Suicides, Sex, and Shivs

or

That's Not a Serious Shiv Doc

"If you want to test a man's character, give him power"

~ Abraham Lincoln

*

Shivs...

This story is about the first time I was forced to handle a deadly situation with a prisoner who had a shiv.

What exactly is a shiv? According to Webster, a shiv is defined as a knife or razor used as a weapon. 

Let me expand further. A weapon called a shiv, a chiv, a shivvie, or a shank is a handcrafted bladed weapon resembling a knife commonly associated with prison inmates.

Since weapons are obviously prohibited inside prisons, concealment is critical. You want a shiv that is thin. Something that can be carried in your clothes, easier to conceal in available cracks or crevices inside the prison. Of course, this can render the shiv challenging to grip and wield.

My first 'brush' with a shiv (pun intended) was a simple toothbrush handle filed into a sharp point. After my initial experience with a shiv, I have seen dozens of others. Some were creative and made from a broken mirror, a glass shard, a piece of sharpened metal, a toothbrush with a razor blade or nail stuck to one end, etc.

*****

This incident occurred at a privately run prison. 

The State of Ohio began experimenting with outsourcing the management of its prisons to see if it could lower the soaring costs of incarceration. The number one cost of running most businesses is your payroll. Paying unionized correction officers (C.O.s) was expensive. The new private prisons could hire non-union prison guards at a severe pay cut. The result is significant dollar savings shared by the State and the private management companies.

It sounds great, in principle. However, the downside was that the staff needed more motivation and training, had higher turnover rates, and—ad nauseam. Needless to say, it also resulted in a much more dangerous workplace.

For the purposes of this story, we will call this prison Nerd Central Corrections or NCC. Any person (man or woman) willing to accept half-pay to put their lives on the line was hired on the spot. Hence the nickname.

*****

On this particular day...

A big fight escalated out of control in the Yard. It boiled over into the Education Building. I don't care what these fools do to each other in the Yard. I don't care if the nerdy C.O.s can contain the problem or lose control of it.

However, inside my classroom, it isn't acceptable. 

This entire thing started as a personal vendetta between two cons fighting over the same 'woman' (prison term-not mine) or bitch. Unfortunately, these two were from opposing gangs. The gangs decided to join this private argument. The C.O.s of those two dorms lost control of their charges, and it was on.

Once the fighting busted into my classroom, I grabbed a school desk and started shoving the crowd out. Two of my burlier students joined me, and we managed to retake our building. Under the penalty of being terminated or serving jail time, I am forbidden from "placing my hands" on any inmate. Thank God the rule doesn't say anything about hitting inmates with fists, boots, or metal school desks.

I planned to padlock myself and my students into our little building until everything blew over or the C.O.s finally took control of the situation. This involved me stepping outside, running some heavy chains back through the door handleholes, and padlocking them from the inside.

As I stepped outside to accomplish the chain pass, I was approached by a gentleman in blue denim who extended his hand toward me. No, he wasn't trying to introduce himself. No, he wasn't asking me to admire the shiv in his extended hand. 

He was trying to hurt me. Possibly kill me.

*****

I had several options...

Option One, I throw the heavy chains and locks at the felon, and while he untangles himself, I run back inside to safety (the safest and best option). 

Option Two: Approach the felon from the side, and disarm the clumsy, off-balanced thug (minimal risk, second best option). 

Option Three: take the felon straight on (highest risk, worst possible option).

I have been repeatedly told that I am an intelligent, educated man. Therefore, I selected Option Three. Several students rushed to my side in time to hear the loud crack as the attacker's wrist was broken. 

This was not my finest moment.

Under questioning from the young C.O. Nerd lieutenant, forty-two felons swore that I never left the safety of our classroom. I remained huddled behind my desk as they battled off the attackers.

Losing my temper like that- dumb! Will my students fear me now?

*****

Next scheduled class... 

Student Mister Smith (the informal class leader), "You know Doctor D, that was not a serious shiv, just a toothbrush poker!"

Sigh...

END