Shot in the Heart - Mikal Gilmore [82]
After the sentencing, the judge sent MacLaren’s supervisor a letter, stating the following:
The boy had come to this court’s attention for delinquent behavior on several occasions. Mr. and Mrs. Gilmore consistently refused any counseling from the court and simply refused to believe the clear facts with reference to their son’s delinquency on several occasions. The attitude of Mr. Gilmore particularly left no alternative to the court other than commit the boy to MacLaren. He is simply carrying through the same attitude by endorsement on the back of his check, which reads: “Blood money to the State by compulsion, under protest.” Thirty-five dollars per month is less than Mr. Gilmore should reasonably be expected to pay for his son at home, and I believe Mr. Gilmore is fortunate not to have to pay more upon his obligation. If he fails to make these payments, as required, I certainly expect that he will be cited into my court to show a reason why he should not be found in contempt.
In other words, Gary was being punished as much to teach my father a lesson as for his own errors. The sins of the fathers, indeed—and the sins of the judges.
FOLLOWING HIS SENTENCING, Gary was manacled to another boy, placed in the back seat of a state police car, and driven the forty miles south to Woodburn. In those days, MacLaren’s sat not far off the main highway. It was a sprawling estate, full of green lawn and walnut trees, and hemmed in at the front by an eight-foot-high stone wall. The police car made its way down the school’s entry road, past the main administration building and the various cottage dormitories, to a reception cottage on the rear grounds. There, Gary and the other boy were turned over to a burly, balding man whom I’ll call Mr. Blue. Standing by Blue’s side was a big German shepherd, which immediately jumped up and put its paws on Gary’s chest and bared its teeth in his face. Gary tried to raise his manacled hands to ward off the animal, but Mr. Blue delivered a stern warning. “You are not allowed to touch the dog, even if you’re trying to defend yourself,” Mr. Blue said. “In fact, if you make any sudden or threatening moves, the dog will probably tear you to pieces.” The dog sniffed each boy in turn, then went back and sat beside its master. “Mr. Blue had this cockeyed theory,” another MacLaren’s inmate told me years later. “He believed that if we could relate to a dog we could start to relate to other people. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea, though I think it might have worked better if the dog was smaller and less aggressive, and didn’t seem like it was just waiting for a chance to bite your nuts off.”
Gary and the other boy were then herded into an adjoining room with other staff members. The boys were told to strip off their clothes, and then the supervisors ran their fingers through the boys’ hair, checking for lice. “Okay,” said Blue, “now bend over and reach back and spread your butt cheeks.” Blue walked along behind the boys, carrying a yardstick. He lightly batted the boys’ scrotums with the yardstick, then raised the ruler and tapped at each boy’s anus. “Looks like we have a bunch of tight asses here,” Blue said to the other staff, and all the men laughed.
Next, each boy showered and was issued his uniform—boxer shorts, blue jeans, and a green denim shirt—and then Gary and the others took turns sitting in a chair, while a supervisor wielded an electric razor and burred the boys’ hair down to nothing, like a marine-style cut. After that, the boys were led into what was called the squad