Excerpt from my book, I Wept by the Rivers of Babylon:
This commences as Tollie approaches the prison authority to report my assault:
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"What are you trying to tell me?" Lt. Bennet's voice filled the room.
His office stood pristine with surfaces shining and perfect like the polished mirrored glaze on the lieutenant's shoes.
His motto was: Get to the point or get the hell out! Impatient and insistent; he listened anyway.
Inmate Tollie Padgett's folder lay open on the desk before him.
Padgett was another JW, one of the inmate leaders of the 40 incarcerated non-combatants and a bit older than the rest, a college graduate.
Padgett had written a "cop-out" form requesting a personal hearing.
Inmate request forms served as the permanent record of inquiry and communication between inmates and staff.
Prison is bureaucracy, especially a federal prison.
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Bennet appraised requests, all of them. He was the final arbiter, the court of final inquiry and the warden's prime minister.
Padgett was bid to sit down in a chair the color of despair.
"One of the Brothers was attacked by another inmate. . ."
"Which inmates are we talking about here?"
(It is never safe to snitch names; there is an unwritten code of zero tolerance.)
Officers asked anyway to see how each man negotiated, persuaded, lied or begged. This was an x-ray for character and honesty.
"Inmate Terry Walstrom, Y-11857, was the victim and I don't know the name of his attacker. I can tell you which building and what room the perpetrator is in, though."
Bennett leaned forward instinctively as though a thought had crossed his mind.
"Exactly what went down and why isn't your ‘Brother’ in here telling me himself if he is an injured party?"
Padgett pursed his lips and glanced thoughtfully to the side.
"He's—I guess, not talking—at least, not in any detail. He doesn't exactly know what to do. The perpetrator pretended to be interested in hearing about what we Jehovah's Witnesses believe. He used that to lure Brother Walstrom into one of those storage warehouses behind Mess Hall. He grabbed him from behind and threatened him."
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"Threatened what?"
This sort of incident was more uncommon than people on the outside would ever believe.
Inmates could find anything they want inside the fence. It isn't necessary to use force. Something was awry. Prisoners quickly learned how to barter and negotiate. The price, if right, brought everything but freedom.
"My guess—this other inmate wanted to force sex on Brother Walstrom. This happened yesterday around this time."
Bennett grinned sardonically and shifted back in his chair. He turned toward the window and looked out across the compound. It was noon, or, a little past.
Inmates were scurrying around like toy soldiers on patrol. Bennett put his arms behind his head and clasped his hands for thoughtful support.
"You guess? You either know something or you don't. Why are you wasting my time?"
Padgett could sense he was about to be tossed out. This was the time to get right to the point.
"I know this Brother; I know his temperament and character.”
“Something terrible happened. He isn't talking because he doesn't know how to deal with what happened. He is very likely ashamed and filled with rage. I would be!”
Bennett listened dispassionately. JW's were boys among men.
What did they expect?
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"Well, now, when he is ready to tell me what did or didn't occur, I'll be all ears."
Bennett threw a meaningful glance Padgett's way. It was a dismissal.
Rising anger took hold as Padgett walked toward the office exit. He pivoted and faced Bennett.
"Sir, if the Brothers are being molested it is your responsibility to investigate!”
Bennett flinched imperceptibly. His face suffused with blood.
Then, he gained icy control and made not a move or a sound. That was his own tactic and he wouldn't rise to bait.
"Really? You boys aren't Bennett’s Witnesses are you? What the hell does Jehovah do all day?"
Padgett stared briefly, then exited. He and the other guys would take care of it.
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