Officials scramble to try to save Moriah Shock

MINEVILLE | Local officials were meeting with state representatives this week, hoping to save the Moriah Shock Incarceration Correctional Facility, an institution that has developed a relationship with the community, not just in terms of the jobs it creates, but in how inmates, corrections officers and even residents have felt the kinship of a common cause. "We're engaging with the state and trying to get the discussion going," said Essex County Supervisors Chair Shaun Gillilland. "We believe there's some information (about Moriah Shock) that is not fully understood. Moriah Shock is different than almost any other prison in the state; the record shows it is a pilot project that seems to be working very well." Emblematic of the success is that Moriah Shock is one of the few corrections facilities that do not have or need, a perimeter fence. Still, officials say they feel they are facing an uphill fight. "I'm not going to sugar coat it, this is going to be a difficult challenge to try to save Moriah Shock," said Town of Moriah Supervisor Tom Scozzafava. Lack of a fence — along with declining prison populations overall — was even cited as one of the reasons for the closure, even though, the way Moriah Shock is structured, there is little incentive for inmates to walk away. Local leaders knew nothing of the Hochul Administration's plans to shutter Moriah Shock until they began receiving text messages on Monday, Nov. 8. Since then, they've spent every spare moment on the phone trying to turn the tide. "You cannot compare Moriah Shock to a prison," Scozzafava said. "It's an entirely different program." Moriah Shock operates as a highly structured boot camp, with early wakeup calls and bedtimes, exercises and strict attention to neatness and manners. They are privy to training, counseling and help to break addictions. But inmates also participate in work details in the region, helping the Department of Environmental Conservation and the Olympic Regional Development Authority, as well as food pantries and town projects. The reward is that they are out in six months instead of the three to five years. And most of them stay out. "They get the guidance they need to turn their lives around," said State Sen. Dan Stec. Stec said it's puzzling the Democratic administration would want to close Moriah Shock, which emphasizes reform over punishment. "By nature, this is a program that should be expanding, not shutting down," he said. Stec said he hasn't always agreed with policies that have reduced incarceration, but the result is evident, with tens of thousands of empty beds in the state prison system. Worse for Moriah Shock, prison closures, which used to be a legislative decision, are now exclusively an executive decision. Moriah Shock faced potential closure in 2010, but Scozzafava said lawmakers from the city were brought up to tour the shock unit and came away impressed enough to reverse the proposal for closure. According to a June audit, Moriah Shock had 104 inmates, about a third of its capacity, and down from a trailing 12-month average of 147. The prison employs 126 people, according to the audit. The relationship between inmates and corrections officers is far different than in a typical prison, according to Jim Monty and Ike Tyler, two Essex County supervisors with first-hand experience. Monty said he spent five years of his corrections career in Great Meadow east of Lake George, whose violent nature was reflected by its nickname of Gladiator School. Transferring to Moriah saved him, he said. "I could not have done another 25 years at Great Meadow," he said. Moriah Shock was different. In typical security prisons, the job was just making it through the shift without getting hurt, Tyler said. By contrast, "there is great job satisfaction knowing you are helping someone out," he said. "We took pride in what we were doing with the kids," Monty said. "We taught them that it's OK to be tired when you go to bed, or that when you have a problem you can talk it out." At graduation time, inmates would pose with correctional officers and have them autograph photos as a remembrance. "It's ludicrous the state would even consider closing Moriah Shock," Monty said.

Signup for our newsletter

Officials scramble to try to save Moriah Shock

COMPANY

CUSTOMER SUPPORT

SUBMISSION FORMS

BEYOND THE NEWS