Dear Comrades: Back to the Box
Dear Comrades,
When I left Clinton, I left due to my own stupidity, but in no way did my disciplinary ticket reach the threshold for solitary confinement. The fact of the matter is that they wanted me gone, and I wanted to be gone, so when they overstepped and gave me 90 days of solitary anyway, I didn’t even trip. Of course, solitary isn’t really solitary, because the state inexplicably mandates double-bunking (sharing a cell with another incarcerated person) in the residential rehabilitation units (RRUs), the euphemism for the box.
There is something seriously inhumane about being forced to bunk with another grown man in a cell not big enough for two farm animals, particularly when the two minds confined to that space do not exist on the same plane. The air becomes thick with a silence predicated on not seeing eye to eye. Tensions grow in the small space where things like friendship do not have the room to. And animosity forms where no animosity would have existed under “normal” circumstances. This is the reality of being in any double-celled correctional facility, especially the famed “Upstate.” But could you imagine being thrust into this kind of situation and not being allowed any of your own personal belongings?
Upon arrival at any correctional facility after a transfer, incarcerated individuals are supposed to be given all of their property within 72 hours, even though this leaves you with virtually no clean underwear, toiletries, writing instruments, real food, clothing, or anything else for three whole days. By the third day, you’re in your cell feeling crustier than a double-stuffed pizza. Could they get you your property sooner, like on the first day? Absolutely - a few jails do - but since I haven’t gotten the chance to rewrite these rules just yet, I unfortunately have to abide by them for the time being.
Of course, when I got to Upstate, it took them eight days to give me my property, even though I literally pushed the bags containing it with me to the block I was being housed in on the day of my arrival. By the eighth day, I was growing mold out of my orifices and feeling nastier than a used diaper. Then, when my property finally did show up, the CO from my gallery informed me that I was on a loss of property sanction because of my ticket, so he would only be giving me my state-issued property and none of my personal belongings.
Let me explain how loss of property works. It is literally the worst situation they can give you, as it leaves you with next to nothing as far as your personal belongings are concerned. Basically, they take away everything that you bought and leave you with only what the state provides you with, which is next to nothing. They key is they do have to leave you with what are called your permit items, which are usually electrical appliances like your TV, radio, fan, etc. Most people don’t know this, so when they get a loss of property sanction, they have no idea what they’re entitled to, and the COs take everything with no consequences.
As the COs were sorting through my bags of property in front of me to pull out the items I was allowed to have, I noticed that they weren’t giving me any of my permit items, and when I did inquire about them, the CO said, “I’m not giving them to you because I know you don’t need them,” which I honestly found hilarious. When I was finally able to stop laughing at this clown, I looked him dead in the eye and told him flatly, “But you are going to give them to me. It may not be today, but I am going to get them. I promise you that.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“Yes. I. Am.”
“I know who you are, Singletary,” he tells me suddenly, not to my surprise. “So go ahead and write to whoever you write to ‘cause I’m going to make you work for it.”
You can only imagine what my response was. Feel free to be creative and not give me the benefit of the doubt.
I had only been in this jail a week, didn’t know this guy from a crack in the street, and was already being targeted because apparently this officer knew me somehow. So as you can see, I am usually the talk of the town and have an uncanny ability to make friends very easily. They really do love me, they just don’t know how to say it.
What ended up happening next was a sheer stroke of genius that no one saw coming. Because I had to call my wife, Emily, and inform her as to my predicament, she then took it upon herself to look up the changes to the law under the HALT Solitary Act that took effect in 2022. What she found was that the statute reads, “Persons in a residential rehabilitation unit shall have access to all of their personal property unless an individual determination is made that having a specific item would pose a significant and unreasonable risk to the safety of incarcerated persons or staff or the security of the unit.”
Oooh wee!
What that ultimately meant was that what started out as me just trying to get my permit items actually turned into demanding that I receive not just the permit items, but all of my property since no individual determination had been made about any of my items they withheld from me. Funny thing about law enforcement facilities is that they have a hard time actually following the law. You would think that the people in the administration in the state capital were up on following said laws, but when Emily called the Facility Operations division of the Department of Corrections and Community Supervision (DOCCS), they told her the same thing I had been told at the facility: that they follow Department directives, not the law. Emily even asked, “So you’re saying that Department directives supersede the law?” The person on the phone told her, “Yes.”
Oooh wee again!
One email from Emily to the DOCCS Commissioner later, and guess what? Here comes the motley crew with all of my property, not a single piece missing. How bittersweet the taste, though, when you know that retaliation is just around the corner.
In the coming weeks, I’ll be dropping short Dear Comrade letters filling you in on the ways I’ve been targeted over the past several years and keeping you posted on my current journey as I approach my release in the fall of 2027. Please join me, get to know me, and give me your feedback. You can send messages to derek@weareunchained.org, and our team will make sure your notes get to me. Your thoughts matter.