"It is very diffi cult either to generalize successfully or
to be absolutely precise about ethics and morality. Rarely, if
ever, is any situation ever totally black and white. The same
act will have different shades and degrees of moral value
under different circumstances."
-- The Dalai Lama
Graveyard Shift
I had been an employee on fi rst shift at the Diagnostic
and Evaluation Center (D & E) for 16 months offi cially. At
least that is what seniority would say. I took six months off
this past winter to deploy to the Persian Gulf, in support
of Operation Enduring Freedom, and Operation Iraqi
Freedom.
Our graveyard crew was frequently thin and I had been
looking for an excuse to try third shift. So I wrote to custody
supervision, the Major and his cronies. They thought I had
"the good of the institution" in mind when I volunteered to
do a temporary trial shift change from fi rst to third. First
shift was busy, with lots of brass around, and third was
always dead, so I thought I would get some much needed R
& R watching inmates sleep.
Then it happened. The Major made a rare visit to my
post (I was a fl oating relief whore) and asked me if I was
still interested. To say he was appreciative would be an
understatement. I was slated to begin the temp assignment
the following week on a Tuesday evening the 14th. That
week I thought to myself that this may be an opportunity
to catch up on some more reading. I brought a re-print of
James Webb's Fields of Fire in the bottom of my lunch box,
knowing it was against the rules to bring in such contraband.
The book was the least serious of the multiple rules I had
broken upon entering the facility that evening. Also in my
lunch box, I had a small bottle of hand sanitizer. It was
almost pure alcohol. I had a chew in my mouth, a credit
card sized Yahtzee game, and a Swiss Card with a knife and
scissors in my wallet. All of these items are contraband and
against the rules. I had no intention of allowing an inmate to
gain possession or control of these items. They were simply
for my entertainment and personal use.
Corporal Strand and Offi cer Mandrake were doing
shakedowns that night. Strand was a Marine, but Mandrake's
biggest aspiration in life was to be a notary and a bounty
hunter. Trouble is, Nebraska does not require a license
to enforce bail because the state has leaned away from
commercial bail.
They could not do a body pat down without the warden's
blessing, but they could check lunchboxes on a whim
whenever they pleased. I did not know it, but it "pleased"
them rather frequently during that particular week. Corporal
Strand discovered my book. His exuberance for his job
overcame his Marine loyalties. The book was confi scated,
and I received a B-form for my indiscretions.
I was not terribly concerned regarding the B-form. My
mind was made up several weeks ago when I returned from
deployment that I would not stay long. Upon return from
deployment, the Lieutenant fi lled me in on some upcoming
events.
"Hey, Batiste, you report to the range at 0700 on Monday.
It's your annual requal."
"L-T, I think we need to talk about something then."
"What's that?"
"Due to an accident during my deployment, I now have
a prosthetic implant in my right eye."
"Zat make you special?"
"I shoot with my fucking right eye. I'm going to have to
learn to do it left handed. Chances are I could go unk."
"Well, your job depends on it."
"C'mon man, D & E never stands towers anyway. I'll
never have to stand a post with a rifl e. LCC folks always
get the tower posts."
"Like I said, be'er hope you pass."
Monday morning I reported to the range, having only the
time to snap in left-handed. My fi rst round for qual would
be my fi rst round fi red left-handed. Most prior-servicemen
shoot at least 25 out of the maximum 30 at the State range
with their good eye. The minimum qualifying score is 21.
The fi rst time in my life shooting left-handed, out of my ass,
I pulled a 27. That was not too bad for a Marine shooting
with his non-dominant eye and hand.
The L-T's attitude about my disability really pissed me
off. The following day I applied for a job as a caseworker at
the Nebraska State Penitentiary.
The Nebraska State Penitentiary