"No Hope" Leads to a Short Rope in Colorado Prison

CANON CITY, Colo - The week before Christmas, David Girk, an inmate in his late 40's from Washington State, gave himself up to the ultimate act of hopelessness by attempting suicide here in his Fremont County Correctional Facility cell.

Girk received a transfer from Washington State, and was serving a six-year sentence with the requirement to complete offense-specific mental health treatment prior to release. Girk's treatment was not going well, four months into the 6-8 month intensive program he was already placed on probation and threatened with suspension.

Suspension can be devastating for men in Girk's situation. There is little hope of parole after successfully completing the treatment program, but there is no hope of release without it. Once suspended an inmate is moved to the bottom of the waiting list to return to treatment - this usually means additional years, not months, behind bars. Inmates are further punished by getting moved to an administrative segregation unit where they are locked down and isolated for 22 hours a day. This treatment, an additional punishment on top of the original court sentence, is considered cruel and unusual punishment by most western democracies and the U.N.

In Colorado mental health treatment is optional, but it is the ultimate catch-22. If an inmate declines treatment he activates a life sentence and will most likely remain behind bars for the rest of his natural life. If he accepts treatment but does not progress as the therapists want, the man is placed in isolation - an extrajudicial punishment imposed by therapists not judges. The absurdity is clear, CDOC takes a man with known mental issues and places him in isolated confinement-an arrangement the rest of the world considers mental torture. The therapeutic value of this policy is unclear, seeming more coercive, than humane mental health treatment.

The therapeutic model used by CDOC is by design, or habit, one of aggressive confrontation. Inmates are encouraged to aggressively question and confront fellow group members while those being attacked are at their most vulnerable. Inmates learn to mimic the harsh tone and accusations of their therapists, who tell the men their treatment relationship is not based on trust because the men have already proven themselves untrustworthy by committing their crimes.

Renowned criminal psychologist William L. Marshall, PhD., FRSC, of the Lockwood Psychological Services in Ontario, Canada disagrees with the CDOC model. According to Marshall, his studies show that, "a harsh confrontational style by the therapist led to a worsening of the offenders' problems." Marshall also asserts that it is critical to therapeutic success for the inmate’s mental capacity and cultural background to drive the treatment plan. Marshall says, "Therapy should be delivered in a manner that allows the flexibility necessary to adjust to each client's unique features.''

Girk's unique features were seemingly never considered. Those who knew the man well characterized him as likable, deeply sensitive to others, and mentally challenged or slow. Prior to his suicide attempt, Girk had problems with his cellmate resulting in a move to a new pod. Shortly after his move he identified a more serious issue and asked to talk with a male therapist about his problem - he didn't feel comfortable bringing the issue to his two female therapists. The board that governs mental health treatment at the prison dictates that each group have a male and female therapist for problems such as Girk's. Most groups are led by female therapists - there are few men and no minority men in the mental health department.

According to Girk, he was aggressively attacked in treatment and had no support system in his new pod. With pressure mounting daily, no assistance from mental health, the looming suspension from therapy leading to indefinite isolation in prison segregation, and the prospect of serving life for a six-year sentence...Girk broke.

There are thousands of men caught in the state's revolving therapeutic door. Most inmates will admit that they have seriously considered suicide after a CDOC therapy session. "Everyone gets their turn in what the therapists call the 'hot seat'," said one inmate. For Girk, suicide became the solution to the justified loss of hope endured by a prison population where, according to 2009 CDOC parole statistics, less than 1-100 is paroled - the most regressive rate in the nation.

On the day prior to his suicide attempt, friends would say Girk acted relieved, he seemed happy and at peace. No one could see the dark shadow of despair that had overcome the sensitive mentally challenged man. Girk had found peace and relief from his state sponsored suffering in the idea of death.

The morning he planned to end his life Girk played cards with acquaintances in his pod. Maybe this was his way of saying good- bye, or psyching himself up for what he was about to do - it is difficult to know someone's mind in such dark moments. After the game, Girk calmly put down his cards, walked to his cell, closed the door and hung himself. He was found several minutes later unconscious on the floor of his cell - his attempt mercifully unsuccessful.

Girk was taken to the Territorial Prison Hospital here for medical attention, his future in the CDOC system uncertain. He could find himself in the state mental hospital in San Carlos, he could be placed back at Fremont to contemplate life behind bars on a six-year sentence, or he could find himself languishing in one of the state's maximum security prisons, isolated and alone 24 hours a day.

The best option for Girk may be to request a transfer back to Washington State where treatment is considered by mental health professionals more humane and therapeutic. Perhaps there Girk can escape the Colorado system that drove him to the end of a rope.