Federal Prison Camp Visiting: My First Family Visit at Taft After Six Weeks

Federal prison camp visiting at Taft: my mother and stepfather check in with identification, sit in the visiting room, and I am strip searched afterward.

Note: The chapter below is reproduced exactly as I wrote it inside Taft Prison Camp in 2008. The summaries, FAQs, and modern context appear after the chapter for clarity.

Federal Prison Camp Visiting at Taft: What Happened on My First Visit

Federal prison camp visiting at Taft started with a visitation list and an ID check at an officer’s desk, and it ended with a strip search. Each morning I ran or rode the stationary bicycle for 90 minutes, did 30 minutes of abdominal work, and returned in the afternoon for at least one hour of strength training. I asked my family and friends not to visit until I had served six solid weeks, and by then I had lost more than 25 pounds.

My mother and stepfather, Ken, drove north from Los Angeles and spent a Friday with me. Michael and Carole were visiting that day, so I introduced my mother and Ken to Michael. Afterward, officers searched every prisoner who had been visiting, and each of us had to strip naked for inspection.

Michael told me that at camps the wardens decide whether officers search after visits, and that at Taft everyone gets naked. He described visiting in FCIs and USPs: strip searches on the way in and out, several guards in the room, cameras, assigned seats, and a drug detecting wand that got visitors removed from the list.

Visiting

During those first several months of my sentence, I kept up with my friend Arthur’s formidable exercise regimen. His discipline and total commitment to fitness really inspired me.

Each morning we ran or rode the stationary bicycle for 90 minutes. We followed the cardio routine with 30 minutes of abdominal work. In the afternoon we returned for at least one hour of strength training. Taft Camp did not have weight training equipment, though pull-ups, dips, pushups, and work with exercise balls sufficiently transformed my physique.

With between three and four hours of exercise, seven days a week, I felt as if I were really making progress. I shed more than 25 pounds relatively quickly while simultaneously picking up speed, endurance, and strength. During my first weeks in the camp, I played in a tennis tournament, but other than that week-end event, I did not engage in any organized sports. I was all about the tangible results of personal training.

As a man in prison, I think I needed those clearly-defined goals. Many of the men with whom I served time in the camp found exercise therapeutic. While pursuing our professional careers, we had neglected our health. In time, our bodies and fitness levels deteriorated. Rather than investing the necessary energy to stay in shape, we procrastinated or accepted our growing waist sizes as an inevitable by-product of aging.

In prison, people sought to correct years of neglect through rigorous exercise regimens. I knew several men who lost in excess of 100 pounds by regularly walking and dieting. The separation from society, and clearly defined release dates, motivated many to work toward better health.

Thriving through confinement had the same meaning as thriving through life. When we as individuals understood our lives, understood where we wanted to go, we could set plans in motion to assure success as we defined it. We simply had to know our environment, as well as our strengths and weaknesses.

Determined to realize some individual gains first, I asked my family and friends not to visit until I had served six solid weeks. I was writing home frequently, easing their concerns by assuring them that I was adjusting well. My friend, Walt, the speaker on ethics, who had served time before, had written a few timely letters that buoyed my spirits at critical moments. I appreciated those assurances that the months would pass.

My mother and stepfather, Ken, drove north from Los Angeles to spend a Friday with me for our first visit. Visiting in the camp was like visiting in an airport waiting area, or small cafeteria. My mother and Ken checked in by presenting their identification at an officer’s desk. The officer in charge would verify that visitors had been approved by checking names against the inmate’s visitation list and then admit the guests into the visiting room.

Understandably, my mother was quite emotional about the trauma of visiting her youngest son in prison. She had never suffered what she considered the public humiliation of visiting in such a controlled atmosphere. Once she sat at the table, however, I think she was able to see that the camp was not an oppressive environment. Vending machines were available for snacks. Children were playing and affectionate with their fathers. Husbands and wives were bonding by holding hands. The visiting room was a place of ease.

