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They said that at least a dozen officers who arrived to help encountered a chaotic scene — more than 30 unrestrained inmates outside a narrow cell where Raymond K. Smoot, 51, was being stomped, kicked and punched by several correctional officers.
Herbert Berry Jr., a labor representative for the Maryland Correctional Law Enforcement Union, said certain officers “went too far” when subduing Smoot. But he said the inmate’s death, which has been ruled a homicide by the state Medical Examiner’s Office, was fueled by crowding in the state-run facility, a dearth of supervisors and a lack of experienced officers.
“By not being properly trained, they resorted to street fighting,” said Berry, who received accounts from three officers at the scene. “Once [Smoot] stopped resisting, the force should have stopped.”
Six officers have been placed on administrative leave while Smoot’s death is investigated. State corrections officials have said they are looking at possible criminal charges, but they declined to comment on accounts that the three officers provided to the union.
“Certainly one of the elements might be, ‘Who initiated the physical contact?'” said Mark Vernarelli, spokesman for the Department of Public Safety and Correctional Services. “However, that does not take away from the fact that [Smoot’s death] appears to be a totally unnecessary resolution to the situation.”
The altercation that led to Smoot’s death began about 6:20 p.m. Saturday on the third floor of Central Booking’s center tower as recreation time was ending.
A female officer guarding an area that housed nearly 100 inmates ordered Smoot and other inmates back into their cells, but Smoot refused, Berry said. A second female officer — who worked in a separate housing area on the same floor — also ordered Smoot back into his cell, but he kept insisting on seeing a supervisor, according to the accounts given to the union.
A male officer arrived on the floor and tried to escort Smoot into his cell, when the inmate began punching and kicking him, according to the accounts Berry received. That’s when one of the female officers called a “Code 2” on her radio — a signal that a corrections officer needs immediate assistance from other officers, Berry said.
“When an officer responds to a Code 2, that’s serious,” Berry said. “That’s like a police officer being down. They don’t come to play, they come to assist that officer.”
The radio call apparently triggered a frenzy inside the inmate common area, which is lined with about 25 cells, including Smoot’s. The approximately 65-foot by 35-foot area was designed as a place where inmates can sit at tables and mingle during recreation time.
But because the facility is crowded, nearly 40 inmates were housed unrestrained in the area outside Smoot’s cell, according to the officer’s accounts.
The inmates gathered around Smoot’s cell and fueled the melee by encouraging their fellow inmate to lock correctional officers inside his cell, according to the accounts.
The brawl inside Cell 16 ended after supervisors repeatedly commanded the officers to stop and left a bloody scene, according to the accounts.
The first female officer who ordered Smoot back into his cell had been on the job less than two months and is younger than 21, Berry said. The second female officer had worked at Central Booking about 18 months, Berry said.
State officials, Berry and others have said that Smoot had a history of being disobedient and unruly while incarcerated. Baltimore police arrested Smoot on May 3, on a warrant for failing to appear in court for a theft charge. He had been processed, was being held awaiting trial and didn’t have $150 needed to make bail. Smoot had an extensive criminal record dating to 1979.
Smoot’s family has said he struggled with drugs, health issues and staying out of jail but he didn’t deserve the beating that left his face purple and unrecognizable.
Berry said that such an “unfortunate” incident was almost inevitable at the troubled institution, and criticized state correctional officials for poor management. He said that on the day of the incident, there was no supervisor in the center tower, which contains three floors of living areas. Supervisors from the other two towers had to rush to the scene to try to restore order.
“If a supervisor could have been at the scene … it probably would’ve been defused,” Berry said. He also said the initial officer, who had about 30 days training, was improperly left to oversee an area with nearly 100 inmates — double its designed capacity.
The facility was intended to hold fewer than 900 inmates, but it regularly houses about 1,200.
Vernarelli said training, conditions and other issues affecting Central Booking had nothing to do with Smoot’s death. The facility has been criticized for failure to promptly process arrested suspects, overcrowding and alleged inhumane living conditions.
“When all is said and done, it would appear to be a case involving lack of responsibility, and, worse, lack of regard for human life,” Vernarelli said.
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He added that most correctional officers are “great, law-abiding people.”
Smoot’s family said yesterday that his funeral will be held at 10 a.m. Saturday at Greater New Hope Baptist Church in the 2700 block of W. North Ave.