Watching Over Inmates on Suicide Watch in Prison

For almost fourteen years, I have been what they call a “Companion” at the Idaho State Correctional Institute just south of Boise. That is, I sit watch over inmates who feel suicidal.

There are a number of reasons I became a Companion. The main reason is because I can relate to how people can feel the way they do. Growing up gay in an extremely conservative family did not give me a very healthy self image. I also had been overweight since I was ten. Add to that a stepfather who was physically and verbally abusive, saying things like, “I’m going to beat the pansy out of you.” My first thoughts of suicide began when I was twelve years old.

I had run away from home, taking a backpack full of makeshift survival gear. I soon realized I had no idea where I was going or how I was going to support myself. In my backpack was a roll of clothesline. I got as far as looping it over a tree branch, when a man around thirty called out and asked me what I was doing. I didn’t, at the time, know how he just happened to be there. I later learned that I was on his property. The stranger obviously knew what I intended, and saw that I was crying.

When he said, “It can’t be all that bad,” I started crying even harder. Wordlessly, this stranger took me in his arms and let me cry myself out while he held me. Then, we sat down on a log and talked for over an hour. Well, I did most of the talking. He mostly just listened. There was no judgment, no condemnation. Just a sympathetic ear. This was in the days before “stranger danger” was an issue, and I didn’t even think that the man might have ulterior motives. It was getting late in the day, and he offered to take me home. But, I wasn’t ready to go home yet. So, he invited me to his nearby log cabin.

Over a delicious meal of fried chicken, the man (“Justin”) told me that he, too, was gay – and had been disowned by his family when he was sixteen. Although I’d known about my sexuality from an early age, I’d never had any sort of relationship. Justin was the first male other than my grandfather to show me any sort of affection. I let the man know that I wouldn’t mind being his “boyfriend.”

I started to cry again, when he told me that it couldn’t happen. Then, gently, he told me that not only would such a relationship be against the law, I was just grasping for attention, any way I could get it. He went on to tell me what a slippery slope that could be, and that if I would just let things happen, I’d eventually find someone I could be truly compatible with. Then, he made me a comfortable bed on his couch.

The next morning, after eating a healthy breakfast he’d fixed, I thanked him and told him I would walk home. I knew if my parents saw him driving me home like he’d offered, they would give him the third degree – and assume the worst. Just before I walked out the door, Justin gave me another hug and kissed me on the forehead. Then, making me feel a bit better about myself, he said, “If you were older, I’d be your boyfriend in a heartbeat. I just know you’ll find the right boy to be with.”

To my regret, I never tried to look up Justin later on in my life, if just to thank him for saving my life.

The other primary reason I became a Companion is because of the friends I’ve lost over the years. Every one of them had gone through similar events in their lives. Most had abusive parents. The majority had been gay or transgender. Although society has become a bit more enlightened, in most of America (especially the prisons), being “outside the norm” brings out the predators who like to bully and harass those who are different.

When I started out as a suicide watch Companion, the job was strictly voluntary. Even today, there is just a small stipend. They give me $22 a month and pots of coffee. And, much of the time, it’s a thankless job. A lot of inmates go on Suicide Watch as a way to manipulate staff, or just to get attention. Having someone’s undivided attention 24 hours a day can be a boon to some people.

But just one incident of someone wanting my attention got my attention in a big way. A young man (“Chancy”) had come back to prison after being on parole, facing a very long prison term. He had done something against the rules and was taken to segregation (the “hole”). The guards left Chancy in a phone booth-sized cage with instructions to change out of his clothing into a segregation-orange jumpsuit. Chancy had gotten out of being put in the hole more than once by staging a suicide: making a noose out of his pant legs and putting his neck into it. The guards would come back after a couple of minutes, and call a clinician to talk with Chancy. This time, his plan went wrong. The guard did not return for 43 minutes. By that time, the boy was dead.

Another time, a transgender inmate was told she was going to be taken to the Maximum Security prison. She was scared to be with the inmates there, and told staff she’d kill herself if she was taken there. Staff just chalked it up to another case of manipulation, and ignored her. The next day, she, too, killed herself.

So, even if it is for manipulation or attention, I take every Watch seriously. There are also Watches where the person isn’t suicidal, but the inmate said or did something to make the staff suspicious. Often, I’m able to explain to the inmate why they were put there, and they realize how their words or actions could have been misinterpreted. Sometimes, a young gay or trans inmate goes on Watch just because they are scared of coming to prison. I let them know that, while things are not always a bed of roses, it’s not like you see on TV. I let them know I am there for them, and will talk to them more when they are off Watch.

Over the years, I can’t begin to count how many times inmates have later thanked me for listening to them. A few have even become friends.

All because a stranger was willing to listen to me.