Corruption Officer (3 page)

THE ACADEMY

The process

“Eighteen hundred dollars!
 
Eighteen hundred dollars!
 
Boy, I know you’re out of your mind!
 
Coming here asking me for that kind of
money!
 
You might as well walk back out
that door and, here, take my garbage out while you at it!”
 

I knew it was a long shot coming here to my Uncle Robert’s
house asking for his help.
 
I mean this
was my Uncle Robert, the closest thing to a father figure I had.
 
I am not saying that I did not know my real
father it’s just that my Uncle was always there for my family ever since I was
little.
 
He did whatever he could for my moms
and us and she’d do the same for him.
 

Truth was I came to my Uncle as a last resort.
 
I had already exhausted all of my other life
lines.
 
I needed the money ‘cause that’s
what I was told the price for uniforms would be for the Academy.
 
Thus far everything else was smooth
sailing.
 
I passed all the steps I needed
in order to become a Corrections Officer.
 
I just finished filling out all of my background investigation paper
work for the second time.
 
The
Application Unit called me a day before I was supposed to report for duty
informing me that the Investigator assigned to me hadn’t done the
investigation!
 
They said that, if I
wanted the job I had to come down there and fill out all of the paper work all
over again!
 
A day before I was supposed to report – some investigation
.
 

Well, I had gotten that done and reported for my first two
days at the Academy in proper business attire for orientation.
 
Now I was standing here in front of Uncle
Robert in
his
blazer,
his
white shirt,
his
tie
(I had my own black
slacks that I used for clubbing - ya know, the old reliable)
and
his
shoes, asking for
his
help once again for uniform money!
 
I thought to myself, ‘With this job I can
finally get my grown man on again.’
 
My Uncle
was standing there looking like himself with his sweat pants, no socks, no
shirt, and his penny loafers.
 
He always
told me that his loafers, nobody else’s, only his, were official because they
had real pennies in them.
 
I was hoping he
could help me ‘cause I had already spent my check at the gambling spot, hoping I
could pull another miracle and come up with the money on my own, like I did the
other night.

Unfortunately, the next time around at the g-spot, the
gambling gods were not with me.
 
I lost
almost all my money, except for train fare to get me back and forth to the Academy.
 
I didn’t even have lunch money, which is why
I was at my Uncle Robert’s house.
 

“Boy, let me tell you…” my uncle began.

I knew the speech was coming.
 
I had only heard it a million times and here
I stood age 29 about to hear it a million and
one
more times.
 

“…You need to get your shit together,” he said.
 
“I know you’ve been trying to get a better
job since you got out of the military, so if you land this you’d better make
the best of it!”
 

Then he said like a father would say to his son, “When do
you need it by?”
 

“Yesterday,” I said.
 

After my Uncle and I made arrangements on how I was going to
pay him back he said for me to make sure I pay him on time because if I didn’t
somebody was going to come up missing.

Then, just before I left him, he said, “Put my clothes in
the cleaners before you return them and, boy, take this garbage out!”
 

The next day my Uncle and I went to get my uniforms.
 
Yes, he came with me, mainly because, if he
did not have to spend all that money, he wasn’t going to.
 
We bought only what I needed to start the Academy
and that’s all.
 

At 5:00 a.m. I was on the M train taking it to the last
stop, Metropolitan Avenue.
 
That’s where
the Academy was located.
 
It was a ninety
degree day in July.
 
I was sweating
because I was in full uniform with a jacket covering it up, due to an Academy
rule that states, “Corrections Recruits are not supposed to wear their uniforms
in the streets without covering them up.
 
The reason being is that yo’ fool ass is not a cop!
 
If you are seen somebody might ask yo’ ass
fo
’ help.
 
What you
gone do then mista Correction Officer?
 
Not even, ya’ ass is just a recruit!
 
Ya’ know, just practicing fa’now.
 

The train was funky because a bum was on it straight
stinking
it up.
 
I
covered my nose and sat there thinking of all the trains that I had to take to
get to the Academy, the D to the J to the M.
 
Shiiiiit!
 
I gots ta’ get me a ride because a nigga ain’t going to be getting up
crazy early to take fifty trains from Harlem just to get here on time.
 
Negro ain’t been on the job a hot week and
already complaining about what he ain’t going to do.
 

As I sat there a fat female was sitting across from the bum
eating a bagel.
 
The bum stared at her as
she took her time eating and licking her fingers.
 
She looked at him rolled her eyes and
continued to eat.
 
Then out of nowhere
the bum jumped up and grabbed what was left of the fat chick’s bagel right out
of her hand.
 
She leaned back away from
him in shock.
 
He leaned forward close to
her face and proceeded to stuff the food in his mouth, cream cheese and all.
 
