I don’t know what Rodriguez was thinking (Not his real name)...
I had been thinking about this because earlier today I and another porter had to clean up all the debris that was left behind by the blaze.
There was a lot of damage. Two sides of the cell’s walls were badly charred, and the small air vent that is near the ceiling and is directly above the toilet was stuffed with black soot. My co-worker was given a metal paint scraper by the officer and he tried as best he could to scrape the blackness from the walls. But the officer will need to notify the facility’s paint crew to come and repaint everything. This will probably be done after the New Year’s holiday as the cell must be made re-livable for whoever is going to move into it next
Meanwhile my job was to sweep up all the burned debris. There were charred books and letters, and a pile of black ashes which appeared to be the remains of newspapers. There were several half-melted plastic items, too. I gathered everything and placed the contents into a large, heavy-duty plastic trash bag. But what caught my attention the most was the sight of the two smoke stained paintings of Jesus that Rodriguez had kept taped over the wall above his little desk. It was eerie.
As for Mr. Rodriguez, he’s gone. He was taken away in handcuffs shortly after starting yesterday’s fire. From what I was told by a guard, Rodriguez was placed in a “strip cell” at the prison’s Observation Unit which is located in a secure area at the opposite end of the facility. Inmates who are deemed to be suicidal are usually placed into one of these special cells where they are kept under 24-hour observation until the prison’s psychologist declares them stable enough to be released from the strip cell.
Later Rodriguez will be placed into a cell at the facility’s Special Housing Unit, more commonly known as "The Box" or "The Hole." He’s facing a long stretch here, maybe upwards of a year or longer for committing such a very serious infraction as arson.
Depressed or not, Rodriguez placed a lot of people in danger. It was only yesterday when I watched from only a few feet away as flames leapt between steel bars and thick smoke quickly filled the building. That no one was injured is a miracle. About a dozen officers responded to the call to extinguish the blaze, while at the same time oversee the evacuation of the building.
So this morning, as I stood in a pile of ash and rubble, and as I gazed upon soot stained, blackened walls, I felt considerable sadness. Rodriguez’s cry for help went un-answered. But this, in my opinion, is because he looked for help from the wrong people.
Prison guards, as challenging as their job can be at times, are for the most part indifferent to the personal struggles and emotional difficulties their charges may experience while incarcerated. The guards no doubt have their own problems. Therefore their indifference is understandable. Instead, Mr. Rodriquez should’ve called upon Jesus Christ to help him during his time of personal crisis. Rodriquez, I believe, was in need of divine assistance, especially since none of the staff showed concern for his soul.
Quite frankly, if not for my faith in the Lord, I too would be living without hope. Like Mr. Rodriquez, I’d probably be thinking about self-destruction, and I'd probably already be dead.
D.B.
There was a lot of damage. Two sides of the cell’s walls were badly charred, and the small air vent that is near the ceiling and is directly above the toilet was stuffed with black soot. My co-worker was given a metal paint scraper by the officer and he tried as best he could to scrape the blackness from the walls. But the officer will need to notify the facility’s paint crew to come and repaint everything. This will probably be done after the New Year’s holiday as the cell must be made re-livable for whoever is going to move into it next
Meanwhile my job was to sweep up all the burned debris. There were charred books and letters, and a pile of black ashes which appeared to be the remains of newspapers. There were several half-melted plastic items, too. I gathered everything and placed the contents into a large, heavy-duty plastic trash bag. But what caught my attention the most was the sight of the two smoke stained paintings of Jesus that Rodriguez had kept taped over the wall above his little desk. It was eerie.
As for Mr. Rodriguez, he’s gone. He was taken away in handcuffs shortly after starting yesterday’s fire. From what I was told by a guard, Rodriguez was placed in a “strip cell” at the prison’s Observation Unit which is located in a secure area at the opposite end of the facility. Inmates who are deemed to be suicidal are usually placed into one of these special cells where they are kept under 24-hour observation until the prison’s psychologist declares them stable enough to be released from the strip cell.
Later Rodriguez will be placed into a cell at the facility’s Special Housing Unit, more commonly known as "The Box" or "The Hole." He’s facing a long stretch here, maybe upwards of a year or longer for committing such a very serious infraction as arson.
Depressed or not, Rodriguez placed a lot of people in danger. It was only yesterday when I watched from only a few feet away as flames leapt between steel bars and thick smoke quickly filled the building. That no one was injured is a miracle. About a dozen officers responded to the call to extinguish the blaze, while at the same time oversee the evacuation of the building.
So this morning, as I stood in a pile of ash and rubble, and as I gazed upon soot stained, blackened walls, I felt considerable sadness. Rodriguez’s cry for help went un-answered. But this, in my opinion, is because he looked for help from the wrong people.
Prison guards, as challenging as their job can be at times, are for the most part indifferent to the personal struggles and emotional difficulties their charges may experience while incarcerated. The guards no doubt have their own problems. Therefore their indifference is understandable. Instead, Mr. Rodriquez should’ve called upon Jesus Christ to help him during his time of personal crisis. Rodriquez, I believe, was in need of divine assistance, especially since none of the staff showed concern for his soul.
Quite frankly, if not for my faith in the Lord, I too would be living without hope. Like Mr. Rodriquez, I’d probably be thinking about self-destruction, and I'd probably already be dead.
D.B.
