Archives for posts with tag: Dormitory

Ivan

This is my deposition for the ACLU.

Reading it makes me nauseous. It infuriates me that incidents like this happened and continue to happen.

They are happening now in the MCJ.

The gay press, of course, are not interested in reporting what happens in our jails to our LGBT brethren.

White, gay elitists control our media and are paid by big pharma.

Our media know that the prisons are full of black and transgender people but choose to ignore it.

They, of course, are those with the least (perceived) sexual currency in the lgbt community.

Even my most liberal and informed friends think it is perfectly reasonable to say “I could never find a black man attractive.”

The gay press scarcely acknowledges the presence of black or trans let alone write about the way they are continually targeted by the police.

That, my friends, is another story.

I was recently introduced to a self proclaimed ‘champion of the gays’, a ‘spiritual’ gay with a huge blog following.

He told me yesterday that he was only interested in helping the gay community with his good works, that the trans community did not interest him.

His bare faced dismissal of parts of our disparate community galls me as much as the vile behaviors of the deputies listed below.

A good looking, white, young, gay man preaching love and kindness…but only to equally good looking…white…young gay men.

Here you go:

My name is Duncan Roy.

I make this declaration based on my own personal knowledge and if called to testify I could and would do so competently as follows:

I stayed in the Los Angeles County Jail system from November of 2011 to February of 2012.

I was housed at Men’s Central Jail (“MCJ”) in Modules 5200 and 5400, which are the gay inmate dorms.

Though I was able to be released on bail, I had to stay in jail because the Sheriff’s Department refuses to release on bail anyone on whom the Immigration and Customs Enforcement (“ICE”) has placed an immigration “hold.”

However, it is my understanding that immigration holds are only requests – not mandatory orders – that local law enforcement hold people for ICE for 48 hours, thus it was the LASD that refused to release me even though I could make bail.

While I was in jail, I witnessed numerous incidents in which deputies verbally abused, humiliated, threatened, and even physically abused inmates – particularly transgender inmates. In addition, we regularly were denied things like hot water and outdoor recreation time.

Processing into Jail

After I had been asked about my sexual orientation at the Inmate Reception Center (“IRC”), I was whisked away from the general population and placed in a light-blue uniform.

Those inmates, who stated that they were gay, were then taken to the Twin Towers Correctional Facility (“TTCF”), Tower 2. We were placed in a pod with other gay inmates, “green lighters” and those who were given a “K-6Y” wristband.

Inmates who are considered green lighters are targeted by other inmates for either participating with law enforcement, for snitching, or for being a gang dropout. Inmates with K-6Y wristbands had been charged with a sex crime involving a juvenile.

While I was in this pod, I recall deputies asking the K-6Y inmates how old they were and how old their victim was.

One inmate said he was about 28 years old and told the deputy that his victim was nine years old, the deputy said, “That’s disgusting!” Or words to that effect.

Another inmate said he was 22 years old and that his victim was 16 years old. The deputy said, “Well, that’s okay. I understand that. Anyone would.”

This type of questioning was not done privately, but in front of everyone.

After I had gone through IRC, I had to be assessed again for my gay status by the deputies who handled the “K-6G” housing.

There were about 50 inmates in this small room, Module 9400 with beds squished together.

There was also only one toilet for all 50 individuals to share. I was in this cramped room for about five days.

After about five days, I was transferred to 5200 where I was housed for the rest of my stay in jail.

LASD Personnel Repeatedly Verbally Abused and Threatened LGBT Inmates in the Gay Dorm

During the 90 days or so I spent in MCJ’s gay inmate dorm, I witnessed countless incidents of violence, humiliation and retaliation by LASD personnel against inmates as well as by inmates against other inmates.

There were several times when a deputy assigned to the module would escort a new deputy, one who had never been assigned to work with gay inmates, into our dorms and make us cheer for him.

For example, there was an occasion when Deputy Polovich brought in Deputy Gonzalez into our module. Deputy Polovich said to all of us, “Give it up for Deputy Gonzalez!”

All of the inmates inside the dorm then had to cheer and applaud for Deputy Gonzalez. Deputies would then tell the entire male to female transsexuals to lift their uniform tops to expose their breasts to Deputy Gonzalez.

I felt like this was not only humiliating for the inmates to be forced to applaud these deputies like we were circus freaks, but I could only imagine what it must have been like for those inmates who had to outwardly parade their sexual parts.

