A man walked slowly toward the group of guards outside the dorm building. He was wearing a red paper jumpsuit, the standard uniform for transfers.
Inside the dorm, a bunch of us were gathered on our bunks, observing the parade of new arrivals and placing bets on who would stay on at Sierra Conservation Camp, and who was instead preparing to fight their way out.
Sierra Conservation Camp is a fire training and reception camp in Jamestown, California, an old gold rush town in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, about two hours outside Sacramento.
From our spot, we couldn’t see the group gathered in the hallway, waiting for the guards to let the transfers in one at a time. But from our own arrival at SCC, we knew the welcoming committee of prisoners had likely formed a dangerous checkpoint.
A dangerous blend
On the one hand, fire camps allow for more freedom and benefits than a typical facility. Working as a firefighter means extra time off, cigarettes, better food and pride in your work.
On the other hand, it also requires a lot of hard work. At SCC, we are expected to pass a physical training exam and a course in wildland firefighting. Then we are shipped to one of over 30 fire camps around the state. Once there, we work on fuel-reduction projects year-round and are sometimes even placed in the path of fires.
For many, there is another catch: The only way to get to those fire camps is to start training at SCC, a facility that blends the two prison populations: those from general population and those deemed to have “sensitive needs” and require protective custody.
General population is exactly what it sounds like; it’s the section of a prison where most people reside. Those with sensitive needs, meanwhile, have convictions that are considered abhorrent, detestable and, most notably, punishable by what we might call convict standards. They are primarily snitches, rapists and child molesters. Some convictions, like rape and other sex offenses, make prisoners ineligible for fire training camps.
Yet, in the eyes of many general population prisoners, the choice to willingly remain at a facility that houses snitches and rapists makes you one of them. That’s why some people choose to be in a fight, so they can be placed back into general population at a different facility.
Once you’re mixed into the different dorms of SCC, there is no way to tell if someone is general population or sensitive needs unless they tell you.
When new transfers first arrive, it’s those with sensitive needs who are waiting in the hallway to ask newcomers if they plan on staying. They want to get the fighting out of the way with those that aren’t, so they don’t have to deal with unprovoked attacks later.
Swarmed like ants
When I first arrived at SCC, we were separated into two small gated enclosures: one for sensitive needs and one for general population. Five of us were called and let into the dorm one at a time. I was third to go. Through the doorway, 10 men stood, all looking at me, very tense.
“Hey man, you gonna stay and program?” one asked me.
“We’re just trying to do our time and get home to our families,” said another.
I looked at them all. “Yeah, guys, I don’t give a shit about all that stuff.”
They relaxed and let me in, shaking hands with me and introducing themselves. I walked down the hallway and had just enough time to turn around and see the guy after me say, “No, I’m not staying.” The guys swarmed on him like ants.
‘You have to fight’
Back on our SCC bunks, we were still watching the man in the red paper jumpsuit.
“Oh yeah, he’s getting off,” said a friend a few bunks down from me.
I watched the man fumble with his paperwork as he looked around the yard.
“Nah,” I replied. “He doesn’t have that ‘je ne sais quoi’ … that strut. He isn’t tough enough.”
“All right, man,” my friend said. “It’s your cookies on the line.”
Once transfers enter the dorm, we aren’t able to see them. But it wasn’t long before we heard the familiar sounds of blows landing and bodies colliding just beyond the door.
After a few seconds a guard shouted, “Get down!”
The burst of a pepper bomb sounded, then a loud alarm blared over the yard. More guards rushed over, reaching for their belts. We watched as they pulled the guy in the red jumpsuit out in handcuffs.
Shocked, I threw the pack of duplex sandwich cookies to my friend across the room: “I could have sworn he wasn’t going to fight!”
“Hey man,” he said, with a mouthful of cookies, “if this is your first time at Jamestown, you have to fight.”