The average family travels three hours each way to get to the Preston Youth Correctional Facility. It took us two hours from our office in Oakland. When we arrived, Jennifer and I were treated to what has become a typical experience for families visiting Preston—an exhaustive (and intimidating) search of our vehicle by local police and their dogs. The search ended abruptly when staff learned we weren’t here to visit family—we were here for a tour.
Our three tour guides—the superintendent, the assistant superintendent, and a supervising parole agent—met us in the administrative office at the mouth of the facility. As we exited through the back, the first thing I noticed was the quiet. It felt like the parties to our tour were the only people on the grounds. The basketball courts—weeds cutting through concrete, and backboards soaked with rust—were empty, as was the swimming pool and the dry grass where rattlesnakes are known to curl in the sun. “It looks like a junior college, doesn’t it?” the parole agent said cheerfully. To me, Preston looked more like an inactive military base, its buildings worn, its spirit forlorn.
This was a tour of gaps and silences, and I’ll remember it as much by what we did not see as by what we were led to see. We did not have the chance to visit the living unit where young people adjudicated for sex offenses are housed—one of the poorest-kept units from the previous Books Not Bars tour—nor did we see the showers, where last November, parents told us their children were sprayed with mace after a fight erupted, the chemicals so thick in the air it was difficult to breathe. Of the 300 youth housed at Preston, we were in the presence last Saturday of maybe thirty of them, and spoke to even fewer. When I recall the tour now, the image that comes to mind is of the first living unit we visited, with its forty or fifty empty metal beds, many triple bunked and each topped with what could have been slices of a single mattress. The light was dim, the caged security station unmanned, and all to be heard was the dull hum of a fan.
Our guides seemed to take a certain pleasure in leading the tour—offering to take us to the top of the watchtower, twice recommending the wine tasting and open house at the historic castle nearby—as if we had come to visit not a prison but some site of national pride. Since the youth prisons have fallen under a federal consent decree for their deplorable conditions, the superintendent and his staff give tours quite often, and Saturday’s program, very much a highlight reel of piecemeal improvements, likely followed the path that numerous state officials and agents of the courts have also taken. While the superintendent and other staff we met along the way were more than welcoming and assured us we could visit whatever we wished to see, there is only so much you can see on a Saturday morning when most young people are either visiting their loved ones or in the mess hall or someplace else we do not visit.
For the superintendent, the tour was his way of saying the old, dark days are behind us, as he made it a point to lead us through his proudest accomplishments. He took us to the “Behavioral Treatment Program” unit (BTP), where youth once confined to 21-hour solitary are now housed. Most have access to a common area, and all receive programming outside their cells (though they still spend the majority of the day in lockup). In a different unit, we were introduced to a staff member well versed in the language of conflict resolution. According to the superintendent, court-mandated decreases in the number of youth housed on each living unit have helped reduce the number of incidents in which staff members resort to force (though the improper use of chemical restraints, we would add, remains a huge issue).
Midway through the tour, the sight of imposing metal cages outside the Sequoia living unit cast a silence over the group. The superintendent kept walking, and we followed. With his back to the cages, the superintendent said, “We don’t use any of that stuff any more.” From the way he said it, you’d think decades had passed since young men spent hours peering out from those cages during recreation time, but it has actually been just a couple years, if that. The superintendent quickly added that he plans to acquire dogs from the local SPCA, which some youth will be responsible for training, and in the abandoned cages, the dogs will be kept. And so cages for men become cages for dogs. The policy is rewritten, regulations updated, and the indiscretion is erased. The institution self-corrects and plows ahead like a steam train, or so the superintendent would have it.
But do the young people at Preston see the transformation? I was the last to leave the common area of one of the “high risk” living units, when a group of eight young men flagged me down. I explained who I worked for. “We have some concerns,” one of them said. The grievance process—another of the reforms the superintendent had touted—still wasn’t working. “They are throwing our complaints in the trash. We can’t do anything about it.” “The tour they’re taking you on,” another youth said, “it’s a joke. They’re putting on a show for you. As soon as you leave, we’ll be back in our cells again.” “And see,” the first young man cut in again. He cocked his head to gesture to the corrections officer stationed across the room. “We’ll all have trouble for talking to you.” His friends nodded wearily.
Preston is not a place that shows itself in an hour, especially to visitors, but there were moments like this when I caught glimpses of its character. In the BTP unit, while everyone else sat in orange chairs by the television, two youth remained locked in their cells. The cells are dank closets and each features a single window slat. One of the two young men stood right up against the door, looked out through the slat with heavy eyes, and waved. Apparently Sacramento County had paid the Division of Juvenile Justice to house him and his companion before their trial, but due to liability concerns, they were to have no contact with the DJJ youth, which meant they were isolated, in their cells or otherwise, at all times.
