Sheriff Chris Hoffman was in office when these suicides occured. Lets remove him.
more grounds are on RECALL ACTION page (of this site) against Sheriff Hoffman.
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In 2005, four (4) inmates of the Ravalli County Detention Center took their own lives. The information we received was that the deputies did not do their rounds. We also were told that law enforcement "induced" these suicides, telling these defendants that they did not have a chance. We give our condolences to the families, and aim to change how justice is adminsitered in Ravalli County and throughout the State of Montana.
WE THE PEOPLE WILL NOT QUIT UNTIL OUR LIBERTIES ARE RESTORED!
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This page has information about the Ravalli County Detention Center from:
1) Bobos World excerpt from Ravalli County, Montana
2) an archived article from the Missoulian Newspaper including pic.
[the second is more detailed, both raise excellent questions; some duplication]
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This information came from Bobosworld online Available at www.heartlandvalues.blogspot.com
HAMILTON, Montana - In less than three months time this spring, three men killed themselves in the Ravalli County Detention Center (2005). [Sheriff Chris Hoffman in office]
A fourth killed himself about a year earlier.
The deaths rocked the Ravalli County Sheriff's Department, the men's friends and families, and the communities where they lived.
When they went to jail, there were the obvious questions about their innocence or guilt. In the wake of their deaths, those questions remain, but their priority has been displaced by tougher questions.
Some are voiced by bereaved family members, but others come from former prisoners, attorneys and experts on jail policy. Some address broad, big-picture issues.
Why didn't the jail have a suicide-prevention policy in place, particularly after several suicides? [its only the select group that matters, everyone else is expendable]
Why did the sheriff say the suicides came out of the blue when two of the men had histories of suicidal thinking? [because pigs can fly if the county attorney, law enforcement say so]
Why, when suicide experts say that direct contact with inmates is the best prevention, do Ravalli County detention officers have so little opportunity for that contact? [THEY WERE PLAYING VIDEO GAMES, SILLY]
Why is the jail so chronically understaffed? Why, in the fastest-growing county in Montana, hasn't the tax base increased enough to hire more detention officers? [Sheriff Chris Hoffman hoards money for ammunition....to be stolen]
Why does Ravalli County's justice system seem much harsher than places like Missoula - higher bails, longer sentences and what some see as overly aggressive prosecution? [because the federal government pretends the Bitterroot Valley does not exist, and the apparent RICO violations, prosecuted for BP oil is out of reach for Max Baucus's friend George Corn, Ravalli County Attorney]
(see our DVD, available at www.Beneaththebeauty.com for evidence of RICO violation; conduct of Sheriff Chris Hoffman and Ravalli County Attorney George H. Corn)
And why have visits to the jail by mental health professionals increased so dramatically in the past year? [to make the apprearance of propriety]
Other questions are highly specific, acute responses to the grief felt by families who lost a loved ones:
Scott Lewis' family wants to know why he was not considered suicidal when his arrest came after a suicide attempt by Lewis, who then tried to get the responding deputy to shoot him in what's known as "suicide by cop."
[the Ravalli County Sheriff department cares only for air of intimidation, and stupid is as stupid does. This is no joke...Ravalli County can be described this way.]
Brad Palin's ex-wife wants to know why Palin's four children were kept from visiting their father in the detention center. Why bail was set at the maximum amount of $100,000 for someone with no past criminal history and who was not considered a flight risk. Why the Ravalli County Attorney's Office considered Palin a risk to himself, but the Ravalli County jail did not.
[the ego of the Ravalli County attorneys have no limit. The injustice cannot be described. The aforementioned pigs can fly. In George Corns case, a pig with lipstick on can do what he wants]
The family of Ryan Heath wants to know how he could kill himself while being locked in a cell with nine other inmates, a cell monitored 24 hours a day by a security camera.
[due to State of Montana 48th in nation for justice, pigs can fly, and no FBI]
Mark Wilson's family wonders if his death was even a suicide.
[we don't wonder]
Former inmates, meantime, call the Ravalli County Detention Center a "hell-hole." The inmates, who asked not to be identified because they fear retribution from county authorities, charge that fights between inmates can go on for 15 minutes before guards intervene.
"Bull-dogging" - the practice of picking on a particular prisoner - is common, they say, and includes prisoners throwing urine on other inmates and threats being yelled throughout the night.