The train came to a stop, the doors opened
and he strolled out looking at her and smiling a smile of satisfaction.
 
She then looked around, eyes wide in search
for somebody, anybody that could possibly help her.
 
Her eyes locked on me.
 
I gave her a look like what do you want me to
do?
 

“Ain’t you going to the academy?” she asked me.

I guess she saw the dark blue uniform pants and my Uncle’s
patent-leather shoes that I shined up with Vaseline.
 

“Nope, I am a security guard,” I said.
 

I thought to myself, ‘Humph.
 
Academy rule number one, no police contact of any kind while you are on
probation.’
 
Just my luck I play super
hero and jam myself right out of a job.
 
No sir, not me, not I said the cat.
 
My thoughts, ‘Fuck otta here.
 
Besides, bums gotta eat too.’

When I arrived at the Academy, I was placed in an area
somewhat like a gymnasium.
 
All kinds of
equipment were lined up on the side, helmets, stab proof vest, and floor
mats.
 
We were broken up into groups
called squads.
 
As I stood there amongst
the other recruits, I noticed that we all had the same look on our faces, ‘I
need this job man!’
 
The first day there
we were put in classrooms and briefed on some rules and regulations.
 
They told us stuff like when we graduate and
go to work in the jails that we would be put on a schedule called “the wheel.”
 
This meant that our work hours would be rotated
from week to week - the end of the world as you know it.
 
You’re not going to know whether you’re
coming or going, and your sleeping patterns are going to be all fucked up, 7
to3’s, 3 to11’s, 11 to7’s then flip mode, 11 in the afternoon until 7:00 p.m. and
shit, all sorts of fucked up hours.
 
I
don’t even want to begin with the 4 o’clock in the morning tours. You can
defiantly forget partying every weekend.
 
Little did I know at the time, but C.O.s party Monday to
Monday.
 
Female
recruits were warned to get a backup babysitter for the backup babysitter.
 
Lack of a babysitter is no reason to miss
work.
 
In my C.O. career, there were
several female Officers reprimanded by Child Welfare for leaving under aged
children at home alone.
 
Some female recruits
frowned with attitudes, and the instructor kindly gave them the look like, ‘Do
you want this job?
 
You can always go
back to the supermarket.’
 

We were also warned not to fraternize with our
co-workers.
 
Tah!
 
The instructor might as well have been Charlie
Brown’s teacher, “Wa-womp wa-womp womp wooommp,” because motherfuckers exchanged
numbers with those chicks faster than you can say, “Booty!”
 
Then the instructor ended the day’s lessons by
announcing that tomorrow we were going to Rikers Island!
 
That’s when everybody got quiet and in deep
thought.
 
The looks told it all.

“Do I really want to do this shit?”

“I am a female.”

“Are they really going to put me in there with Big Luke and
Murder and ‘em?”

“Dang, this is our first week.
 
Are they going to really throw us to the
wolves like that?”
 

One female recruit was staring into space chewing her gum
and licking her lips.
 
Then she stuck her
tongue out and touched the bottom of her chin!
 
I knew then that she was going to be alright
in a jail full of men or a jail full of women for that matter.
 
In that brief moment all the horror stories
started to circulate, like the one about the female Corrections Officer that
fell asleep on post in a dorm area and the inmates took turns jerking off and
nutting on her face.
 
She woke up and all
of her acne was gone.
 
Or, the inmate who
filled up a tube of tooth paste with his own shit and squirted it into an Officer’s
face.
 
That one shook the shit out of me.
 
I thought to myself, ‘Yeah, I would
definitely lose my job.
 
Damn the getting
out of the Projects and the better life for my kids.
 
If a nigga splash, squirt, shoot anything in
my motherfuck’n face…I don’t even want to talk about it.’
 
Then we heard the story of these famous Chinese
brothers that kicked everybody’s ass, including the Warden.
 
I sat there thinking about how many people I
was going to see over there from the streets.
 
I just hoped that I didn’t see Junebug because
I threw away the batteries that I bought from him and I know that he would ask
me how they were working.
 

The next day I arrived at Rikers Island for the very first
time in my life.
 
I always heard about it
but never visited.
 
It was just that too,
an island, right next to LaGuardia Airport.
 
There’s only one way on and one way off.
 
There’s a long bridge leading to the island
that connects to a large Officer’s parking lot.
 
An Officer has to park their vehicle then take what they call a route
bus to their assigned jail.
 
Visitors
have to take a public bus over to the island then go to the main visitor's
building.
 
Then they have to take various
route buses to the jail in which they are going to.
 
The first jail I went to was called HDM.
 

The history of this jail was that it was the first jail ever
to be built on Rikers Island; I mean we’re talking when commissary was called
the trade post.
 
