Glen Davies, a prisoner at Bayside State Prison, had his left wrist handcuffed to the fence near the meat slicer room of the prison’s kitchen and his right wrist strapped to the nearby door.
He was about to get the “fence treatment,” which he compared to a medieval torture device. Federal authorities compared it to a crucifixion.
Two correctional officers with the help of another prisoner then opened the door, Davies said, stretching the handcuffed Davies thin. He was defenseless and soon to be their own personal punching bag.Davies said officer John Makos, the supervisor of the kitchen during the second shift, and another officer began pounding on Davies’ body with vicious punches over and over and over again.
“They beat me until I almost passed out,” Davies said in a recent interview with NJ Advance Media. “When they uncuffed me, I just crumbled on the floor.”
It was just one example of the brutal beatdowns Davies said he regularly received in 2019 as a worker in the South Jersey prison’s kitchen, a place multiple prisoners described as a “fight club” that was led by Makos, a macho, ex-military correctional officer who ruled by force.
They said Makos was the ringleader of the kitchen’s prison and — along with other officers — routinely assaulted prisoners during and after their work shifts by delivering body blows for any minor infraction or going to other extreme lengths to torture the prisoners, like making them eat Carolina Reaper hot peppers or kicking them in their ribs or smacking a prisoner’s bare bottom with a ruler.
Federal authorities described the “fence treatment” in the complaint, as well as “the motorcycle,” in which Makos allegedly made a second victim place his back against a wall in the prison’s kitchen and sit as if he were riding a motorcycle.
Makos then allegedly kicked the man in the chest, authorities said.
Victims and witnesses said prisoners did not speak up out of fear of losing their coveted jobs in the prison’s kitchen — the most lucrative paying job in the facility that also gives prisoners access to better food and the ability to spend more time out of their cells.
“I rationalized it like, ‘Yeah, I got punched in the ribs 12 times today and I am covered in bruises, but at least I got to eat a double cheeseburger and tater tots,’” Davies said.
Davies also filed a civil lawsuit in state Superior Court last year detailing the alleged abuse by Makos that has now led to federal charges against the veteran correctional officer.
When he arrived at Bayside in September 2018 after receiving a seven-year sentence for robbing a Chinese food restaurant in Neptune at gunpoint during an episode of severe heroin withdrawal, it was his first prison bid.
The new setting was so eye-opening for Davies that he didn’t shower for the first two weeks at Bayside out of fear he would be sexually assaulted,
a popular worry depicted often in pop culture. His cellmate eventually dragged him to the showers to show him nothing nefarious was occurring.
“It was all very new to me,” Davies said. “It was a very foreign environment.”
He also did not have financial support from his family so he looked for a job.
The kitchen was his most well-paying option. It paid about $90 a month, while other jobs could receive as little as $15 a month. It also allows prisoners to spend significant time outside of their cells and gives them access to better food since they often cook for the officers.
“It’s the best job you can have,” said Peter M., who recently spent more than 15 years in state prison and said he was also a victim of Makos’ violent outbursts in the Bayside kitchen. He asked not to use his full name as he attempts to re-start his life since being released.
On March 21, 2019, Davies walked into the kitchen to begin his new job.
His life was about to change for the worse.
“I guess the way I carried myself was much different than other inmates,” Davies said. “I have more of a meek, quiet demeanor. (Makos) immediately sensed that.”
Someone mentioned that Davies was a wrestler in high school. That caught Makos’ attention, he said.
“Makos wrestles. You guys should wrestle,” Davies recalls someone saying.
Days later, they did. Makos took off his radio and they wrestled in the back room of the kitchen, according to Davies.
Davies said the officer got the best of him and as Makos pushed him into the wall, Davies’ right forearm was cut badly by a light socket. It most likely required stitches, Davies said, but he was too afraid to seek medical attention. Makos soon realized Davies wouldn’t tell about the happenings in the kitchen. It was all the brash officer needed to see.
It soon became a personal hell for Davies, who multiple prisoners said received the worst of the abuse.
“I deserve to be doing prison time, but I did not know it was going to be anything like this,” Davies said.
Makos, who was the supervisor of the second shift, lurked over Davies’ every move, the man said.
He’d tally up infractions against Davies for minor mishaps, like having his hair net down too low or forgetting to put applesauce on a cart, Davies said. He said Makos often resorted to simply making up missteps by Davies.
