Prison Camp Lacks for Women Inmates

Of the 46,802 inmates in Texas prisons, no one gets more attention than a 23-year-old Houston woman. But perhaps no inmate is more isolated.

When Yvonne Rebouche walks down the hall to her cell, the corridors are cleared and the other inmates at the women’s prison peek through windows or from nearly closed doors to get a glimpse of her.

When she eats her meal in the lunchroom, the other dozen tables in the room are empty and she sits alone at her four-seat table.

When she is in the prison dayroom watching television or outside in the recreation yard, she is alone. She has no cellmate.

No, Rebouche is not the most cold-blooded criminal in the prison. Convicted of possession of cocaine, she is the lone inmate in the new military-style boot camp program for women at the Gatesville Unit of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice.

She runs 2 miles at the crack of dawn, works outdoors in the morning and marches in cadence in the afternoon, all in the company of corrections officers whose sole duty is to watch her and tell her what to do.

“Yeah, I’m lonely,” she says. “I’m by myself. Everything is by myself. It’s no fun. But I’m learning a lot of things that you can’t learn in the county jail.”

Given a choice between a 10-year prison term and the 90-day boot camp stay, she said the decision was easy. She already had been on probation for a 1989 robbery in Houston and had outstanding warrants for not reporting to her probation officer.

“I don’t think I want to be there,” she said, referring to the main women’s prison at Gatesville. “But I was a little scared. I didn’t know what to expect. Everything was new to me.”

It also was new to the prison system.

Rebouche was sentenced to the camp by State District Judge Joe Kegans in Houston. He is also the judge who ordered its creation, ruling last year that two similar camps for male offenders were unconstitutional because the corrections department had established them only for men.

Although one other woman inmate preceded her in the boot camp, the intense work and exercise program was not yet in place.

“I love the program and I love the boot camp atmosphere,” says Shanna Butler, one of two officers who have custody of Rebouche. “It took some getting used to, but her attitude is really good. I’ve seen a change, very physical and mental. Even if no one else comes in, it’s been a real good experience.”

The program is open to those who have never served prison time. They have to be at least 17 but no older than 25 and have no physical or mental handicaps that would block them from strenuous physical exercise.

Asked what the program needs, Butler says: “Inmates.”

Rebouche is awakened at 4:30 a.m. An hour later she raises the flag in front of the unit, then heads for 2 miles of running and exercises with Butler.

After breakfast it is time for work for the remainder of the morning. She pulls weeds, mows grass or fixes potholes. She takes classes for a couple of hours after lunch and then marches and does extra work until 4:30 p.m. She takes the unit flag down an hour later. Everything is in the company of an officer.

“It used to irritate me real bad,” she says. “They used to stare at me at the (meal) table. I didn’t want to eat anymore. But now it doesn’t bother me and I don’t feel like somebody is staring at me.’

Rebouche, who left school after the eighth grade and is now pursuing a high school equivalency degree, wants to study interior design or computer repair when she gets out.

“I feel better. I’m getting in shape and getting my act together now,” she says.

Does she ever care to return?

“Never, never, never!” she said. “This is not my kind of place.”