City Must Stand Trial for Discrimination at Rikers

By ADAM KLASFELD

 Five female prison guards who say that male supervisors at Rikers Island demand sexual favors for better shifts, hurl racist abuse at roll call and litter their posts with urine-filled bottles will have their day in court against New York City, a federal judge ruled.
In a phone interview, plaintiff attorney Susan Egan said that top prison officials helped create the "man's world" at Rikers Island, including Deputy Chief Carmine LaBruzzo and disgraced former Correction Chief Peter Curcio, who stepped down from his post following revelations that he signed off on a bar mitzvah inside the Manhattan Detention Center (a.k.a. the "Tombs").
In December 2004, Deputy Warden Raphael Olivo allegedly gave plaintiff M.M. a basket of skin lotions, and then visited her post nearly "every morning" to talk about putting them on her. She says he pinned her to the wall, tried to kiss her, undressed in front of her, and made her sit on his lap while removing his pants.
Another plaintiff, E.M., says that Deputy Warden Jose Matos told her to enter his office, while he was naked down to the waist and his zipper was lowered. Even though inmates corroborated her story, Matos was not disciplined and later retired, court documents state.
The plaintiffs say that Equal Employment Opportunity office does not investigate complaints about incidents that have no witnesses, which allows most bias claims to get swept under the rug.
In 2006, an Equal Employment Opportunity report revealed that 112 race discrimination, retaliation and sexual harassment claims were filed that year, and only five were substantiated.
According to court documents, an unnamed Deputy Director of the EEO acknowledged that legitimate discrimination complaints were being dismissed.
"[T]here could have been something that was-we thought was so horrific or something that was so specific that it probably did happen, but because the standard was you had to have [corroboration]... we could not substantiate the complaint," the director said. "And that's generally what would happen."
The June 8, 2007 lawsuit catalogues "general allegations of [a] racist and sexist environment" at Rikers Island, which never resulted in discipline.
During one roll call, Curcio and Deputy Warden Robert Cripps allegedly announced that corrections officers should refer to them as "daddy" and "uncle" and should "dance to the drum beat of their masters."
Egan said that former chief Curcio was oblivious about the offensiveness of his announcement.
"The room was filled when he said it, and there were a couple of complaints," Egan told Courthouse News. "He simply did not understand why what he said was troublesome."
At a black guard's funeral, unnamed white officers allegedly joked that the deceased officer should be buried "like slaves were."
Captain Matthew Boyd allegedly told one black, female guard to "kiss his lily white ass."
Even the bathroom policy at Rikers Island discriminated against women, the plaintiffs say.
Officially, a guard cannot leave a post until another corrections officer steps in for relief, and the city insists that the wait time did not last longer than 15 minutes.
In her deposition, though, plaintiff Beatrice Adams said that the wait time depended on "if the relieving officer likes you," and men avoided the wait time by urinating into bottles that they left littered around their posts.
Although the lawsuit involves alleged discrimination between 2001 and 2007, Adams said that - about a year after she filed the complaint - she developed a medical condition, and guards left her waiting for the bathroom so long that she urinated herself.
On Thursday, Senior U.S. District Judge Frederic Block ruled that the guards' hostile work environment claims are ready for a jury.
"There are issues of fact regarding whether derogatory comments by supervisors and the bathroom policy at Rikers were so severe as to create a pervasive hostile work environment and whether Olivo's treatment of Monche was so severe and pervasive that it resulted in a hostile work environment that interfered with her conditions of employment," Block wrote.
In addition, M.M. can pursue her sexual harassment claim; four plaintiffs can press retaliation charges; and the city must defend itself against "Monell" claims, named after a 1978 case that first established local government accountability for unconstitutional acts.
These claims will hinge on "whether the EEO corroboration policy caused those violations because supervisors believed they could harass subordinates with impunity" and "whether the City was deliberately indifferent to the need," the ruling states.
An attorney for the guards' blasted the "miserable" work environment of female guards in a statement.
"Judge Block got it. DOC is a miserable place for women to work," Egan wrote. "My clients are looking forward to demonstrating to a jury just how miserable male supervisors can make the life of women at DOC who have the temerity to stand up for their rights."
Lawyers for New York City declined to comment

