Kids, go directly to jail, and take a long hard look
For Stoughton teens, Dedham facility is no longer a drive-by
DEDHAM -- A crowd of 20 teenagers wearing blue prison-issued inmate shirts lined up single-file at the metal detector. One by one, they walked through the security checkpoint and entered the Norfolk County Correctional Center. They huddled together, and a few smirked and giggled nervously as the first heavy steel door slid shut behind them loudly.
These teens weren't getting locked up; they were on a field trip organized by the Stoughton Youth Commission to "learn about prison from the inside out."
"We're not trying to scare them," said Larry Feeney, a community youth officer in charge of the tour. " But we will get them thinking. It could be something they see or hear here that keeps them on track."
A second steel door opened, and Feeney walked down a stark hallway, a parade of baggy jeans, Adidas and
The Norfolk County Correctional Center opened in 1992 and serves 28 communities in the county. Situated between the northbound and southbound lanes of Route 128, it is the only prison in the country located on the median of an interstate highway, according to the Norfolk County sheriff's office. The prison was originally built to hold 302 inmates, but on any given day it holds more than twice that -- about 700 men.
"The sentences are getting longer and the inmates are getting younger," said Feeney.
Members of the Stoughton Youth Commission group that toured the facility last week while on February vacation ranged in age from 12 to 16. Some were there of their own volition; others to fulfill community service obligations, or as part of a 10-week anger management course, according to Karen Hall, director of the Stoughton Youth Commission.
"If we can make an impression on just one child, and help that child make the right decision to stay away from drugs and alcohol, then we've done something worthwhile," said Sheriff Michael G. Bellotti, whose office conducts the tours as part of the substance abuse prevention program.
Feeney instructed the young visitors to form a double line and walk down the prison hallways in pairs. They all wore the same V-neck style shirts, numbered on the front, and "N.C.S.O.C.C. VISITOR" printed on the back. The shirt almost reached the knees of a 12-year-old's small frame. The gang of blue shirts shuffled slowly through the stark hallways lit by fluorescent lighting, past the cinderblock walls.
"All we're going to do is give you a glimpse of life in institutions," said Feeney. "Let me tell you a secret... a lot of these people are just like us." The only difference, he said, is that they made a mistake, "made poor decisions, and they're paying the consequences."
Eight out of 10 inmates at Norfolk County Correctional Center are there on charges related to substance abuse -- from drunken driving to drug possession to assault and battery.
As Feeney spoke, another corrections officer ordered "Against the walls please!" as he cleared the way for three inmates to pass by. The teens quickly obliged.
Feeney led the group into House 2B, one of nine housing units in the facility. A corrections officer stood watch over the common area, which smelled of sweat and industrial-strength cleaner, as the young visitors filed through. Inmates peered out from the small windows of their cells, which lined the periphery of the room and the second-floor balcony.
A few inmates hooted and shouted at the visitors, who remained quiet.
Feeney showed them the inside of cell number 12, a 10- by 12-foot space that contained four bunks, a toilet, a urinal, and a small mirror. The visitors said little, but took it all in.
"I think that some of the stuff really hits them when they go into the cellblock and see that little room that holds four people," said Hall.
Later, the young visitors listened soberly as the inmates told their stories.
Frank, a 22-year-old from Quincy, explained how he went from being a football and basketball player to a drug addict. How he started hanging with older teenagers, got into drinking and smoking marijuana, then prescription pills and ecstasy, and, ultimately, heroin.
"It's a vicious cycle," he said. "At the time it seems fun, but in the long run it doesn't pay off."
Another inmate, Alex, 21, told how he was convicted of possession of heroin and cocaine. His girlfriend, he said, is doing time at MCI-Framingham "because of my mistakes." Said Alex, "If there's one thing I can tell you, it's stay away from drugs. Be yourself."
Gary, 39 -- whose broad chest and big biceps suggested he spent a lot of time in the prison gym -- was also doing time for drug charges. "I thought I was having fun until the drugs started having fun with me," he said.
He described living in a prison cell -- "Every day I wake up in a toilet bowl with three strangers" -- and added: "I never thought this was going to happen."
At the beginning of the tour, the young visitors had been asked to write down their hopes and dreams on a piece of paper. After listening to the inmates, Feeney asked them to throw their piece of paper into a trash barrel in the middle of the room. The message was clear: Being in prison meant never realizing your dreams. The students silently tossed their pieces of paper into the trash.
Then everyone went around the room and said what they learned. The most common response: Learn not to bow to peer pressure.
Emily Sweeney can be reached at esweeney@globe.com. ![]()