An inmate talks to teenagers who have chosen dangerous paths, “And when you all beat up and hurtin’ your mama ain’t there to help you. You laying there in your cell with strangers telling you to shut up and quit moaning. This ain’t where you want to be.” Edi tor’s note: This is the third article of the series on the prison systems in the Midlands and the programs to keep young people out of them.

We all look forward to our weekends sometimes starting to plan for them as early as Monday mornings. Weekends are a time for family and friends, backyard barbeques and seeing the latest movie. Maybe catching up on household chores or washing our cars and trimming our hedges. But for a small of group of dedicated police officers in the Richland County area, weekends are a time to reach out to troubled teens.

Special Investigator Gerard Walls, along with Deputies Doris Taylor, Kevin Bland, and Ernest Starling all give up their Saturday mornings every other weekend to participate in a youth deterrent program called Crossroads. The program brings young people from 10 to 18 into Columbia’s Alvin S. Glenn Detention Center to show them the results of wrong choices.

These men and women want to make a difference in these teens’ lives and maybe along the way, get these kids to see the path they are on is a road to heartbreak and regrets and one that, once traveled, can’t ever take you home again.

The program was established in June of 2008 and is having amazing results, Walls said.

“We’ve had over 700 students go through it and from parent’s response we’ve had maybe 40 get in more trouble or get arrested,” he said.

“We bring the kids over to Alvin S. Glenn, and we let them talk to the real inmates and see what jail life is all about,” he said. “A lot of movies and rap songs glamorize jail and portray it as a fun place with lots of perks and music in the background. We want these kids to understand that is not the way it is. Nobody is singing and dancing in here. They need to see that. We want to scare them so they never want to come here.”

And their program is definitely scary. Because Alvin S. Glen is a holding facility where accused prisoners go to await trial, the inmates there are often people the kids know or have seen on television. Alleged robbers, rapists, kidnappers, and murderers alike all lurk behind the barbed wire fences there and as the kids are led through the halls, they begin to realize only a door separates them from these hardened criminals. By the end of the program, they know that unless they make some changes in their lives, that same door could be the one to their own cells.

The name “Crossroads” was chosen because it seemed most appropriate for those students heading down the wrong path, Walls said.

“Ultimately it is up to the individual to choose which road they follow,” he said. “We hope the things they see here and the people they talk to will convince them they need to be on the right side of the law and not the bad.”

But the program doesn’t end with the tour. Walls, Bland, Taylor and Starling all make themselves available to the parents and the kids. The parents get their cell phone numbers, and the deputies will go to the schools and homes at the drop of a hat to talk to or sometimes even discipline the kids if they get in trouble.

“We want these kids to know someone cares,” Walls said. “They need to know their actions matter and that they will have results. They need to know we are watching them, and we will show up if they need us.”

Doris Taylor councils most of the girls. She said she is proud of the program and to be a part of it.

“This is a good thing for a kid in trouble to see,” she said. “I don’t see how anyone can go through this and talk to the inmates without being affected and making some changes.”

The program runs two weeks a month and starts with a bus ride from the Richland County Sheriff’s Department on Two Notch Road to the detention center on Bluff Road.

Once at the jail, the kids are led into a classroom of sorts, and the deputies begin to talk to them.

Walls addresses the 50 or so boys and girls as they sit, mostly slumped in their chairs, some wide–eyed and apprehensive but some boisterous and laughing.

“Okay, now let’s hear why you are all here today,” he says to the kids.

Some admit to sassing parents, some have cut school or gotten in fights at school. Some have even been kicked out of school for cutting or fighting. Some have gotten in trouble over smoking dope or snorting cocaine. Walls looks them over, and he paces up and down at the front of the room.

“Well now just about every person in this jail started off just like you. Sassing and fighting and cutting school. These people in here didn’t start off robbing gas stations and shooting people, you know. They worked their way up to it. Just like you. Thinking they were too good to go to school. Getting in fights to show how big and brave they were. And trying out a puff of marijuana or snorting a little coke to be sociable. Some of these people are facing spending the rest of their lives in jail, and each and every one of them sassed their mommas and cut a class at some time early in their lives.”

