Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Clayton's Letter on Experiencing Alaska Prisons

Sunday, August 28, 2016

To Whom It May Concern:

My name is Clayton Allison.  I give my name at the risk of retaliation from the staff and guards here at Goose Creek Correctional Center.  This is my story.

To understand my current circumstances, some backstory and information is needed.  I was charged with manslaughter, negligent homicide, and eventually murder in the second degree in 2009.  The accusation was that I killed my 15-month-old daughter.  I am innocent.  My wife, family, friends, coworkers and fellow church members all knew this.  Anyone that had known me for any length of time did not believe the charges against me.  I have overwhelming support and love from the community.  

I spent 10 days at Mat-Su Pretrial before I made bail.  This was my first time in jail.  This was my first brush with the legal system.  I have always been a “nerd” or a “geek.”  I have never tried any illegal drug.  I have never smoked a cigarette.  Asthma and a love for Star Trek have kept me from the “Party Scene.”  I spent the next 3 years on Third Party bail restrictions.  This meant that I had to stay within sight and sound of either my wife, or my father-in-law when my wife was at work.  I was effectively made unemployable.  

Third Party restrictions made it impossible for me to work a job.  Having to stay within sight and sound of my father-in-law, for the next 3 years while my wife was at work, did greatly improve our relationship.  We played a lot of Halo on the Xbox.  In 2012 the charges against me were dropped.  I was a free man.  I could start working again.  No more Third Party!  

Shortly thereafter, the charges against me were re-done through the Grand Jury.  The court decided no more Third Party was needed.  My bail stood.  I spent no extra days in jail.  More years went by.  New lawyers.  New continuances.  Eventually, I finally got close to trial.  I was offered a 2-year plea deal for negligent homicide.  I turned it down.  I am innocent.  My trial was in January and February of 2015.  A total of 6 years had gone by since my original charges.  Three of those on Third Party.  I broke no laws; caused no trouble. I didn’t even leave the state when I could have.  

I found a job driving limos once I was off Third Party and could work.  I lost my trial.  I was found guilty of Murder 2.  A few months later, in July, I was sentenced to 40 years with 10 suspended.  I was remanded from my trial into custody when I lost.  That was the start of my true incarceration.  My previous 10 days experience could not prepare me for what was ahead.  

I was in for a shock.

Forget what you have seen on TV.  Real life prison is very different.  Upon remand, I was taken to Mat-Su Pretrial.  I was housed in E or “Echo” Mod, then put into A or “Alpha” Mod.  Echo Mod was the intake mod that everyone went through.  Alpha Mod was for more long term placement. Alpha Mod at Mat-Su Pretrial was my eye-opening experience to prison.  Believe it or not, before this point, I actually believed that there were no gangs in Alaska.  How wrong I was.  

This was a GP, or General Population, mod.  It was small; maybe 30-40 men could fit.  My case had some media attention.  I was recognized.  I immediately started having problems.  The white gang members and leaders did not want me there.  Apparently, discipline comes from the leaders of your race.  The others won’t touch you; unless they get permission from the white gang leaders.  I was told to “roll up” or “PC up.” Words like “baby raper” and “Chester” were used.  I learned that “Chester” means child molester.  It didn’t matter that there was nothing sexual in my charges.  These were labels of hatred for my “supposed” crimes.  

Someone explained to me that to “PC up” meant to ask the guards for protective custody.  I was told that in PC you cannot get visits.  This was a lie.  I didn’t learn that until much later.  To be able to visit my wife in visitation meant the world to me.  So I refused to “PC up” or “roll up.”  This caused more problems.  

Twice I was cornered in my cell and told to fight.  I could earn respect by “boxing.”  I refused.  I was hit a few times, called a “punk” or “bitch,” which are two dangerous “fight” words in prison.  I did not report this because I did not want to add “rat” or “snitch” to my apparent list of offenses.  They tried to extort money from me; saying that if I paid them “taxes” that I would be “protected.”  This was done by purchasing items off the commissary list and giving it to them.  I refused.  The main gang leader at this point asked me if I would help smuggle drugs into the prison using my visitors.  This could “pay my taxes.”  He wanted my help because I had lots of visitors coming in to see me.  I refused.  

At this point they were confused, and didn’t know what to do with me.  I had refused to PC up, fight, pay taxes or smuggle drugs.  I had also refused paying taxes by giving them my food trays.  At meal times, I ate fast and in front of the guard.  After a few days, they finally decided to do a “group beat down.”  After a large group of them had beat me up they said I would be “cool” with them.  Before this could happen, I was transferred; probably saving me hospital bills!

This was life in general population.  

