The Big House
Page 14
The death penalty is fraught with many problems. Most relate to the moral wrong committed by such a retaliatory act for the wrong already committed. I’m not trying to cement anyone’s opinion or change a position on whether the death penalty is right or wrong; I am only sharing my thoughts as the person who would have been called to manage those sentenced to die and the effect it would have had on me.
If one were to set aside the moral issue and take a look at justice and fairness, you might want to start by considering the Jeffrey Dahmer case in Wisconsin. Dahmer killed seventeen people over several years for his own sexual pleasure, keeping body parts of his victims as personal treasures. Those parts he chose not to keep, he ate. Dahmer committed his despicable acts in a state without the death penalty and received a life sentence for his crimes. He was later beaten to death in prison. In Mississippi at about the same time, the state executed Edward Earl Johnson for one murder. Seventeen minus one is sixteen more murders for Dahmer and some would say a lesser sentence. This is only one example of the fundamental unfairness in national sentencing policy and practice.
Further, how can we ignore what has happened with states like Illinois, which has re-examined its death penalty due to gross errors made with many of the cases where the sentence was imposed. The worst scenario of course would be the wrongful execution of an innocent inmate.
“Take an eye for an eye,” some say, and yet we don’t look toward raping rapists, molesting molesters, or assaulting assaulters. However, we do look at the horrifying act of murder and answer the crime by taking yet another life–killing those who kill to show killing is wrong.
Then there is the financial cost. Executing a person usually costs more than keeping them locked up in prison for life, when all of the court appeals and such are totaled.
In the end, I am not so sure the ultimate punishment for a crime is death. For me it would be to spend the rest of my life incarcerated. Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh thought so; he preferred to die for his crime. And when he did, I felt like we lost something that we all should have had–McVeigh spending the rest of his life in total confinement. It seemed too easy an out for him for what he did. To spend the rest of your life confined would seem to be a much greater punishment than an escape from the reality of confinement.
Other wardens around the country have told me of their exasperating experiences of presiding over executions and shared the tremendous effect that it has on everyone–the prison staff, the community and the families of the victim, and the offender. A Texas warden described his responsibilities in overseeing eighty-nine executions and how taking his glasses off signaled the start of the life-taking process. I don’t think I could ever take my glasses off again without thinking of someone dying.
As the warden of the state’s maximum-security prison, presiding over Death Row was not in my job description, and I’m glad I never had to perform that duty. I believe I would have stepped down from the job I loved first.
After all my years working in a supermax prison, I learned one thing. I could never do the time.
Years and years in an eight-by-ten cell, the prison culture, always watching your back–I simply do not know how they do it.
If I knew I had no hope of ever being released, I believe my alternative would be to spend every waking hour trying to find a way to escape. The difference between me and many of the inmates that I encountered through the years is that I couldn’t hurt anyone in my efforts to find a way to freedom. They could. It’s the reason that makes them so different from most of us.
After a career of working with the criminal element of society in prisons and other correctional facilities, I honestly do not know what it is like to do a single day locked up with my freedom gone. I still shudder at the thought of it happening to me.
In September 2001, I announced my retirement. It was a difficult decision. A friend of mine was confused by my decision to retire. He couldn’t understand why I would give up the power, control, publicity, and high pay. My friend didn’t understand that I was also giving up the pressure, intensity, phone calls, and interrupted vacations. My friend never really understood what I did for a living. He had never walked through a cellblock filled with rapists, murderers, and child molesters. He had never witnessed a brutal beating, surveyed a suicide scene, or entered a blood-soaked cell.
Also, I had reached the retirement “Rule of 90,” which refers to age and years of service combined. It meant I could retire at full pension. It was time to go.
On my last day, a reception was held in my honor at the prison. My wife joined me in the conference room for the farewell celebration. When it was over, I left my pager and cell phone on the desk next to my prison car keys. Managing the Yankees was over.
My wife and I walked out the front door for the last time. As we crossed the sidewalk, I felt this incredible burden leaving me. All the pressure and prestige of being the manager of champions was gone. It was so real, I could almost picture it happening. It was like a giant, magnificent grand piano being lifted from my shoulders. It was thirty-five years coming to an end.
I had never committed a crime, never been sentenced to prison. Yet as I left, I felt as if I had been freed.
Acknowledgments
I offer my deep gratitude to Dave Nimmer, who brought my dream to reality. Dave’s background in journalism as a teacher and longtime news professional was instrumental in guiding me onto the right track and keeping me there. He used his writing and creative expertise in assisting me. But most of all it was his friendship and my profound respect for him that provided me the nurturing and confidence. He is an extraordinary literary genius and a most exceptional friend. My gratefulness is everlasting.
I also want to sincerely thank Michael Dregni, who I am proud to call “my editor.” It was a true pleasure to work with Michael over the past two years. His inspirational approach and positive support was stimulating and sincerely appreciated. I have incredible respect for his expertise and have been greatly moved by his deep compassion for his work. I feel extremely fortunate to have been able to work with Michael, Danielle Ibister, and all of the other wonderful staff at Voyageur Press. They all represent to me the finest of people and professionalism.
Further, I would be remiss in failing to mention all of my colleagues and close friends who have spent many years with me during my thirty-five-year journey in corrections. I have looked to them for guidance, support, and understanding. Most of all, I have just appreciated who they are and what they have meant to me. Thank you all.
Finally, my deepest affection and thanks goes to my wonderful family who are responsible for all the support, confidence, joy, and love I have experienced in my career and life.
Author’s Note
The Big House contains factual accounts of my recollections of incidents, events, and offender associations from my thirty-five years in corrections. Because of my sincere desire to respect the privacy of offenders and staff, most names in this book are fictional.
First published in 2004 by Voyageur Press, an imprint of MBI Publishing Company, 400 First Avenue North, Suite 300, Minneapolis, MN 55401 USA
Text copyright © 2004, 2010 by James H. Bruton
Hardcover edition published in 2004. Digital edition 2010.
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Digital edition: 978-1-61673-807-5
Hardcover edition: 978-0-89658-039-8
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Bruton, James H., 1945–
The big house : life inside a supermax security prison / by James H. Bruton.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-89658-039-8 (hardcover)
1. Corrections—Minnesota—Oak Park Heights. 2. Imprisionment—Minnesota—Oak Park
Heights. 3. Minnesota Correctional Facility—Oak Park Heights. I. Title.
HV9481.O25B78 2004
365’.977659–dc22
2004003489
Editor: Michael Dregni & Danielle J. Ibister
Designed by: Maria Friedrich
Printed in China
On front cover and page 1: Prisoner in shackles. (Photograph © Layne Kennedy)
On page 3: Prisoner in full restraints. (Photograph Layne Kennedy)