Walls Burning
By S.J. Watts
I woke to the smell of an electrical fire. My clock read 2:40a.m. I rolled over, closed my eyes, and went back to sleep…
Someone’s hotpot or fan shorting out, I thought to myself. Sucks to be them! Happens all the time. I suppose it could have been some fool popping his power outlet trying to ignite a “stick”, k2 or tobacco in prison argot.
I concentrated on the white noise. From Bosnia to Iraq and Afghanistan, my eardrums may as well be tiny black holes attracting and devouring decibels unable to escape the gravitational pull. Certain sounds and tones within these decibels, my brain, somehow, amplifies, and it hurts!
I modified my earbuds with earplugs glued at the ends. I inserted them into my ears and blasted the white noise from my clock-radio as loud as it will go. This completely blocks out all outside noise – a godsend in prison! Otherwise, I could not sleep. Add the worst case of tinnitus in the history of human ears and you would still have no idea…
As I’m lying there, the fire smell grew worse and worse. When I began to cough, I sat up and saw the smoke! My cell door was wide open. I lived in C-line Cell 4 on the fifth floor. My sorry ass, cowardly cellie, I would later learn, panicked and ran off in only his underwear…
I pulled the earbuds from my ears and immediately heard uproarious pleas from men trapped in their cells. Female Corrections Officers were screaming for all inmates to evacuate the building.
As I climbed down from my bunk, I heard a female voice bellow, “THERE’S TOO MUCH SMOKE! I CAN’T OPEN THE DOORS!” A gut punch, for I knew those still trapped inside their cells had mere minutes, probably only seconds, to live. But then I heard the telltale rattle clink clink of metal-on-metal that sounds when our doors open. And like a switch, the inmates pleading to be let out stopped screaming. All you heard were the female Corrections Officers yelling for a complete evacuation of West Building!
I calmly got dressed: socks, pants, shirt, boots… and kept my breaths as shallow as possible, trying to maintain a low heartrate. I knew panic was the real killer in times like this. I kept my eyes mostly closed, as you couldn’t see but a yard, if that.
I grabbed my water bottle and walked out of my cell into even thicker smoke. I couldn’t see anything. I tapped the handrail to the stairs, ensuring it wasn’t hot. I grabbed it and followed it down where the smoke was significantly lighter. Then something peculiar happened, I had a strong urge to walk back up to my cell and retrieve my ID card, my eyeglasses, and my tablet with earbuds and charger.
But as I turned around and began walking up, I recalled a dream I had over ten years ago in the county jail after my extradition from abroad. I wrote about this dream in a letter to my mom. In it, I was killed in my cell during a fire!
I instantly turned back around and walked to ground level, where there was way less smoke, and exited the building. As I exited, I observed a female guard, bent over her knees, coughing, sweating profusely, and panting. There weren’t any inmates behind me. I asked her if she was okay. She nodded and motioned for me to exit…
I pray TDCJ realizes and recognizes the heroic efforts of their Corrections Officers assigned to West Building that night. That key-boss in particular! She literally, without any PPE [Personal Protective Equipment], placed inmates’ lives over her own. Their families should know how brave they were in a time of crisis…
I entered the breezeway, walked passed the searcher’s desk and by the chapel into the recreation yard. Nearly 700 inmates were massed on the rec-yard looking up. I figured the smoke would clear and we’d all be back to our cells in a few hours…
I made my way to a water faucet and wet my face and head. I was spitting and had a slight cough as the metallic burn taste began to fade. Then I heard inmates cheering and clapping. “Let the hoe burn!” screamed one. Another, “Burn, bitch. BURN!”
These cheers were the exception! Most of us, when we saw the flames, I swear you could hear our collective hearts sink into our bowels. Those flames made it clear life as we knew it was about to get much, much worse for us all…
“EVERYONE TAKE A SEAT!” a Captain yelled. All 700 of us complied. And we simply sat there watching our cell block burn, as guards ran around in different directions.
When the roof collapsed, we were herded into different parts of two gyms separated by living pod. I went to the 5-Building gym with C- and B- Pods. It was approximately 3:30a.m.
Hundreds of men, many dressed in only their underwear, in a confined space with one bathroom, no air circulation, under a cursed “heat-dome” that just won’t move somewhere else. Lucky it was night and cooler. But I knew what was coming…
Igloo water coolers with ice water were brought in. Large fans were rolled in. But the power line couldn’t hold the extra amps and blew. Inmates were vying for the coolest spot to sit, lay down. Toilet paper was brought in… and we all settled in as best we could, peering sheepishly upwards at the metal roof, dreading the rising sun…
By mid-afternoon it was damn near unbearably hot! You just sat there sweating on concrete, drinking water, trying to breath. I was thankful I had the foresight to grab my water bottle. Most had to use small Styrofoam cups that were handed out.