The kids’ smiles begin to fade as they look at their hands and shuffle their feet.

Kevin Bland is another officer who volunteers his weekends to work with the problem teens. He steps up and asks the group how many are there for sneaking out at night. Suddenly, the gaiety is back as a large number of boys and girls start waving their hands and giggling.

“That’s me,” one boy said. “I can be gone and down the street and my mama never knows it.”

“Well isn’t that nice,” Bland replies dryly, walking to the boy and looking him in the eye.

“And do you stay out late, past midnight when you do this?”

The boy nods, still grinning.

“Do you know when the majority of murders happen?” Bland asks as the kid shakes his head.

“They happen after midnight. Most murders, shootings, and violent attacks on the streets happen after midnight. Men…bad men with guns are out then. What’s a kid like you going to do about a bad man with big gun?”

The smile is gone. An older girl, probably 15 or 16, laughs.

“And you,” Bland addresses her. “I know you sneak out because that’s what your mama told us. Do you know that when you leave school grounds you’re on your own? Do you know this jail is full of men who made it their job to hang out near school grounds to find a girl just like you? A girl who doesn’t want to go to school and who doesn’t care if she learns anything or not. A girl they can get in their car and kidnap. They took them to some out of the way spot and raped them and tortured them over and over and then eventually killed them. And do you know how they found those girls? Those girls cut school and were walking home in broad daylight.”

No one is laughing after this story. Officer Starling, who works at the jail during the week and volunteers his weekends for the kids, makes sure they know it’s not a joke.

“Detective Bland is right,” Starling booms. “These people in here are killers and kidnappers. They had guns and knives and killed people or kidnapped girls and raped them. These are real people. And each and every one of them started off just like each of you. Cutting school and fighting and doing drugs. You’re about to see where that behavior got them.”

The detectives then begin to ask the kids if they know this inmate or that one. They name the names and the crimes. Hands go up in the air, some with proud announcements that the accused person was from one of the kids’ neighborhoods or a well known local gang. With each hand, one of the officers state that inmate is at the facility.

“Are any of you in a gang?” Walls asked. “Are any of you affiliated with a gang?”

A few hands go up, surprisingly mostly from the girls accompanied by sheepish smiles.

One lone hand of a white kid so wholesome looking that he could be cast in milk commercial goes up. Walls and all of the officers look at him and tell him to stand.

“You’re in a gang?” Walls asks incredulously. The boy nods and affirms that he is a member of the “Bloods,” indicating a gang called Gangsta Killer Bloods that has made itself known in the Columbia and Midlands area. The gang is known to deal predominately in crack cocaine and is prone to violence, including murder, according to the Richland County Sheriff’s gang profiles. While there is no racial division in that gang, the boy claiming to be a member and not yet needing a razor, definitely doesn’t look the part

Walls, Bland, and Starling can barely keep a straight face as they continue to question the boy.

“You are a Blood?” Bland asks the boy again. Again the boy nods and mumbles something.

“What neighborhood?” Starling demands.

Another mumble. This time the officers can’t hold it. All three men, Officer Taylor and most of the room bellows out laughing. The boy remains standing but staring at his feet.

Trying to gain control of his laughter Starling, who works at the jail, again asks the boy if he is truly a member of the gang.

“Well we’re going to find out,” Starling said. “We have all of the gangs in here so don’t be showing any hand signs and do not disrespect these inmates. Just because they are locked up doesn’t mean they can’t reach you on the street if you disrespect them.”

With that the group is lined up according to height and gender and marched down the sterile, featureless halls of the jail. Deputies walk by, some inmates are led from one cellblock to another in chains; some are working in different areas, donned in county jumpsuits and cleaning the facility.

“The inmates you see working are happy to be mopping floors and cleaning windows,” Bland tells his group of kids. “They want to work because it gets them out of their cells.”

