a while. He was indeed suicidal.
Later in the day, the social worker thanked me for letting her know about Steven's condition. She said I made a "good call" (a good observation) and that I probably prevented Steven from hurting himself.
I thank God that I was in the right place at the right time.
D.B.
Steven (pseudonym) is in his early 20s, and has been in prison for several years already as he serves out his 12-year sentence for shooting another man multiple times with a handgun as they argued on a Bronx street.
Fortunately for Steven, his victim didn't die. He just staggered away with three bullet wounds in his torso. But had Steve killed this man, he would be facing 20 years to life instead of what he "copped out" to in court.
As is often the case these days, his crime revolved around drugs. And with so many young inner city men packing guns, the days of resolving disputes with clenched fists are pretty much over. When I saw Steven earlier this afternoon, he looked awful. He was sitting on his bunk, showing me a pathetically sad countenance, and his head was hanging down. He did not make eye contact with me as he normally would do. Instead, he kept his head facing down toward his right hand, where, using his left hand, he was painting bright red crosses with a small brush on the top of his right hand with some kind of ink.
Steven was also wearing a large white crucifix that was attached to a set of milky white rosary beads that encircled his neck. The white crucifix seemed to stand out even more because he had on a dark green sweatshirt.
I've seen this look before. And when I asked him how he was doing, he just mumbled something that I could not hear, as he continued to paint himself. I then asked a neighbor in the cell next to his if he had seen Steven giving away any of his possessions to the other inmates. He admitted that Steven did so. I quickly realized what was up.
After I watched Steven for another minute or so, I then went downstairs to the first floor of the cell block. I asked one of the correction's officers who was on duty if I could speak with someone from E-North's mental health staff.
The officer then gave me the okay to go to the offices where the mental health people work. When I spoke to a counselor and a social worker and appraised them of the situation, they then made a phone call and requested that Steven be escorted to their office by a guard.
My job was done. Having reported the incident, they, along with a psychologist, examined Steven and determined that he needed to be placed in the Observation Unit for a while. He was indeed suicidal.
Later in the day, the social worker thanked me for letting her know about Steven's condition. She said I made a "good call" (a good observation) and that I probably prevented Steven from hurting himself.
I thank God that I was in the right place at the right time.
D.B.
