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Satanic Badges
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By: Bradley D. Chapline
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Page Two
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I followed the foot traffic of other officers heading in to the administration building enroute to the muster room. I was looking in disbelief as I witnessed the appearances of other corrections officers. It was absolutely terrible. Long hair and beards that were not groomed. Wrinkled and stained shirts. Baggy pants that had tremendous sized beer bellies hanging over their waists. They appeared to have rotten attitudes and no self-respect whatsoever. Ever other statement that I could overhear them saying contained either, "fuck this shit", or "fuck that". I walked in to the muster room attempting to just blend in. But, I knew this was just impossible. I stuck out like a sore thumb. There were about 25 to 30 officers in the muster room now. No one would speak or introduce themselves to me. I figured once some space was made, I would report to the shift commander. I was assured of getting a warm, professional and courteous greeting from him. I then approached the shift commander's desk. I now realized why a significant amount of these officers looked like pigs. The shift commander had them all beat. There sat Sgt. Buelton, giving me a long, cold hard stare. He was 5'10", and weighed at least 340 lbs.. The most appealing aspect about Sgt. Buelton's appearance was that his nose hair blended in well with his mustache. As soon as Sgt. Buelton opened his mouth, I saw he had at least four teeth that were missing.
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I then hear this arrogant, country twang voice, "Who the fuck are you"? Chills go through my body. "I'm a new officer sir. My name is Crossley". Sgt. Buelton stands up and I swear his gut dropped to just above his knees. He says, "Yeah, I'm Sergeant Buelton. Well, well, well, a new fucking officer. How fucking great. Just what we need around here. Go to unit three and work there". I said to Sgt. Buelton, "Sir, this is my first day on the job. I don't know where to go". Sgt. Buelton begins screaming at me, "I know it's your first mother fucking day! Walk out that mother fucking door to the yard and look at the numbers painted on the side of the buildings! When you see number three, go in to that building you fucking FNG"!!! I knew from my Marine Corps days this absolutely meant "Fucking New Guy". I was definitely getting the treatment.
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From where I was standing in the muster room, the right exit door would take me back out to the staff parking lot. The left exit door would take me to the prison yard. I hesitated as I approached this cross-road. I quickly thought, "If I know what is best for me, I'll walk out of this institution and not come back". I then began to proceed for the right exit door to the parking lot. I suddenly stopped. Nick had recently told my wife that this job would be like all my others. I wouldn't last long. I would either quit or be fired. Nick had told my wife that I was a loser. That, according to Nick, my wife should have got rid of me when we first got married. I began to think to myself, "There is no way I could let this prick father-in-law of mine be proved right".
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Sgt. Buelton yells, "You stupid fish, the left door, the left door you fucking idiot"! I turned around and stared for approximately 30 seconds at this fat fucking piece of shit. Several moments later, I turned, and walked out the left door to the prison yard. Both imates and officers were making fun of me. They did not appreciate my squared away appearance. I was hearing the chants of "Fish". This means someone who is new and inexperienced. Even though I was privately scared, my thoughts were of anger. I stood motionless on the prison yard for several minutes. I thought, "You know what, these fucking bastards don't have any clue as to who they are dealing with. I may look like the boy next door, and when people think that, this makes me even more lethal. If this is the way these assholes want it, fine. My final thought was, "They better get ready for a war they won't believe".
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Several minutes later I walked in to my assigned post. I was shocked to discover that the control center for the officer was located in the center of the unit's two multi-tiered wings. There was a door to each wing from the control center. Neither door could be locked. The officers had historically left each of these doors open. They allowed inmates to utilize the control center as a direct passageway to go from wing to wing at their will. There was no electronic panel in control. Just an empty broken down old desk with a chair that had three stable legs on it. I then introduced myself to the officer that I would be relieving. His name was Officer Vinnie Andriacco. He was an older, grungy type of Italian greaser. He refused to shake my hand. He said, "Here is the keys and the radio, have a nice day". I replied, "Hey, wait a minute. I'm brand new, can'y you tell me what I'm required to do"? Vinnie said, "Hell no, I'm off duty. Have one of the inmates tell you, I'm out of here". While in the control center, I hear a large group of inmates begin to chant, "We got a fish". I became enraged. I had enough. I already was well aware that I would get no support from Sgt. Buelton. I figured this was no time to remain in the control center. It was time that I get acquainted with my inmates the old fashioned way. I went to both the east and west cell blocks of my unit. "If any of you mother fuckers go in to my control center, I will kick your asses"! The inmates started responding in groups issuing their threats towards me. "You want to die on your first day fish". I then discovered another shocking fact. The cell doors did not have locks either. The inmates just continued to hang over the steel railings in front of their cells on the tier walkway. I continued to stand on the east cell block and stared at the inmates who were involved in this. I then noticed a tremendously big black inmate standing like a giant on the second story tier not saying a word. He was just quietly observing. I took for granted this guy was one of the shot-callers. I then proceeded to confront this convict face to face. As I went up the staircase, I now noticed a flood of inmates from the west wing entering the east cell block. These inmates were utilizing the exit and entrance doors to the unit. Not my control center. I thought, "Yeah, all bark and no bite". Oh, but when I got face to face with this black inmate, was he sizeable. About 6'6" and a solid 270 lbs..
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I said, "Okay, you're all having a good time with the squared away fish officer. Let me show you mother fuckers just how much of a fish I am. Turn around, and put your fucking hands behind your back". I quickly took out my handcuffs and discovered that his wrists were too big. I needed a set of leg irons to put on those outrageously large wrists. Of course, none were available. I was now wondering, "Have I bitten off more then I could chew"? I knew if I backed down I would have the reputation of a coward. It is true that no one ever survives this business with a label on them like that. I then said to the inmate, "You just stand right here mother fucker. Don't you move. I'm going to show you right now just what a fish officer I am". I began searching his cell. I found unauthorized monies and a small amount of marijuana. I then trashed his cell. I destroyed his television and music box. I then called this inmate in to his cell. The door closed behind us. The inmate's prison nickname was "Sweet". I later discovered he was one of the most dangerous inmates in the entire prison system. When he was on his psych med's, he was tame. When not, "Sweet" was a one man wrecking machine.
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I told Sweet, "Look here nigger, I've been around. I'll make your life a living hell. I will destroy everything you ever get, you bastard. You get your bitches in line and keep them that way. Otherwise, you will pay dearly"! Inside, I was shaking with fear. Sweet and I continued to stare coldly in to each others eyes. I was well aware that my safety and well being were on the line. After several minutes, still not a word had been uttered by either one of us.
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