Fight Boredom or Fires? For Many Inmates, Choice Is Clear

It’s dusty, dirty, dangerous work. They chop up weeds and hack out stumps, sometimes in the pitch blackness of night, the ground illuminated only by their helmet lamps. And everywhere around them--an inferno of flame.

Injuries are common. This week, one of them died when he lost his footing and tumbled down a 150-foot hillside fighting the Piru blaze. It was the second death in two years among the inmate crews who volunteer to fight fires in exchange for time off their sentences.

It may be a kind of devil’s bargain. But despite the risk, the inmates who dig the fire lines say it is a bargain they are happy to make.

“It’s tough,” said Allen Gochenour, who is serving time on drug charges when not fighting fires. “But it’s a blessing” to work outside the cell bars, he said.

Gochenour and a dozen others rested Monday after spending two exhausting days on the line at the Piru blaze, which consumed 2,500 acres and claimed the life of inmate Martin Stiles, 40, of San Diego County.

Those who knew Stiles remembered him as a muscular, hard-working man who enjoyed sports and took pride in the job he did. Stiles was experienced enough to lead the line, working with a large chain saw to cut tree trunks.

“He was a good friend, and we all feel really bad about it,” said Mario Benavidez, in prison for gun-related violations.

Inmates composed nearly one-third of the 650 firefighters deployed to fight the blaze near Lake Piru, which was expected to be out by this morning.

By Monday morning, most crews had left and only the county Fire Department was finishing off the fire, said Joe Luna, a county fire spokesman.

As the firefighting operation drew to a close, the inmates were packing up to return to camps across Southern California, and reflecting on the risks and rewards of their work.

“You can go right up on the fire,” said Richard Ramirez, a crew member serving time on a drug conviction at Camp 28 in Chino, who had been helping to cut a line around the Piru fire.

“You’ve always got to be careful up there, and it’s pitch black outside,” Ramirez said. “We know what danger we’re in. We know what’s going on.”

The use of inmates to fight fires is a cooperative effort of the state corrections and forestry departments.

For 50 years, the program has allowed low-risk state prisoners to trim their sentences by serving their terms at one of 38 conservation camps--including three for women--throughout the state. In exchange for work, the 2,300 prisoners in the program receive a dollar an hour and a bit more freedom: barracks instead of cells, and dorm-like recreation areas with Ping-Pong and pool.

The inmates are selected based on physical fitness and good behavior. Only prisoners with no violent crimes on their records can participate. Most members of the crews are imprisoned for drug-related or property-crime offenses.

Stiles, who was based at Camp 19 in Azusa, was an experienced fire crew member serving an eight-year sentence on a drug conviction. He was clearing brush with his 14-man crew in the dark early Sunday in steep, treacherous terrain when he apparently slipped and fell to the floor of the canyon.

A team from various Ventura and Los Angeles county agencies is investigating the incident.

While injuries ranging from heat exhaustion to chain-saw cuts are common when fighting a fire, fatalities are rare, said Luna, the county fire spokesman.

Many of the inmate crew members said they are grateful for the job training they get fighting fires.

But make no mistake, they say. The job is as much punishment as privilege.

“It’s still prison,” Ramirez said. “It’s not freedom.”