Hearing deputies use slurs and homophobic comments was quite common. I cannot begin to count the number of times some deputies used the phrase “faggot.” I certainly remember a few examples of deputies’ being particularly hateful.

For example, on one occasion Deputy Gonzalez was escorting the other inmates and me to the visiting area. He told us, “You faggots have a sick lifestyle.” He’d also said that he’d “cut off our cocks” and then we’d need to go to a different place.

When I was housed in Module 5200 a male to female transsexual named, “Rosemary” was transferred into my dorm. Rosemary appeared very feminine, had breasts and looked very pretty. Because of her appearance, she received a lot of negative attention from the deputies.

There were several occasion when deputies would bring other deputies into my dorm and would force Rosemary to roll over from her stomach to her back.

By doing so, the deputies would be able to see Rosemary’s body.

There was also one occasion when I saw Rosemary talking to another inmate about a deputy, Deputy Juarez. She was not aware that Deputy Juarez was standing behind her while she was talking about him.

He forcefully grabbed Rosemary and dragged her over to where the escalators were located. I heard him yelling at her in Spanish. I also saw him aggressively kick the insides of Rosemary’s ankles and then search her very roughly. When she came back to the dorm, I saw and she looked very shaken up.

There were also numerous instances when the deputies would threaten us for minute things. I saw the deputies take out their tasers and pretend to shoot them at inmates or hit their flashlights against their palm to intimidate us. It was quite unnerving to see this.

Deputies Pepper Spray and Physically Attack a Transexual Inmate without Justification.

I saw another incident of abuse occur when I was housed in Dorm 5200. A male to female transsexual named, “Sunny” was standing in line for her medication during pill call right outside the door to the dorm, which was open.

I heard Sunny tell a deputy that she didn’t get her medication. The deputy immediately pepper sprayed her in the face and then five other deputies rushed over to them and threw Sunny on the ground. I was watching the scene and Sunny didn’t attack, threaten, or spit on the deputy who pepper sprayed her.

Shortly after throwing Sunny to the floor, the deputies closed the door to the dorm, so I was not able to see what happened after.

Soon thereafter, someone opened the door between our dorm and the hallway where the incident had taken place. A female Senior Deputy arrived and interviewed the nurse who was passing out the medication and an inmate who was standing behind Sunny.

The nurse who was Asian and wore glasses was very upset that the deputies had reacted the way they did towards Sunny. She said that the deputies overreacted.

I was able to hear what the nurse was telling the Senior Deputy because it was conducted right outside the entrance to the dorm. It was also conducted not only in the presence of the inmates, but also in front of the deputy who had pepper sprayed Sunny. In fact, that deputy was about four feet away from where the interview was taking place.

Denial of Basic Necessities Such as Hot Water and Recreation Time

During the approximately 90 days I was in LA County Jail, we were regularly denied basis necessities and had to suffer through barbaric conditions. For example, there were significant problems with the plumbing, and for more than two weeks, we had no access to hot water. Work orders would be placed, however, I felt the way that the work orders were handled deterred inmates from making complaints. The reason why is because when the maintenance staff would complete a work order, all of the inmates in that particular housing area would have to be taken to a very cold holding area with no blankets and no property. We would have to sit there for almost an entire day until the work order was completed.

Also, trying to get outdoor recreation time was very difficult. I felt like the deputies were trying really hard not to give us this time. The deputy who would escort the inmates out to the roof would mumble incomprehensibly that he was here to escort us to the roof.

Even worse, if fewer than three inmates wanted to go to recreation time, the deputy wouldn’t take them. On a number of occasions, other inmates and I were denied the opportunity to go to the roof because there were not enough of us who wanted to go.

Overall, it was nearly impossible to go to the roof. One would have to understand the rubbish that came out of the deputy’s mouth and then one would still need to get more than three inmates to say they wanted to go for outdoor recreation for us to get escorted to the roof. Even when we did go to the roof, we did not get the three hours of time we were supposed to get or there would be other times when those who were allowed to go to the roof would be taken at odd hours, such as at 9 p.m. It would be incredibly cold but, the deputies wouldn’t allow us to take blankets to keep warm. It felt like the deputies would try to discourage us from having our outdoor recreation time.

I hereby declare under penalty of perjury of the laws of the State of
California and the United States that the foregoing is true and correct to the best of my knowledge and belief.

Executed this 18th day of April 2012 in Los Angeles, California.

There are some moments that I didn’t want to share with you…but they have lingered like a prison fart.

Begging to be remembered.