The group is led to a cell block. The three–tiered area has fencing on each side with steel doors with a small 2x2 window in each door. In the middle is the control center where an officer controls the lights, temperature, and locks to each cell. Two male inmates are waiting to talk to the kids. The inmates aren’t much older than the boys and girls lined up to listen to what they have to say. One of them recognizes a few of the kids from school.

It’s sad to see it register on his face that those kids still have a chance while he’s facing 15 to 25 years in prison with no chance of parole. He tells the kids his history and how he got there.

“I thought I was thug on the streets. I acted like a thug. I wanted to be known as a thug. I carried a gun, I sold dope, and I used dope. When I needed money I stole it. Then I got caught and was locked up in here. I ain’t no thug. I’m just stupid. There are real thugs in here and believe me, this ain’t where you want to be. You have to fight every day. Every day is what I’m saying. You have to fight, and these people in here don’t fight fair. And when you all beat up and hurtin’ your mama ain’t there to help you. You laying there in your cell with strangers that tell you to shut up and quit moaning. This ain’t where you want to be.”

The group is subdued as they listen to the 19–year–old inmate. Then he too asks if anyone in the room is affiliated with a gang. Walls, Bland, Starling, and Taylor all look at the self–proclaimed Blood member.

“Tell him,” Starling said

“PLEASE tell him,” Walls laughs.

The boy again says he’s a Blood. The two inmates look at him and then at each other. They both start to laugh. The laughter turns into guffaws and in seconds the two men are laughing so hard they have to lean on each other. It’s impossible at that point to be in the room and not be laughing, but the gang banger stands stoic and never cracks a smile.

One of the inmates wipes his eyes and gets his breath. He walks toward the boy.

“So you’re a Blood, huh? What set?”

The boy looks bewildered. The inmate then fires off a list of questions that make no sense unless of course one speaks the language of the street gangs. The boy obviously does not.

The inmate looks at Walls.

“He ain’t no Blood, but don’t let him be telling people in here that he is. He could get hurt.”

With that, the group is divided into boys and girls. Bland and Taylor go with the girls. Walls and Starling take the boys.

The girls are led into a cell block much like the previous one. All the doors are shut, and you can see curious faces behind the fencing and steel doors. It’s like a kennel or a stack of pet carriers where the creature inside is barely visible. It does not look like a place for humans to thrive and be happy. The women in here are facing serious charges.

One comes forward and tells the girls she is accused of killing her baby. The other one was accused of armed robbery and burglary where someone was seriously hurt, which added assault charges and a harsher potential sentence. Both look as if they belonged on a college campus, not in steel cages. They should be going to classes, not bartering for an extra bar of soap.

They talk to the girls and tell them about their lives, how they didn’t listen, got pregnant and the man responsible left them. The inmates spot a girl with a love bite on her neck. They both address her.

“What that on your neck? Is that a hickey?”

The girl nods and smiles.

“You nasty dog!” the accused armed robber said. “How old are you?”

When they find out she’s 13, they are both incredulous.

“You just a baby and you let that boy suck on your neck? Girl. You having sex? Do you strap up?”

The baffled girl doesn’t know what the inmate means.

“Oh no…you lettin’ that boy suck on your neck, and you don’t even know what strap up means? Oh girl. You going down. Do you use birth control is what I’m asking. Do you?”

By the time it’s time to leave, the visiting teen has pulled her hair over her neck and looks pretty convinced that sex at her age is not a good thing.

The girl accused of assault and robbery goes to her cell and brings back a photo of a beautiful baby girl. She said she gave birth to the child in jail but then had to send her home with family. She said she sees her every other week on visitation day.

“I miss my baby,” she said. “This ain’t no life for my baby girl. I may not let them bring her to me when she gets old enough to realize where I am and what I am. She deserves a chance.”

As the various inmates talk to the kids, Walls and the other deputies pass out honey buns as a thank you to the prisoners.

“They don’t get many sweets in here,” Walls said. “This is a no–frills world.”

A backward glance reveals the two female inmates looking wistfully at the group of girls walking out of the barred gate into a freedom those two have lost. One of them opens her honey bun and takes a bite as she is led back to her cell. Their words ring in the girls’ ears.

