Jan 8, 2016

When former corrections officer Lt. Melvin Easley toured the closed Baltimore City Men’s Detention Center recently, he was struck by the silence. The last inmates were relocated in August, and an eerie quiet had settled over the decrepit facility. No more hollering, as inmates tried to communicate across different sections, no more chatter from prisoners or guards, no more keys clanging, grills slamming, whistles blowing or heaters rattling.

: An open grill looks down the narrow aisle of the west side bottom tier of now-empty cells in C section at the Men’s Detention Center. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: A guard gets ready to secure the gate after a vehicle leaving the corrections complex passes under the “Never Again,” sign, a landmark seen by all who exit. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: Public information officer Lt. Melvin Easley used to walk past this row of inmate cells when he worked as a guard at the now-closed Mens Detention Center. Modern jails are designed with wider aisles, to provide better safety for the officers supervising the inmates. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: During a tour of the closed Men’s Detention Center, Lt. Melvin Easley, a former guard who is now the public information officer for the Division of Pretrial and Detention Services, pauses by a wall of memorial plaques for coworkers who died during their term of service: gone but not forgotten. The employees paid for the plaques. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: Officer Ciera Hall on duty at the Control Center for Post 46A in the Men’s Detention Center, which closed last August. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: A mural painted by inmates long ago exhorts prisoners that “It’s Time To Make a Change. It is in a stairwell of the former Men’s Detention Center. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: Public information officer Lt. Melvin Easley, a former guard at the Mens Detention Center, surveys the old gym where inmates could exercise for one hour a day unless they were restricted. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: The back plates for pay phones, available for use by inmates,are still affixed to the wall in the gym of the closed Men’s Detention Center. A sign warns: “All phone calls may be monitored and recorded.” (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: Public information officer Lt. Melvin Easley, a former guard at the Mens Detention Center, is reflected in a security mirror as he passes through the first floor south receiving area of the desolate Mens Detention Center. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: In good weather, inmates could partake in large muscle exercise in the outdoor recreation yard at the Men’s Detention Center, which closed last August. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: During a tour of the closed Men’s Detention Center, Lt. Melvin Easley reflects on his years working there as he peers into an empty cell. Easley began working as a guard in 1990, and is now the public information officer for the Division of Pretrial and Detention Services.(Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: The closed Men’s Detention Center, once called the Baltimore City Jail, at right, is not visible from the street. It is in the middle of the corrections complex that is bounded by Fallsway, Greenmount Avenue, Madison and Eager Streets. Outside the visitors entrance to the former MDC, PIO Lt. Melvin Easley, left, speaks with Security Chief Tyrell Wilson. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: Visitors to the empty Men’s Detention Center, which closed last August, are struck by how quiet it is now. This is the south hallway on the second floor, looking toward F section. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: One of the double occupancy cells in the west side bottom tier of C section, seen during a tour of the closed Men’s Detention Center. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: The last message inmates see when they pass through the exit gate of the East Baltimore corrections complex is “Never Again.” (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: Seen through the bars of an inmate’s cell is graffiti of a woman blowing a police whistle, drawn in magic marker in C section of the closed Men’s Detention Center. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: Corrections officials walk on the path leading to the closed Men’s Detention Center, seen behind the fence at right. At left is the old stone wall of the original penitentiary, the castle-like building that is now partly used as the Metropolitan Transition Center. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: The facade of the closed Mens Detention Center has its original name, the “Baltimore City Jail,” and the dates of its opening (1859), its renovation (1959), and the second phase of its modernization (1961). The Mens Detention Center closed last summer. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: A sign for visitors in the former Mens Detention Center warns that they can get “pinched” by the automated gate. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

: The family visiting area for inmates at the closed Mens Detention Center was known as the horseshoe. (Amy Davis/Baltimore Sun)

The old Baltimore City Jail, which dates back to 1859, was modernized in 1959, but to say it fell far short of today’s standards is an understatement. “Disastrous,” “deplorable,” and a “disgrace” were some of the words used by Governor Larry Hogan when he announced its closure last July. When the state took over the jail in 1991, it was renamed the Baltimore City Detention Center. Sandwiched between the old Gothic penitentiary to the east, now partially used as the Metropolitan Transition Center, and the newer Central Booking and Intake Center to the west, the Detention Center is not visible from the street.

What went on inside was not visible to the public either. The antiquated structure included wooden septic tanks, broken plumbing, mold and rodent, roach and black fly infestations. Conditions were inhumane for inmates, and the outmoded layout put the staff in harm’s way. What did come to light in 2013 was a major racketeering and drug smuggling conspiracy tied to the Black Guerilla Family gang. The scandal led to 40 convictions, including not only inmates, but also two-dozen corrections officers.

Perhaps Lt. Easley, now the public information officer for the Division of Pretrial and Detention Services, had all of this degradation in mind when he remarked that for the first time, a sense of calm pervades the decaying jail. For Easley, the relationships built with coworkers over the years felt like a family. Closing the facility was bittersweet, Easley said, but he understood “that this was the best decision.”

ALSO SEE:
Timeline: Baltimore City Detention Center
The jail, through the years
An “improved” Baltimore City jail: 2013
History of the Baltimore City jail troubles
The Black Guerrilla Family turned Baltimore’s jail into a ‘stronghold,’ investigators say