Prisoner Sensitization

I arrived at the Luzira maximum security prison at about 11:15 a.m. with Andrew Khaukha, who serves as the Secretary (logistics leader) of the Plea Bargaining Task Force.  Andrew had spoken with the warden in advance so he knew we were coming.  After navigating three levels of security we made it inside the warden’s office.  I had met the warden on two prior occasions, and he seemed to remember me.  I hope it was for the day I was in his office when Bob Goff walked a former witch doctor through his confession of faith in Jesus, and not for the day when Bob filled and launched a massive helium balloon from inside the prison courtyard – they we none too happy with the later after they figured out what was going on.

Luzira currently houses more than 3,300 prisoners, half of whom are on remand – they have been charged with a capital offense (serious crime), but have not been convicted of anything and have not yet been to court.  Virtually none of them have a lawyer.  Many have been on remand for three to five years.  A few have been on remand even longer.  The maximum capacity for the prison as constructed was just over one thousand.

We met with the warden for about an hour about our goals, concerns, and needs for next week’s plea bargaining project.  He never really resisted anything, but really caught the vision after watching the fifteen-minute video the Ugandans recently prepared about the integration of plea bargaining into the criminal justice system.  (It was kind of them to credit Pepperdine for the education and training we are providing them).

After we discussed the video with the warden for a few minutes, he led us out into the courtyard that is bigger than a football field.  Waiting for us on one side of the courtyard was a huge party tent, a head table, a public address system, and more than six hundred prisoners on remand from two of the districts covered by the prison.  Ninety-five percent of them wore yellow striped uniforms; the other five percent wore orange.  I am not entirely clear on the distinction, but I suspect those in orange were the internal prison leadership.  About twenty unarmed guards mingled around to ensure order was maintained.

We sat with our backs against the wall at a rickety plain wooden table facing the crowd fanning out before us.  About two hundred sat cross-legged in rows beginning five feet from us.  The other stood behind them, five deep in a semi-circle stretching from the wall to our left around to the wall to our right.  Not even for a moment did I feel unsafe or insecure.  That was one of the surprising things I have learned about Ugandan prisons – there is order and calm among the prisoners.  I am not sure if this is cultural, or if it is because they know the consequences of revolt would be severe.

The warden commandeered one sputtering microphone and an orange-shirted inmate gripped the other.  Over the next ten minutes, the warden did a decent job of providing an overview of plea bargaining.  He got a few things wrong, but nothing critical.  He then told the inmates that if they wanted to participate, they would go to the prison office with their indictment and sign a list.  Andrew followed next and did an excellent job of outlining the benefits of plea bargaining and explaining that they would have a lawyer representing them in plea discussions with the prosecution if they opted in.  He made sure to encourage them only to sign up they were willing to plead guilty.  Both spoke in Luganda with the orange-suited prisoner interpreting in English.

After fifteen minutes, Andrew introduced me and handed me the microphone.  I brought them greetings from the United States and Pepperdine and told them how much of a privilege it was to be invited to come to Uganda to provide them assistance.  I reiterated several of Andrew’s points, emphasizing that we didn’t want anyone to plead guilty who was innocent.  I also explained that we wanted to work with those who, while they may have committed crimes of violence, did so in self-defense or accidentally.  Our hope is to plead those cases to manslaughter.  I further explained how the process would work – they would have a team of five legally trained individuals assisting them and that all conversations were confidential.  They were warm and gracious when I finished ten minutes later.

Then came the less warm and, at times, hostile part.

In order to put them at ease and to encourage their engagement, Andrew had told them they would be permitted to ask questions when we finished.  He cautioned them, however, that we would only be able to answer questions pertinent to the plea bargaining project and process.  But when the Q & A period started, very few of the questions painted within the lines.  Several unloaded on the police, accusing them of corruption and falsifying evidence.  Others directed their attention at the lying complainants whose allegations put them there.  Still others tried to explain why they were innocent of the charges filed against them without specifically blaming anyone.  Some of the comments were followed by rousing cheers, while others generated derisive jeers.  A handful of the questions and comments were pertinent and thought-provoking.  Andrew did his best to respond in the Ugandan way – taking all of the questions before responding to any of them.  The beauty of this approach is that it allows the respondent to pick and choose the questions that receive attention.  The Q & A session was a painful 90 minutes, but Andrew handled it well.  I was bummed we didn’t get this on film, but the film crew arrives on Friday afternoon and we will do another small “prisoner sensitization” session on Monday.

From there, we attempted to have a similar session at another medium security prison in the same complex.  The warden was supposedly expecting us, but after waiting for more than an hour, we decided to leave and return on Friday.

From the prison, I headed to Makerere Medical School to meet with a contact there about Henry’s hoped-for admission in the coming days.  (For new blog followers, Henry is a former juvenile prison who has become a surrogate member of the Gash family).  I learned nothing about the admission timing in the visit, but renewed a good friendship and got a tentative meeting set with the dean of the school.

After spending a couple hours with an American couple trying to surmount some challenges they are facing in Uganda, I headed to the airport with my trusty and entertaining driver, Tango.  We picked up Revolution Picture’s Michelle Abnet, who is the producer of the documentary we are filming.

The action will rev up more each day in advance of Sunday’s all-hands-on-deck team meeting before we descend upon Luzira on Monday.  I hope to be able to start posting some pictures in the next day or two of what is happening beyond the prison walls, but they are still confiscating any cameras before we enter.  We are hoping to have the right permission soon.

I will close with the simple truth I was reminded of today by our Nootbaar Fellow, Susan Vincent, which captures Uganda quite well:

Very little is ideal; so much is possible.

We are praying for the possible . . .