International Journal on Criminology Volume 3, Number 2, Fall 2015 | Page 67

International Journal on Criminology
In early 2003, a guard at Cameron prison, Texas, was removed from his post and
charged with having brought drugs inside. In his version of events, a gang member had
“threatened him with reprisals if he failed to obey orders.” Also suspended was the head
of security of the prison, who declared at his subordinate's trial that: “Members of the
Texas Syndicate 194 threatened me with death [...] they try to manipulate everyone. If we
give in on a detail they immediately go further, demanding larger and larger concessions.
Then they make sure you know you're a coward for backing down, they blackmail you,
threaten your job. I heard this often.” 195 According to the prison hierarchy, however,
most staff do not yield to threats, and affairs like that of Cameron are only “isolated
cases of people looking for a quick profit.”
Collusion with the prison gangs caused by greed can totally corrupt the staff of
an institution. In Texas again, in 1994–95, the police dismantled a prison gang known
as the Blue Bandana, 196 responsible for violence and trafficking within the prison
environment. The group was composed solely of prison guards.
Control of prison life by the gangs also involves extortion and “protection.” Cells
are often “taxed” according to various criteria—ethnic, linguistic or corresponding to
particular types of crime. Drug addicts prefer to be remote from guard posts while
certain inmates want to be close to TV sets if there are any. All commodities or
“comforts” have a price, fixed by the gang with jurisdiction over it.
For members of the Primero Commando da Capital in Brazil, this tax is
replaced by a relatively modest monthly fee—50 Reals for those in prison and 500 for
those outside. 197 Those who cannot pay are often tasked with high-risk missions such
as attacks on the police to satisfy their debt. This “tax” allows the “union,” which keeps
a permanent treasury of at least a million dollars, to organize escapes and pay lawyers,
but also to help sick inmates, and escaped or released prisoners and their families. It is
a genuine cooperative organization which reflects its growing “politicization.” 198
In the United States, prisoners not belonging to a gang are often termed
“neutrons.” Prison gangs levy a “tax” of 10–50 dollars per month on them just to have
the “right” to live in prison. Again, certain dangerous tasks are imposed upon them—
smuggling drugs into the prison or hiding the gang's weapons 199 in their cells. They are
194
One of the oldest Hispanic prison gangs, limited to the state of Texas and ranked second behind the
Mexican Mafia by the Texas Department of Criminal Justice.
195
Brownsville Herald, April 4, 2003.
196
In the “McConnell area” of Beeville prison, Texas. “In Texas Prisons, it's Hard to Tell Who your
Enemies Are.” Austin Chronicle, April 28, 2003. Also, see the People's Tribune (Online Edition), 22,14,
April 3, 1995. Corroborated by Smedley, My Life in Prison Gangs.
197
Respectively $28 and $280 (rate on January 2010). These contributions have been halved since 2006.
198
The PCC, from being a “Union” became the “Union of the Marginalized” in 2001.
199
In the prison world, anything can become a weapon, and the ingenuity of prisoners is highly
developed: “A 'paper pole' is a conical tube fashioned from paper, tightly rolled and sealed with tape,
stuffed with toilet paper to make it hard, and fitted with a sharp point (from a ballpoint pen or a
disposable razor, for example). It is delivered by hand, or launched with a piece of rubber stretched
taut into a powerful slingshot. Paper poles can be fired across buildings from one block of cells to
another. Inmates will fashion a makeshift knife, or shank, out of almost anything...” Austin Chronicle,
April 28, 2003.
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