|
|
|
Stories of those Affected |
 Print
The following testimonies are taken from letters written to the Commission on Safety and Abuse in America's Prisons:
Pearl Beale
"On December 11, 2002, my 24 year old son, Givon Pendleton, was brutally stabbed nine times in the District of Columbia Jail. As he lay dying right there in that jail, no corrections officers were there to intervene or to help. My son Givon was being held at the jail on a pretrial status for non-violent charges, but his attacker, another inmate, was awaiting trial on two first-degree murder charges. Not long before attacking my son, he and his gang had beaten another prisoner as well. That horrible day will be with me forever.
Today, my tears still flow, and my questions still go unanswered. How could something so devastating happen in a supposedly secured and monitored environment? Where were the correctional officers when my son was struggling for his life? Where were the correctional officers as he lay bleeding to death? How did the knife get into the jail? Why has the knife never been found? Why weren't there any security cameras to observe the area where my son was killed?"
Read more...
Jeffrey Scott Hornoff
As a city police detective, I was placed in Protective Custody, a unit that housed anyone who the administration felt posed a threat to the routine day-to-day operations, and was at risk of either creating distrubances or being attacked by other inmates in General Population. Housed in PC were other police officers, prison guards, convcited child molesters, rapists, informants, junveniles, gang members, and any other high profile inmates; several of whom I was responsible for investigating, arresting, and incarcerating. The Segregation Unit was directly above Protective Custody, and it was there that some of the worst abuses took place. Sleep deprivation was a common tactic among the more sadistic guards assigned to the unit, and they often braggged about the mistreatment they dealt out daily and nightly. I often heard the beatings and screams for help coming through the air vents we shared, dispensing recyled and filthy air along with pleas for mercy.
One inmate once said to me, "Scotty, they're making monsters in here, and I'm one of them; when I get out, they'll reap what they've sown."
Read more...
|
|