New York City covets cells at soon-to-shut state prison on Staten Island

By Judy L. RandallStaten Island Advance

STATEN ISLAND, N.Y. -- Is Staten Island about to become Rikers Island West?
The city is considering sending “overflow” inmates from Rikers Island jails to the Arthur Kill Correctional Facility when the state vacates the medium-security prison on Dec. 1.
But Borough President James Molinaro told the Advance yesterday he won’t stand for it.
What’s more, he said he already knows of “someone” who is interested in the “purchase or lease” of the state prison property in Charleston and will retrofit it as a “retail shopping center.”
“It will create jobs and a tax base,” said Molinaro. “That is what we need.”
Molinaro declined to say who the well-heeled honcho is, only that it is not a big-box developer.
“He would be willing to start tomorrow if he could,” said Molinaro of a time line.
Molinaro said he has already “expressed opposition” to a possible state-city jail swap to the Cuomo administration, which tabbed the Island facility for closure earlier this year as a cost-cutting measure. He declined to say how he learned of the possibility.
This amid rumblings that were picked up by workers at the prison — along with rumors heard by other elected officials here — that the city is looking to take over Arthur Kill once the state moves out.
Arthur Kill workers said city officials toured the prison on Sept. 9 to look the place over.
City Correction Department spokeswoman Sharman Stein would say only, “We took a look at the Arthur Kill facility solely for information purposes.” She would not answer a question about Rikers overflow coming here.
State Department of Correctional Services spokesman Peter Cutler declined to answer a question about future use of Arthur Kill.
Meanwhile, late yesterday, the borough’s Republican elected officials — save for state Sen. Andrew Lanza — inked a letter to a bevy of state commissioners asking that “no consideration be given to use the Arthur Kill Correctional Facility as a city-run correctional facility.”
“The community we represent as a whole would not support such a move and are vehemently opposed to converting a state prison facility into any city-run penitentiary or prison. It remains our hope that Arthur Kill would be eligible for a portion of the $50 million in capital funding provided under the [state] Economic Transformation and Facility Redevelopment Program in order to redevelop the area to spur economic growth, diversify the local economy and create new jobs to help get New Yorkers back to work.”
The letter was signed by City Councilman Vincent Ignizio (R-South Shore); Assemblyman Lou Tobacco (R-South Shore); Councilman James Oddo (R-Mid-Island/Brooklyn); Assemblywoman Nicole Malliotakis (R-East Shore/Brooklyn), and Rep. Michael Grimm (R-Staten Island/Brooklyn).
As for Lanza, who wants to keep Arthur Kill as is, he said he has “been hearing rumors” of a possible city takeover and predicted crime will escalate in the community should the city decide to house part of its short-term jail population here.
Lanza (R-Staten Island) said his experience as a former prosecutor tells him the prospect of a jail abutting a residential community, where prisoners have the ability to make bail after brief periods of incarceration, is a “real concern.”
“There is a different culture between someone with a termed sentence serving it in a state prison than someone jailed for a year or less and who can come and go as they make bail,” said Lanza. “Around city facilities, you have higher crime rates.”
An Arthur Kill correction officer, who asked that his name not be used, said Lanza is right.
“There is a reason why Rikers Island is an island,” said the officer, who has 18 years on the job and has not yet put in for a transfer.
Rikers sits in the East River, between Queens and the Bronx.
But state Sen. Diane Savino, who said she “grew up in the shadow of Rikers Island” in Queens, said, “I would not be concerned that it would make the community less safe.”
“Is it possible the city might have a use for it?” asked Ms. Savino (D-North Shore/Brooklyn), who like Lanza wants to keep Arthur Kill in state prison hands. “They are always complaining about Rikers and other city facilities and overcrowding.”
Meanwhile, the state is moving forward with shutting down Arthur Kill. State spokesman Cutler said the department’s human resources staff will be on site Monday and Tuesday to talk to remaining personnel who have not yet submitted transfers.
Cutler said 212 security staff and 99 civilian staff members remain at Arthur Kill, along with 277 offenders. Arthur Kill has a prisoner bed capacity of 991.
He said that on Aug. 15, 72 security staff members were reassigned to other prison facilities based on seniority and available vacancies.
One clerical worker who spoke to the Advance said yesterday she has been on the job at Arthur Kill for 19 years at a salary of around $30,000.
“I am beside myself,” said the Great Kills woman, who asked not to be named. “What do I do? I am not ready to retire. I have a mortgage. I have college to pay for. Between the bridge tolls and the Thruway tolls and the gas, I can’t afford to go anywhere. But I need a job and I need health care.”
Lanza called it “very troubling if discussions are going on” about future uses of Arthur Kill without involving “all of the stakeholders.”
He also repeated his call to Gov. Andrew Cuomo to personally visit the site with him.

Insights: Attica, 40 years later: A reporter’s perspective

          Forty years ago, on Monday, Sept. 13, 1971, my assignment was to cover the Attica Prison rebellion, which had started the Thursday before when rampaging inmates took 38 guards and civilian employees hostage in a spasm of violence that simmers to this day in rural, Western New York.
I was a 30-year-old reporter at WOKR-TV Channel 13, an ABC affiliate in Rochester. The situation at Attica Prison had been deteriorating all summer, with inmates angry over conditions they found infuriating: one roll of toilet paper per man per month; only one shower per week; no religious services for Black Muslims; an over-abundance of pork at both noon and evening meals; and assembly in the prison yard by more than three Muslims punishable by a stretch in solitary confinement.