In his suicide note, Ryan Heath, a gay man and the third of the four to kill himself, wrote that "my life in jail has been a living hell. I don't want to be here anymore. I just want to be with my Lord."
Prosecutors stack up charges, [without probable cause, which may end your life and leave you alive to witness it] say the former inmates. Later, they'll offer to drop some of the charges - if defendants agree to plead guilty. Ravalli County judges, they claim, set excessively high bails. [what oath to the MT or US Constitution--like 8th Amendment] and keep people who have not been convicted of anything in jail [known in the United States as Habeas Corpus].
Public defenders, they charge, spend as little as 10 minutes looking over paperwork before arraignments, then urge clients to accept plea agreements. [see MT OPD page on this site]
The whole notion of the justice system in Ravalli County, they say, is to put people who can't afford attorneys behind bars without a trial. No one, they say, should be surprised that some people caught in this system, and in this jail, decide to kill themselves. [nothings changed...nothing will change until all residents stand up and change the system; your congressmen, governor, or federal agencies will not do it for you.]
See our complete collection of bad behavior at the hands of prison and jail guards: Where did they learn that?
posted by Moe Szyslak @ 8:47 AM 3 comments
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Archived Story [more content than above Blogger story]
Four suicides in 15 months at the Ravalli County jail have left angry, grieving families and understaffed law enforcement officials searching for answers
By MICHAEL MOORE and VINCE DEVLIN of the Missoulian
Brad Palin's children and ex-wife, Bridger, Brookelyn, Marian, Tanner and Brad Jr., from left to right, gather around a memorial headstone for Brad in front of their house near Victor in early June. Brad committed suicide in March while he was an inmate in the Ravalli County Detention Center, one of four suicides that occurred in the jail over a 15-month period.
Photo by TOM BAUER/Missoulian
HAMILTON - In less than three months time this spring, three men killed themselves in the Ravalli County Detention Center.
A fourth killed himself about a year earlier.
The deaths rocked the Ravalli County Sheriff's Department, the men's friends and families, and the communities where they lived.
When they went to jail, there were the obvious questions about their innocence or guilt. In the wake of their deaths, those questions remain, but their priority has been displaced by tougher questions.
Some are voiced by bereaved family members, but others come from former prisoners, attorneys and experts on jail policy. Some address broad, big-picture issues.
Why didn't the jail have a suicide-prevention policy in place, particularly after several suicides?
Why did the sheriff say the suicides came out of the blue when two of the men had histories of suicidal thinking?
Why, when suicide experts say that direct contact with inmates is the best prevention, do Ravalli County detention officers have so little opportunity for that contact?
Why is the jail so chronically understaffed? Why, in the fastest-growing county in Montana, hasn't the tax base increased enough to hire more detention officers?
Why does Ravalli County's justice system seem much harsher than places like Missoula - higher bails, longer sentences and what some see as overly aggressive prosecution?
And why have visits to the jail by mental health professionals increased so dramatically in the past year?
Other questions are highly specific, acute responses to the grief felt by families who lost a loved one.
Scott Lewis' family wants to know why he was not considered suicidal when his arrest came after a suicide attempt by Lewis, who then tried to get the responding deputy to shoot him in what's known as "suicide by cop."
Brad Palin's ex-wife wants to know why Palin's four children were kept from visiting their father in the detention center. Why bail was set at the maximum amount of $100,000 for someone with no past criminal history and who was not considered a flight risk. Why the Ravalli County Attorney's Office considered Palin a risk to himself, but the Ravalli County jail did not.
The family of Ryan Heath wants to know how he could kill himself while being locked in a cell with nine other inmates, a cell monitored 24 hours a day by a security camera.
Mark Wilson's family wonders if his death was even a suicide.
Former inmates, meantime, call the Ravalli County Detention Center a "hell-hole." The inmates, who asked not to be identified because they fear retribution from county authorities, charge that fights between inmates can go on for 15 minutes before guards intervene.
"Bull-dogging" - the practice of picking on a particular prisoner - is common, they say, and includes prisoners throwing urine on other inmates and threats being yelled throughout the night.
In his suicide note, Ryan Heath, a gay man and the third of the four to kill himself, wrote that "my life in jail has been a living hell. I don't want to be here anymore. I just want to be with my Lord."
Prosecutors stack up charges, say the former inmates. Later, they'll offer to drop some of the charges - if defendants agree to plead guilty. Ravalli County judges, they claim, set excessively high bails that keep people who have not been convicted of anything in jail.
