I knew something was wrong when one of the officer's assigned to the prison's kitchen, approached me...
...while I was at my work station to tell me that Mrs. Viceroy wanted to see me in the gymnasium. Curious, I made my way through a series of electronically controlled sliding steel doors which allow officers and inmates entry and exit from the kitchen. Making my way down the corridor, I found Mrs. Viceroy waiting for me right inside the front door, a somber look on her face.
Mrs. Viceroy is one of the prison's primary mental health staff members who is assigned to work with the inmates who are in the Intermediate Care Program, most often referred to as the "ICP Unit" or "E-North." This is where I work in the afternoons as an assistant and helper for both E-North's staff, and the inmates.
Looking directly at Mrs. Viceroy, I immediately asked her why she called for me, as this was not the normal protocol. In a quiet but firm voice, she told me that Mister Rhinelander committed suicide last night. He was a resident of E-North, and all the men in the cell block obviously got to see Mr. Rhinelander's blanket-covered body being carried out on a stretcher after the prison's security staff finished their examination of his cell and its belongings. He hung himself from the small vent that's embedded into the cinder block wall, a few feet below the cell's ceiling and directly above his toilet. He was discovered hanging there when the night shift officer for E-North made his rounds.
I didn't know Mr. Rhinelander very well. He was fairly new to the Intermediate Care Program. Sometimes I would help him gather all his art supplies, as he liked to draw. On the quiet side and not one for conversation, getting more than a hello from him was a challenge. Still, he behaved himself and did his prison sentence, keeping his demons of despair and depression to himself.
Mr. Rhinelander, I believe, was about forty years old. I think he'd been incarcerated for eleven years at the time of his death. I didn't know what he was doing prison time for. Obviously he had mental health issues or else he would not have been living in E-North.
Mrs. Viceroy knew that when I finished my shift in the kitchen, after lunch, I would be going to E-North to work there. So she asked me to please try my best to encourage the men and keep them cheerful. She was concerned that one of them may try to harm himself as well. No doubt it's a traumatic thing to experience the suicide of someone you know, or at least see every day. E-North houses 64 men. It's like a small town where everybody knows each other's coming and going. Last night they lost one of their own.
When I went into the ICP Unit, the mood was somber and subdued. I could feel depression in the atmosphere. So I began to go from man to man, asking how he was handling the tragedy and if he wanted to talk. Some did, while others chose to remain quiet. In a way I had to function as an unofficial grief counselor, but for the most part the guys were sad, but otherwise everyone seemed to be okay.
Frankly, I don't know anything about Mr. Rhinelander's family. But somewhere beyond the walls of this place, a family is grieving. They've just lost a loved one. Now they will have up to thirty days to claim his remains. If not, Mr. Rhinelander will have to be buried in the potter's field nearby. This is a lonely and desolate patch of ground that's on State owned land, a short distance from the prison itself. May God rest his soul.
D.B.
NOTE: Mr. Rhinelander and Mrs. Viceroy are pseudonyms.
Mrs. Viceroy is one of the prison's primary mental health staff members who is assigned to work with the inmates who are in the Intermediate Care Program, most often referred to as the "ICP Unit" or "E-North." This is where I work in the afternoons as an assistant and helper for both E-North's staff, and the inmates.
Looking directly at Mrs. Viceroy, I immediately asked her why she called for me, as this was not the normal protocol. In a quiet but firm voice, she told me that Mister Rhinelander committed suicide last night. He was a resident of E-North, and all the men in the cell block obviously got to see Mr. Rhinelander's blanket-covered body being carried out on a stretcher after the prison's security staff finished their examination of his cell and its belongings. He hung himself from the small vent that's embedded into the cinder block wall, a few feet below the cell's ceiling and directly above his toilet. He was discovered hanging there when the night shift officer for E-North made his rounds.
I didn't know Mr. Rhinelander very well. He was fairly new to the Intermediate Care Program. Sometimes I would help him gather all his art supplies, as he liked to draw. On the quiet side and not one for conversation, getting more than a hello from him was a challenge. Still, he behaved himself and did his prison sentence, keeping his demons of despair and depression to himself.
Mr. Rhinelander, I believe, was about forty years old. I think he'd been incarcerated for eleven years at the time of his death. I didn't know what he was doing prison time for. Obviously he had mental health issues or else he would not have been living in E-North.
Mrs. Viceroy knew that when I finished my shift in the kitchen, after lunch, I would be going to E-North to work there. So she asked me to please try my best to encourage the men and keep them cheerful. She was concerned that one of them may try to harm himself as well. No doubt it's a traumatic thing to experience the suicide of someone you know, or at least see every day. E-North houses 64 men. It's like a small town where everybody knows each other's coming and going. Last night they lost one of their own.
When I went into the ICP Unit, the mood was somber and subdued. I could feel depression in the atmosphere. So I began to go from man to man, asking how he was handling the tragedy and if he wanted to talk. Some did, while others chose to remain quiet. In a way I had to function as an unofficial grief counselor, but for the most part the guys were sad, but otherwise everyone seemed to be okay.
Frankly, I don't know anything about Mr. Rhinelander's family. But somewhere beyond the walls of this place, a family is grieving. They've just lost a loved one. Now they will have up to thirty days to claim his remains. If not, Mr. Rhinelander will have to be buried in the potter's field nearby. This is a lonely and desolate patch of ground that's on State owned land, a short distance from the prison itself. May God rest his soul.
D.B.
NOTE: Mr. Rhinelander and Mrs. Viceroy are pseudonyms.
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