“Guards watch you do everything in here. They watch you sleep, they watch you in the shower, on the john or while you eat. They take it all away from you, your dignity and pride. And you’re always cold. You’re never warm in here. They control everything… when you get up, when you sleep, when you eat, and when the lights go out. There’s nothing in here for you. Ya’ll still got a chance. Don’t come here. Believe me, you don’t want to be here.”

The group is then led into the maximum security cell block. For the next hour, several inmates come out and speak to the kids in small groups. While they look like they have freedom within the cell block, armed guards are posted everywhere, and all exits are closed by mechanical locks controlled from the middle of the room.

The kids are introduced to inmates in cells, sometimes two to a unit. Walls points out the obvious crowded conditions by opening an empty cell to show a 6x8 room with one raised bench in the back. Not five feet from the bench is the toilet and on the back of the toilet is the water fountain, the only source of water in the place.

“Imagine two grown men in this place,” he said. “Imagine having to go to the bathroom in front of each other and smelling it when each other goes. This is the real thing. You don’t hear singing or music here do you?”

Some of the smaller boys begin to cling onto the deputies as they are led back to the cells where the maximum security prisoners are kept. Only partial faces are visible but for these boys, it was enough.

Walls pounces on the moment.

“Why are you hanging on me? You weren’t scared when you sassed your mama or cut school. Why are you scared now?”

Obviously coached, the inmates begin to yell and beat on the doors as the boys come toward them. One man asks Walls what the boys have done to come into the program. Walls points out one kid wearing a Mickey Mouse sweatshirt who was there for skipping school. The inmate pulls a malicious grin and looks at the kid.

“Oooh man I wish I’d seen you out there on the street walking home….yessireee…..I’d turn you into my very own Minnie Mouse….I sho would.” And he punctuates his threat by kicking the door, which sends the kid running toward the deputies.

One of the inmates gets the older boys and talks to them about gangs. He takes a special interest in the kid who claimed to be a Blood. This inmate has been featured in an episode of the History Channel’s “Gangland” series, and he knew what he was talking about. His language was unprintable, but his determination to dissuade the kids from thinking that gang life was glamorous was touching. You could see the different emotions travel across his face as he described the brutal initiations of boys and girls as young as 12 or 13 and the “tests” they were given to stay in or move up in the gangs. He told them about how a person gets addicted to the drugs and how pretty soon that person will do anything to get more drugs. He spoke of heinous crimes — murder, rape, torture — that gangs breed.

The self–proclaimed young gang banger didn’t look so sure as he had at the beginning of the day.

“All of us in here, our life is over. We gone die in prison. When I see kids like you on the outside that still have a chance that are messin’ it up, I get mad. Ya’ll look around you. This is jail! There ain’t no Saturday morning cartoons in here or bikes or video games. This is the end. Ya’ll don’t have to come here.”

While the detectives passed out the honey buns and thanked the inmates and officers, the group listened to one last inmate who wasn’t allowed out of his cell to talk to them. His voice was clear and filled with anguish as he spoke about his trip down the path to that cell.

“You think I didn’t have dreams?” he asked them. “Do you think this is how I saw myself when I was your age? I’m 28–years–old, and I had dreams. I wanted a wife and kids. I wanted to be somebody. I wanted a life. But I was stupid. I lost my right to my dreams. I gave up that right. Don’t you do that. This doesn’t have to be your life. I lost my dreams. You keep yours. Don’t come here.”

A very different group of kids leave the jail than the group that came in three hours ago. Snatches of conversation proved the Crossroads program was working.

“I ain’t never going to cut school again.”

“I’m apologizing to my mom as soon as I see her.”

“I’m going to start walking away from every fight. I ain’t got to prove nothing to nobody but me.”

“That’s good,” Walls tells the kids. “That’s real good that you don’t like it here. But you just remember… if you get tempted out there to go astray or get in trouble, this place is like Motel 6. They are always open, and they will leave the light on for you. They’ll be waiting for you.”