Public defenders, they charge, spend as little as 10 minutes looking over paperwork before arraignments, then urge clients to accept plea agreements.
The whole notion of the justice system in Ravalli County, they say, is to put people who can't afford attorneys behind bars without a trial. No one, they say, should be surprised that some people caught in this system, and in this jail, decide to kill themselves.
But there's a glaring flip side to this coin: Prior to the recent spate of four suicides, the Ravalli County Detention Center had gone seven years without even one. Same jail, same staff for the most part, same prosecutors for all those years. But not one death.
In 1997, after making a telephone call from the jail in which he tried unsuccessfully to reconcile a broken marriage, Michael Wallace returned to his cell.
He threaded a bed sheet through a hole in an upper bunk, tightly wrapped the sheet around his neck twice and hanged himself. Until Mark Wilson's suicide in early 2004 began the most recent string of suicides, Wallace was the last person to kill himself in the Ravalli County jail.
There is one thing that has changed since Wallace's suicide, and one thing that has not.
What remains the same is the staffing in the detention center. Counting the administrator, there were 19 people to watch inmates in 1997, and there are still 19 today. [oopsie...]
But the inmate population has more than doubled. In the last five years alone, it has gone from numbers that averaged in the 30s to more than 70. Jail experts point to staff-inmate ratios as a critical element of suicide prevention, although it's just one part of a larger equation.
It's an equation that Ravalli County Sheriff Chris Hoffman can't get out of his head. He's grown weary mulling the various factors, but he knows his desk is the end of the line. [but he continues to run for office in 2006 AND 2010...the political end for Sheriff Chris Hoffman....we have to end it in the voting booth...no kidding....tell your friends and neighbors...this is life or death to your family...consider it the real Bitter-Tea party....of the Bitterroot!!]
"There are all sorts of reasons why this has happened, and some of them have to do with the way we've done things in the jail," (Sheriff Chris Hoffman) said recently. "But some of them are larger issues in the communities, and some of them are about the way we communicate with other service providers, like hospitals and courts and such. But when you get down to it, they are in our care and we have to be accountable for their well-being." [how has Sheriff Chris Hoffman been held accountable, in any way for the disaster of the Ravalli County Sheriff Department? ..rehiring partner assault perps, allowing employees of the RCSO to steal ammo?]
Sheriff Chris Hoffman vigorously defends his detention center staff, although he's quick to take responsibility for what's happened in his jail. In a profession with a high turnover rate, he says Ravalli County is fortunate to have nearly 130 years combined experience among its 19 detention officers [in Ravalli County this ammounts to ZERO].
He denies that fights go unchecked for extended periods, and says guards would swiftly move to deal with anyone they saw throwing urine on another prisoner. [NOT]
But he does not deny that the jail is understaffed and will be the first to tell you the decade-old facility is poorly designed. [Denial is the only step]
Four guards keep an eye on 70 or so prisoners on each eight-hour shift, Hoffman says, "although I can tell you at times the number is three." [and any of which may be dead in the morning]
And the reality, the sheriff says, is that as detention officers escort prisoners to and from various court proceedings, the number of guards in the jail itself can shrink to one.
"I would like to have eight on day shift, six on mid and four on graveyard," Hoffman says.
He's not sure how many more people that would require to cover 365 days a year, but says: "There's not a big rush, because chances are it won't happen anyway. I have to make my pitch later this month, but it won't happen. My budget took a hit last year, and it will take one this year."
[our sources tell us Sheriff Chris Hoffman is terrible with personal and professional finances]
The overwhelming bulk of his budget goes to cover payroll and fixed costs in the jail, Sheriff Chris Hoffman says. [Candidate Vanek had no problem with the budget to cover the department, but the media attack proved harder than Sheriff Chris Hoffman's threats (reported to FBI)]
"I never want to panic people and I don't want to raise taxes, but we don't have any more money. And the commissioners don't have any more to give us," he says. [its not about budget and money, its about the question of competence for Sheriff Chris Hoffman of Ravalli County.]
The jail itself is circular, with a control ring in the middle where one detention officer monitors the pictures 28 security cameras deliver, keeps a log of all comings and goings in the jail, responds to prisoners who buzz in on intercoms, controls the opening and closing of all doors in the facility, and answers all calls to the jail.
