In early June, a few members of the Washington State Penitentiary’s administration, including the superintendent, visited my medium custody unit.
The group arrived in the morning and looked around the unit before strolling over to a group of white prisoners in the dayroom. This visit seemed to confirm the rumors we’d been hearing. It’s not every day multiple members of the department of corrections visit a unit. But to confirm my suspicion, I stood up and addressed the superintendent directly.
“Mr. Jackson,” I said, “are Norteños going to start being housed in Victor and Williams units?”
The answer was yes. Members of a Hispanic street gang from Northern California would be moving into my unit and another unit at the prison.
After the rumor was confirmed, an informal meeting followed. The tone was laid-back and accommodating, which is rare when dealing with department administration. Their overall goal seemed to be figuring out how to minimize the violence when this transition takes place.
Still, I’m not sure anything can prevent the likely brutal fallout of these transfers, which is why I told the administrators about my pending clemency petition and asked them for a transfer. They didn’t give me any confirmation that would be happening, so it was hard to feel hopeful.
A bad mix
In prison, segregation is common. Boundaries are often formed by groups and gangs, and in prison, gangs typically form among racial lines.
There is a long and well-documented history of violence between white prisoners and Norteños in Washington state prisons. This stems mostly from prison alliances. The Aryan Family, a white supremacist gang, is allied with the Sureños, a rival street gang to the Norteños, making the Aryan Family and Norteños rivals, too.
Previously, white prisoners at WSP, including Aryan Family members, could be housed in units with either Norteños or Sureños. However, over the years, multiple violent incidents occurred between Aryan Family members and Norteños, and the department ultimately made the decision to completely separate these two gangs. Currently, most affiliated members of white gangs are housed in the same units as Sureños.
In response to an inquiry from Prison Journalism Project, Chris Wright, communications director for the Washington State Department of Corrections, declined to comment.
“[We] don’t discuss our security practices publicly, but the safety and security of incarcerated individuals is always our top priority,” Wright wrote in an email.
Though Aryan Family members have been removed from the two units at WSP, people here believe Norteños will likely still be met with aggression. Because of the explosive political dynamic, and to avoid getting surprised, Norteños and unaffiliated white inmates could attack one another at the first chance they get.
‘I’ll ride with my race’
When I first got to prison, I was sent to a closed custody unit at Clallam Bay Corrections Center. Closed custody units are the highest custody level designation — more supervision, less freedom of movement and limits on property and programs.
When I arrived, I was asked by a member of the Aryan Family who I “rode with.” I replied, “I’m white. When it pops off, I’ll ride with my race.” I was prepared for this question, having spent two years in county jail dealing with segregated phones and tablets.
Aligning myself with my race was the rational thing to do, and in some ways it still is. But it was becoming troublesome for me to play prison politics; I have a pending clemency petition with the attorney general’s office. Involvement with a gang riot would guarantee that I do not get out early.
And while I am not a member of any gang, if I was to stand by and not jump in while a riot’s going on, I’d be placing a target on my back.
One unaffiliated white prisoner, who had recently arrived at Victor unit, said, “This beef has nothing to do with me. And it’s f—-d up that all of the guys who created this feud are getting shipped out [by the department]. But guys like me are gonna be stuck here fighting someone else’s war.”
An Aryan Family member I spoke to resented the fact that many guys like me want to be moved ahead of the transfers. “This is the best medium [security prison] in the state and it pisses me off that so many guys want to leave instead of fighting for this mainline,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter if we all stay and fight,” I replied. “The end result will still be the same. When the riots are over and we all go to the hole, DOC will bring in whoever they want to refill these bunks. We don’t have any say in it.”
A welcome transfer
Because of my lack of infractions, I am technically classified as minimum custody; though at my annual review last December, I requested to stay at my medium custody facility where I felt content and settled. But that was before hearing rumors of the upcoming change to the general population.
Fortunately, in late July, I was transferred to Clallam Bay Corrections Center, after a 12-hour chain ride in a three-man kennel with no bathroom breaks.
Even though I’m relatively safe now, that’s not the case for many other guys at the prison.
If I had not been transferred, my only other option would have been to go into protective custody, which is another troubling option because it would hurt my pride and prison reputation. Protective custody is known for housing informants, sex offenders and people who are generally considered “weak.” Going there, even if you have a good reason, means being treated as one or all of those categories by anyone with knowledge of prison politics.
If a riot or altercation takes place, the whole unit will go on lockdown. This means that even people who did not participate will be prevented from going to work, school, family visits and programs.
I’m glad I was transferred before any gang members arrived, but I still fear what might happen to those who didn’t get a well-timed transfer.
