Larry Stafford - Prison Dogs

Acknowledgements

Michael Crichton said that research is the reward for writing a book. And, so it was with this book. When my nephew, Guy Jones, was sent to prison, I made a promise to myself to keep in contact with him. Over the years I marveled at the stories he told and suggested we put them in a book. His letters prompted me to ask questions, some of which he could answer, others required me to learn more.

Im indebted to the professionals at Vapor Wake K9 for sharing their stories with me. Paul Hammond, whose combat experience carried him from Ireland to Iraq, helped me understand the world of training bomb detection dogs and the future of the industry. John Pearce, former head of K-9 training for the Air Force, helped me see the mechanics of dog training and its impact on our society. When I mentioned by name a dog that Guy Jones had trained in prison, Pearce smiled and said, I remember that dog. He wound up in New York City. They rename our dogs after police officers killed in action. Tim Baird, head trainer at VWK9, speaks with passion about training dogs and training handlers. His love of dogs was amazing. Jeanne Brock started training dogs for American Kennel Club shows then moved to Tennessee where she trained dogs to detect crimes of arson. Now she trains prisoners to train bomb detection dogs. This is a small industry but its hard to imagine one that offers more bang for the buck.

I have to thank my friend and bridge partner, Kay McClain, for the endless hours of proof reading, editing, and the suggestions that she has made in the telling of this story. Shes been there every step of the way right down to making suggestions concerning font choices. Without her, there might only be a partially finished manuscript in a folder in the closet. With her, there is a finished product.

Thanks to the staff at Jefferson Correctional Facility in Monticello, Florida. I was impressed by their professionalism and their support of this project. When I was leaving, after one visit, an officer stopped me and said, You need to publish that book. Id buy it. I smiled and worked hard for weeks, fueled by his comment.

Finally, I want to thank the family and friends who have gently encouraged me to write. Its not easy, but the rewards are more than just the research. The best part for me has been the people that I have met along the way.

Chapter One: On the Run

Somewhere in the Apalachicola National Forest

The little boy looked up at his uncle walking beside him, I want to get a Mohawk!

His uncle shook his head. Your parents wouldnt like that. They were walking to the drug store for a lemonade.

When they passed a tattoo parlor, the boy yelled, I want a tattoo!

Oh? What kind of tattoo would you get? his uncle asked.

The boy pointed to his pipe thin arm and said, Id get a tattoo of Baxter and it would say, Airedales Are Great!

His uncle laughed. You can get that tattoo when you grow up.

The boys got tattoos, now. They run up and down both arms and across his back. But he didnt get them from a tattoo parlor. Theyre prison tats.

Laying a Trail

Im prisoner N17244 but you can call me Jones. Everyone in here calls me Jones. Im actually not even in here at the moment, but thats how you think after a while. If you are not out of jail youre always in. Right now, Im running my ass off through the scrub woods of north Florida. Sometimes I wonder how I wound up in the panhandle. If youre going to live in Florida why wouldnt you live on the beach. Maybe if I lived on the beach Id be on a boat right now fishing. You think about that kind of stuff in prison. Ive been running for over eight miles. People get t-shirts for running in a 10K race which is only 6.2 miles on a road or a trail. Im running through hard terrain on a hot August afternoon in heat and humidity that would make most men quit. Im not wearing a shirt and my skin is getting punished, but I dont give a damn. Im running and Im not behind the fence. Running is hard, but its not as hard as sitting in a cell and thinking about things that might have been.

I can hear the dogs getting closer and thats not good.

I block out the fact that the officers and dogs chasing me have all the advantages. They can keep rotating fresh humans and animals until I drop. Im an experienced athlete, first in high school and then in prison, so Ive learned to excel in physically demanding situations. Keeping the head clear is the first rule of winning.

Ahead I see a winding dirt road that cuts through the pine forest. Parked on the road is what looks like a truck. As I get closer I see the hood of a prison canine truck. I drop to the ground and crawl through the undergrowth. Two more trucks pull into the clearing. I grit my teeth as brambles cut my skin. The beagles are getting closer and they can smell fresh scent. Beagles sing and whine when they get excited and they are singing now. I have to turn back and run towards the dogs. If I can get across that road, Ill hit the swamp and have a chance to beat them. I can see the dogs tugging on their leashes and the dog handlers struggling behind them to keep up. The beagles havent caught scent of my doubling back. Im going to make it.

My name is Guy Jones. I am serving a twelve-year sentence for a hit and run car accident that resulted in the death of an African American police officer in the state of Florida. His name was Michael. In my head we talk a lot.

When you land in jail you spend a lot of time thinking about the people you left behind and how to survive until you see them again. Forget what youve heard about prisons being soft. They are not; they are hard in ways you could never imagine. Once you finally reach the point when think you might survive you try to make your life in prison better. For some prisoners better might be finding a way to smuggle in contraband to make the days go more smoothly. For others it might be moving up the ranks in a gang in order to get a hundred little benefits that people on the outside would laugh at and ask, Is that all? Is that really worth it? But people on the outside dont have a clue about what it takes to endure your time in prison. Only other prisoners understand. The guards think they understand, but they dont.

When my uncle suggested we write down some of these experiences, I liked the idea because I wanted to get them on paper for my son Braxton. Braxton and I dont know each other very well. I have been in prison since before Braxton was born. I regret time lost with Braxton most of all. No, thats not right. I regret killing Michael most of all.

Let me start by explaining that I am the only inmate in the state of Florida prison system training dogs to trail people. For that reason, I am part of the training for multiple prisons. I am the rabbit they chase for miles in the scrub forests of the Florida panhandle. No one runs from dogs better than I do. However, running from dogs isnt the only thing I have done in prison. Ive been lucky to get to train dogs as well. At my last home, and home is a funny word for a prison, Bay Correctional Facility [Bay], I helped train bomb detection dogs for Auburn University and a company called Vapor Wake. I also trained therapy dogs and even a police dog. At Bay I earned a one-year Canine Sciences Certificate through Auburn University. That program gave me the foundation to earn an Associate Degree in Business Management.

When I do leave here my battles wont be over. I need to build a life raft here in prison that will keep me from drowning when I get out. Ive done the research. State prisoners have a six-month window after they get out to make the transition to the big world. If they dont have a job and settle down within that time, ex-cons wind up back in jail.