The control room is ringed by one-way mirrors that allow the guard to look out at three of the jail's five "blocks," although the guard must leave his seat in front of the bank of monitors and control panels to see directly into maximum security.
Both A and B blocks contain three different sections, each of which is two stories tall, three cells up, three cells down, all cells located at the rear of the block. In front of them is a day room containing a television, a couple of tables, a telephone, a shower and a staircase to the upper cells.
A Block can hold 32 prisoners; B Block's capacity is 24. There are three cells with single beds in the Maximum Security Block.
Down a hallway, South Block can hold seven prisoners and is where women are incarcerated unless the female population is higher than seven. Down that same hallway are two padded cells and one isolation cell.
Down another hallway is the medical holding cell, where there's a thin mattress on a concrete slab and prisoners urinate into a drain on the floor.
There is a kitchen, a small laundry, a library and a tiny concrete "yard," almost the only place in the mostly window-less jail where an inmate might see the sun.
Finally, there is West Block. Once the juvenile detention center, it is now where up to 11 prisoners have bunks in the same room. Ryan Heath killed himself in the West Block bathroom.
"I'm not sure who designed it," Sheriff Chris Hoffman says of the jail. "The fact of the matter is, by current standards, it's poorly designed. It's difficult to manage from a centralized location. It has hidden spots. I've had more than one sheriff walk through that jail and say, 'Man, you've got a problem.' "
One thing is clear during a tour of the jail - there are plenty of spaces where inmates can be out of the view of guards, and plenty of time for an inmate to kill himself.
Jailed Americans kill themselves in numbers much higher than the general public. In the 1980s, the U.S. Justice Department found a rate of 107 deaths per 100,000 inmates, a rate about nine times as high as the suicide rate of American communities.
In the 1990s, the rate declined to about half that, but even then, it's 4.5 times higher than the community rate. Not surprisingly, suicide is the leading cause of death in jails.
Nearly 75 percent of inmate suicides are victims detained for nonviolent crimes. Sixty percent of suicides were intoxicated in some way when they arrived in jail.
Two out of three suicides are in isolation when they take their own lives.
Almost all, 94 percent, are hangings.
Those figures are for jails - inmates in American prisons kill themselves in much lower numbers, although the rate is slightly higher than that of the general public. In general, experts point out, prison inmates have come to terms with their circumstances. Their court cases have concluded, and they have some level of certainty about the length of their prison terms.
[In Ravalli County, its the law enforcement that encourage the men to end it all, the prisoner already knows the injustice here, but a law enforcement telling them they don't stand a chance is more than any man (straight, tough, gay, shy, or otherwise) can take. Ravalli County justice system imitates the Stanford Prison Experiment....power will make anyone turn on innocents, even in a mock prison; nonetheless one understaffed, undertrained, and geared to disregard the needs of inmates...because stupid is as stupid does, and Ravallil County officials refuse to see the forrest through the trees. (good sources for law enforcement activity in Detention Center) ]
The situation in jails is much different, and the stress much more acute. Uncertainty is in full blossom. Most inmates have only brief meetings with their attorneys and limited contact with friends and family. Most are coming down from some sort of substance abuse, and some have addictions that make their time in jail more difficult.
Lindsay Hayes, project director of the National Center on Institutions and Alternatives, is one of the nation's leading thinkers on suicides and jails.
He's set out a series of steps that jails can incorporate into their protocols to make their facilities less prone to suicide. At the top of the list is for detention officers to make suicide assessment an ongoing part of their work.
"Because an inmate may become suicidal at any point during confinement, suicide prevention should begin at the point of arrest and continue until the inmate is released from the facility," Hayes wrote in the September 2003 edition of Preventing Suicide.
Hayes stresses that prior suicide attempts are a strong indicator of future attempts, and that officers must remain vigilant about such inmates. Officers can't, however, rely solely on the statements of potentially suicidal inmates to assess their risk.
"Often, despite an inmate's denial of suicidal ideation, their behavior, actions and/or history speak louder than their words," Hayes wrote.
Hayes stresses strong communication between law enforcement, justice and mental-health professionals, and notes that the jails that are most successful in preventing suicides have multidisciplinary approaches to suicide management.
Hayes' work links many suicides to inmates being placed in isolation, sometimes for disciplinary or protective issues, but sometimes because of mental health concerns.
"Isolation should be avoided; whenever possible, house in general population, mental health unit or infirmary, in close proximity to staff," he wrote.
