Visiting in a Canadian prison is like leaving the country. All the rights you think you have are left outside. This is supposed to be part of Canada, but no where else in the country would you be treated so disrespectfully, greeted with such hate, or made to feel llike a third class citizen.
I used to be quiet about the things that go on, but no more. I complain loudly and frequently to the Correctional Investigator, the Commissioner, the local warden, and anyone else I can corner. My son is doing 10 to life for two murders that he did not do. It has been 15 and a half years so far. His life has been threatened, by guards, not prisoners, and one guard threatened to have him killed if I did not stop writing letters about what goes on there. I reported him and he is no longer a guard.
I hate the ion scanner that they use to screen for drug trafficking. According to this machine I have been using or dealing in cocaine, heroin, methamphetamines and marijuana. I have a heart condition for which I take several medications, am a type 1 diabetic, and have had cancer.
I need to blow off some steam once and a while, and the warden's secretary gets the brunt of that. She would not have to if she would put me through to the man himself. When that inevitably fails, I start on the Commisioner's staff. Every once and a while, I find someone who is listening, but apparently are ineffective. Can you hear the frustration?
Elouise