Third Shift - 2. Chapter 2 & 3; Simon Peter Continues

Chapter 2 - Simon Peter

November 3rd

“Don’t ask them what they did,” his boss said. Desmond Carroll was a blunt man. He was a towering six feet, eight inches tall, skin as dark as Kahlua, and extremely direct. He leaned back and laced his fingers behind his neck. “If they tell you, that’s fine. But don’t get them started on how innocent they are and how you need to get them out.”

Cory nodded and grinned weakly. “Don’t you think what they did is an important part of the healing process? At Stillwater, we had quite a bit of success with inmates working through their guilt and forgiving themselves. It was part of the program.”

Carroll cleared his throat and sighed, as though Cory was an intern fresh out of the stacks and not an experienced professional. He opened and then closed his mouth. Then he smiled grimly and leaned over his desk. “In federal prison, these men have been convicted and have a sentence. They are working toward getting out or settling their lives one way or another. It’s different here. This is a detention facility. They haven’t been convicted of whatever they are charged with. Therefore, they are all innocent.”

Carroll stopped for a moment and cleared his throat again. “Of course, that isn’t why we don’t ask why they are here.”

Cory watched as his supervisor seemed to collect his thoughts and marshal his resources. It was surprising because otherwise Carroll always seemed so matter-of-fact and in control. He seemed almost squeamish right now.

“We don’t ask because it only messes with our heads,” he finally said. Carroll let out another sigh, this one sounded resigned. “You don’t want to know what they supposedly did because it interferes with our treatment. If you know you’re helping a guy who beat the hell out of his wife, you won’t try as hard to counsel him.”

“I can assure you—“ Cory began, but Carroll quickly interrupted him with an upraised hand and a steely gaze.

“I’m not insinuating you’re not professional. I’m saying you’re human and if you know what kind of crime they may have committed, it will affect your treatment. I’ve seen it time and time again. Don’t think you are above or past having it alter your perception of the patient. That’s what these men are, patients we are giving health care to. If you were treating a cut or a broken bone, would it matter what they did to get put in here?”

Cory was about to protest when the logic seemed to slam into him. It shut him down completely. While these men’s past may affect their mental state, it wasn’t relevant to him. He still needed to treat them regardless. He silently watched as Carroll’s eyes assessed him carefully waiting for a response.

“If they tell me what they were arrested for, it’s fine?” he asked softly.

Carroll looked skeptical for a moment and then nodded a few times. “If in the course of your counseling, they offer reasons for being here, you must listen, of course. However, don’t ask and don’t look into their file to see their arrest records. We are mental health care professionals. Our biggest concern is monitoring to prevent life altering episodes.” Carroll stopped talking.

Cory didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. ‘Life altering episodes’, was industry-speak for suicide, either attempts or successes. While most of their work would be administering detainees’ medications and talking them through depression; suicide ideation was their real work. The statistics were grim. Suicide in a prison like Stillwater or Faribault wasn’t a big problem. Once an inmate was sentenced and their life altered completely, they settled down into correctional life. It wasn’t they didn’t ever kill themselves. It was more like it wasn’t an ever-present concern.

Jail was another story.

In short-term detention facilities like the one Cory was now working in, the people had just been arrested. Their emotions were running hot and dangerous. Guilty or innocent, they were feverish about what was happening to them and suicidal thoughts were always an issue. For example, a man would get into a bar fight. His wife, or girlfriend, would come for a visit. Her response, whether positive or negative, would set off a firestorm of emotions in the man.

Cory knew the statistics. Remediation therapy he’d used at his internship in Stillwater wouldn’t work here. This was a different animal entirely. He would need to assess suicidal intentions through interviews, surveys, and listening carefully to both employees and the subjects. He would also need to watch.

Suicide ideation wasn’t something always expressed verbally. Sometimes it was expressed through actions and he knew for men, especially the taciturn types, he would need to assess through actions and reactions, not requests for help. At Stillwater, giving inmates attention was something they treasured. How would these detainees respond? They were neither guilty nor innocent in the eyes of society and they knew it.

“Do we understand each other?” Carroll said, breaking Cory’s musings.

“I do. I can see why their accusation isn’t relevant to my treatment,” he said firmly.

“Good,” Carroll said, his chest seemed to relax. “Next subject…”

***

Cory rolled up the bag with the crackly plastic and remnants of sodden napkins and threw it in the garbage under the sink. He was home alone after his shift at the detention center. He was still trying to get used to the hours; the graveyard shift was a killer. Just when he got used to sleeping until the early evening, he'd break the pattern on his day off to be with Sandy. For two days he'd feel bleary-eyed and numb.

