By D. Razor Babb
Last Thursday, 2 days before the new year, they trotted in a phalanx of brand new CDCR recruits for a tour. Part of the pony show had them shuffling through the housing units. With their fresh faces and shiny new uniforms … hopeful and unblemished, cheerful and enthusiastic, not yet belabored, tarnished, or bitter … on the precipice of a promising new life where they’ll earn a substantial paycheck that will ensure contentment and 
harmony, they were given a preview of what is coming.
The wages earned as a CDCR guard are impressive. And everyone knows that money buys happiness, and the appearance of money-motivated and manufactured outer success, one that feeds the 5 senses, ensures a happy, productive life. Although life doesn’t come with a guarantee.
As the effervescent recruits left the building last Thursday morning, smiles and bright futures lighting the way, none of them could possibly know of the staff suicide that would shut down program later that day.
Mental health crisis, emotional breakdown, unbearable personal loss or conflict, we don’t get the details here. Those kinds of specifics surrounding personal tragedies are rightfully kept secret & separate from the inmate population. Custody and administration probably don’t realize that the effects of that kind of tragedy are felt on both sides of the green wall. We actually breathe the same air as real humans. And in this Level II custody environment we are deeply engaged in the causes of what led us here, and the effects our inhumanity has had on so many others. We are earnestly invested in emotional development, pro-social adaptation, and empathetic understanding.
The tragic loss of any human life isn’t any less mournful because of the color of the uniform. We too understand loss and our souls grieve with you. When tragedy visits and the reaper’s shadow passes over our home, we all share the pain.
Our condolences.
D. Razor Babb is incarcerated at Mule Creek
