Riland
Riland is an abbreviation of Riker's Island. Like Manhattan, Riker's is an island unto itself. Except there are no tourist attractions. My first visit to Riker's was earlier this week. Now I can add it to the other islands I have visited: Manhattan, Staten, St. John's, St. Bart's, St. Martin's, Island Home, Oahu, Hawaii, Amager, and others I just can't think of right now.
After working closely with another friend to secure the release of a third friend, I got the paperwork from the bail bondsman around 4pm. I then rushed home, jumped into the car, and headed to East Elmhurst, Queens. I parked in the designated parking area, which is about 2 miles from the "control center" of Riker's. One must catch a city bus from that point to enter the inner sanctum. It was during a visiting time, where friends and families may visit their loved ones who are incarcerated. The first bus was so crowded that I couldn't enter. Thankfully, the next bus was only a couple of minutes away. It was a chilly night.
Since I was there to retrieve someone, I asked a Corrections Officer where I should go. He told me to get in the line for visitors. Visitors are allowed no "contraband." This includes cell phones, tobacco of any kind, any medications, cameras, pagers, and various other things. They offer lockers at an investment of 50 cents, 25 of those cents are refunded when you return to retrieve your prohibited belongings. I tried many times to find lockers to store my cell phone. Those that were vacant were broken. That was probably the biggest frustration. After getting in line for the metal detector and personal-belongings-x-ray, I realized that I had forgotten to store a pack of cigarettes. I didn't want to lose my place in line. So I threw away a pack of cigarettes and a prohibited lighter in order to gain entrance. After waiting a couple of hours, I found out that I should go to another building. So I retrieved my belongings and headed to the correct building. Again, the same rules about contraband. So I had to re-store my belongings at the lockers, back at the first building.
After getting registered and getting a pass, I hopped on a shuttle bus to take me to a third building. Turns out that the embossing on the release slip from court was not sufficiently visible to the Corrections Officers. No joy on the release. I had to return it to the bail bondsman who would take it back to court. This added another couple of days to the project.
Friday, February 27th, I once again made the trek to Riland--so named, I understand, by those who are frequent visitors, on both sides of the bars. It was not a designated visiting time. So things moved much faster. Plus, I remembered to leave all prohibited items in the car. Both trips were an eye-opening experience. At dusk, Riland is a beautiful place where low-slung buildings do not obscure so much of the sky. Aside from the razor wire surrounding fences in every direction, it could easily be mistaken for a holiday destination if one stretches the imagination a bit.
It really is an island unto itself. With different buildings and different streets and stop signs and buildings with different functions--administration, operations, transportation, etc. All the trimmings of government operations.
On my first visit, my belief in treating others how you would like to be treated was reinforced as a golden rule. You do get more flies with honey. When I responded to questions from Corrections Officers, it was with "yes, sir" or "no, sir." Or "yes, ma'am" or "no ma'am." Also, "please" and "thank you" go such a long way. I took my cue from the frustration shown by those people who made slow traction with responses of "hell naw" and other statements laced with profanity and degradation.
I was told that my Friday night transaction would be 1-3 hours. I was told to wait in a different building and was called back in 27 minutes. The desk clerk handling the transaction was so kind to me and so professional. "Reap what you sow" came to mind...
Francis Buono is not a name I recognize. But the bridge from the parking lot to the physical island is named in his honor. (Is "honor" the right word?)
After working closely with another friend to secure the release of a third friend, I got the paperwork from the bail bondsman around 4pm. I then rushed home, jumped into the car, and headed to East Elmhurst, Queens. I parked in the designated parking area, which is about 2 miles from the "control center" of Riker's. One must catch a city bus from that point to enter the inner sanctum. It was during a visiting time, where friends and families may visit their loved ones who are incarcerated. The first bus was so crowded that I couldn't enter. Thankfully, the next bus was only a couple of minutes away. It was a chilly night.
Since I was there to retrieve someone, I asked a Corrections Officer where I should go. He told me to get in the line for visitors. Visitors are allowed no "contraband." This includes cell phones, tobacco of any kind, any medications, cameras, pagers, and various other things. They offer lockers at an investment of 50 cents, 25 of those cents are refunded when you return to retrieve your prohibited belongings. I tried many times to find lockers to store my cell phone. Those that were vacant were broken. That was probably the biggest frustration. After getting in line for the metal detector and personal-belongings-x-ray, I realized that I had forgotten to store a pack of cigarettes. I didn't want to lose my place in line. So I threw away a pack of cigarettes and a prohibited lighter in order to gain entrance. After waiting a couple of hours, I found out that I should go to another building. So I retrieved my belongings and headed to the correct building. Again, the same rules about contraband. So I had to re-store my belongings at the lockers, back at the first building.
After getting registered and getting a pass, I hopped on a shuttle bus to take me to a third building. Turns out that the embossing on the release slip from court was not sufficiently visible to the Corrections Officers. No joy on the release. I had to return it to the bail bondsman who would take it back to court. This added another couple of days to the project.
Friday, February 27th, I once again made the trek to Riland--so named, I understand, by those who are frequent visitors, on both sides of the bars. It was not a designated visiting time. So things moved much faster. Plus, I remembered to leave all prohibited items in the car. Both trips were an eye-opening experience. At dusk, Riland is a beautiful place where low-slung buildings do not obscure so much of the sky. Aside from the razor wire surrounding fences in every direction, it could easily be mistaken for a holiday destination if one stretches the imagination a bit.
