Inmates, California officials warn prisons crowded

By Adam Tanner Thu Feb 15, 2007

IONE, California (Reuters) - Convicted murderer Greg Rollo knows the
brutality of life behind bars after 31 years in a prison. But he says
life has grown much worse since he was moved to a triple-bunk bed in
an open gym with 199 others.

California inmates, officials and courts are all sounding warnings
that prison overcrowding poses a growing danger and is undermining
California's stated objective of rehabilitating inmates after they
have served their time.

"The majority of these guys are getting out; they are going to be in
your neighborhood," said Rollo, 54, who admits to committing "a
terrible crime" but believes overcrowding will only make inmates more
hostile. "Do you want less crime or do you want retribution against
criminals?"

Jake Serna, 48, another inmate, interjected, "Isn't it a crime for
them to house us like a bunch of animals?"

As the most populous U.S. state, California has a particularly
pressing problem and its response is being closely watched.

A report by Pew Charitable Trusts on Wednesday estimated the United
States faces costs of up to $27.5 billion to handle its growing
prison population over the next five years.

At California's Mule Creek State Prison, where Rollo is incarcerated,
an inmate is raped every few months and many others are assaulted,
according to both guards and prisoners.

Prisoners often bemoan their fate. What is unusual in California is
that complaints about overcrowding are coming from both sides of the
prison bars.

"We have 172,000 prisoners in facilities designed to hold about 100,000," Gov.
Arnold Schwarzenegger said last month.

"Our prison system is a powder keg. It poses a danger to the
prisoners, a danger to officers, and a danger to the well-being of
the public if ... we are forced to release prisoners because of
overcrowding."

Residents of Ione say that excess waste water going into the prison
treatment system has even polluted local wells.

PANTS FOR A FAT MAN?

Mule Creek prison, about 110 miles northeast of San Francisco, has 15
housing units surrounded by an octagonal electrified fence and a
capacity of 3,000 prisoners. It holds 3,942 inmates.

"This is not conducive to good mental health and rehabilitation,"
said Glenn Hanes, 35, one of the inmates housed on a triple bunk bed.

"A system that has over a 70 percent recidivism rate is a failure,"
said Hanes, an intense, well-spoken man who is serving a
15-year-to-life sentence for second-degree murder. "Building new
prisons is like getting a fat man new pants."

Republican Schwarzenegger wants to add tens of thousands of prison
beds and ship some inmates out of California. And state officials are
studying ways to reduce the prison population after years of tough
sentencing, including a "three strikes" policy for repeat offenders.

"I'm in prison for the rest of my life for the possession of 11 grams
of marijuana," said Dennis Howie, 53, a heavily tattooed prisoner
with three prior robbery convictions.

At Mule Creek, 800 men sleep on the triple bunks in public areas and
share toilets. Some consider themselves lucky to be locked in narrow
cells with just another inmate and toilet.

Daniel Carpenter, 48, convicted of molesting a minor, complained he
has been assaulted even in his double cell. In the brutal pecking
order of prison life, child molesters are seen as the lowest of the
low.

"If not for the overcrowding, I'd be in a single cell," he said
during a visit to the prison library. "This is cruel and inhuman."

California already spends an average of $90 per day to house inmates,
so more money for prisons is controversial. Many voters are skeptical
about improving the lot of criminals.

Among the prisoners at Mule Creek is Charles "Tex" Watson, Charles
Manson's top lieutenant, serving a life sentence for murder. He sat
quietly in the yard.

Another is Lyle Menendez, who with his brother, killed his wealthy
Beverly Hills parents.

"We know you guys out there see us as monsters," said convicted
murderer Lance Wright, 43. "I know its difficult for society to open
their arms."

Warden Rich Subia argues that overcrowding keeps him from providing
better rehabilitation training, which he believes will ultimately
benefit society far beyond the prison walls.

"I'm not providing them with effective programs," he said. "Do you
want them back more productive or do you want them worse than when
you sent them to me?"