Then came the end of his shift. “Time to collect,” Makos would say, according to Davies.
Davies would walk into the back of the officer’s room in the kitchen, put his hands on top of his head and interlock his fingers with his back facing Makos. For each infraction that day, it was a forceful punch to the ribs. It wasn’t every day, Davies said, but multiple times a week he was brutalized.
“When I started out getting abused, it really physically affected me,” he said. “I couldn’t lay in bed or laugh or cough without severe pain shooting through my ribs. I was in a weakened state for the most part, until my body got hardened to it.”
Steven Ruck, his cellmate, saw the bruises and the toll they took.
“They were taking advantage of him,” Ruck said. “He was the punching bag down there. He couldn’t walk. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do s---.”
“I have never seen somebody black and blue like this kid was at one time,” said Peter M.
In one instance, according to federal authorities, Makos allegedly had Davies pull his pants down and spanked Davies’ bare bottom with a ruler after another officer’s food went missing.
Makos allegedly smacked him so hard, the ruler broke and the hit left a mark, according to the complaint. He then had Davies show his buttocks to others in the kitchen “so that the other inmates could see the result of this beating,” authorities said.
Makos also allegedly forced the prisoner and Davies to eat homegrown Carolina Reaper Peppers — the hottest pepper in the world — for his pleasure, which federal authorities also detailed in their complaint. Because Davies ate a plate full of the peppers, he was spared any beatings for a month, he said.
“Eating the peppers feels like being maced,” Davies said. “Your eyes light on fire. Your mouth lights on fire. You sweat. You feel like you’re going to throw up.”
Though he added, “that earned me an entire month of not getting hit so it was really worth it.”
Multiple prisoners told NJ Advance Media that they did not report the abuse out of fear of losing the job in the kitchen as well as retaliatory abuse from Makos. Some said they tried to step in to help Davies, but they were unsuccessful.
“You can’t keep punching this kid,” Scotese recalls saying. “You are going to kill him.”
According to the criminal complaint, Makos allegedly held their desirable jobs in the kitchen over their heads, making them believe they would lose their job if the prisoners reported the abuse.
Vicious beatings, fence crucifixions. N.J. corrections officer turned prison kitchen into ‘Fight Club,’ feds, prisoners say.
He was about to get the “fence treatment,” which he compared to a medieval torture device. Federal authorities compared it to a crucifixion.
Two correctional officers with the help of another prisoner then opened the door, Davies said, stretching the handcuffed Davies thin. He was defenseless and soon to be their own personal punching bag.Davies said officer John Makos, the supervisor of the kitchen during the second shift, and another officer began pounding on Davies’ body with vicious punches over and over and over again.
“They beat me until I almost passed out,” Davies said in a recent interview with NJ Advance Media. “When they uncuffed me, I just crumbled on the floor.”
It was just one example of the brutal beatdowns Davies said he regularly received in 2019 as a worker in the South Jersey prison’s kitchen, a place multiple prisoners described as a “fight club” that was led by Makos, a macho, ex-military correctional officer who ruled by force.
They said Makos was the ringleader of the kitchen’s prison and — along with other officers — routinely assaulted prisoners during and after their work shifts by delivering body blows for any minor infraction or going to other extreme lengths to torture the prisoners, like making them eat Carolina Reaper hot peppers or kicking them in their ribs or smacking a prisoner’s bare bottom with a ruler.
Federal authorities described the “fence treatment” in the complaint, as well as “the motorcycle,” in which Makos allegedly made a second victim place his back against a wall in the prison’s kitchen and sit as if he were riding a motorcycle.
Makos then allegedly kicked the man in the chest, authorities said.
Victims and witnesses said prisoners did not speak up out of fear of losing their coveted jobs in the prison’s kitchen — the most lucrative paying job in the facility that also gives prisoners access to better food and the ability to spend more time out of their cells.
“I rationalized it like, ‘Yeah, I got punched in the ribs 12 times today and I am covered in bruises, but at least I got to eat a double cheeseburger and tater tots,’” Davies said.
Davies also filed a civil lawsuit in state Superior Court last year detailing the alleged abuse by Makos that has now led to federal charges against the veteran correctional officer.
When he arrived at Bayside in September 2018 after receiving a seven-year sentence for robbing a Chinese food restaurant in Neptune at gunpoint during an episode of severe heroin withdrawal, it was his first prison bid.