After the officers had processed my mother and Ken, he called for me through an institutional intercom page. I felt enthusiastic, as if I were a child who had performed well in school and couldn’t wait to show off his report card. My weight had dropped to college levels. I had quit smoking. I had made progress that those who loved me would notice.

We enjoyed a wonderful few hours together as I assured my family that I was well. Michael and Carole were visiting that day, so I was able to introduce my mother and Ken to a friend I had made inside. The visit eased my family’s concern, as they were able to see that prison camp differed in remarkable ways from the stereotypical prison images portrayed through popular media.

Following our visit, however, officers gave me a stark, no nonsense reminder that I remained a prisoner. As our guests checked out of the visiting room, the other prisoners and I who had been visiting needed to wait for an officer to search us before we could return to the camp. The search required each inmate to strip naked for an inspection that would confirm we were not smuggling any contraband.

“What’s all this about?” I asked Michael as we waited our turn for the search. Six weeks had passed since officers first admitted me to Taft Camp. For the most part, I had grown accustomed to the environment. I didn’t appreciate the reminder of my imprisonment.

“Don’t let the little things bother you. Strip searches are one of the inconveniences of prison. Expect that they can come at any time. As long as you know and abide by the rules, the inconveniences shouldn’t disturb you any more than a fly buzzing around. This is all part of prison. Embrace it.”

Michael’s ease with prison seemed surreal. How could a person endure more than 20 years and walk through every indignity as if degradation like strip searches were normal? Taken as a whole, he had spent more of his conscious life in various prisons than he had known in normal society. In a sense, I suppose prison had become normal for him. I had a hard time reconciling the length of time he had served with his steady, purpose-driven demeanor.

“Do they strip search in all prisons?” I wondered if every prison operated the same.

“In camps, the wardens have discretion on whether officers strip search after each visit. Some strip search random inmates, some do pat downs, some don’t search at all. Depends who is in charge. Here at Taft, everyone gets naked.”

“How about in higher security? What’s visiting like there?”

“Much more oppressive. In FCIs and USPs, the guards strip search inmates on the way in and on the way out. Several guards walk around the visiting room, and surveillance cameras record everything going on. There’s considerably more tension, especially in higher security. One of the privileges of camp placement is that visiting is easier on the families.”

“How so?”

“When your family comes to visit,” Michael explained, “they drive in, park, and after a simple, friendly check in, they sit in a relatively stress-free environment.”

“So how is it different in higher security?”

Michael laughed. “Visiting in some higher security prisons is like visiting a war zone.”

“Come on.”

“Compared to camp, that’s no stretch. When I was in the penitentiary I didn’t even want visits. The visits caused more stress.”

“What was it like?”

“First of all, just approaching the prison was traumatic. Family members had to check in at the security tower, where guards were patrolling the prison with visible assault rifles. Then the visitors had to proceed through metal detectors and submit themselves to searches and degrading questions. Officers would wave some kind of drug detecting wand over their clothing. If the wand detected a residue of drugs, they would send the visitor away and remove the visitor from the inmate’s list. Despite the wand’s notorious inaccuracy, many people lost visiting privileges. If they sat in a taxi and got residue on their clothing, handled money with drug residue, anything, the dreaded wand would pick up the scent. Babies, old people, anyone could be denied visiting.”

“Couldn’t they appeal the decision or something?”

“In higher security, guards are much more suspicious of everyone. It’s a much different environment from the camp. There is a zero-tolerance attitude, and that extends to family as well as prisoners. They are assigned seats. Inmates cannot walk around or leave their assigned chair without permission. Even to use the bathroom, the inmate must wait for a specific time, raise his hand for permission, and then use the toilet under a guard’s direct supervision. It’s dehumanizing, but you get used to that as well.”

“That kind of place makes camp sound like Disneyland.”

“Remember that. A lot of camp prisoners take the relaxed atmosphere for granted. They become comfortably numb and forget that they’re serving time in a federal prison. Stupid decisions wake them up in a hurry. Once they get transferred out of the camp to a secure prison, they realize how good they had it in minimum security. By then, it’s too late.”

“But that doesn’t happen too often, does it?” As we left the visiting area, our discussion continued about higher security.