One particular memory I hoped to forget:

Our dorm, as you know, was the school dorm…the honor dorm.  On occasions when the police came into the dorm to conduct the evening count, when we lay on our beds, our faces in the mat, our plastic identification bracelets on view for the deputy to inspect…the police would call out, “Give it up for deputy…so and so..” and it was our job to cheer and shout and welcome the new deputy into the dorm.

If the deputy was homophobic we would be primed to make even more noise, the more well endowed, busty trannies to leap up and show the deputy their tities or dance seductively around him.

The blushing deputy, bloated on the attention, would playfully curse his colleagues.

I refused to cheer and shout.  It made me sick.  I wondered if the Nazis had ever played games like that in the nissen huts at Auschwitz.  Making the starving jews/gays/gypsies play games for their amusement.

One night, an attractive deputy called Gonzales arrived and they cat-called him and cheered his arrival.  We gave it up for deputy Gonzales and he, in turn, ran a lap of honor around the dorm.  I thought, wow, he’s a good-looking man.

Weeks later Gonzales took a few of us to the visiting room but not before he had told us that homosexuals had a ‘sick lifestyle’ and we disgusted him.

It was strange to me that such a beautiful man had such ugly thoughts.

Today, I was arraigned which meant that I went back to court at 8.30am and plead Not Guilty.   It was odd being in court wearing my own clothes rather than my blues.  The DA, Anne-Marie Wise was wearing her badly cut, black suit, treating the event like it was a first degree murder of a small child…or something truly heinous.

Anne-Marie and I had Facebook friends in common (another DA) who she demanded de-friend me.  Surely she can’t do this?  Unbelievably her entire Facebook history is on view for the whole world to see.  Her kids, her vacations etc.  Why do people do that?

We were presented with the transcript from the preliminary trial so, I assume, this is all on public record.  Who I am, who he is, who she is etc.  I am still loathed to use his name…just in case it breaks some obscure law.

We met our new Judge, Judge Michael V. Jesic who seems like the most grown up Judge so far.  Like a real Judge.  He was a Hardcore Gang prosecutor.  Son of Yugoslavian immigrants, born in Belgrade.  He has gravitas.  He loves animals and met his wife at a pet adoption event.  Like most of them he is an ex-DA.  He seems, from the video published above, like a fair man.

The LA Times endorsed him in 2008 and he is most likely to be described as ‘ethical’ by his opponents.  Read a full description here.

However, he is a registered Republican (fiscally) and was strongly recommended by church organizations during his election campaign in 2008 as most likely to hold beliefs that would uphold their biblical values.

Judge Jesic will be our third and final judge.

The first judge (whose name escapes me) the first time I saw him last November, was a MESS.  Papers all over the place, tie off, hair askew…when I returned with TMZ in tow he had combed his hair, wearing his robe…his tie was neatly tied around his neck.  Showing his best side for the camera.

Judge Karen Nudell was our preliminary judge.  I was still in custody so the petulant, young deputy who lead me into the court would rearrange my chair and tell me off for wearing my spectacles on my head.

Judge Karen sat yawning, shuffling papers, playing with her huge earings and stroking her long hair.  She sat at an odd angle to the courtroom, like Mona Lisa…but less enigmatic.

She reminded me of the mother in the movie Carrie.

During the prelim Anne-Marie was trying to shame me for describing the victim as ‘The King of The Cocksuckers’.  I reminded her that we were gay and being good at cock sucking was probably not an insult.

You can tell what a fiasco the trial will be.  The press will have a field day.  Anyway, Judge Nudell looked appalled that the words cock and sucker were being used in her court in such close proximity.

My friend later commented that Judge Nudell’s grandchildren probably made excuses not to visit her on Sundays…

Let’s hope that Judge Jesic isn’t so squeamish.

You asked me to describe my arrest.  Well, let me tell you that the very courteous cops who arrested me looked like extras from a ZZ Top video.  Long beards.  Very, very long beards. So long in fact that their police badges were hidden behind them.

The detectives who interviewed me were charming.  The first was a good-looking man probably my age (looked better clean-shaven) and the second a younger, probably rookie detective.   I had no complaints about the way they treated me, they were doing their job.  I’m sure they would have preferred leaping over cars chasing rapists.

I have been slowly crawling back into my life.  The dog, who initially pretended not to recognize me, is back on my lap.  Three months apart, he had to make Jason his master.  He’s a one man dog.  Of course he was confused, poor darling.  We are getting on fine.  We walked to Sarah and Paul’s house on Hume but they moved out.  The house was open and empty…except for the leopard print, wall to wall, carpet.  He ran around the house looking for them.  So did I.

