First, the physical setting. My world was a wide corridor, about 100 feet long, with 10 or 12 cells with barred doors on each side — much better than the solid metal doors in newer prisons. The cells were six feet by 10 or 12 feet.
Each cell contained bunk beds, a desk, a shelf fastened to the wall and a toilet and sink assembly right by the door, all made of metal. There was a barred window opposite the door that looked out on a gravelled open area. There was no privacy; anyone looking in the door could see everything.
At one end of the corridor was the common room — a large room with lots of windows on two sides, bolted-down tables and chairs, a large TV in one corner, and an area for serving food on one side. There were two fridges for prisoners to keep leftover food, and a bookshelf with 100 or so seemingly random, and old, books that were changed every two or three months.
Across from the common room were toilets, showers and washing machines. These could be used whenever we were not locked in our cells. There were also two telephones (see earlier column for more about telephones) in the hallway near the common room, where anyone could overhear your calls.
The whole place was old and dilapidated, with dull paint in multiple colours, old and mismatched asphalt floor tiles, exposed pipes and poor lighting. I felt, rightly, that I was in a place that nobody cared much about.
Morning
With no coverings on the door or window, I was often awakened by the light by 6 a.m. or earlier. That is if I could sleep properly at all because the mattresses were so thin I could feel the metal of the bed pressing against me.
We were allowed out of our cells about seven hours a day in total. Each morning, cells were unlocked around 7 a.m. for breakfast in the common room. Food in prison merits its own column, so I’ll just say that breakfast was from food distributed to us the day before.
The mornings were, for me, one of the best times of the day as the common room was often filled with sunlight and the atmosphere was calmer. I could sit quietly for an hour with my (tasteless) coffee and read, write or talk with others. Quite a few prisoners on my range never got up for breakfast; they took sedatives and slept away the morning. The TV in the common room was always on, usually on a news station that covered crime and police.
Sometime early in the morning, prisoners who were going to leave the range were given pink message slips telling them when and where they were to go. This could be for testing of various kinds, appointments with chaplains or doctors, religious services or the like. Being able to leave the range was something everyone looked forward to, for almost any reason, but did not happen often.
We were locked up again from around 9 a.m. until 11. Two hours to read or write or sleep. Then back to the common room for about an hour for lunch. This was served hot from food brought to the range on large carts.
Afternoon and evening
The lunch period lasted only just over an hour, and since it often took a while to distribute the food, we were often sent back before we had finished eating, having to take our food with us. (Each prisoner had their own plastic plate, bowl, cup and cutlery.)
I found the three-hour afternoon lock-up a hard time, often thinking about where I was and my immediate future. There were no radios on the range and, of course, no Internet connection of any kind. But if you had the money, you could buy a small TV set that met Correctional Service Canada (CSC) specifications; about half the cells had a TV, and often you could hear them down the hallway.
From 3 to about 4:15, we were released again and fed dinner, similar to lunch. Eating dinner at 3:30 p.m. is something you never get used to. There was almost never enough time to eat properly, and then we were locked in our cells again. All of us were unlocked from about 6 to 7:15. This was also when you could go outside into the yard area. Then, half the range was locked up and the other half out from 7:15 to about 8:30, and then the groups reversed from 8:30 to 9:45. The prisoners doing early and late “out” were reversed each day. Ten p.m. was lights out for the night, though cells had a light switch that you could keep on until about 11.
These evening hours were the main social time on the range. The large TV was always on, usually on sports or reality TV. Duck Dynasty was a big favourite, as were programs about prisons. Some prisoners played cards all the time, sometimes involving gambling with things like bags of chips from the canteen.
The hallway was also used as a social space with prisoners pacing up and down for exercise. I was lucky in that there was a prisoner who led yoga exercises for some of us. The many prisoners who were into lifting weights and working out often did so in the hallway using the overhead pipes. “Weights” were made out of plastic bags of water wrapped in towels, though occasionally the guards would come through the range and take all of that away.
Its own world
For the most part, the guards did not come on the range when prisoners were unlocked. When a guard came on the range, prisoners were required to leave the hall and enter the nearest cell, whether theirs or not. Daily life on the range was run by the prisoners — very difficult if you had the wrong people in charge.
The days were mostly routine and monotonous but with the occasional burst of excitement such as searches, fights, or prisoners being pepper-sprayed. I’ll talk about those in another column.
I had only a few months of this life, but for many prisoners, this is their life year after year.
David Dorson is the pen name of someone who went through arrest, case disposition, imprisonment and parole in Ontario a few years ago. Law360 Canada has granted him anonymity because he offers a unique perspective on a subject that matters deeply to many readers, and revealing the author’s identity would make re-establishment in the community after serving his sentence much more difficult than it already is.
The opinions expressed are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the author’s firm, its clients, Law360 Canada, LexisNexis Canada or any of its or their respective affiliates. This article is for general information purposes and is not intended to be and should not be taken as legal advice.
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