Post by blackest_knight on Nov 27, 2004 17:44:34 GMT -5
I found this article in the National Post (from the Nov. 20th paper)
Creature comfort in Cell 417
Can cats actually help rehabilitate hard-core criminals? One U.S. prison thinks so
Mary Vallis
National Post
Saturday, November 20, 2004
MICHIGAN CITY - Dan Milne is a rapist who forced four women from their homes at knifepoint. Indiana State Prison could be his home until 2049.
He has not posted any pictures in his half of cell No. 417, which he shares with another inmate. A small colour television is angled toward his bed. A bass guitar case leans against one wall. Near it, there is a litter box.
Milne kneels and coos at the winter jacket spread out on his cot. A small lump beneath the jacket moves, and two furry paws poke out. This is Milne's creature comfort: A tortoiseshell cat named Sheba who has shared his cell for the past decade.
"It's nice to have something that cares about you," Milne says, smiling.
"There's not much that happens here, but when I lay down on my bed, usually at night, she'll jump right up on my chest and start kneading my stomach, purring."
Milne, 40, is one of a handful of prisoners at this maximum security prison who own cats as part of an innovative pilot program.
Prison officials say the cats are an incentive for good behaviour -- if the inmates are sent to solitary confinement, lose their prison jobs or are written up for severe disciplinary violations, the cats are taken away from them.
Forty cats from a local animal shelter have been adopted by model prisoners, such as Milne, who must qualify for the program. They must carry identification cards with their pictures and inmate numbers, as well as pictures of their cats, at all times.
The inmates must also pay for all of the cats' needs, including a US$65 adoption fee and regular visits to a veterinarian. They buy cat food at the prison commissary.
Milne works in sanitation, catching mice in the prison for about US$30 a month. Sheba puts a significant dent in his earnings, but he insists she is worth it, for both him and his fellow inmates.
Indiana State Prison, in northwest Indiana near the shore of Lake Michigan, houses nearly 1,900 inmates. The state's death-row prisoners usually live here (although they are temporarily being housed elsewhere because of renovations). Nearly three-quarters of the inmates are serving sentences for murder or voluntary manslaughter.
"These guys are hard-core criminals," Milne says. "And then when a cat comes up and rubs against them, you see the baby in them. They just lose the hard shell and everybody's a whole person again.
"In here, you've got to try to be hard case, but a little creature brings out the nicest in everybody."
One burly prisoner nicknamed Bull cried the day he was transferred out of Indiana State Prison. He could not take his cat of 15 years, Catrick, to the new facility. A friend outside the prison agreed to take him home.
Many prisons offer pet-therapy programs, allow inmates to train guide dogs or work on farms. What sets Indiana State Prison apart is the fact prisoners actually own the animals. The cats may live in the prisoners' cells indefinitely, provided the inmates follow the rules.
The program is partly a response to a long-standing predicament. Cats have been living behind the prison's century-old walls for as long as most people can remember: Some strays snuck in through the sewer system or the gate that was the entrance for coal trains. Inmates lured others into the prison yard.
Milne has been in prison since 1990. He got Sheba as a kitten after an illicit cat gave birth in 1994. He hid her in a mug and fed her with an eyedropper at first. He wove string through the bars of his cell to keep her inside as she got bigger.
The guards soon realized the inmates were harbouring cats and asked them to register their animals with the prison.
The program has been off and on for the past two decades. Some superintendents have supported the idea, while others have tried to phase out the cats.
When the current superintendent, Cecil Davis, took over in 2001, prisoners pleaded with him to keep their cats. He took the idea to his bosses in Indianapolis and got approval.
The pilot program is so popular that 10 new cats were added last week. More than 100 prisoners entered their names in a lottery for the animals. Prisoners with a history of animal abuse are not eligible.
One of the winners was Milne's cellmate. Two cats and two men are sharing their 2.4- by 3.0-metre space.
But personal property, even pets, can cause problems in prisons. In Florida, a major fight broke out at a prison in 2002 and one inmate needed brain surgery after he accused another of stealing his pet spider, Pinky.
Prison officials in Indiana, however, insist the cats have never caused such problems.
Superintendent Davis says the program is therapeutic. "It allows them to care for and love a creature, and pets tend to give unconditional love back," he says. "I've seen the calming effect it has on offenders."
Even victims' rights advocates suggest the program is a good idea.
While some victims think the prison should be entirely punitive, others want offenders to be rehabilitated, says Tess Woods, board president of the Indiana Victim Assistance Network.
The cats may help offenders learn empathy, which would be valuable after their release, she adds.
"We hope that people walk out of the system like this, that they're not going to hurt someone again," Ms. Woods says. "For some people, having responsibility over a pet can help them gain some of those skills."
That is what Dan Milne says Sheba, with her purring and kneading, has done for him. As he straightens the collar of his prison-issue khaki shirt, he admits he was once a terrible drinker who did not take responsibility for his actions.
"I didn't care about anybody's feelings. I didn't care about what I'd done," he says. He does not drink anymore. Every time he thinks about breaking the rules, he takes a long look at Sheba.
"I worked so hard to change the way I was. I ain't gonna revert. I'm not going back.
