I began working for the Nebraska Department of Correctional Services (NDCS) in May of 2003, sort of by accident. I had absolutely zero intentions of making a career out of the fi eld. Corrections was simply the instant back-up plan, so I could continue to support my family. You see, my wife and children had become accustomed to eating and sleeping indoors. Oh, we have a very nice tent.but nobody wants to live in it 24/7. Work was the obvious choice.
I had been wrongly banished from a career in education
for which I had spent the better part of my adult life
preparing. The allegations were multiple; including a great
deal of debauchery and malfeasance, and the local press
coverage was not helping. It was only a matter of time
before I was partly responsible for the Lindbergh baby
and the 9.11 terrorist attacks. People frequently asked me,
"What the heck was going through your mind when the
bomb dropped?" There was no time to sit and stew about it.
I was in what politicians call "damage control." There had to
be work somewhere that had insurance benefi ts, and fl ippin'
burgers for minimum wage was out. I have no problem with
fl ippin' burgers. There is dignity in every job. I just needed
something that provided more income with a benefi t plan.
Desperation took hold.
To keep our fi nancial heads above water, I had been
picking up some extra active-duty days with my National
Guard unit when a former Marine friend and member of
the unit, Master Sergeant Tommy Butts, told me about the
department of corrections. When it came to the thought
of working with inmates, the slight fear and intimidation I
felt was normal. The public misconception that 99% of all
inmates are cold-hearted rapists and violent axe-murderers
was not lost on me. I went in with incredible anxiety
regarding how long it would take for me to get a feces bath
or a beat-down.
I started my correctional tour at the Diagnostic and
Evaluation Center (DEC, or D & E) on West Van Dorn in
Southwest Lincoln, Nebraska. The D & E is the receiving
facility where all male state inmates are in-processed
(diagnosed and evaluated, hence the title). An adult male
inmate typically spends up to fi ve weeks here before his fi nal
residence is determined, unless he is a county safe-keeper,
then his time varies tremendously until he is assigned a
state number. At that point, the inmate will be transported
to one of the following facilities: the Omaha Correctional
Center (OCC), which is an hour drive on the interstate,
passing through Carter Lake, Iowa to get there; the Lincoln
Correctional Center (LCC), which is connected to the D & E
via tunnel; the Nebraska State Penitentiary (NSP), which is
about a fi ve minute trip via West Van Dorn, the Homestead
Expressway, and Pioneer's Boulevard; or, the Tecumseh
State Correctional Institution (TSCI), which is almost an
hour drive, going east down Highway 2 to Syracuse, and
then south down Highway 50. TSCI will be on the west
side of the road before you reach Tecumseh, a small, mostlycatholic
town of roughly 2,000 people. Coincidentally,
Tecumseh is also my birthplace.
No one told me, but it did not take long to realize that
I was no better than many of the inmates. In fact, a large
number of the inmates I have come to know over the past
several years are serving time for less serious crimes than
many of us get away with on a regular basis. There are
some, I dare say, that are fl at-out much better people than
I will ever be. Eventually, you grow out of the fear, and
realize that you are probably as safe on the inside as you are
on the free-side, depending entirely on your communication
skills, your desire to preserve your credibility, and your
ability to respect your fellow human beings.
I have learned that people who are career criminals
and suspect that they might commit crimes in their future
occasionally move to Nebraska. Why, you might ask? It is
widely known amongst criminals that prison in Nebraska is
an adult day-camp where their time will be served with ease.
The gamble of criminal activity is greatly reduced, because
the consequence of prison time is not nearly as severe as in
many other states.
The key to getting along on the inside is the same as it
is for getting along on the outside. Most inmates arrive with
damaged dignity. Allow them to keep what dignity remains,
and treat them with respect. The problem with working in
corrections for very long is that you tend to get lazy and
accustomed to doing little more than watching people. I
am sure it would be very diffi cult to return to the demands
of a normal occupation. A friend of mine who used to
work in the department, Mike Jepsen, talked about leaving
corrections like this, "Recognize when you need to move
on. Once you stop caring about people, it's too late. You
will never start caring again." Mike is of course assuming
that working in corrections will eventually make you stop
caring about people.
A rather large concern while writing this book is the
observation that some things will not make the transition out
of the department of corrections. The sayings, the sightings,
the facial expressions, etc. may not have the same impact
for readers, especially for those who have never worked in
the fi eld. I suppose that problem exists for every writer and
every transition. If you think this book is funny, and I hope
you do, you will have experienced a small fraction of the
humor to which I was exposed.
Thanks for reading.
Joey D. Ossian