The new setting was so eye-opening for Davies that he didn’t shower for the first two weeks at Bayside out of fear he would be sexually assaulted,
a popular worry depicted often in pop culture. His cellmate eventually dragged him to the showers to show him nothing nefarious was occurring.
“It was all very new to me,” Davies said. “It was a very foreign environment.”
He also did not have financial support from his family so he looked for a job.
The kitchen was his most well-paying option. It paid about $90 a month, while other jobs could receive as little as $15 a month. It also allows prisoners to spend significant time outside of their cells and gives them access to better food since they often cook for the officers.
“It’s the best job you can have,” said Peter M., who recently spent more than 15 years in state prison and said he was also a victim of Makos’ violent outbursts in the Bayside kitchen. He asked not to use his full name as he attempts to re-start his life since being released.
On March 21, 2019, Davies walked into the kitchen to begin his new job.
His life was about to change for the worse.
“I guess the way I carried myself was much different than other inmates,” Davies said. “I have more of a meek, quiet demeanor. (Makos) immediately sensed that.”
Someone mentioned that Davies was a wrestler in high school. That caught Makos’ attention, he said.
“Makos wrestles. You guys should wrestle,” Davies recalls someone saying.
Days later, they did. Makos took off his radio and they wrestled in the back room of the kitchen, according to Davies.
Davies said the officer got the best of him and as Makos pushed him into the wall, Davies’ right forearm was cut badly by a light socket. It most likely required stitches, Davies said, but he was too afraid to seek medical attention. Makos soon realized Davies wouldn’t tell about the happenings in the kitchen. It was all the brash officer needed to see.
It soon became a personal hell for Davies, who multiple prisoners said received the worst of the abuse.
“I deserve to be doing prison time, but I did not know it was going to be anything like this,” Davies said.
Makos, who was the supervisor of the second shift, lurked over Davies’ every move, the man said.
He’d tally up infractions against Davies for minor mishaps, like having his hair net down too low or forgetting to put applesauce on a cart, Davies said. He said Makos often resorted to simply making up missteps by Davies.
Then came the end of his shift. “Time to collect,” Makos would say, according to Davies.
Davies would walk into the back of the officer’s room in the kitchen, put his hands on top of his head and interlock his fingers with his back facing Makos. For each infraction that day, it was a forceful punch to the ribs. It wasn’t every day, Davies said, but multiple times a week he was brutalized.
“When I started out getting abused, it really physically affected me,” he said. “I couldn’t lay in bed or laugh or cough without severe pain shooting through my ribs. I was in a weakened state for the most part, until my body got hardened to it.”
Steven Ruck, his cellmate, saw the bruises and the toll they took.
“They were taking advantage of him,” Ruck said. “He was the punching bag down there. He couldn’t walk. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do s---.”
“I have never seen somebody black and blue like this kid was at one time,” said Peter M.
In one instance, according to federal authorities, Makos allegedly had Davies pull his pants down and spanked Davies’ bare bottom with a ruler after another officer’s food went missing.
Makos allegedly smacked him so hard, the ruler broke and the hit left a mark, according to the complaint. He then had Davies show his buttocks to others in the kitchen “so that the other inmates could see the result of this beating,” authorities said.
Makos also allegedly forced the prisoner and Davies to eat homegrown Carolina Reaper Peppers — the hottest pepper in the world — for his pleasure, which federal authorities also detailed in their complaint. Because Davies ate a plate full of the peppers, he was spared any beatings for a month, he said.
“Eating the peppers feels like being maced,” Davies said. “Your eyes light on fire. Your mouth lights on fire. You sweat. You feel like you’re going to throw up.”
Though he added, “that earned me an entire month of not getting hit so it was really worth it.”
Multiple prisoners told NJ Advance Media that they did not report the abuse out of fear of losing the job in the kitchen as well as retaliatory abuse from Makos. Some said they tried to step in to help Davies, but they were unsuccessful.
“You can’t keep punching this kid,” Scotese recalls saying. “You are going to kill him.”
According to the criminal complaint, Makos allegedly held their desirable jobs in the kitchen over their heads, making them believe they would lose their job if the prisoners reported the abuse.
Vicious beatings, fence crucifixions. N.J. corrections officer turned prison kitchen into ‘Fight Club,’ feds, prisoners say.