Mel took me to dinner at the Real Inn last night.  I ate fish and chips.  We sat by the fire.  We speculated about the couple sitting near us, whether they were having a first date.  She was wearing heels.  Her Angora sweater was too short revealing her fat hips.

The house is back to normal or as normal as it ever will be with three young men who find clearing up after themselves almost impossible.  Thank you twins and friend for being here.  Filling the house with laughter and youthful enthusiasm.  I delight in being mother hen…washing and making good food for them to eat.

I can’t complain about anything…even though I feel like I am already dead.

Unusual and wholly unexpected events witnessed at the Men’s County Jail included two weddings held in the gay dorm.

The first within days of my arriving at dorm 5300.

Madeleine and Oscar were married before first count one Saturday evening.  A popular couple.  There was a great deal of excitement in the dorm from both the incarcerated and the deputies.

Madeleine, trans, 23 years old, white skinned, full-lipped, long dark hair, sexy voice marrying Oscar, a madly jealous, beefy Mexican boy with a huge bull-dog under bite.

Hedi Slimane…this is the sort of thing you should be photographing.

Madeleine wore a long white dress and veil made for her that week by a gaggle of excited trannies.  It was fashioned from two shredded tee-shirts.  It looked like a Vivienne Westwood gown.  Madeleine held a bouquet of toilet paper flowers as she walked between the bunks toward her nervous groom.  The rings were woven for them, their names inscribed on both. Oscar had re-purposed his pale blue jail uniform to look like a prom outfit from the 1970’s…complete with bow tie.

The ceremony was very moving, the deputies videoed it and then took pictures of the happy couple through the bars of the observation booth.

The House Mouse officiated.

Later, I discovered that Oscar had married 4 other boys whilst he had been in dorm 5300.  On the streets he’d also married two real girls and had several real children none of whom he was allowed to see.  This was Madeleine’s first time.

After they married they fought all the time.  Domestic violence.  “We fight hard and we love hard.”  Madeleine told me.  They sure loved hard…you could hear them all over the dorm huffing and panting.

The second wedding, held a month or so later in dorm 5200, was very different.  A double wedding for 4 black boys, Juan and ‘Baby Boy’, Reggie and Steve.   The service was very moving.  Ex Marine Juan and ‘Baby Boy’ really loved each other.  Reggie and Steve…not so much.

Juan and ‘Baby Boy’ made their vows and cried.  Juan read an extravagant love poem. “Baby Boy’ cried some more.  A huge cheer erupted as they were pronounced husband and husband.

After the short ceremony we ate a huge nacho spread on an abandoned top bunk.  I was the only white guest.

That night bunks are pushed together creating comfortable double beds, illegal ‘tents’ made of old sheets are hung around the bottom bunk for privacy and voila, the happy home is complete.

Reggie and Steve separated after a violent clash.  Bleeding noses, being torn apart by opposing groups of friends, then separated for ever into different dorms.

‘Baby Boy’ was released, leaving poor Juan to mope about the dorm until he found another boy to bunk with.

As I mentioned before, the bond that exists between these jail house gay boys/trannies can lead to unexpected consequences.  Unable to leave their loved ones behind couples reunite by forcing an unnecessary arrest.  Occasionally, however, by the time the released returns…their boy friend, the love of their life, has found someone else.

There sure was a great deal of fucking in the dorm.  The craziest couple, Kenyatta and Andrew, could not keep their hands off each other.  They fucked all day and all night.  She was a fun, feminine black trans accused of hit and run, he was a masculine latino boy with no personality.  She fucked him.  He couldn’t say no.

Coffee in Venice yesterday.  Lunch with lawyer.  Cooked dinner, boiled brisket, Brussels sprouts, snap peas and quinoa.

Ate a cup cake at midnight…bad mistake…up all night vomiting.  Can’t eat rich food yet.

Every dorm in the Men’s County Jail is represented by one elected inmate, that inmate is the dorm’s House Mouse.

Originally called the House Mouth his role is to liaise between the dorm and the police.   He fixes problems, discovers when holds are lifted, dates of release, learns when the police are likely to come into the dorm for unusual reasons and generally makes life easier.

If there is a fight in the dorm it is up to him to get the truth of the fight and make appropriate punishment decisions.

