A helping hand

A wildfire rages near a home along Blue Creek near Billings, Mont., Aug. 7. The fire prompted an evacuation order affecting more than 240 homes. Locally, minimum security inmates from the Snake River Correctional Institution are often tapped to help state and federal fire crews fight wildfires across Oregon. The program is a joint effort between the Oregon Department of Corrections and the Oregon Department of Forestry and, for the most part, has been labeled a success by officials.

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Working at the shop is enjoyable, but Miller said fighting wildland fires across the state is more exciting.

“If I had my choice and no one would get mad, I’d be on the fires … I like the freedom of it and being out more,” Miller said.

Miller is doing time for second degree assault out of Baker County. He was admitted into the prison system in May 2004 and is scheduled for release in October 2009.

“The environment means a lot. If we can save as much as we can that’s what it’s all about,” Miller said.

The enhanced sense of freedom he feels in nature fighting fires, far from the confines of prison, is a welcomed vacation and apparently, a part of the job.

“It’s a different atmosphere out there,” SRCI Lt. Richard Goldston, who overseas inmate fire crews, said.

Goldston said he “hates to put it this way,” but inmates risking their lives to save Oregon’s lands from inferno are more than prisoners when they’re on the line.

“You’re not an inmate when you’re out there, you’re a firefighter,” Goldston said.

But, there are still distinctions between inmate firefighters and the other government and private crews.

For example, Goldston said inmates camp about 1/8 of a mile away from the other firefighters.

And, things like chewing tobacco and cigarettes are contraband for the inmates, so they cannot accept or use those items even when they’re deployed to fires.

And, inmate firefighters cannot break free of their status.

Miller said inmates know what the rules while on a fire and when they meet other firefighters in the chow line they try to keep the conversation on a single topic: the fire.

Inmates stand in the same chow line as the other firefighters. They eat the same high-calorie food and fight the same fire.

“It’s a good experience for them to be integrated to some degree with people on the outside. They have security guards, of course, but some people are concerned … There are very few runaways. Generally, from what I’ve been told, inmates view it as a really great opportunity. Instead of being in a cell indoors, they get to be outdoors, it’s hard work but they enjoy it,” Oregon Department of Forestry Public Information Officer Rod Nichols said.

There are few problems with inmate firefighters, and the Oregon Department of Corrections program, in conjunction with the Oregon Department of Forestry carries a strong reputation, officials said.

One inmate firefighter walked away from a fire several years ago, though, and there have been minor contraband issues, SRCI Minimum Security Facility Manager Joe Klika said.

“There are very little problems,” Klika said about the program.

Goldston said the inmates work hard.

“They come to work clean and sober every day,” Goldston said. “Our fire crews this year, they should be so proud of themselves.”

Looking over at Miller Friday from a conference room at the prison, Goldston said, “you’ve done awesome,” and Miller smiled.

The jobs of other non-incarcerated firefighters are not jeopardized by the cheap labor inmates can provide, and the Oregon Department of Forestry is assisted by inmate firefighters and SRCI staff for a daily cost of about $2,520 per day, officials said.

“We’re not displacing people, we’re filling a gap,” SRCI Public Information Officer Amber Campbell said.

Nichols agreed and said many private “hot shot” fire crews are made up of college students who often return to school in the fall before late wildfire seasons cease across the state.

“All (fire crews) are important, and I don’t think they conflict or compete … It all works together, they really harmonize,” Nichols said.

As convicted felons, when inmate firefighters are not on a fire, they sleep in the prison’s privileged minimum security housing units, which resembles a community of men, living in a work-release center confined within prison gates.

Lined by even rows of bunk beds, spotted with tables, chairs, televisions and book shelves — about 174 minimum security inmates at SRCI sleep communally rather than in cells like the other, higher security inmates.

They don’t have the luxury of hearing the sounds of nature at night.

When they are out on a fire, sleeping under the stars, they can hear something special.

“Coyotes waking you up in the morning,” Miller said.

That is something free people may not appreciate like inmates do.

“Probably for someone who is incarcerated that would be more special than for the rest of us,” Nichols said.

Even though they congregate at the prison playing games and socializing, with the tunes of a guitar echoing from outside near a neatly tended vegetable garden, it is still prison.

They work jobs —they follow rules — they line up for counts and they cannot leave.

But, when inmate firefighters are deployed close to where they came from, it is a special luxury they appreciate.

“I came from northeast Oregon, so when I get to go out there, it’s like being home,” Miller said.

More than 200 minimum security inmate firefighters were ready this fire season to assist the state, and most were trained by the Oregon Department of Forestry — with more than 40 hours of classroom instruction and practical firefighter training.

The program has grown. It began in 2000 with only 10 inmate firefighters, SRCI Work Skills Coordinator Betty Carter said.

At SRCI, inmate firefighters receive nationally recognized training and certificates of completion. Those skills are annually refreshed, and though minimum security inmates volunteer for the job, they undergo screening, including physical and mental exams and are usually within three years of release. Sex offenders and convicted arsonists can not participate, Klika said.

Female inmates in Oregon’s prisons, though, are not trained in firefighting.

“It would add a new dynamic to security,” Klika said.

There have not been any SRCI inmate deaths or serious injuries from firefighting, Klika confirmed.

Before Miller was incarcerated he worked as a logger, and had cut trees on some fires, he said.

Fighting fire for a private firm is something he wants to do when he is released from prison.

“It is gratifying that many of the inmate firefighters, when they are released from prison, end up finding jobs on Oregon’s private contract fire crews,” Oregon State Forester Marvin Brown said.

And, Miller said, he will use the hundreds of dollars worth of nationally- recognized training and credentials he earned in prison to accomplish that goal.

“I have a buddy back home, he offered me a job,” Miller said.