I was transferred to Goose Creek Correctional Center (GCCC) in Wasilla.  Put in general population in E or “Echo” Mod.  It was still February.  My first day in GCCC was a nightmare. My media coverage meant I was recognized within my first hour.  I had not even made my bed in my new cell yet.  Echo Mod was much bigger than I was used to.  Maybe 150 inmates were walking around compared to the 30-40 I was used to.  This was the big leagues.  I was approached by 3 white men covered in tattoos.  Most looked like they had been done in prison.  They told me that if I did not “PC up” that second, they were going to “medivac” me out.  There was a group of men watching 20-30 strong.  These men were obviously with the ones talking to me.  I learned later that this was one of many gangs called 1488 or The Dirty White Boys.  

I had had enough. After multiple threats, I went to talk to a guard about this PC stuff.  Learned that I could get visits from my wife.  Decided it had to be better than this.  I was tired of staying out of trouble and knew if I didn’t “PC up” I was likely to get into a fight defending myself from adult-sized school-yard bullies.  So, I joined protective custody.  I was taken from E Mod in handcuffs while 150 inmates screamed my name.  

It was not a good feeling.  

I spent the next two months in the “Hole,” or Administrative Segregation.  Segregation, PC status known as AS-5, meant that I was locked down in my cell 23 hours a day.  I was let out for one hour to shower or go to “Rec.”  “Rec,” or recreation, was a small chicken-wire cage outside that you could walk circles in.  Chain link fence walls to let fresh air in.  

In segregation the cells are built for two.  You have a cell mate or “cellie” that shares the room with you.  There is a toilet in the room.  Everything is metal and bolted to the floor.  At night, and during the day, it can sound like the howls of the damned in there.  Anyone that gets into a fight, or gets a write-up for disciplinary actions, ends up in the “hole.”  They hand your meal trays through a slot in your cell door.  You make phone calls through that same door slot while sitting on your cell floor.  I can still hear the screaming.  

Whenever you leave your cell, they handcuff you to a belly chain around your waist.  The men scream at you “PC!” or “Chester!”  They can keep you up at night.  Protective custody inmates in cells with gang members in for fighting in cells nearby.  I was so grateful to get out of there.  The Parole Officer (PO) offered me a transfer to K or “Kilo” Mod here.  It was known as a “PC” mod here at GCCC.  

A whole mod for PC.  Heaven!

I stayed in Kilo Mod from April to September of 2015.  It was like a dream.  We were let out almost all hours of the day except maybe 6 or 8 hours out of every 24.  There was every perk of a GP, or general population, mod, but everyone there was PC!  Outdoor Rec in the ball fields, the indoor gym with equipment, contact visits every night but Saturdays.  You could purchase musical instruments like a guitar or keyboard!  

It was very different from what I was used to.  Nobody wanted to beat me up or tax me.  There was so much more freedom than the Hole.  There was no toilet in your cell.  Everyone was issued coats and hats to wear.  We had our own laundry room and library.  You could watch TV or make phone calls for hours.  We didn’t know what we had until it was gone.  

On September 16, 2015, the day before my 10th anniversary with my wife, Kilo Mod was closed.  No explanation was given.  All K Mod inmates were given a choice: remain PC (AS-5) status and go to the “Hole” or “SMU,” or change status and go to GP.  I had been to the Hole and GP.  What was SMU?  I knew GP was a nightmare waiting to happen, so I remained on PC status.  I did not want to fight gang members or pay taxes for GP freedoms.  I was the last inmate in the last group to leave K Mod.  Many inmates conned into going to GP regretted it.  The staff had to know they were sending them to be beat up and taxed.  

They didn’t care.  The release of liability was signed.  

SMU was almost like being in the Hole again.  The differences were slight.  All inmates in the SMU were now PC status.  No gang members present to yell at us.  There is an attached gym to the SMU.  The indoor gym has a metal grate over a large square hole to the outside.  Fresh air.  The gym is the same temperature as outside.  Half-court size with one basketball hoop and two basketballs.  No equipment.  No pull-up bar.  No exercise bike.  No weights.  Unlike the Hole, SMU has: two TVs, two microwaves, tables and chairs to sit on, and a dayroom we can walk around in on Rec time.  

This was a serious step up from the Hole, but a serious step down from Kilo Mod.  Eventually, after many months of fighting the conditions here in SMU there were improvements.  They gave us more time out of our cells, and many property and commissary rights that they had taken away.  Personally, I was ecstatic over getting my MP3 player, personal shoes and a real toothbrush.  Allowing us real pens and pencils to write with was a real bonus too.  

The PC community tries hard to get in no fights, no write-ups, and stay out of trouble.  We don’t present the threat to staff that GP does.  No taxing.  No gang fighting.  No improvised weapons cutting men in the shower.  We are the geeks, nerds, rejects, sexual offenders (SO’s), snitches (rats), ex-gang members and homosexuals that GP hates.  We are happy to read Manga, play D&D, watch TV, read sci-fi books and fold origami.  PC inmates are no threat.  

I am a minority in the PC world.  I am not a sexual offender, homosexual, bisexual, snitch or rat, ex-gang member (or current one), gambler, or someone that has a “death contract” out on them in GP.  For being a nerdy guy that likes to read books, in PC I pay a price.  

