Letters From The Inside -- Justice for Jack

July 2006

Well folks, I finally did it. No, I am not talking about my ultimate vindication. I am referring to the fact that I am now three quarters of the way home. For those of you who have not heard, I have finally managed to get transferred to a facility much closer to home. On June 19th, after just over 25 months in Bare Hill Correctional Facility in Malone, I was shuffled onto a bus and began my trip to Washington Correctional Facility in Comstock. My new, and hopefully temporary, home is located just east of Lake George. So, now that I am finally settled in, let me take you on the painful circular journey that took over two years to complete “From the Inside.”

This secondary punishment actually began in August of 2002, shortly after I was moved from Eastern Correctional to Greene Correctional, just an hour south of Albany. In accordance with Department of Corrections (DOCS) policy, I was assigned a facility corrections counselor upon my arrival at Greene. Her name was Patricia Callanan. Prior to arriving at Greene I had never had any problems whatsoever with my five preceding correction counselors. However, early indications were that things were not going to go as smoothly with Ms. Callanan.

Just a few months into this newly established counselor/inmate association things began to go poorly. For reasons I have yet to find out, Ms. Callanan seemed to be on a mission to force me into three DOCS therapeutic programs that either didn’t exist at Greene or that previous counselors had already determined I did not need. After informing her that aside from the issues of the existence of or need for these program, my attorney at the time had advised me to delay participation in any therapeutic program until all of my appeal options were exhausted. This information caused Ms. Callanan to become quite irate. Her demeanor quickly went from a pleasant corrections counselor to the viciousness of another Patricia I had the misfortune of meeting in court. Ms. Callanan’s behavior concerned me very much. So much so that something told me that any trust I had developed for this woman should be set aside. I requested copies of any of my corrections files that I thought Ms. Callanan would have had access to so I could review them. After I reviewed them, I quickly realized that she had been tampering with my records. Her anger must have gotten the best of her because she apparently decided to convey to DOCS Central office that I was refusing to follow policy and her recommendations.

Upon confronting Ms. Callanan with my findings that my records had been altered and were inaccurate, I was quickly threatened by her supervisor, Ms. Megan Mactavish, with a misbehavior report. When I filed a formal complaint regarding this unprofessional conduct, I was threatened with transfer “as far away from my family as possible.” My only recourse at that time was to turn to the courts for protection. Three days after Counselor Callanan and Sr. Counselor Mactavish were served notice that I had filed court action for protection, Ms. Callanan changed my pending transfer order. This order had me slated to be transferred to Hudson Correctional Facility, just minutes south of where I was, but was changed to send me to Bare Hill Correctional, which is 240 miles north of Albany.

Despite relentless court actions to have me returned to a facility closer to home, it was not until I served the required two years in Bare Hill, problem free, before policy would permit me the closer to home transfer. So, on June 17th, a call came to the dorm I was living in instructing me to pack all of my property; I was heading south to Washington Correctional Facility, just 50 miles north of my home.

THE TRANSFER

On the morning of June 18th, I carted everything I owned, eight bags of property, up to what is affectionately known as the draft processing room. This is where guards go through every piece of your property not only to itemize it, but to be sure you are allowed to have possession of it. When I say eight bags, I am referring to “draft bags,” which are mandatory when traveling as a NYS prisoner. These bags stand about four feet high and about two feet in diameter. The strict rule that applies here is that no inmate can take any more than four bags with him on the bus. Any number above that must be mailed with all costs being levied upon the inmate. So, while I was spared the expense of shipping half of my property, the remaining half cost me $35 in postage to be sent to Washington Correctional Facility.

On June 19, 2005, at about 9AM, I was gladly cuffed, shackled, loaded into the caged bus and driven through the main gate of Bare Hill Correctional Facility for what I pray to God will be forever. After approximately three hours of traveling in an enclosed tin can with no side windows, we arrived at Clinton Correctional Facility. Yes fold, the same facility, the same building and the same dorm where my plight in the NYS correctional system began in 1998. You see, Clinton is considered the wheel of the hub where all inmates in and out of that hub must stop before proceeding to their ordered destination. We were “cordially” ushered inside, uncuffed, unshackled and sent to the dorm where we will be spending the night. We were now classified as transients. We were issued linens, a pillow and a bed assignment and were told to have a good night; we would be leaving in the morning. Alright, I added the good night part.

At approximately 6AM the following morning, we were awakened, rushed to breakfast and led to Clinton’s draft room. After sitting for an hour, we were re-cuffed and shackled in pairs, placed on a bigger bus- with windows this time- and sent on our trek south. At about 11:30AM, we pulled into Washington Correctional Facility in Comstock. This, my friends, was my new and hopefully my final facility before home.

As it happens, Washington Correction is no different than all other facilities in that attached to is an overabundance of opinions by inmates who know or knew of the facility operations. What I have learned, however, is that no inmate in the State system had circumstances that parallel mine and therefore, I would use only my opinion as a guide. All I knew, from the moment I learned how close I would be to my home, was that my wife’s grueling trips to visit me would go from seven hours in the road to under two hours on the road. So, no matter what else this facility did or didn’t have to offer, the peace of mind of knowing my wife’s burden has been eased is enough to make Washington the next best thing to being home.

I have just completed my third weekend here and in addition to the proximity to the Capital District, Washington has another big advantage over Bare Hill; there are visits available on both weekend days. This schedule has resulted in my having received six visits in the first three weekends. In addition to seeing my family, I was very pleased to have a visit from my friend and supporter Carl Strock and with him Ernie Tetrault, who I had the pleasure of meeting for the first time. This indeed was one exciting and enjoyable visit.

You know friends; my two years in Bare Hill slowly eroded my feelings of connection to my community and to some degree, my family. There seems to be this unexplained development of disconnect that accompanies prison life far from home. Yet, that feeling was not quite as noticeable until I arrived here and began getting such frequent visits.

The effects of this transfer are far beyond my expectations. As the reconnection to my friends, life and family strengthens, I am beginning to feel my second wind. In addition to the number of obvious pluses that have come with this transfer, there is one great and significant thought that already stands out. As a result of these new weekly visits and this feeling of being almost home, my weeks as a NYS prisoner have quickly gone from seven bad days to five. And should justice finally find its way to my family, and me, my bad days will be a thing of the past.

One more thing folks, now that I am within a comfortable proximity to the Capital District area, I extend an invitation to anyone out there who might want to come and visit for a couple of hours. I assure you as your host, I will make your prison visit far more enjoyable than one would expect. Oh, and that invitation is nor exclusive to just my friends and supporters. If Ms. DeAngelis is so sure I am guilty, she should have no problem stopping by and explaining to me why that is. If you would like to visit, just contact my wife, Mary, or my brother, Tim, and they will set you up with a visit. You can come with one of my family members, so you have no problems with the check in process, which I am told is very easy here.

Hopefully, I will be seeing some of you soon. In the meantime, take care and best wishes, "From the Inside.”