Editor’s note: Complacency is the most dangerous threat corrections professionals face because it rarely looks like danger. It grows out of repetition, familiarity and the false confidence that comes with experience. In this excerpt from “Killing Complacency,” veteran correctional officer Russ Hamilton draws on decades inside San Quentin to expose how routine can dull awareness, how missed cues can turn deadly and why intentional vigilance — not tenure — is the true measure of professionalism behind the walls. Order your copy here.
“Complacency is situational awareness, perceived, but not achieved.” — Sgt. Russ Hamilton CDCR ret. 2018
Complacency is the quiet killer in corrections. It doesn’t show up with sirens or alarms — it creeps in through repetition. It hides behind the phrase “this is how we’ve always done it.” It disguises itself as comfort, then turns that comfort into vulnerability.
In this chapter, we’re not just going to define complacency. We’re going to dismantle it — break it down, call it out, and show you how to defeat it. Because in our line of work, the price of letting your guard down is paid in blood, failure, and regret.
The evolution of awareness
When we first start working in a correctional facility, everything is new. Every door, every alarm, every sound triggers attention. That’s a rookie’s hyper-vigilance. But over time, familiarity breeds assumptions. We rely on patterns rather than perception. We stop seeing with fresh eyes and start functioning on autopilot. That’s where complacency sets in.
Routine is not the enemy. In fact, routine is vital to a well-run institution. It provides structure, predictability, and efficiency. But when routine becomes a substitute for thought — when we stop asking why, stop noticing changes, stop challenging what we “know” — it becomes dangerous.
Imagine walking the same tier — a floor of cells in a prison block — every day. You nod at the same inmates, glance at the same cells, hear the same noises. But one day, something’s off. A blanket is hung where it shouldn’t be. A mirror is positioned slightly differently. You miss it because routine tells you everything is fine. But that blanket is concealing a weapon. That mirror is tracking your movements. Complacency lets it happen. Perhaps today the problem will not manifest itself; the complacency grows but the countdown continues toward the inevitable.
Maintaining intentional awareness
The challenge is this: how do we stay alert in a world of repetition? The answer is intentional awareness. We must make a conscious decision each shift to remain engaged. That means practicing the “what if” exercise, in order to mentally test scenarios. That means reviewing incidents and asking, “Could this happen here? Could it happen now? Could it happen to me?”
Supervisors must foster a culture that encourages critical thinking. They must challenge their staff, not punish them for questioning the status quo. Peer accountability must be real, not punitive and not unaccountable. We must be willing to say to each other, “Did you notice that? Are you sure that’s normal?”
Confronting dangerous myths
We must also confront the myths we tell ourselves. “I’ve been doing this for 20 years” is not a shield against danger. “Nothing ever happens here” is not a strategy. Longevity and safety do not always correlate. In fact, the longer you do the job, the more vulnerable you may become — not because you lack skill, but because you rely on experience instead of awareness.
Every major incident has a backstory of missed cues, ignored red flags, and assumptions. We ask, “How did they not see it coming?” The answer is often routine.
Resetting the mindset
To defeat complacency, we must reset our mindset. Each day must begin with the idea that today could be the day — the fight could happen, the escape could be attempted, or the trap could be set. This is not paranoia. It’s professionalism.
Complacency is not just a lack of attention. It’s a belief — a quiet, dangerous belief that you know what’s coming next. But in corrections, nothing is promised. Your best defense is awareness. Your best weapon is vigilance. Your best habit is humility.
I’ve spent more than three decades in corrections. I started at San Quentin State Prison in 1989 and have seen firsthand how complacency infects every level of our profession. This book is a warning, a reflection, and a guide. It’s built from blood, sweat, mistakes, and survival. If one chapter prevents a tragedy, its job is done.
The shadow of Black August
One event that deeply impacted me early in my career was the story of Black August, perhaps the most infamous incident in American correctional history — a deadly escape attempt at San Quentin on August 21, 1971, that exposed the dangers of complacency.
In June 1989, I was thrilled to be selected for the Richard A. McGee Correctional Training Facility in Galt, California, and chose San Quentin as my institution. Around that time, I ran into two brothers, former coworkers from a construction company where I’d worked. When I shared my excitement about my new career, their faces changed. They revealed their father, a San Quentin sergeant, was killed in the line of duty — shot in the head during the Black August escape attempt. That encounter drove home the seriousness of my chosen path and the ever-present risk of complacency.
Years later, after retiring and providing content for Tier Talk, a corrections training platform hosted by Anthony Gangi, I interviewed Richard (Dick) Nelson, a former San Quentin Associate Warden, I had indirectly worked for. Dick was writing “Into Harm’s Way: My Life in Corrections — and the Historic Riot That Nearly Ended It,” about the Black August riot/escape attempt.
The interview was powerful but somber, marked by the loss of Sergeant Jere Graham, Officer Paul Krasenes, and Officer Frank DeLeon, who gave their lives that day. Dick, a hero for retaking the Adjustment Center — a high-security unit — and preventing further bloodshed, told the incredible story of the incident to me and I was able to record it for posterity.
Dick did not mention one particular, critical detail during that recording: on August 1, 1971, a child visiting an inmate was found with a fake gun strapped to his ankle. Only after his book was published did I find this out. That incident went unreported. This lapse meant this event was never reported up the chain of command. Only after the August 21 riot/escape attempt, did it come to light. Had it been addressed, heightened security might have stopped an inmate’s attorney from smuggling a real gun later that month, potentially preventing the tragedy.
I omit the perpetrators’ names to focus on the heroism of those who served, pouring out the full measure of sacrifice and the insidious nature of complacency, which this book aims to combat.