Finally they had come to an understanding, at least he thought so. Sandy would stay up until Cory got home. Together they would eat and then go to bed. Of course, it hadn't worked well. At least they'd tried.

Now they didn't.

Cory was frustrated by these hours. It was so lonely working from eleven at night until seven in the morning when everyone else was sleeping. When he was tired, the rest of the world was awake and having fun. He hadn't seen any of his friends, not even his best friend, Casey for a while now. He missed being part of the gang. It had been two weeks since they'd all gone dancing.

It wasn't all bad. There were benefits too.

For example, he could go to the movies in the morning and pay half the normal ticket price. When he went out to eat on his days off, there were never crowds of people. He could carry along a book, curl up in the corner of a booth, and read in peace while he ate.

He missed Sandy, his love. Sandy's schedule was basically evenings and some late nights. On mornings like this one, Cory came home hoping the man would be up waiting for him. Instead, Sandy was fast asleep in their bed. Cory wasn't the least bit tired. He was still wide awake and ready to do something after work. People didn't understand that.

When he told Casey how working third shift was like living in a different world, his best friend shook his head in disbelief. 'Go to bed when you get done with work,' he'd advised.

Corey tried to explain the body doesn't work like that. When you get done with a shift, you want to relax and decompress from the stress of the job. It's impossible to finish at seven am and then jump into bed. He'd tried and would toss and turn all morning. Then, he'd finally drift off at about noon.

Corey wandered out of the kitchen and through the hallway. He peeked in at Sandy, soundly sleeping. Then he grabbed his coat from the closet. He slipped out the front door quietly and walked to his car. There was a movie he'd been wanting to see. The first showing was in twenty minutes.

Chapter 3 - Simon Peter

January 30th

The hallway reeked of disinfectant and sweat, strangely enough at the same time. It seemed to stretch forever through the building, gray and green and without an obvious end. Cory snorted as he realized he was being prosaic and seeing the space as a client would. That’s what they called the inmates at the detention facility. Clients. Like they were valued customers or patrons of a law firm instead of locked up criminals waiting for their court dates.

At times like this, the counselor wondered why he was so embittered. He had nothing to feel so badly about. His new job was going well. His boyfriend was loving and good to him. Why was he in such a funk?

Sure, Sandy had been late again last night. His work excuses were wearing thin. But, jobs were dear and his was a good one. Restaurant work was challenging and exhausting. Falling asleep in his office after hours wasn’t that strange now, was it?

Cory snorted and shook his head dismissing thoughts crowded on the edge of his brain. He made his way to the interview room and a new client. This one hadn’t asked for help. He was referred by a guard who saw him acting suspiciously. There were telltale signs of suicide ideation including not responding to questions, uneaten meals, and brooding behavior. Luckily, the guard had read all the materials in the protocol and reported the man’s actions to his boss. From there, the report had been emailed to Cory’s boss and now it was his responsibility to assess the man.

Cory paused at the door to the interview room and after a second, knocked on the door steadily and softly. They always did that. It was the first step in getting the client to take this seriously. A counselor must ask to look inside their head. It wouldn’t work to storm inside. He’d learned the lesson long ago.

Cory twisted the knob and stepped inside. The man he was supposed to see looked up and grimaced. There was a pained expression on his handsome face as he ducked his head.

“Can I come in?” Cory asked softly. It wasn’t like the detainee could deny him access, but studies showed the social niceties worked well. They were ingrained in the psyche.

The man nodded, his closely cropped head bobbing slowly. Cory knew three things about him and only three. First, he had attempted suicide last year after he’d committed a crime or at least allegedly so. Second, he had been acting suspiciously according to one of the guards. He wasn’t eating and he was crying a lot. Finally, his name was John Lawson. Other than that, Cory didn’t know much else except he was quite handsome.

When Lawson looked up, Cory noted several things. The man’s lips were thick and lush. His eyes were a lovely shade of brown, almost chocolate in color. His features were generous and full, but not heavy. His face was a pleasing oval with a strong jawline. There was a hollowing around his eyes though which he couldn’t ignore. Also, the man was a little gaunt and the detention regulation clothes hung on him like he was a hanger and not a man.

“My name is Cory McDaniel and I’m here to see if you’re doing alright.”

The man didn’t respond and ducked his head again. A hand came to his face and wiped his eyes. Otherwise, Cory couldn’t see what the man was doing.

“It’s really hard to cope some time,” Cory said, keeping his voice low and steady. “I’m here to help.”

“Yeah right,” the man responded. His voice crackled with tension and bitterness.

Cory took a deep breath and smiled. “Whatever you’re going through, I want to make easier for you.” He smiled and repeated himself, “I’m here for you.”

