Pace e Bene

Franciscan priest and Pace e Bene staff member Friar Louis Vitale, 77, began serving a six-month prison sentence on Monday, January 25 for nonviolent, prayerful protest calling for closure of the School of the Americas at Ft. Benning, Georgia. On February 25 he was transferred from Crisp County Jail in Cordele, Georgia (where he spent his first  month after being processed briefly at Muscogee County Jail), to the US Penitentiary in Atlanta, Georgia. He was then moved to a ttransit facility loacted at the Oklahoma City airport. Finally he was sent to Lompoc Federal Cortrections Institution, north of Santa Barbara, California.  Click here to see the series of letters from Louie we at Pace e Bene have received or gathered.

In Transit Via “Con Air”

The jail administrator at US  Penitentiary Atlanta had said to me that I would probably be flown out in three weeks.  In exactly three weeks I was notified at 3 a.m. on Wednesday to “get ready.”  My cellmate had already left a couple of hours earlier.  He was going by bus to Kentucky.  I was to head to the airport to fly immediately to the Federal Bureau of Prisons transit center in Oklahoma City – presumably a transfer to a flight towards California. 

This was a new experience for me in prison – lots of van and bus trips, but not an airplane.  Our transit bus pulled onto the tarmac to a large white plane with only bare markings of numbers – it appeared similar to the planes chartered by the US to fly prisoners to rendition locations overseas, where torture can be done by other countries – such as Syria – that allows “plausible deniability” for the US.

I kept waiting for this airport check-in to end and for a bus to take us to the prison for the night.  I was surprised to discover we already were in the prison!

Somewhat of a surprise was when we climbed aboard – a little awkward in handcuffs and shackles – and saw the cabin filled with nice seats, like a Delta flight. There were several “air marshals” to watch over the 100-plus prisoners.  Since we come in all varieties of security levels and offenses, the security is well maintained.

They even passed out snacks – a bottle of water and a little box with a sandwich, cookies, and chips.  Better than a Delta flight!

The airport was beginning to sock in with weather, but we got off.

For me, the flight was normal.  I was asked, as an elder on the flight, if I needed to “go.”  I did.  A couple of the inmates admitted that this was their first flight.  They were a bit afraid.

In a couple of hours we arrived at Oklahoma City.  We pulled up to a gate and the jet way drew us into the airport.  Handcuffs and chains were removed.  As we got inside the terminal we were ushered into a couple of larger holding rooms, given a form to fill out, and a sack lunch – the omnipresent baloney, turkey, and cheese sandwich. 

After a lengthy wait we moved to a larger section, which we packed and then were processed through a medical post.  I was given my meds, plus a slip for a “lower bunk.”  Then there was another long wait, where many stories of prison were shared.  One that stuck with me was a 19-year-old Hispanic youth who, at age 14, acquired an automatic weapon with a silencer and tried to sell it to an FBI agent – and received 19 years ion prison.  I wondered if at 14 he’d had any idea of the seriousness of his crime.

I kept waiting for this airport check-in to end and for a bus to take us to the prison for the night.  I was surprised to discover we already were in the prison!  A seven-storey prison building is attached to the Oklahoma City airport.

It is quite an efficient operation.  Eventually we were taken upstairs to one of several modules.  Each is comprised of about 60 two-person cells.  After some confusion over my “lower bunk” specification, my cellmate climbed up and we both turned in.

Early in the morning he was awakened.  Soon he left for his final destination.  Since then, I have been waiting for my “wake up call.”  It could be days or even weeks.

From Crisp County’s primitive county jail to the historic and grandiose US penitentiary in Atlanta (it once had housed mobster Al Capone) to this considerably newer transit prison – the upgrade is pleasant.  The quarters are efficient, the toilets and sinks are more modern, the windows longer (all are a common narrow width that prevents slipping out.  The greatest feature is that the doors are open most of the day – they are locked down for only about an hour each day for “count,” then from 9:30 p.m. until about 6 a.m. for the night.

There are four places to watch TV.  (I catch CNN in the morning; the rest are entertainment programs.)  The ambience is somewhat cold.  My thermals were surrendered at check-in; but one can wrap in a blanket.  The food is ample and tasty, even the vegetarian fare.  A friend I eat with notes that if I stay here long I’ll get fat.

I have been concerned that my “legal papers” (which contain my phone numbers and addresses) were taken from me in Atlanta even though I was told that they would be sent with me.  I was glad I knew a few numbers – especially my registration number, RAC (for phone calls), PIN numbers, my sister’s phone number, etc. 

Here they have the new inmate computer and facility for email.  We are not able to access it until we get to our permanent destination (if they have the service).  But I was able to process several phone numbers and begin phone calls at a more modest rate of 23 cents a minute ($3.45 for a 15 minute call – the longest allowable length).  Fortunately I have ample money on my account.  The negative is one cannot receive commissary here so I cannot buy stamps.  They give us each three stamps a week. 

What more to say?  I have described the transit, plane processing, and facilities of the transit prison.  But I have not spoken of the most interesting part: the people. 

The guards (“corrections officers”) have mostly been genial, trying to get the job done.  Justin, my neighbor from Atlanta, came with me.  He had been suffering anxiety attacks.  I had these in the early 1980s when I was provincial of the Franciscan Province.  They are no fun.  I can’t imagine that while being locked in a cell 23 hours a day.  He was very happy to leave.  We got separated getting on the plane.  Getting off some went in a different direction.  So I do not know his fate but continue to pray for you, Justin.

New friends abound here.    My cellmate here is another Rick.  He is of Italian descent, a Mormon (Latter Day Saints) from Utah.  A good guy, he has been genial toward me.  He is opening my eyes to some of the realities of higher medium and maximum prisons – rules of the yard, including the violence from guards and, at times, inmates.  Yes, it is a rough life. 

Another new friend Eddie (also a bank robber, plus).  He has a sentence of life plus 60 years.  He informed me that 40% of federal prisoners (215,000) are lifers (86,000).  A federal life sentence has no chance of parole.  You do it all.  (Many of these life sentences are for drug violations, not involving a loss of life, or even any actual crime taking place.)

There is a movement in Congress to reduce some of these.  Many on death row are still young.  In visiting Death Row at San Quentin, I was told by inmates if there is really no hope of release they would rather be executed.  This is a sad commentary – that there can be no hope of rehabilitation.

So much to pray for.

I love the quiet nights to pray for my fellow inmates.

Bless us all.