CLANCY McGILLIGAN Rawlins Daily Times | Posted: Monday, February 18, 2008 12:00 am
RAWLINS - The students filed quietly into the room, glancing nervously at three Wyoming State Penitentiary inmates who sat in calm anticipation. Each inmate was serving a life sentence.
"Don't let their demeanor fool you," said Jacklyn Schroeder, recreation specialist at the penitentiary. "There are three people dead because of their crimes."
The students, who had journeyed from Moffat County High School in Craig, Colo., were only halfway through a field trip that included visits to the old and current penitentiaries in Rawlins. But it felt like the climax.
Inmate Martin Gabriel stood up and broke the ice.
"Our mission is to save people from prison," said Gabriel, who has already served 13 years at the penitentiary. His sneakers, like those of the other two inmates, were immaculate, probably because there is little opportunity to dirty them in the prison's spotless halls.
Gabriel began describing his life to the audience. He went into detail about his crime, and what, in his eyes, led to it.
The students of Joy Tegtman's criminology class and Krista Schenck's business law class had already seen a lot, having just finished a walking tour of the penitentiary.
One inmate, shackled hand and foot, also wanted to give advice. "Y'all remember this," he said through the glass, one half of his face covered in tattoos. "You see how I got to be. You don't want to be like me."
Another inmate was less interested in offering counsel. As the students lined up in one of the penitentiary's hallways, he pressed his face up to a rectangle of glass on a door and started shouting.
"That's called window-licking," said A. Gonzales, a correctional officer at the penitentiary.
Maybe it's no surprise that the state penitentiary - insulated from the world outside - has its own slang.
The lives of its residents has its own rhythm - determined by rules that don't apply outside its walls.
Daily schedules are carefully managed. All mail is read. Phone calls are restricted.
"How many of you use your cell phones at least six times a day?" correctional officer K. Yocum said.
Numerous hands shot up among the 11th- and 12th-graders.
"Imagine if you couldn't use a phone for two months," Yocum said.
Privacy is nonexistent at the penitentiary. Cameras are so plentiful that staff can zoom in and see what an inmate is writing, Schroeder said.
For Gabriel, it is the loss of freedom that makes life as an inmate most difficult.
Thomas Rivera, who has served 12 years at the penitentiary, also finds the restrictions suffocating.
"You're not used to being told so much about what you can do," Rivera said. "I can't have my top button buttoned or I'll get in trouble."
But Rivera, like Gabriel, and like Jonathan Roderick, who has served 15 years at the penitentiary, knows he has been imprisoned for a good reason. All three expressed remorse. And all three were well-spoken.
Andie Andrews, a 12th-grader, was surprised.
"I thought it would be more intense," she said afterward. "I thought it was going to be crazy people."
"I liked that they opened up," said Bridget Moncada, a junior. Before entering the prison, Moncada sang a different tune. "I want to see a prison fight," she said.
Others weren't sure what to expect at the beginning of the visit.
Claudia Cruz, a junior, said, "I'm excited to go and just talk to them."
But she was nervous. "I think I'm going to cry," she said.
Andrews, who wants to be a lawyer, was also excited. "You can ask them any question you want!"
"You can ask them, `Who did you murder?"' Moncada added.
Gabriel, Rivera and Roderick answered these questions and more.
Gabriel described his crime as a "crime of passion."
Rivera spoke about how his life almost took a different turn before leading to the gates of the penitentiary.
Roderick explained how, after suffering abuse from family, he took his anger out on a stranger.
All three encouraged troubled individuals to seek counseling. And all three encouraged the audience to intervene as mediators in conflicts.
"Do you know how much of an impact you can have on people's lives?" Rivera said.
He drove the point home by questioning audience members about their own lives.
Tegtman and Schenck had seen this before. The two have been bringing students to the penitentiary in Rawlins for three years.
After so many visits, Schenck doesn't get nervous when she approaches the gates. She notes that many do.
"I like to watch the girls because they're usually all huddled together," Schenck said.
Students in the two teachers' classes study the justice system, and visiting the penitentiary offers something students can't find in textbooks.
"We actually do talk about prison life and this is a wonderful way to show what it's like to be in prison," Tegtman said.
Part of the lesson is a trip to the Old Pen in Rawlins. After questioning Gabriel, Rivera and Roderick, the students shook the hands of the inmates and headed out to the Wyoming State Penitentiary's predecessor.
They got a surprise when they entered the former prison.
"I hope it doesn't get any colder," Andrews said as she shuffled into one of the first rooms on the tour. Her breath turned into a frosty cloud.
The Old Pen isn't heated during winter, but even when it was in operation, it didn't get too warm.
"It was never more than 20 degrees warmer inside than outside," tour guide Kathie Morelos said.
Chilly air wasn't the only thing different about the Old Pen. Instead of methamphetamine use, Morelos talked about hair tonic, which prisoners used in place of whiskey.
Instead of doors that slid open and shut with smooth precision, there was the slam of rusty iron echoing down empty hallways.
And instead of computer labs, there was the punishment pole.
"This one's more depressing," Moncada said.
"This is what you'd see in movies," Andrews said.
"This is what you'd see in China!" said Danielle Cameron, a 12th-grader.
Gricelda Quezada, a senior, elaborated. In the new penitentiary, it looks like inmates are treated well, she said. The Old Pen didn't look so comfortable to her.