A few years ago I worked as a correctional officer for the state of Michigan. When I was first hired, I worked briefly at Macomb Regional Correctional Facility as a trainee and then upon graduating the academy I was one of the original staff members that opened the Mound Correctional Facility in Detroit, MI. Around three years after arriving to the Mound facility I transferred to Michigan Reformatory in Ionia, MI.
The first two locations were considered 'soft' locations. The walls, stairs, railing and even the cell doors were all painted soothing colors and everything coordinated with each other. There were programs galore... even movie nights. This was in the nineties when rehabilitation and catering to the inmates needs were goals.
The third was what one might picture when the term 'penitentiary' is thrown around. If you've seen the movie "Shawshank Redemption" it was a pretty close approximation. It quite literally resembled a gothic castle on a hill.
In the correctional community "M.R." was known colloquially as "Gladiator School". Our prisoner population consisted of 16-18 year old violent offenders, assault on staff cases from around the state or those who were considered to have an elevated escape risk.
It was a rough place. My partner and I would flip a coin at the beginning of each shift as to who drew the response role to the first fight of the day. This was especially true in the heat of the summertime.
Open bar cells, narrow walkways for the officers, cell blocks nearly 100 yards long... built in the 1800's (rumored to have held civil war prisoners).
It was no place for those without intestinal fortitude... moxy... guts...inner strength. The inmates would test you, the other staff would test you, the environment would test you. It was 'on' even when it wasn't.
It was a lot for anyone and for me in my early twenties... a little country boy from rural MI.. an enormous culture shift.
I learned a great deal in this environment of violence. The most influential skill I would say was how to correctly 'read' people, to interpret situations and to respond appropriately.
Reading people should be considered an art form. It's more than body language or speech patterns, it's more than one's personal emotional responses or prejudice. It's seeing people for what they are and not what we might wish they were or could be. Most importantly - more than what they want you to believe they are. It's less judgement and more wide-eyed observation without the reservations we might have on an emotional basis.
Corrections, which is the ugly step-sister of law-enforcement... attracts some of the same flawed personalities that populate many positions of 'authority'. The bully, the insecure, the cowards are mixed in with those that have the opposite characteristics. Standing on any side of you at muster you will have someone that is there for just a paycheck or a resume pad, someone that is a legacy law enforcement family member, someone that actually is a professional and takes their job seriously and of course someone that took the role to cover their lack of courage so they can have authority over other people shielded by the badge or uniform.
The one's that talk the talk... but can't walk the walk.
You learn to spot them quickly and the more you see them the more blatantly obvious the behavior becomes. You begin to wonder why others don't notice them as fast you do. As in.. "are you really buying this???"
One example comes to mind. I don't even remember his actual name as the bulk of the staff (and leadership) referred to him only as 'First Responder'. I had been working at M.R. for around a year or so when he was hired on as a trainee officer fresh from the academy.
He was full of bravado (false bravado) and always ready to give advice to the other officers of the facility where the average seniority was give or take thirty years.
F.R. had his state issued uniform professionally tailored for his wiry, small frame. He upgraded his look on day one with a patent leather Sam Browne (duty belt), patent leather handcuff case, patent leather radio holder, a fancy whistle... hell who knows. I could barely look at the guy without smirking. I do know he squeaked when he walked from all that shiny and new patent leather gear.
You could hear him walking toward you a mile away, which was good as it gave the rest of us an excuse to break and leave. There's only so much unsolicited advice one can receive from the willfully ignorant.
It all came to a head one night at a local bar in Ionia. This was a bar whose clientele was nearly all law enforcement or corrections. Bear in mind - in Ionia, MI there were five or six prisons situated in or around the town so nearly all the population worked for the DOC in some capacity. This incident is where he earned the moniker "First Responder".
You see, ol' FR got nice and tipsy trying to keep up with all the old-head cops... trying so desperately to fit in and thinking he was owed respect without actually putting in the work or more importantly - the time.
Once he got pretty liquored up he began to brag as they always seem to do. He eventually landed on a line of declaration that the State of MI sent him to M.R. to straighten things out as the officer population was aging and took forever to respond to anything. After all he claimed - he had been the first responder to every single incident since his arrival. They could learn a lot from him and his dedication to the craft of law enforcement. He did after all graduate at the top of his class at the academy (he didn't) and was up on all the latest 'techniques' of jailing.