Jails must have a detailed suicide prevention policy that addresses training, screening and assessment, communication and intervention, among other things, Hayes wrote.
One thing jail officials cannot do is make excuses once they've had a suicide. Particularly damaging, he writes, are negative attitudes that enforce the perception that suicides can't be prevented.
Hayes provides a list of rationalizations that, in fact, make it more difficult to stop future suicides. He calls them "obstacles to prevention."
"We did everything we could to prevent this death, but he showed no signs of suicidal behavior."
"We didn't consider him suicidal - he was just being manipulative and it went too far."
"If someone really wants to kill themselves, there's generally nothing you can do about it."
Part of what's happened in Ravalli County is that the criminal justice system has struggled to keep up with the county's staggering growth rate, one of the state's fastest.
When George Corn took over as county attorney 15 years ago, there were two attorneys and two secretaries in the office. Now there are six attorneys and four other staff. And that, Corn said, is barely enough. Just like the increased number of prisoners in the county jail, the prosecutor's caseload has grown almost exponentially. [this is Corns way of getting any budget he wanted for the RCAO, and putting every county official below him.]
"It's been a dramatic change, and one that we are always a little bit behind on," Corn said.
Ravalli County was starting to boom when its jail was built just over 10 years ago, but no one envisioned the sort of growth that would occur through the late 1990s and early 2000s. The jail is meant to hold a maximum of 77 prisoners, but it runs much more fluidly and efficiently with 20 fewer.
In fact, one of the solutions Sheriff Chris Hoffman will consider if he can't get more staff is to cap the jail's daily population somewhere far below the maximum population.
"I don't want to do that, because it means cutting loose people we think ought to be in jail, but we aren't going to risk the lives of our inmates in the future," he said.
The notion of capping inmate populations is something places like Missoula have already been through. It creates a trickle-down effect throughout the system.
Prosecutors begin to look at their bail recommendations when jailing one defendant means letting another, less-serious defendant out. Officers on the street have to reconsider whom to arrest and jail when they know another prisoner might be released to make room for the new one.
"I know there will be a whole lot of people to talk to if we have to make that sort of change," Sheriff Chris Hoffman said. "I'd like to say I'm going to get more staff and we won't have to do this, but I'm not very hopeful."
Some of the families of the men who committed suicide have questioned the circumstances of their loved one's legal plights. Ryan Heath's family still struggles to understand why he remained in jail when he appeared close to getting out. Brad Palin's family questions the bail set after he was arrested for arson, and why a detention center staffer said Brad's children could not visit him.
And Scott Lewis' relatives wonder how a man could wind up, at least temporarily, with a $500,000 bail and two felonies after a suicide attempt.
County Attorney Corn has some answers, though he understands it's difficult for families to hear and accept them.
"When we are looking at bail, public safety is a major concern," Corn said. "What is the potential for this person to go out and commit more crimes? I've had people be out on bail and commit more crimes, and I can tell you it's not a pleasant experience."
[they think about how to keep people in, crime is not as bad as Corn contends...this is a money maker all around...don't kid yourselves. Excessive bail fill pockets of the bailbondsman in the fold, the defense attorney in the fold, and keeps George Corn in control...even of Sheriff Chris Hoffman, his puppet.]
Once, Corn said, a defendant released on bail committed a double homicide.
"We're particularly concerned about people who've injured people or whose actions endangered a lot of people," he said.
Take Brad Palin, for example. While it's true he had no criminal record and had previously led an exemplary life, more recently he'd been an alcoholic who had allegedly taken to setting grass fires.
"One of those fires got pretty big very quickly," Corn said of a fire Palin allegedly set in March. "People have to remember how dry it was then. If we let him out without bail and he sets a fire that kills a firefighter or burns down a house, how will we explain why we didn't think it was important to keep him in jail?"
When Scott Lewis tried to kill himself on Dec. 3, 2004, he'd already violated bail conditions imposed after his October arrest for methamphetamine. The December incident ended only after a sheriff's deputy had pulled his gun as Lewis advanced on him and told the officer to shoot him.
"I viewed Scott Lewis as an extremely volatile, dangerous person," Corn said. "It was pretty clear to me that he presented a danger to the public. He might have been a danger to himself, but he was also a danger to the public." [because he wanted to die]
Lewis' bail had been steadily increased as he failed to meet the conditions of release - he kept using drugs - and that bail was increased to $500,000 after the December incident. In a January hearing, it was lowered to $301,000, a figure Corn said he was "very comfortable" with.