It had the Alcatraz
look, the old worn out metal the rusty bars, and then there was the smell.
 
Guuaad dam!
 
It’s a combination of funky sweat, funky asses
and three day old cabbage that’s been sitting out, then there’s the
inmates.
 
I reported for roll call where
a supervisor ran off Officer’s names, checked attendance and made
announcements.
 
You could tell who the
new Officers were because we were standing at the end of the line with our Academy
uniforms and black patent leather wedding cake shoes.
 
We were standing there, eyes bright, hearts-a-pumping
with anticipation of what was in store for us that day.
 
Senior Officers who have been on the job
awhile looked and chuckled at us, some just leaned against the wall half-ass-listening
to what was being said with the look of, ‘Hurry the fuck up with this bullshit’
on their faces.’
 
The new Officers were
assigned to certain posts for training.
 
We
walked through long corridors looking stupid searching for signs and certain
numbers that might tell us where the fuck we were supposed to be going.
 
Officers looked at us as we walked by, lambs
going to the slaughter.
 
Others took the
time out to help us with directions or so we thought.

“You got to go down this hall to cell block 37.
 
Then make a right until you come to a
door.
 
Knock on the door three times and
ask for Officer Cocks.
 
He’ll show you
where to go.”

Yeah, they had their fun with us.
 
I got to the gate where I was supposed to
work and a female Officer let me in the first gate then gestured for me to
enter another gate then boom!
 
The gate
slammed behind me and
I
shitted on myself.
 
I thought to myself, ‘Great, now I have to
walk around here all day with soiled underwear, squishing with every step I
take, dam.’
 
When I went inside, there
was a long galley way that seemed to go on forever.
 
There were inmates on the second and third
tier looking down on me laughing at my shoes.
 

This is about the time that reality sets in.
 
All the stories you've heard about jail, all
the fear of getting punched in your face or worse sets in.
 
It’s like some people’s first day of High
School - I ain’t going to mention no names.
 
All that comes right back in a moment.
 
You realize that fear - if you’re going to
keep this job.
 
Well, since I was 6' 2″
and 250 pounds of Hennessy and oxtails, I tried to swell my chest out to
impress them.
 
They were not impressed.
 
One inmate said, “Look at this doofy mother
fucker!”
 
They laughed.
 
Then another inmate said, "Ain’t you
glad you don’t have to flip burgers no more?”
 
I just continued to walk down the galley
looking for the Officer that I was assigned to work with.
 
Inmates were everywhere doing push-ups,
hanging on the bars doing pull-ups, each either laughing at me or ice grilling
me.
 
Either way, I was starting to get
the feeling that all I want to do is get the fuck out of there.
 

As I continued to walk, a huge inmate about 6'4″,
maybe 400 pounds, approached me and gave me a piece of paper.
 
He stated that I would need these because I
did not have any.
 
Confused I opened the
paper and it was a drawing of a man’s balls.
 
Again they laughed.
 
That was it I had had enough.
 
Fuck this job!
 
Heart pumping, sweat and gheri curl juice
dripping down my forehead, I was about to make a B-line towards the gate to get
the fuck out of there!
 
Then my
conscience came into play, ‘Negro you need this job.
 
Man up!
 
What about your family, your kids?’
 
As I held that note in my hand looking up at
this towering inmate, I thought, ‘Fuck the kids!
 
I am out.’
 
 
Then I thought, ‘You’re going to
let this big nigga stop you from getting all that pussy this job has to offer?
 
Oh, hell no!’
 

With my priorities in the right place, I mustered up some testicles
and was about to handle this big nigga, y
eah
right,
when all of my tormentors yelled out simultaneously, "Ohh shit!
 
Here comes the C.O.!"
 
‘What the fuck was I?’ I thought.
 
Then they parted like the Red Sea.
 
I looked ahead expecting some 7-foot 10-inch
Corrections Officer when out of the crowd walked this 105-pound, 4-foot something
female.
 
She had salt and pepper hair and
a pair of glasses that she wore on her nose.
 

"Back the fuck up!" she yelled

They did.
 
She then
grabbed me by my arm and led me away from the crowd.
 
I looked like a kid that got his ass beat whose
momma had to take him away from all the little kids at the playground.
 
She then screamed to the other female Officer
who had let me in.

"Ooooh girl, they sent me a big one this time,” she
said, “Kinda cute like the rapper Fabulous!”

An inmate yelled out from the upper tier, "Look at that
nigga's gut.
 
You mean more like
Flabulous!”
 
The inmates laughed loud and
hard.
 

Yeah, so that was the cool dude’s from Harlem first look at
what was to come.
 
The rest of the day
went pretty much like that and when it was over, I tore the gate off its hinges
getting the fuck out of there.