What a way to come back. Holy snap.
First thing in I check my mailbox and there's a letter saying I have to be in the Wardens office at 10am on tuesday for a suicide attempt debriefing. What the snap! Ten in the morning! Aw, hell! Those things usually take at least two hours. Then I have to drive back home and take a shower and get ready to go back to work.
Whenever an inmate makes what they consider to be a "serious" suicide attempt, they do an after-action debriefing to go over what happened, find out if we made any mistakes and what we could do to correct them and find out if anybody was emotionally scarred by the incident.
This will be my third or fourth one I have had to attend and I'm usually more scarred by the debriefing than I am by the event.
What the carp.
So anyway, BG are out on the rec yard and we hear some damn fool kicking his door in C-wing hollering Code 16. There were plenty of people in the house to take care of it (as shift change hadn't happened yet) so we left it alone.
Day shift goes up and sees what the deal is. It seems this knucklehead is pissed off about something and has managed to cut himself and left a small pool of blood on his cell floor. Nothing life threatening, but he did make himself bleed, so they have to consider it a suicide attempt.
I look up and it's the self same idiot that I have to go to the debriefing for! And here he is doing it again. Imagine that.
They set him on the bench and lock him down tight and he starts blowing about how he's going to head butt a CO when he gets up, then he's going to refuse to come off the bench and make them get a team, then he says he's going to kick the toilet off the wall until he destroys every camera cell we've got.
In the meantime we have to get the biohazard guy down to clean up the blood so we can move someone out of a camera cell into his cell so we can put him on suicide watch. And he's running his pie hole the entire time.
We get everything cleaned up and the other guy moved and I go to unhook him from the bench, just waiting for him to move. Of course, he does nothing. I go to take the leg shackles off, just watching.... and again he does nothing.
We walk him into the cell and he refuses to comply or assist with the strip-out so I just cut his shirt off and drag everything else off of him. And again he does nothing.
Once the cell door is closed he scratches his arm on the door until a small bit of blood shows and he demands to be taken to medical. We just tell him "No, I don't think so. Not for that little scratch."
After awhile he just lays down and goes to sleep.
All this going on while we have a utility Sarge and one utility CO. Just me and BG and Windows to run the house.
Not to mention only having four beds left open in the middle of a long holiday weekend.
I have a feeling that by the time I come back tomorrow we will be kicking one out to lock one up. One for one.
Why, Oh why didn't I take two weeks off instead of just one?
I suspect that I am a masochist.
A report on grumpy me - *Forget about my husband; this is all about me. It's been a strange week of little things going wrong.* *A cap came off a tooth, a cap which can probably ...
18 hours ago