It really is an island unto itself. With different buildings and different streets and stop signs and buildings with different functions--administration, operations, transportation, etc. All the trimmings of government operations.
On my first visit, my belief in treating others how you would like to be treated was reinforced as a golden rule. You do get more flies with honey. When I responded to questions from Corrections Officers, it was with "yes, sir" or "no, sir." Or "yes, ma'am" or "no ma'am." Also, "please" and "thank you" go such a long way. I took my cue from the frustration shown by those people who made slow traction with responses of "hell naw" and other statements laced with profanity and degradation.
I was told that my Friday night transaction would be 1-3 hours. I was told to wait in a different building and was called back in 27 minutes. The desk clerk handling the transaction was so kind to me and so professional. "Reap what you sow" came to mind...
Francis Buono is not a name I recognize. But the bridge from the parking lot to the physical island is named in his honor. (Is "honor" the right word?)
***
Normal traffic rules seem suspended on Riland. The shuttle drivers never stop for stop signs. Speed limits are ignored. Some Corrections Officers are the model of professionalism but many wear their authority like a weapon, knowing that the people there, whether visiting or behind the bars, have no recourse for their decisions or actions.
As for the operations, it is a return to the 1950's. "Archaic" best describes procedures. The mayor's name adorns the main building in giant letters. If my name were attached to the place, I would look at tackling some obvious inefficiencies. I concede that I am not an expert in corrections. But some things are no-brainers. There should be a computer connection between the courts and Riland that keeps an inmate's status up-t0-date. There should be a central area for retrieving inmates who are being discharged. This would reduce the need for so many shuttle buses hauling civilians to different buildings. But, alas, I am sure this would reduce the number of employees, and I am equally sure that the union representing the Corrections Officers would oppose such modernization.
On a surprising note, I relate this story: I had lost my driver's license somewhere between buildings on my first visit. On my second visit, I asked if it was turned in. The Corrections Officer said that, indeed, it had been found and turned in. This struck me as such a good turn in a place where so many people are assumed to have made only bad turns in their lives. I hope that sometime, somehow, some way, Corrections Officers will realize that not everyone visiting chooses a negative path. And compassion (as much as possible) with many inmates, in my humble opinion, will prove helpful to those who are receptive to genuine rehabilitation. Remember: Corrections is not a profit center, it is a cost center. And the easiest way to avoid paying these high costs (paid both by inmates and taxpayers) is by reducing the activities that lead people to be there in the first place. Even if the union representing Corrections Officers never loses a member, wouldn't it be a great day if they had no work to do?
Finally, a "shout-out" to the Corrections Officer working the visitor-screening at the main building. He was calm, confident, helpful, and compassionate. He had service stripes on his uniform indicating he had been with the department many years. Lest I get him in trouble with his colleagues for making them look bad by comparison, I won't describe him any further. But I do hope that he realizes that his work really does make a difference. And if you ever must visit Riker's Island, take a book or a big magazine...iPods are also prohibited.
As for the operations, it is a return to the 1950's. "Archaic" best describes procedures. The mayor's name adorns the main building in giant letters. If my name were attached to the place, I would look at tackling some obvious inefficiencies. I concede that I am not an expert in corrections. But some things are no-brainers. There should be a computer connection between the courts and Riland that keeps an inmate's status up-t0-date. There should be a central area for retrieving inmates who are being discharged. This would reduce the need for so many shuttle buses hauling civilians to different buildings. But, alas, I am sure this would reduce the number of employees, and I am equally sure that the union representing the Corrections Officers would oppose such modernization.
On a surprising note, I relate this story: I had lost my driver's license somewhere between buildings on my first visit. On my second visit, I asked if it was turned in. The Corrections Officer said that, indeed, it had been found and turned in. This struck me as such a good turn in a place where so many people are assumed to have made only bad turns in their lives. I hope that sometime, somehow, some way, Corrections Officers will realize that not everyone visiting chooses a negative path. And compassion (as much as possible) with many inmates, in my humble opinion, will prove helpful to those who are receptive to genuine rehabilitation. Remember: Corrections is not a profit center, it is a cost center. And the easiest way to avoid paying these high costs (paid both by inmates and taxpayers) is by reducing the activities that lead people to be there in the first place. Even if the union representing Corrections Officers never loses a member, wouldn't it be a great day if they had no work to do?
Finally, a "shout-out" to the Corrections Officer working the visitor-screening at the main building. He was calm, confident, helpful, and compassionate. He had service stripes on his uniform indicating he had been with the department many years. Lest I get him in trouble with his colleagues for making them look bad by comparison, I won't describe him any further. But I do hope that he realizes that his work really does make a difference. And if you ever must visit Riker's Island, take a book or a big magazine...iPods are also prohibited.
posted by Michael Vernon at Saturday, February 28, 2009
1 Comments:
I think most COs get jaded and burned out quickly. I don't know that I'd do any better, considering the clientele they generally deal with. I guess the good ones can recognize polite people and adjust their behavior accordingly, but many have just one view of the people in front of them, without any distinction made between individuals (as you may recall, I used to deal with such folks in a prior job, although it wasn't at Rikers).
Sorry you had to go through all of that, but you're a good friend to do it. That's a real mark of friendship!
BTW, let me know if your friend needs counsel. Not that I do any such work (thankfully, I don't!), but I know some folks who do.
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