10 a.m. at the San Benito County Jail
The
”
Main Line
”
is a walk through three sets of secured doors. Control officer Philip Hernandez sits, centered within the dimmed confines of six pods housing the jail’s 106 inmates.
At his enclosed station, he
”
quarterbacks
”
unlocking all secured doors. That includes A Pod
– the exclusive home of Norteno gang members.
He peers through the glass at an eager group of 40 inmates gathered near the door. It’s the scheduled time each day for A Pod in
”
The Yard.
”
Inmates from other pods wouldn’t dare request 10 a.m. for their exercise.
10 a.m. at the San Benito County Jail
The “Main Line” is a walk through three sets of secured doors. Control officer Philip Hernandez sits, centered within the dimmed confines of six pods housing the jail’s 106 inmates.
At his enclosed station, he coordinates unlocking all secured doors. That includes A Pod – the exclusive home of Norteno gang members.
He peers through the glass at an eager group of 40 inmates gathered near the door. It’s the scheduled time each day for A Pod in “The Yard.” Inmates from other pods wouldn’t dare request 10 a.m. for their exercise.
Hernandez pushes a button to unlock the door. The Nortenos file to the exit and out to The Yard. About half are dressed in prison-orange jumpsuits. The other half are shirtless and tattooed with gang insignia.
After aligning in four straight rows facing a single leader, they begin jogging in place. The leader yells in Spanish, “Whose house is this?”
They shout back, “Our house!”
And so the group begins its daily hour-long session of strenuous organized calisthenics, their faces grimacing with a stern intensity, some in obvious pain.
“It’s like you’re watching boot camp,” Sgt. Dan Lewis says.
In unison, they do jumping jacks, squat thrusts, push-ups and other exercises.
“There have been times when I was going to stop it because they were hurting themselves,” says Lt. Patrick Turturici, who oversees daily jail operations. “They’ll throw out their shoulders or strain their knees.”
Daily workouts at the county jail for Nortenos – the primary force among gangs in the county – are required by Norteno rules, according to Hernandez.
“It’s something they have to do,” he says. “If they want to be a Norteno, it’s something they have to do.”
The routine is ritual, their concentration unbroken. But with any distractions or unexpected visitors – for instance, the pop of a photo flash – the men scurry into other activities. The organized exercise halts.
One inmate starts thrusting his body up and down on a metal dip bar. After he finishes, another man does a set of one-armed pull-ups. Another drops to the ground for push-ups. A group of six others grabs a handball and start a game against the back cement wall.
The mood suddenly turns brisk. And they won’t return to coordinated calisthenics. Not on this day.
About 60 percent of the jail’s inmates eventually move on to Delano State Prison in Kern County, according to Turturici – where dangerous criminals will immediately test them, despise them, play “mind tricks” on them. Delano is a 90-day temporary stay for prisoners before being dispersed to permanent prisons throughout the state.
The strict regimen of daily fitness at the jail – except Sundays – is a means of preparation for the menacing conditions of the California State Prison system, according to law enforcement officials.
During his first week as county sheriff in 1998, Curtis Hill eliminated the jail’s Universal gym stations. He didn’t see a justifiable reason to allow inmates access to muscle-building machines.
When Hill disposed of the weights, the Norteno members immediately started performing their daily calisthenics and strength exercises, Turturici says.
“Why should I give them weights? So they can turnaround and assault our staff?” Hill says. “They can do all the push-ups, pull-ups, deep knee-bends and sit-ups they want.”
War on the inside
Anthony Davis is an inmate in D Pod and a member of the Bulldogs gang, which mostly dwells in Fresno County. Davis, 20, joined the gang in 1994. He does some physical exercise to stay in shape, but not nearly to the extent of Nortenos in A Pod, he says.
Davis has experienced stints in the California Youth Authority system – the state’s version of prison for minors.
“It’s a survival in there (CYA),” Davis says. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”
When an inmate from the SBC Jail arrives at Delano State Prison, its staff immediately classifies each prisoner according to gang affiliation, charges, age and criminal background. The inmates are then separated into appropriate groups to prevent massive uprisings and reduce overall violence.
But if one inmate wants to “thump” or stab another, he usually finds a way or fails trying, according to Turturici.
In 2001, the California Department of Corrections reported 6,896 assault-battery incidents within the system, of which 1,987 incidents involved weapons and 13 deaths. Since 1992, the number of incidents has steadily increased each year, although in 2001 the number slightly decreased.