Have I mentioned the pigeons? They were hovering above us, shitting randomly, probably taking score!
After a day in 5-Building gym, I was moved to 4-Building gym, where it was much more comfortable. The fans worked! Everyone had a mattress and sheet. When I finally managed to get a hold of a mattress and a used sheet, I made a bed. I walked to the bathroom line, got some cold water, and was so desperately looking forward to laying down. But, upon my return, a pigeon had shit all over my sheet! An atomic, radioactive lime growing green color…
From someone in the back, “I read a book about pigeons once. Green means disease.”
I was too exhausted to be upset. I just looked up and said, “REALLY?” And I got an answer! For I was hit on my left shoulder with more pigeon shit! “How many points was that?!” I asked, peering up.
No one laughed or poked fun at me. I knew what they were thinking, though: Poor bastard! Thank God I’m not him!
I spent nearly four hours in the gyms. Others spent longer. But those being housed, after more than 400 inmates were shipped to other units, didn’t have it much better. They were locked in their new cells with only the clothes they wore out of the fire; No Fans!
At one point, the wardens and some director walked through the gyms. From the cells, on both sides, you can peer down into the gyms. And you could hear inmates screaming, “FANS” over and over until they walked out…
Fans and hygiene packs had already been ordered from somewhere. Every one of us received a new fan, toothpaste and toothbrush, soap, shampoo, and a chill-towel; all for free, too, which was GREATLY appreciated by all of us!
After a few days, when the fire marshal cleared West Building for inmates to enter, we were allowed to go in and collect our property. This was a significant morale booster! Our property, as meager and humble as it is, is all we have. Our only comfort… We thought we’d lost everything! The only thing I had damaged was a melted fish-oil vitamin bottle… go figure!
In the news, it was reported no one was injured or killed, and that the fire hadn’t damaged the execution chamber – with an October execution still on… Can you imagine being on death row, hearing the Huntsville Unit (a.k.a The “Walls”) burned down, only to learn the death house sustained no damage and executions were still on?! Sorry, fellas…
The reports of no deaths weren’t accurate, however. Our beloved rec-yard cat, Smokey (I’m not making this up!) was found deceased in East Building, due to smoke inhalation. I heard he was buried, with a small service, in the garden behind the death chamber.
“Smokey got smoked!” is the running tribute-joke across the unit… Yeah, bad taste, I know… sorry… R.I.P. Smokey!
In closing, I would like to mention I sincerely feel the Huntsville Unit leadership responded well to this – unprecedented! – incident. It’s not easy or quick to find ways to compensate for the instant loss of nearly 700 beds. The first few days after any disaster or crisis strains the system and burdens first responders in their efforts to help ease any stresses, cracks or holes. The individual Corrections Officers here have been humane, understanding – even kind! – for the most part. There are always exceptions, of course…
Fire Evacuation
By Cesar Hernandez
The tower clock stopped at 3:23a.m.
I now know what it feels like when I hear a news story and the person says, “My home burned down and I instantly lost everything”.
I woke up at 2:39a.m. It took me a moment to realize the guard is yelling, “GET UP AND GET OUT!”
My cell is on the fourth floor of our fifth floor building. I opened my door and saw the third floor filling up with smoke.
I think I was in the first group of people to leave our wing. The electricity was still functioning. People who came out in the end came out in the pitch black.
Our entire building was evacuated in an orderly manner. No one panicked.
I didn’t think the rec yard could hold 700 people. I think I had only seen 100 people on it at one time.
Our building has four wings that each holds 180 people. People evacuated from the fire doors.
The guards took multiple roster counts to make sure no one was missing.
The higher ranking officials live in prison-owned homes next door, so they arrived quickly.
As I was on the rec yard, I could see the amount of smoke growing exponentially. Then I could see fire start to come out the roof. The fire grew bigger and bigger. When the roof collapsed inward, we were all directed to the three gyms.
D-Line had its own gym. C-Line and B-Line shared a gym. A-Line had its own gym.
I got inside the gym around 3:30a.m. Looking around, I saw the 180 people from our line. I don’t think we had ever been all together. On D-Line there was always a large percentage of people who were at work or school.
The prison system headquarters is across the street. From my cell on the fourth floor, I could see the HQ employees come and go.
I would estimate that twenty HQ employees were here at Huntsville. I couldn’t believe that the Prison System Director was locked in the gym with us. They spoke to us and urged us to be patient since it was going to be a long process.
Usually, we got breakfast at 4:00a.m and lunch at around 11:00a.m.