We are locked in our cells 20+ hours a day.  We are not allowed Rec outside.  The grate in the indoor gym doesn’t count.  We have no gym equipment.  My contact visitation with my wife is restricted to once per week.  If I went to GP, I could see her everyday.  GP gets outdoor recreation.  GP is not locked down in an 11 ft. by 8 ft. cell 20+ hours everyday.  

September 16, 2016, will be my one year mark living in SMU.  One year since I’ve been outside or seen a tree (except for the recent trip to my mother’s funeral).  One year since I walked on dirt and grass.  I miss the sun.  The color green.  The outdoors.  

I had some pictures of trees and mountains.  It helped a little bit.  The guards came, ripped them down and told me pictures weren’t allowed.  I must stare at white brick walls.  I can’t even have a picture of a tree.  Hanging pictures on the walls is against the rules.  

This is the price I pay to be safe.  This is how I must live if I don’t want to fight or be taxed.  

I am appealing my unjust conviction.  I am still looking at several years for that to go through.  Many more if it doesn’t.  GCCC has started packing us in here now, 3 men to an 88 square foot cell.  Locked down 20+ hours a day.  No outdoor recreation.  No gym equipment.  In winter time the gym is too cold to even use; being open to the outside.  The basketballs freeze solid, and won’t bounce.  We can go months without being able to work out in the gym at all.  GP gets to use their indoor gym that is heated and full of workout equipment.  

Some days I wonder why the men that cause the least problems are treated so badly.  I think maybe it would be worth it to fight gangs if I could visit my wife everyday in a contact visit.  I miss her so much, and live for my once a week hug with her.  Then I remember the gangs run the GP mods.  Drugs, money, weapons.  They do it all.  The guards don’t stop them.  They do what they want to.  I guess getting beat up and stabbed isn’t worth it.  

Funny thing is, all the staff can say if you complain is, “Go to GP if you don’t like it!”
“Just sign this waiver form first……”

Clayton Allison
Goose Creek Correctional Center

Sunday, September 4, 2016

Plea For Help - Inmate Letter

Since the latest decision by the administration of Goose Creek Correctional Center to place boats within the SMU where Clayton is held, Clayton's family received a letter from an inmate there with a request to publish his words to the broader public. What follows are the directly penned words of that inmate.

Letter From SMU Inmate, September 2016

Nearly a year ago I was awoken by an officer and told to “roll your shit up.”  This is usually what you hear when you’ve earned some kind of punitive action.  What was my infraction?  Nothing but the fact that I was a protective custody inmate, and the powers that be had decided to give our mod to another group of prisoners.  I’ve never been able to get a straight answer about why those prisoners were more deserving of the mod than we were, but I suspect it’s related to the underlying culture of penalizing PC inmates in Alaska DOC.

Please keep in mind that our class of inmate receives the fewest write-ups, is not interested in fighting, and typically tries to stay “off the radar.”  Our housing needs also generate a minimal amount of extra work for the administration, which is where the culture of penalty comes from.  After all, if we are assaulted, robbed, even raped… this is our problem, and business can continue as normal.  When we wish to avoid those situations, it becomes the administration’s problem.

Since that day, I have spent an astonishing 87% of my time locked in a box with another inmate, in a cell barely large enough for both of us to be moving at the same time.  To top this experience off, the majority of our meager privileges has been reduced to almost nothing.  In short, we have more time to pass, but fewer ways to pass it.  

In nearly a year, I have not seen a tree, or the grass, or an unobstructed blue sky.  Our “outdoor” recreation consists of an attached building with a grate on one wall about 15 feet up, but is otherwise totally enclosed.  Administration has deemed this “outside” (though the 9th circuit disagrees), but ask yourself a basic question: If you went outside in a monsoon, wouldn’t you expect to get wet?  At least a little? I’ve gone into our little gym area to listen to the rain, but I didn’t feel a single drop no matter how much I wanted to.  It was so close.

This sort of deprivation is the basest of negligent human cruelty, and death would come as a welcome relief from it.  

Again, please bear in mind that none of this is part of the judgement I received in that courtroom.  My infraction was not wanting to be assaulted, or raped, or “taxed” by the gangs for flimsy “protection” that was only good until someone else decided they deserved what I had because I stood in court and told the truth about my co-defendants, labeling me a “rat.”

Not only does the administration know about this dynamic, they are indifferent to it.  Those of us that complain are invited to sign a waiver, to sign our very rights away, and then return to the general population to have our skulls caved in.  Their concern is the lawsuit, not the violence.

Is this what rehabilitation looks like?  To reward violence and rule-breaking while punishing those that wish to avoid those situations?  Is it any wonder that recidivism rates are so high?

My story is one of many.  There are 64 2-man cells in this miserable cave, with a few already housing a third person on the floor and more expected soon.  This is our daily reality, with no end in sight, no assistance from administration, and no reason to hope.

Make no mistake, this is a scream for help.  They won’t listen to us.  I hope you will.

(Name withheld for fear of retaliation)