"I just look at her, and she helps me."
© National Post 2004
Creature comfort in Cell 417
Can cats actually help rehabilitate hard-core criminals? One U.S. prison thinks so
Mary Vallis
National Post
Saturday, November 20, 2004
MICHIGAN CITY - Dan Milne is a rapist who forced four women from their homes at knifepoint. Indiana State Prison could be his home until 2049.
He has not posted any pictures in his half of cell No. 417, which he shares with another inmate. A small colour television is angled toward his bed. A bass guitar case leans against one wall. Near it, there is a litter box.
Milne kneels and coos at the winter jacket spread out on his cot. A small lump beneath the jacket moves, and two furry paws poke out. This is Milne's creature comfort: A tortoiseshell cat named Sheba who has shared his cell for the past decade.
"It's nice to have something that cares about you," Milne says, smiling.
"There's not much that happens here, but when I lay down on my bed, usually at night, she'll jump right up on my chest and start kneading my stomach, purring."
Milne, 40, is one of a handful of prisoners at this maximum security prison who own cats as part of an innovative pilot program.
Prison officials say the cats are an incentive for good behaviour -- if the inmates are sent to solitary confinement, lose their prison jobs or are written up for severe disciplinary violations, the cats are taken away from them.
Forty cats from a local animal shelter have been adopted by model prisoners, such as Milne, who must qualify for the program. They must carry identification cards with their pictures and inmate numbers, as well as pictures of their cats, at all times.
The inmates must also pay for all of the cats' needs, including a US$65 adoption fee and regular visits to a veterinarian. They buy cat food at the prison commissary.
Milne works in sanitation, catching mice in the prison for about US$30 a month. Sheba puts a significant dent in his earnings, but he insists she is worth it, for both him and his fellow inmates.
Indiana State Prison, in northwest Indiana near the shore of Lake Michigan, houses nearly 1,900 inmates. The state's death-row prisoners usually live here (although they are temporarily being housed elsewhere because of renovations). Nearly three-quarters of the inmates are serving sentences for murder or voluntary manslaughter.
"These guys are hard-core criminals," Milne says. "And then when a cat comes up and rubs against them, you see the baby in them. They just lose the hard shell and everybody's a whole person again.
"In here, you've got to try to be hard case, but a little creature brings out the nicest in everybody."
One burly prisoner nicknamed Bull cried the day he was transferred out of Indiana State Prison. He could not take his cat of 15 years, Catrick, to the new facility. A friend outside the prison agreed to take him home.
Many prisons offer pet-therapy programs, allow inmates to train guide dogs or work on farms. What sets Indiana State Prison apart is the fact prisoners actually own the animals. The cats may live in the prisoners' cells indefinitely, provided the inmates follow the rules.
The program is partly a response to a long-standing predicament. Cats have been living behind the prison's century-old walls for as long as most people can remember: Some strays snuck in through the sewer system or the gate that was the entrance for coal trains. Inmates lured others into the prison yard.
Milne has been in prison since 1990. He got Sheba as a kitten after an illicit cat gave birth in 1994. He hid her in a mug and fed her with an eyedropper at first. He wove string through the bars of his cell to keep her inside as she got bigger.
The guards soon realized the inmates were harbouring cats and asked them to register their animals with the prison.
The program has been off and on for the past two decades. Some superintendents have supported the idea, while others have tried to phase out the cats.
When the current superintendent, Cecil Davis, took over in 2001, prisoners pleaded with him to keep their cats. He took the idea to his bosses in Indianapolis and got approval.
The pilot program is so popular that 10 new cats were added last week. More than 100 prisoners entered their names in a lottery for the animals. Prisoners with a history of animal abuse are not eligible.
One of the winners was Milne's cellmate. Two cats and two men are sharing their 2.4- by 3.0-metre space.
But personal property, even pets, can cause problems in prisons. In Florida, a major fight broke out at a prison in 2002 and one inmate needed brain surgery after he accused another of stealing his pet spider, Pinky.
Prison officials in Indiana, however, insist the cats have never caused such problems.
Superintendent Davis says the program is therapeutic. "It allows them to care for and love a creature, and pets tend to give unconditional love back," he says. "I've seen the calming effect it has on offenders."
Even victims' rights advocates suggest the program is a good idea.
While some victims think the prison should be entirely punitive, others want offenders to be rehabilitated, says Tess Woods, board president of the Indiana Victim Assistance Network.
The cats may help offenders learn empathy, which would be valuable after their release, she adds.
"We hope that people walk out of the system like this, that they're not going to hurt someone again," Ms. Woods says. "For some people, having responsibility over a pet can help them gain some of those skills."
That is what Dan Milne says Sheba, with her purring and kneading, has done for him. As he straightens the collar of his prison-issue khaki shirt, he admits he was once a terrible drinker who did not take responsibility for his actions.
"I didn't care about anybody's feelings. I didn't care about what I'd done," he says. He does not drink anymore. Every time he thinks about breaking the rules, he takes a long look at Sheba.
"I worked so hard to change the way I was. I ain't gonna revert. I'm not going back.
"I just look at her, and she helps me."
© National Post 2004
Very cool article, Shauna 