Inmates with gang affiliations entering prison often force themselves into dangerous situations to gain respect.
“As soon as they get there, they’re going to have to put a hit on somebody,” Turturici says. “They’re actually going to have to stab somebody or hurt somebody really bad when they get to prison to make a name for themselves. If they want any status, they’re going to have to do battle in those prisons.”
Nick Rabago often interviews and drug-tests jail inmates as a deputy probation officer with the SBC Probation Department. Many of those inmates have previously experienced prison and others are physically and mentally preparing for the lifestyle.
More gang warfare occurs in prisons than on the streets, Rabago says. While incarcerated, prisoners find ways to make knives and other weapons. So most feel a necessity to constantly prepare for battle, he says.
“They have a mindset that they have to stay in shape because it’s almost like a war to them,” Rabago says. “They call it ‘La Machina’ – which means ‘the machine’ (in Spanish).”
Rabago says prisoners often attack each other simply because of gang ties. Nortenos rival against two other Mexican gangs – Surenos and Bulldogs, according to Davis.
Each gang in jail or prison strictly follows its bylaws, according to Hernandez. If a Norteno breaks certain rules, he may be dealt with by fellow members.
“When you go there (prison), there’s a lot of politics involved with it, you know what I mean?” Davis says. “You gotta watch your back, a lot.”
The history of quarreling between the rival gangs dates back to the 1960s, much of it originating in prison, according to the National Alliance of Gang Investigators Associations. Even now, the Nortenos’ higher powers often call the shots from the inside, according to NAGIA.
Throughout the state and nation, Surenos – who associate themselves with the color blue – outnumber Nortenos, who associate themselves with red, according to NAGIA. But Nortenos own a reputation of being much more organized. Hence, the rigid exercise sessions.
The training ground
Davis says gang members stick together whether in prison or county jail.
“Your homeboys will tell you the rules,” Davis says. “Homeboys give you information about other gangs. When you first get there, they want you to know the ropes, what to expect and what not to expect.”
Long-time Nortenos are occasionally transferred back to the SBC Jail while in transition between prisons or release. One particular inmate recently arrived after a long stint in a California prison. Hernandez says the man has since pulled aside younger Nortenos at the jail to instruct them on prison life.
It’s common for the younger Nortenos to be “de-briefed” upon arrival at the SBC Jail, Rabago says. “And there’s always someone running it on the inside.”
Hernandez says the Nortenos’ structure is “just like a real government.” It’s an organized faction that diverges throughout the area, its members on the streets continually collecting or hearing information and communicating back to the jail.
“When something happens uptown, they (Nortenos in jail) know before we do that we’re getting somebody,” Hernandez says. “In the prison, too. It’s just a phone call away.”
And when a gang member arrives in jail or prison, it’s impossible to hide his affiliation, Davis says, and not just because of tattoos or colors.
“It’s a known fact,” he says with a confident chuckle. “If you go there, they’re gonna know you’re a Bulldog, Norteno, Sureno. When you go in there, they’ll know exactly who you are, where you’re from, all that.”
As a Bulldog at the SBC Jail, though, Davis is a vastly outnumbered minority. With the county being “Norteno territory,” as Hernandez calls it, inmates with other gang affiliations are somewhat rare.
Once in awhile the jail books Surenos, Bulldogs, Mexican Mafia or even Hell’s Angels. But the jail classifies and separates its inmates to avoid violent conduct, just as the prisons do.
On rare occasion jail staff has unintentionally mixed a rival gang member into Pod A, which usually results in a serious thumping, Hernandez says. But the correctional officer on duty has rarely witnessed such assaults. It’s only afterward that the officers find out – from the victim’s blackened eye or swollen face.
Turturici says San Benito County has a safer jail than most counties in the state, although a riot did break out two years ago between the Nortenos and officers. Inmates smashed a few windows and climbed out of cells before officers restored order.
The Nortenos’ daily showing of militaristic training doesn’t reflect fears of living at the SBC Jail. Their foremost reasoning for organized calisthenics, Hernandez says, is unity, a strict following of their bylaws – while the prospect of prison and its impending peril looms among them.
“People have an inherent fear of going to prison,” Hill says.
Whether their commitment to strenuous conditioning arises from fear, necessity or unity is a matter of opinion. Turturici says he has no problem with the unified workouts because violence rarely occurs at the jail.
“It’s really not a problem, he says. “It’s a way of life.”