"I think when you balanced out the danger he posed to others, a high bail was appropriate," Corn said. [Drug use is harm to self not community---repetitive violations could mean targeted by system]
Another concern that's arisen during the suicide discussion is the role that substance abuse played in the life of the victims. Lewis and Mark Wilson were methamphetamine users, while Palin had a serious drinking problem. [maybe because they were depressed?]
The families have questioned what role those problems might have played in the deaths, as the men dealt with withdrawal from their drugs of choice. Corn said that prosecutors and detention officers aren't in the position legally to put inmates whose cases haven't been tried into drug treatment programs.
"If we see someone with mental-health problems, then we have the authority to make recommendations about a commitment for that person," Corn said. "But for someone with substance abuse problems, we don't have the authority to put those people into treatment. We can suggest to their attorneys that they get into treatment as the case progresses, but we can't make them do it. It's not that we're unconcerned, but that's not our role."
[what do we do about the justice system problem..like judges that ask what Corn wants?]
In fiscal year 2002, the Ravalli County Detention Center requested mental health examinations for inmates 14 times.
To date, in fiscal year 2005, mental health professionals from Riverfront Counseling and Support Center have been summoned to the jail 76 times.
"It's gone up considerably since the rash of suicides," says Kim Miller, office director at Riverfront. "Really, since the first suicide, the jail has been pretty vigilant about contacting us and having us evaluate inmates."
"Yes, we are hyper-aware," Hoffman says. "If someone sneezes, we're calling mental health, and the proof is in what we've spent to date." Just over $15,000 on mental health evaluations this fiscal year, it turns out, compared to $3,000 in 2002.
There is no specific amount allocated for mental-health examinations in his budget, Sheriff Chris Hoffman says.
"There never was a figure," Sheriff Chris Hoffman says. "We spend what we need to spend. Those considerations - I mean, whether an inmate needs a mental-health examination - weren't based on what the budget said." [if you said throughput to Sheriff Chris Hoffman, he'd say huh?]
While the detention center is "hyper-sensitive" to the suicide question, Sheriff Chris Hoffman says that's the not primary reason for the big bump in mental-health evaluations in the jail.
As the county's population grows, so does the jail population. As more people wind up in jail, a wider variety of stresses are evident. [blame problems on trends, and look important]
"We have problems," Sheriff Chris Hoffman says [ya think?]. "The economy is terrible. It's hard to find work. A lot of people are here on charges related to drugs and alcohol."
Despite the increase in mental-health examinations since Mark Wilson's suicide in 2004, two of the three suicide victims since were not seen by Riverfront personnel.
Only Scott Lewis, who was brought in after attempting suicide, received a mental-health examination. Lewis committed suicide in the jail almost six months later.
The jail did not request examinations for either Brad Palin or Ryan Heath.
Palin killed himself five days after being incarcerated. Heath committed suicide five weeks after his arrest.
Hoffman says mental health professionals may be called to the detention center if a prisoner floats a kite alerting the staff to unusual or suicidal behavior in one of their cellmates, if guards notice similar behavior or if arresting officers see or hear something that leads them to believe a mental health exam is in order.
Riverfront does not prescreen prisoners, and only sees those inmates they are requested to examine.
According to Fred Huskey, a mental-health professional at Riverfront, if an inmate is determined to be suicidal, Huskey's job is to recommend to the county attorney's office and the detention center that the prisoner be diverted away from the jail and into a facility where they can get help.
Sometimes, that's the Montana State Hospital in Warm Springs, sometimes it's Marcus Daly Memorial Hospital in Hamilton. [MDMH isolates, strips, and does not treat mental patients in their speicial isolation room 301--later to be a lawsuit between MDMH and Hoffman's RCSO].
"We have to petition the court if they're in there for a felony or a high misdemeanor," Huskey says. "We try to contain them while that process is going on. If we can get them contained to Marcus Daly Hospital, that's one thing to do. The law mandates that they be moved out of a jail situation and into a facility to deal with psychiatric needs. If it can't happen right then and there, we do tell the guards to be cautious and careful, and they'll likely put them in an observation room where they can observe them closely."