On the way home, I thought about what the young man I’d met had told me, that when the show was over, he and his compatriots would be back in their cells, too. And for a second, I imagined rows of youth holed up in their cells, just as the design of the facility—with its long, dark halls—prescribes. Like the old castle that shares its grounds, Preston is a fortress—obdurate and insular and tethered to misery. The superintendent’s protocol and pronouncements won’t take the misery away from those halls. No, he’ll need a bulldozer to do that.
12 Comments
As a parent whose son was house in CYA, including Preston, my feelings were well represented by the authors views. From the moment I would drive onto the campus (it really is a prison), my anxiety and anger level would rise. The cold and calculating regulations imposed on family was shameful. In the middle of Summer, at Noontime, we had to wear long pants as shorts were prohibited. We were confined to an enclosed room without air conditioning even though an open courtyard with shade was available. Once in, you were prevented from re-entry.
Poloroid cameras were the only cameras allowed (with film costing about $2 bucks a picture, if you can find it). The only food available, during a 4 hour visit, was from vending machines, when they were stocked and working. The guards treated everyone as a suspect and unwarranted rules were not to be violated (for the apparent convenience of the guards). The family did not matter nor did a quality visit experience.
CYA (aka DJJ) is a pit. The apparent purpose is to prepare the inmates for life in an adult facility. Its a waste of taxpayer money, its a waste of time and its a waste of the lives of our children.
Steve Eldridge
Cupertino
Dear== Mr. ___ Allen Feaster
I was move by the lost of your son.* your son did get out of *CYA __ and became a change man. He is now up in heaven looking down at his number one dad.
I did some time in the CYA __ 3 ½ years. * I am now a father of six kids* 3 boy’s and 3 girl’s. I have nothing to thank the system for____________
*God be with you*
Very interesting article. I especially enjoyed the way the article shifts the blame on the DJJ of how they are containing youths. Youths that the parents neglected and basically denied any ownership. If you are to criticize then you must go to the source of the problems, the homes of the youths that are there. And if they did not have a home to call, investigate the where they developed their issues. Don’t go to the middle and say “this is the problem!”. Start at the source, criticize it, prioritize it.
I am just wondering if youth facility phone calls cost as much as adult prisons. I know the adults get charge up to 20 times more than normal residences.
Anyway thanks for the article, it’s interesting. As always communication can help so many problems.
Thank you championing details. It helped me in my assignment
I am the girlfriend of one of the inmates at Preston and he will be locked up there at Preston altogether 6 years… Its not all negative things being there… He has received an education and pursuing a better life… Yea things get hard in there but its with the other inmates not the staff… So unless you have been there as an inmate you cant really judge at all… Its jail not a vacation… Things get hard but you learn to deal with them… The kids that are in there are there for a reason… They did something bad… And instead of going to prison they get a second chance… Its not a waste of tax payers money… I would pay double for Preston… To help fix the problem they need to send those scraps back down south where they belong…
Anyone know about the last comment?
I am just wondering if youth facility phone calls cost as much as adult prisons. I know the adults get charge up to 20 times more than normal residences.
Anyway thanks for the article, it’s interesting. As always communication can help so many problems.
Thanks
my boyfriend is at preston and the calls only cost 68 cents for 15 min. its a deal compared to all the other facilitys.
hi my boyfriend has just got five years I’m so scared for his safety I just hope preston will turn him into a mature man but will also let him out alive an safe I haven’t yet been able to visit but I hope its an ok experience , n yes they did something bad to end up there but everyone has reason for there actions so we can’t judge unless you have lived there lifes! My prayers are with the families an the fellow youth an I luv you jullian
I have been in similar visiting rooms many times. We have gone through the pat downs and walked through the cell doors.
I wish this county could spend less money on housing people in prison and more on preventing them from getting there.
Being a former Preston employee, I challenge you sir, to put on a jumpsuit, and work the line like I did (then you would know how these kids really are) And then see for yourself how difficult it is to house, feed, and care for hundreds of youth who want nothing to do with help, and everything to do with crime, hate, violence, and anarchy.
Your article is a joke. Excuse me for being so blunt. But do you know why they have extensive searches on visitors? Thats because the families that are supposed to raise them into law abiding citizens have failed and are the ones bringing in contraband to youth incarcerated (i.e. drugs, etc). Our recidivism rate would go down when you start making these youth accountable for their actions. But instead the state and liberals like you give them all that they want. What about the victims? In your tour did you take a look at the youths file and find out what his offense is? Who his victims are and the family that made him who he is? What about the little boy or girl who was violently molested and scarred for life. What about the person who was murdered or robbed or raped? Have you thought about why this youth is always in his room. Does he continue to fight and cause riots. These youths are good at lying and manipulating. Its called survival. Do you really think they are going to be honest to you about their living conditions? Unless youve worked inside one of these facilities you have no room to speak. See if you survive being a victim of one of these youth. The system sickens me. When an inmate has more rights than a law abiding citizen. There is seriously something wrong with that!!!!