These and other grievances had been presented to New York State Corrections Commissioner Russell G. Oswald on July 2 of that summer, but nothing had been done about any of the complaints when frustrated inmates took matters into their own hands the morning of Sept. 9, breaking down a key internal gate, taking over two cellblocks and shops, and setting up camp in an outside area known as D-yard.

In the four days that the inmates occupied and controlled the area, three prisoners were murdered, correctional officer William Quinn died of injuries suffered in the first minutes of the uprising, and several guards were beaten, some seriously. But almost immediately, the guards were then isolated and protected by the rebelling inmates, and tense negotiations with prison officials began.
The inmates had 31 demands on their list, including amnesty. All but three of the demands were said to have already been agreed to by Oswald, but many of the prisoners feared he would break his word and not meet with them as promised. The previous November, at a correctional facility in Auburn, N.Y., a prisoners’ request for permission to hold a Black Solidarity Day observation had been denied. A sit-down strike ensued, several guards were captured, then released when officials promised no reprisals. But those promises were almost immediately abandoned, and retribution, including beatings, solitary confinement, and transfers to other prisons, were enacted. At Attica that fateful September, Oswald’s perceived betrayal weighed heavily on the rebelling inmates’minds.
Coverage of the uprising had been front-page news for weeks, and had led the news daily on every television and radio station in the state. The story was huge, and getting bigger by the hour. Journalists were showing up from Europe, and network requests for footage and stories were escalating. The Attica Prison rebellion had become international news.
As photographer Joe Paladino and I headed south on Route 98 towards the prison that dreary morning, nervous and not talking much, the unmistakable sound of gunfire suddenly erupted from our police scanner. With the barrage came the whirring sound of a helicopter, and a firm order shouted over a loudspeaker: “This is the State Police! Put your hands in the air — you will not be harmed! Repeat! Put your hands over your head, put down your weapons, do exactly as you are told! You will not be harmed!”

Within seconds we were rocketing down that country road at 90, making it through the outside perimeter gates just as they were swung closed. Helicopters whirred overhead as gunfire crackled, and clouds of tear gas wafted over the walls, sending photographers and reporters scrambling and choking. Then came the interminable wait for official word of what had gone on inside. In my case, that explanation came from Monroe County Undersheriff Andy Meloni, who emerged from the prison ashen-faced and somber. “There are over 20 dead inmates,” he said to me. “Were any of the hostages killed?” I asked. “Yes,” he said. “Their throats were cut.” And that night, on WOKR-TV Channel 13 and elsewhere, including The New York Times, that’s the way the story was reported.
But the very next day, Monroe County medical examiner and pathologist Dr. John Edland announced to a virtual horde of reporters that none of the hostages had died of a cut throat, that all had perished as a result of bullets fired by police and corrections officers. Reporters were incredulous. There was a rush to the phones like in the movies, and soon all the world knew what had really happened the day before. In all, there were 39 killed in the Monday uprising, 29 inmates and 10 hostages. Over the four days of the uprising, the total was 43 dead. And Dr. Edland was soon the target of many attempts to discredit both his findings and his politics.
What followed was a huge investigation, then another, and a series of hearings, trials, lawsuits and rulings that went on for years. Finally, in 1976, then-governor Hugh Carey ended the legal morass by terminating the grand jury that had taken up the police and corrections officer felony charges, and called a halt to all criminal prosecutions. On Aug. 28, 2000, 502 claims were approved by Federal Court Judge Michael Telesca in Rochester, and the monetary awards for inmates killed or injured in the rebellion ranged from $6,500 to $125,000, depending on the severity of the injuries and the amount of suffering endured. There were no awards for the families of the slain and injured corrections officers.
In the four decades since the Attica rebellion, the number of people incarcerated nationwide has skyrocketed. In addition, prisons have become big business, especially in California, where the political clout of the unions representing the corrections officers is undeniable, and their pension system all but impossible for state taxpayers to maintain. And as the drug wars continue, so do the arrests and convictions, filling our prisons to two and three times their capacities. Many are openly run by gangs, virtually awash with drugs, and seething with anger. Few places inside are safe, and horrific injuries and violent deaths are commonplace — the grim statistics of a flawed system in serious need of major reform.
Have the hard lessons of Attica been forgotten? Is a repeat of that 40-year-old tragedy possible here in California, or wherever large numbers of men are serving time in similar conditions? Hard to say, but desperate men have been known to do desperate things, in spite of the consequences — what happened at Attica in September of 1971 proved that beyond any doubt. But if I had to guess, based on my own experience with the original event, I think I’d put it this way: Without significant changes, it’s just a matter of time, and those who are doing it.