One might think he could have been joking trying to gain favor with his elders by self-deprecation. Nope. He was dead (ass) serious.
As is the case in small towns of which Ionia despite it's astounding number of surrounding prisons - word travels fast.
Word traveled so fast that our shift commander who happened to be the first female correctional officer in the history of the state of MI to work on the inside of a prison.. caught word before our daily roll call / muster. I would have jumped through flaming rings of fire for our shift commander by the way. She was firm but fair, chain smoked Marlboro reds and had the most highly developed gallows humor of anyone I ever had the privilege to work with in the system.. ever. She was by definition... a damn bad ass and she had the respect of everyone except of course our darling FR.
During roll call, there was always the time to call out squad assignments for the day. If you were on the Squad call - you were on-call to conduct any emergency back-up response for any event that might occur on your shift to include cell extractions, quelling fights, violent escorts etc. If I remember correctly it was around seven or eight officers that were randomly selected each day.
Now Capt. having heard of the boastful claims of the now currently hungover but still in squeaky patent leather FR - when she called squad his name was listed on every single squad position. This was in front of the entire platoon of officers standing at attention for the day. She stated something to the effect of "well since you're here to show us all how it's done I didn't think we needed to waste your time by bogging you down with all of us old codgers - so.. good luck!"
It was excruciatingly difficult not to burst into laughter. Of course she later called out the actual squad moments later - but the look on his privileged face was worth gold.
The mocking was glorious after roll call. One of my partners even leapt to the top of a nearby yard picnic table assumed a superman pose reaching for the heavens screaming I'm the First Responder Dum Dum Duuuum!!! as he walked by... no one ever called him by his surname again - it was First Responder till the day he left the department with his tail between his legs.
Of course his first fight - he ran. He ran and let an officer get beat down by a pissed off inmate.
There is no room for that kind of personality in an environment that requires you to stand your ground when the odds are against you. We had a saying that if you're getting your ass kicked - well I'm gonna get mine kicked right next to you.
That is the way.
Flipping ahead to today - I see "First Responders" everywhere and most especially in the current political climate on a particular side of the aisle shaded in red (even that is a lie as they aren't even true to what that party once stood for).
Lying, false bravado, smarmy plastic people with zip for life experience or even an appreciation to what we working class people deal with on the daily. They who want to have the authority granted to them by our vote. To win.
Quite literally making things up as they go along, outright fabrications, lies, cheating, gerrymandering corruption as far as the eye can see. Those willing to divide the country so that they alone can seize the 'prize' of leadership.
Things so bad that even the biggest FR of them all has convinced a large portion of the populace to believe in him so fervently that the movement is now very much the definition of a cult.
Swinging way back to that roll call where I was like what in the hell.. you all don't see this??? Here we are again except now the FR has a fan club who will violently defend him.
People that are quite frankly in the audience documented to be targeted upon his victory based on their gender, their sexual preference, their identity, their nationality, their religion or lack thereof... siding with him, defending him, regurgitating the talking points which have been proven to be falsehoods six ways from Sunday.
This person and those who surround him, defend him are all just like that FR from years ago. Puffed out chests, sputtering nonsense, waving signs with atrocious spelling. It's absolutely disgusting and disappointing all at the same time. All this for a draft dodging, multiple count felon, fake, pathological liar.
People that I used to think so highly of. People of supposed intellect. Regurgitating absolute nonsense. It's like living in the upside down.
I am grasping at straws I suppose. Most are too far gone down the rabbit hole to be reached. They've gone so far they are lost. Their coming shattering will be ugly to see.
This always happens with those who are opposite of valor. The tough-guy act only carries you so far. Sooner or later - your true self will be on display and it will be a bitter pill for many. So certain.. so absolutely certain are they who know nothing.
The reckoning will soon be upon them.
I pray to the Gods that they come to their senses before their shattering and my dream is to have leadership that more closely resembles the true grit of my shift commander and less that abject cowardice and squeaky gait of the FR personality type.
Vote like your life depends on it.
The Truth Against The World.