Certain jobs tend to offer greater opportunity to slide into the toilet than others. Criminal defense lawyer, for one. Cops as well. But few offer such a rife opportunity as prison guard, with so few people watching over his shoulder, and so few in a position to complain without a very real likelihood of retribution. Really bad and painful retribution. Matthew Amos is one of the few who got caught.
From the Denver Post :
This is where $17,200 in easy money landed him.
Amos’ conviction for smuggling tobacco into a federal prison in Florence provides a revealing glimpse into the jailhouse black market — where a single bag of tobacco can go for $1,000 and the key players in funneling contraband to inmates are often the very people hired to watch over them.
Granted, smuggling tobacco, perfectly lawful in prison until it was banned in 2004, when nannies said it might damage the health of prisoners (because being in prison wasn’t damaging enough), doesn’t smack of heinousness. It’s not crack or heroin, guns or shivs. It’s just tobacco. But in prison, that’s contraband.
Amos did what too many of us do. He befriended someone on the wrong side of the law, and slid into the morass of easy money because he could.
Amos would sneak in bags of tobacco to give to the inmate, who would handle distribution to customers around the prison, according to a recounting of the case in Amos’ plea agreement. The inmate’s girlfriend would collect money from the customers’ families and then put a chunk of it into a bank account for Amos. Amos was sent a debit card tied to that account, according to the plea agreement. His take was $400 per bag.
It’s unclear exactly what’s meant by a “bag,” but even if it’s a really big bag, that’s decent money. And it’s still just tobacco. And it’s still contraband. And it’s unclear how the deal went south, but apparently no one told Amos that there was one huge gap in the scheme. His inmate buddy would rat him out without the slightest thought if it was in his best interest to do so. Prisoners are funny that way. They never seem to love anyone as much as one thinks. And down came Amos at the hands of his partner.
Amos stood before Denver Senior Judge John Kane for sentencing, and no doubt realized the $400 per bag really wasn’t as good a deal as he originally thought.
On Friday he stood before a federal judge in Denver pleading for his life.
If he went to prison, Amos told the judge, he would have to pay fellow inmates for protection. Or he would be “whored out.” Or worse.
It’s what happens to former prison guards who end up behind bars.
“There’s no way I would be able to stay out on that yard without providing some kind of service,” Amos said, voice unsteady. “To be asked to go into that system will be asking me to be something I don’t want to be.”
It’s certainly true that a prison guard, like a cop, or a child molester for that matter, isn’t treated well by the other inmates. Neither are young inmates, especially those who might be deemed attractive to others who are lonely. Or weak and easily taken advantage of. In fact, there are a lot of different types of people who don’t do well in prison. We all know this, but it doesn’t seem to have been important enough to those in charge to fix.
The story fails to speak to what sort of fellow Amos was as a prison guard. Was his reputation among prisoners good? Was he considered fair or abusive? That he was engaged in a scheme motivated by personal greed doesn’t speak well of him, on the one hand, but doesn’t make him violent or venal on the other. Either way, prison guards aren’t likely to be well treated by their former charges, no matter what. And Matthew Amos said so at sentence.
Had the sentencing judge been any other federal district court Senior Judge John Kane, it’s likely that cynicism would explode at this point. But since Senior Judge Kane has demonstrated over and over that he’s above the need to use his authority to play Angel of Vengeance, and rather does as much as the law allows to sincerely apply the purposes of sentencing to each individual, Amos was very lucky.
Senior U.S. District Court Judge John Kane took sympathy on Amos, saying he wanted Amos — a military veteran who served in Bosnia — to receive treatment and education instead of prison. He gave Amos five years of probation.
And Amos said he was sorry.
Sure, Amos wore a uniform when he committed his crimes, which tends to make judges cut one of two ways. Either they slam the defendant, to “send a message” to others that misconduct by those to whom we give authority, and the responsibility to carry it out honestly. Or cut them a break, because they were the good guys, aside from this aberrant behavior.
“I fully take responsibility for everything I’ve done,” he said. “I’m ashamed of not only what I’ve done but the image I’ve cast on everyone else.”
As if there was a choice. They’re always ashamed afterward, though $400 per bag of tobacco was enough to soothe the same before. Had it not been Judge Kane, chances are pretty good that he would have had a very unpleasant time in the yard. Matthew Amos has much to be thankful for this year, and he wasn’t a very good boy.
Even a prison guard deserves real consideration at sentence, as does every defendant. It’s not wrong that Matthew Amos got 5 years probation. It’s only wrong that every federal judge doesn’t give the same meaningful consideration to every defendant before him for sentencing.
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Especially when you consider that his crime contained that famous aggravating factor, “breach of trust”
You know if it’d been some kid stealing 50$ from his Pizza Hut till the judge would have been mouthing off about “breach of trust” to justify a short sharp sentence, or a middle aged accountant stealing cash to fuel a gambling addiction would have got years. But a prison guard would just find prison too damn hard, so we’ll give him a break
Remember, the point isn’t to make the guard’s sentence unreasonable, but to make all sentences reasonable, even the kid from Pizza Hut.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have any objection to the outcome for the guard in your post. Just agreeing with your sentiment. No one wants to go to prison.
I’m just bitching that breach of trust as an aggravating factor on sentencing is often used to justify a custodial sentence for first time non-violent offenders, many of whom will find prison just as difficult as a prison guard would. If you’d asked me what the penalty would be for a guard caught smuggling large amounts of contraband into his prison over a length of time for financial gain, my guess would not have been probation. Even though it’s probably an entirely appropriate sentence
I don’t blame you for bitching, particularly since the difference in treatment of a guard/cop and anyone else is so common and flagrant. If all judges were as serious in their sentencing deliberations as Judge Kane, perhaps we would have a far more effective system and far fewer people needlessly wasting away in prisons.
If anything, this case underscores the conclusion that Prohibition of any sort is futile. All you do is create business for criminals, both freelance and official.
Which explains the calls for a heroin machine in the mess hall annex.
Okay, who leaked my business plan? Was it my so-called partners in the BOP? They wanted 60% and I would only promise them 45%.
what if i told you that i knew matt amos and that he’s been doing things like this for at least a decade. that he was kicked out of a military prep school through which he would have commissioned in the army for falsifying military documents and lying about his military experience and credentials. i think if that judge would truly know the character of this man, he’d have sent him behind bars.
If you were to tell me that, I would say you have to use your real name or I wouldn’t believe you, because any jerk can write an anonymous comment and claim to know someone or know about someone without having any responsibility for what they say.