The other man’s attractive face twisted and contorted with ferocity. “You only want me to confess. Well, I didn’t do it. At least, I didn’t do what they said I did. I wouldn’t. I, well, I couldn’t do those things.”

Cory let the words pass over him. He let a few heart beats pass by before speaking. There was a cadence to developing rapport with clients. If he jumped in and said his piece too quickly, it sounded false and insincere. If he waited too long, they would believe it was rehearsed or not authentic. With the right amount of time allowed, he could persuade the man to trust him.

“I am here to counsel you,” he said finally. “Whatever you say is between the two of us.” Cory didn’t say anything about where the boundaries of their professional ethics lay. That could provoke.

The man raised his head and looked at Cory suspiciously. His face was tense, but his eyes were more open now not quite as slitted as before.

“You think I’m a monster. They all think I’m a monster,” he said after a few moments, his voice quivering.

“I don’t believe in monsters,” Cory answered evenly. “Human beings aren’t monsters. They all have faults and strengths and reasons for the things they do.”

John Lawson didn’t react at first. Then after another moment of thought, his face relaxed a little. He still seemed wary of Cory, but not quite as hostile as at first.

Cory pointed to the chair across the table from the other man. “Can I sit?”

Lawson nodded though a scowl still graced his handsome features.

“As I told you, my name is Cory McDaniel and I’m a counselor for Hennepin County. I’m here to talk to you and see if you need anything. A guard noticed you haven’t been sleeping well and they were concerned. How are you dealing with being here?”

Lawson’s face became bright red and he shouted back, “I didn’t fucking do it. Don’t you people get it? They are lying about me.”

Cory held back a sigh. “You are angry. That is a common feeling when you are detained and awaiting your day in court. I want you to understand something though. I’m not here about your charges or your court case. I’m here about how you are doing, how you’re feeling. I don’t even know what you are accused of doing.”

“What?” Lawson asked. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want,” Cory answered. “I’m just here to help.”

Lawson looked thoughtful for a second. Then his face brightened as a thought seemed to come to him. He looked pleased as he said, “So you don’t know anything about the bank robbery?”

Cory knew he was lying so he shook his head and didn’t respond.

“Or about those rapes I committed?” Lawson said watching the other man closely.

Cory knew better than to answer such obvious attempts to flush him out.

Lawson leaned over the table. “You really don’t know?”

Cory caught his breath now. The man’s beautiful features were affecting him quite obviously. His breathing was more rapid and his heart beat had quickened. He could smell the other man’s scent, the aroma of soap and a hint of something masculine and raw. It filled his head with thoughts equally as raw.

“I don’t know what you are accused of, Mr. Lawson. I am here to make sure you are okay, mentally, emotionally. The report said you wake up every night about this time, around 2:30 am. Is it nightmares?”

Lawson sat back in his chair, and his body relaxed into a kind of pose. Now he looked positively radiant with a mischievous grin on his perfectly formed face. “You really don’t know, do you?”

Cory shook his head and blinked quickly to clear his head of his disgusting thoughts. He deliberately didn’t look at the other man’s crotch directly though the mound was both full and alluring. He couldn’t stop his peripheral vision from gauging its size between the man’s spread legs. He felt shame.

Lawson looked away from him and up to the ceiling. “I hear what the guards say about me. I hear what the other guys in the rooms say too.” He leveled his gaze on Cory and said emphatically. “I didn’t do what they say I did. I’m not a monster. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, I—“ He stopped speaking.

Cory noticed the other man continued to watch him closely though. Lawson was gauging his reactions and how he dealt with it. The counselor needed to establish a sense of trust and a connection with the patient. Without a sense of common goals, they would never work together.

“I said before, I don’t believe human beings are monsters. Monsters only exist in books and movies. You are a human being and as such may need my help. I’m here to help you, that’s all. I’m here almost every night if you need to talk.”

Lawson’s face had changed since Cory walked into the room. Where there had been only despair and distrust, now a little glimmer of hope was coming through. Lawson wasn’t about to open up and tell him everything, but there seemed to be the beginning signs of optimism.

“I want you to know, I didn’t mean it.”

Cory wasn’t sure what that meant. But, he nodded encouragingly at the other man. Lawson almost smiled back except at the last minute he caught himself. It was a good start. They were now establishing the kind of professional rapport that could lead to a real positive relationship.

The rest of the session went well as Lawson seemed to open up a little about his feelings. There had been thoughts of suicide. He was sad and quite tense most of the time. His appetite had been absent. Lawson expressed by the end of the session he was feeling a little better about things. When he finally shook hands with Cory, he almost smirked.

Cory felt his heart flutter. Then he cleared his mind of his traitorous libido. He had a partner at home. Well, Sandy was probably at work, he hoped.