Sheriff Chris Hoffman verges on tears [because this is beyond his ability]. He is trying to explain what the suicides have meant to the department's officers and staff. He knows those tears pale in comparison to those shed by the families of the victims. But that does not make them inconsequential. [or of any consequence for him to be capapble to be Sheriff]
"I think it's been devastating," the sheriff said. "It's affected every level of this office, not just the jail. I think it's had an effect on everybody � The personal aspect of what the detention officers have gone through is almost indescribable. They are grieving." [the truth hurts]
Jason Zimmerman, a detention officer, was working the day Mark Wilson died. He struggles to find the right word for his feelings, stumbling with the word "guilt" and finally settling on "responsibility." [Zimmerman has got it....and Sheriff Chris Hoffman doesn't]
"I think you feel a responsibility for them because that's what your job is," he said during a recent tour of the facility. "This happened on our shift when he was in our care � We don't look at these guys as some sort of dirtbags. [yes they do..enter SPE] They're human beings."
At a press conference shortly after the deaths, Sheriff Chris Hoffman said the men who killed themselves weren't just prisoners, they were neighbors. He caught some criticism for that remark, but he feels strongly about it. In a valley that still has a small, hometown feel to it despite the recent growth, there's a literal truth to the sheriff's remark. [Sheriff Hoffman killed his neighbors, and ran for office twice after...and allowed his 2010 opponent to shoot his nieghbor.]
"So I'm going to say it again - these guys are our neighbors and their deaths hurt us," he said.
Zimmerman put it this way: "Their kids go to the same schools our kids go to. They're in the same classes. We all need to get along in here." [or not die]
The jail has had relatively little turnover over the years; the average detention officer has been with the department for seven or more years, the sheriff said. But now officers are talking about quitting. The pressure has gotten extreme. [its called conscience--and reality]
"I think in some regards, we are walking on razor blades with our people," Hoffman said. "I've had detention officers come up to me and tell me they're not sure they can continue. These are the people who've gone into the cells and found the victims."
Hoffman isn't surprised by the response. He knows his officers are too few, and that they work in a facility that isn't designed particularly well for suicide detection.
"Why wouldn't someone who's working back there be thinking about quitting?" he said.
Sheriff Chris Hoffman, in fact, has already given some thought to whether he will run again for sheriff in a couple of years. The suicides have aged him in a way he never could have imagined.
"It occurred to me not to run again because of this, but I think I owe it to the staff and our officers to see this through all the way," Hoffman said. "I'm more committed than ever to making sure we put the best possible system in place for the jail." [He cannot accomplish this]
That work is under way, and has been since Mark Wilson's death. An assessment is coming soon from the National Institute of Corrections, which examined the jail and its procedures several weeks ago. And the jail is close to having a policy manual in place, Sheriff Hoffman said. [wow, need we say more?]
"We will look very closely at the recommendations from the institute, and we will incorporate them into our procedures here as best we can," Sheriff Chris Hoffman said. "Frankly, we are looking at everything and anything we can do to make this facility work as well as humanly possible." [too bad 4 inmates are not human anymore due to conditions]
Sheriff Chris Hoffman asked the National Institute to come into the jail, and he anticipates at some point a call from the American Civil Liberties Union, whose Montana director, Scott Crichton, told the Missoulian that his group is studying the situation.
He also knows that suicide-related lawsuits are a virtual certainty. Several of the families have already approached attorneys about possible suits, and Hoffman said he's heard that renowned Wyoming attorney Gerry Spence might be engaged. [One got a cash settlement with a gag order, and the others were left out to dry, our sources say]
"I don't really know where all that will go, but I've heard people talking about class-action suits, too," Sheriff Chris Hoffman said. "I do anticipate that we'll be sued, but we'll just have to wait and see what form that takes." [the New York Times came out..wrote an article]
The lawsuits will likely be lengthy affairs that play out long after the acute, piercing pain of the suicides begins to fade, for both the families and the sheriff's department. But even after the suits are resolved, the heartbreak of the men's deaths will remain.
[or that the victims will not get justice in death or in life]
"I know these families have had something happen to them that they never will forget," Sheriff Chris Hoffman said. "I want them to know that we won't forget, either. We have to remember them every day, because that's part of the way we'll know we're doing all we can to make sure nobody else has to go through this in the future." (or we can vote Sheriff Chris Hoffman out of office Nov. 2010)
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click on www.Bitterroot-rising.org for our local watchdog site
Hoffman is featured in the SPREADBURY v. HOFFMAN page here;
Hoffman is featured in LAW ENFORCEMENT WATCH page here.