“You’ve seen it, haven’t you? Since you’ve been in the camp you’ve seen several guys taken away. First they went to SHU. They spent time locked up, and then they were transferred.”

“What’s SHU?”

“The Special Housing Unit, though there isn’t anything special about it. It’s like a concrete bunker, a self-contained cell where prisoners are locked inside for 24 hours a day. It’s the punishment spot, kind of a jail within the prison, otherwise known as the hole.”

“Does everyone who gets sent to the hole transfer to a higher security prison?”

“No. The staff uses an objective custody and classification schedule that determines each inmate’s security level. That calculation takes into account such facts as the inmate’s criminal background history and the adjustment record he has built in prison. Depending on the type and frequency of disciplinary infractions he received, he may suffer sanctions that can include the raising of his security and the loss of good time credits. Sometimes, disciplinary infractions can lead to transfers out of the camp, or even new criminal charges.”

“Like fighting?”

“Fighting is only one example. There are as many ways to have problems in the camp as there are ways for a driver to have a traffic accident. People smuggle in cell phones, they drink alcohol, and they gamble on card games or sports. It’s not as important to contemplate all the ways a guy can have problems. A guy gets more value from thoughts and strategies that will help him emerge successfully. By knowing what he values and what he wants, any prisoner, regardless of where he is confined, can assure that every step he takes leads him closer.”

TOP MISCONCEPTIONS

If You’re Facing a Federal Investigation or Prison…

• Where the check-in steps are specified: identification at an officer’s desk, then names checked against the visitation list
• How the search after a visit is described: a wait for an officer, then a strip search for contraband
• Where camp visiting and FCI or USP visiting are placed side by side: security tower, metal detectors, drug detecting wand, assigned seats, bathroom permission
• Where the exercise schedule is stated in minutes and hours: 90 minutes of cardio, 30 minutes of abdominal work, at least one hour of strength training
• How the six-week wait before the first visit is stated
• Where the factors in the custody and classification schedule are named: criminal background history, adjustment record, disciplinary infractions
• Where specific infractions are listed: fighting, cell phones, alcohol, gambling on card games or sports
• How the wardens’ discretion over searches at camps is stated

Frequently Asked Questions

Q: What happens when a visitor arrives at a federal prison camp?
At Taft, visitors present identification at an officer’s desk. The officer in charge checks their names against the prisoner’s visitation list and admits approved visitors into the visiting room. The room was compared to an airport waiting area or small cafeteria, with vending machines for snacks. After the officers processed my mother and Ken, an institutional intercom page called me into the room.

Q: Do all federal prisons strip search prisoners after visits?
No. At camps, the wardens have discretion over whether officers strip search after each visit. Some strip search random prisoners, some do pat downs, and some do not search at all. At Taft, everyone was strip searched. In FCIs and USPs, guards strip search prisoners on the way in and on the way out.

Q: What does visiting look like in an FCI or USP?
Family members check in at a security tower where guards patrol with visible assault rifles. Visitors go through metal detectors, searches, and questions, and officers wave a drug detecting wand over their clothing. Prisoners are assigned seats and cannot leave them without permission. Several guards walk the room and surveillance cameras record it. To use the bathroom, a prisoner waits for a specific time, raises his hand, and is supervised by a guard.

Q: What is the Special Housing Unit (SHU)?
It is a concrete bunker with self-contained cells where prisoners are locked inside 24 hours a day. It is the punishment area inside the prison, also called the hole. In the chapter, several men from the camp went to SHU first and were transferred afterward.

Q: Does every prisoner sent to SHU transfer to a higher security prison?
No. Staff uses an objective custody and classification schedule to set each prisoner’s security level. It counts criminal background history and the adjustment record built in prison. Disciplinary infractions can bring a higher security level, loss of good time credits, transfer out of the camp, or new criminal charges.

Q: Which infractions does the chapter name?
Fighting, smuggling in cell phones, drinking alcohol, and gambling on card games or sports. The chapter compares the ways to have problems in the camp to the ways a driver can have a traffic accident.