I think we got breakfast at 1:00p.m.
The Assistant Director came by shortly after lunch. They wanted to make sure we got our chicken patty and cheese, and strawberry jelly and peanut butter sandwiches. They said they were working on the breakfast sandwiches. The meals came from the prison down the street.
Normally, breakfast was a fried egg and cheese sandwich, and a strawberry jelly and peanut butter sandwich.
In the gym, we had two water coolers that were continuously filled with ice and water.
Six busloads of people ended up being sent to other prisons.
I think we got dinner at 6:00p.m. It was a hamburger with cheese sandwich and another strawberry jelly and peanut butter sandwich.
At 8:49p.m. – according to the computer log – I was reassigned from D-Line to 4-Gym. I was number 97.
Many people were reassigned to 5-Gym, so they stayed where they were.
As soon as I walked to 4-Gym, I was given a mattress and two brand new bedsheets.
Day Zero came to an end for me.
The next day, breakfast was another hamburger with cheese sandwich, and yet another strawberry jelly and peanut butter sandwich.
Another Assistant Director from HQ came with some more HQ employees in the morning. They told us they had ordered 600 new fans, hygiene items, and were getting us bottled water.
At 10:19a.m., I was reassigned from 4-Gym to H-Line. I remained in the gym until 4:00p.m.
At about 11:00a.m., we got to shower. On the way to shower, we were given an Irish Spring bar of soap, toothpaste, a toothbrush, and deodorant. At the shower, we were given clothes. Most of us were shirtless, since we evacuated without grabbing our clothes.
At 3:00p.m., we went to the dining hall, where seven employees from Securus Tech were issuing us replacement tablet computers.
At 4:00p.m., I went to my cell on H-Line, and Day One ended for me.
On Day Two, I was given my fan and bottled water, and a new hygiene pack had a chill towel, toothbrush, Colgate toothpaste, and five bars of soap.
The fire was on Friday. I spent all day in 5-Gym. I slept the night in 4-Gym. Before the fire, we had 1,600+ inmates. Now, we have 1,059 inmates.
From my H-Line cell, I could see the 80 people left in 5-Gym. They looked to be more comfortable than when I was in there.
They slept in 5-Gym on Saturday and Sunday nights. They all received hygiene packs. They had mattresses and bedsheets. They received replacement tablet computers, along with chargers and headphones.
The electricians installed plenty of electrical outlets. (When I was in 5-Gym, there was only four outlets!)
They had several giant fans, including three Power Breeze fans that spray water.
They had numerous coolers, which were continuously filled with ice and water.
They were first to go eat in the dining room.
On Saturday, I saw plenty of cases of bottled water outside. Later in the day, everyone was given two bottles that were ice cold. I was given my brand new loaner fan; number 678. I was finally able to get some decent sleep with the fan pointed at me.
On Sunday, the minimum skeleton crew worked. Everyone received another two bottles of water.
Monday saw most of the workers go to work.
Tuesday was more or less back to normal: school was back in session; just about everyone went to work; they ran rec in the gym.
On Wednesday, everything was running as it was before the fire. H-Line went to the store. However, I had no funds, so could not purchase anything.
On Thursday, when I was dead asleep, a guard yelled, “Who wants to get their property from West Building?” I woke up, yanked the fan cord out the wall, and ran out of the cell.
The process was that you had to return your loaner fan, then you would only be allowed inside West Building with your cellmate. My cellmate had been sent to another prison though, so I was allowed inside.
It seemed like there was no electricity in the building. As soon I walked in, I got goosebumps, the building was so still and quiet.
Everyone went to their old cells. I felt I was the only one in the building, since I heard and saw no one else.
I was more or less already packed. Most of my things were in my locker box, so I just dragged it out. I only had to fill one bag. My two other bags, I simply grabbed off the shelf.
I was one of the first ones out of West Building. I put my things on a flatbed cart.
While we waited, we saw two contractors walk in the building with water pumps and power washers. They were getting all the remaining water from the first floor of all four lines. Some of the water was firefighter water, and it had also rained over the weekend, so there was some rainwater too. I think the news said we had last had rain on July 8th.
The property officer had us sign one of two clipboards. I signed the one that stated I received all my property and have no issues.
The other clipboard was for people who had damaged items. One person handed over his radio. The property officer tilted it and water poured out.
I saw many high-ranking officials while we waited for everyone to come out of West Building. I saw both wardens, two captains, and a couple of sergeants.
Here at Huntsville Unit, all kinds of things changed instantly. In the coming days, it’ll be interesting to see what faces are missing. Overall, most of us sense that the majority of troublesome inmates were sent elsewhere. Hopefully, our community has its standards raised with the 1,059 people who remain.
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