A fight may result in the loss of ‘Programme': TV, vending machine, late night privileges, even access to the commissary or when things really get out of hand…and the police raid the dorm and rip everything up…we end up without blankets or mats sleeping on ‘steel’ which never happened when I was there but we sure came close.

The House Mouse is a tough job, he has to command total respect from both the inmates and the police.  He needs to understand who he can ask for favours and who he needs to leave alone.

The first dorm I lived in was a mess.  The 5300 Mouse was disrespected.  When he called for silence during the time set aside for dorm business nobody took a blind bit of notice.  When silence in the dorm is required he would call ‘Radio!’ I’ve no idea why but that’s what they do in jail.   It means, shut the fuck up.

In the second dorm 5200 our House Mouse Carlton, a young, great looking black man.  An ex gang member, all he needed to do was call ‘Radio!’ once and there was silence in the dorm.

I made friends with Carlton when he learned how good I was at playing Spades.  After a couple of weeks he moved me into the bunk next to him.  Intelligent, wise and stylish he really shouldn’t have been in jail.  If he’d been white he wouldn’t have been.

The language of jail has to be learned quickly.  If, for instance, we were walking outside the dorm and found ourselves approaching a deputy we would be obliged to call out, ‘Walking!’  which alerted the deputy that an inmate was behind him.  Once, I was being escorted to the attorney room and told that I should always be more than five foot from a deputy.

Many of the the younger deputies came to California to pursue other dreams but those dreams had to be set aside because of the recession…here they were marshaling men who simply hated them.   Marshaling the disenfranchised, feeble-minded, surly, mental patients…I mean…there were so many people in the jail with severe mental health issues.  They needed nursing…not policing.

Many inmates were just nuisances rather than criminals.  It’s an expensive way to look after the mental health of the state of California.

Some of the cops, of course, are unapologetic sadists.  Yet, even though I witnessed unsavory behaviour I had sympathy for those men and women.  They are, after all, in jail too.

We were allowed out of dorm 5200 a great deal.  School of course, outside on the roof once a week for three hours, church on Sundays and AA.  The AA meetings were not like any AA meetings I had ever been to in my life.  Imagine 300 trannies from 4 gay dorms catching up on gossip, not giving a damn about the ‘experience, strength and hope’ of who ever was brave enough to come into the jail and share it.

Some of those tranny hookers were really convincing.  Like really high-end chicks with dicks.  Some of them were just really ugly men with make up and long hair and over weight, crafting some sort of cleavage out of their fat pecs.

The tranny hooker market is so huge that most of them put very little effort into looking like real girls.

When Rosemary walked into the dorm the less attractive, more masculine tranny hookers looked very perplexed.

Rosemary was 5 foot tall, well cut hair, perfect tits, hips…a really pretty girl.  Even the deputies looked at her askance.  Obviously intrigued.  She commanded a huge amount of attention.  Good and bad.  She was caught telling another tranny in Spanish what she thought of a particularly fine-looking deputy.  Unfortunately he understood her, pulled her off the line, bawled at her, frisked her and threw her against a wall.

A big man throwing a small, delicate girl against a wall is not a very heartening sight.

The gay dorm in the County jail is unique, I have no idea if beyond California these dorms exist.  I know that they don’t exist in prison.  Which, by the way, was where everyone wanted to be.  Prison rather than jail.  Prison condition are a million times better.  Nobody wanted to do their time in jail.  There are three kinds of prison, the jail (run by the police) the state prison (greater freedoms) and the federal prison which by all accounts is like a country club.

The problem with the Los Angeles County Jail is that is it falling apart, it is over crowded and technically condemned.  There is no money to replace it and no political inclination.  During the boom time the jails were a luxury used to lure voters to vote for those who promised to fill them.  Now the prisons and jails are a huge financial burden and nobody has the guts or political gall to face this crippling problem head on.

The two biggest unions in California are the police officers and the gaolers.  Even if crime numbers fall the police make sure that the jails remains filled.  Consequently, There are a huge number of parole violators and drug offenders inside the jail squandering precious tax dollars.

Even more galling?  Whilst the police arrest and the judiciary hand down custodial sentences the LA schools are falling apart.

There is a correlation between these two facts.

A fearful tax payer would rather pay for more police and prisons rather than educate their kids.

Just look at the draconian Californian three strike law that keeps many, many men inside who really shouldn’t be there.

It is a totally broken system with too many vested interests.

The twins are living here with me in Malibu once again.  They are dancing downstairs.  Their friend Kevin has moved in too.  It’s raining.  I have to see my lawyer today.  Blah, blah, blah.

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