jail

Well hello there,
It has been about 8 years since I've written about ... anything.  I've been busy, I've been on vacation, I've been dead to the world.  I don't know who would care at all to read this but here it is. 

I have just been released from prison.  There, it's out.  I wish I could write how a weight has been lifted by posting this tidbit of information.  I cannot.  The reason I was in prison is inconsequential considering I am innocent.  The jury found me guilty out of... I don't really know how they came to their conclusion as I had photos and alibis.  Find me guilty they did and I served two years with the TDCJ as an inmate.

At first I was in jail though.  Many people think jail and prison are the same thing.  They are not.  First off, depending on the county, jail is extremely boring.  I know what you must be thinking, "it's jail, not a vacation."  Yes, you would be correct.  Jail isn't supposed to be exciting.  The unfortunate part is that jail is not supposed to be a punishment either.  It is intended as a detention for those awaiting a verdict, guilty or not guilty. 

My first night in jail after I turned myself in for sentencing was an eye opener.  I suppose I didn't really believe it.  I kept telling myself that it was simply an experience.  I was escorted to a holding cell and every couple of hours, I was moved to a slightly larger than the last holding cell.  Finally, I was in the largest holding cell the county had, along with about 20 other unfortunates.  We were taken out 5 at a time for showers. 

Showers in booking are very non private.  We are stripped, searched, and told to pick from a line of shower nozzles.  Under each nozzle is a solitary button.  There is no hot or cold settings, there is just the one button.  I later learned that the water would warm up after you press it and wait for a few minutes.  That night, I was naïve.  I took a shower under what felt like icicles.  There was no soap nor shampoo. 

I exited the shower and was searched again.  My clothes had be put into property and I was issued my orange trousers, shirt and shoes.  I was allowed my undershirt only because it was white.  My socks and underwear were stylishly colored and therefore not allowed.  I was also issued a blanket, sheet and towel.  After that shower, I was escorted back to the holding cell as they struggled to find "housing" for us all.  The holding cell was steel box painted a light brown color.  The floor was concrete.  We had two toilets, stainless steel.  There are of course, no doors for privacy.  The sink is connected to the toilets.  I suppose this is intended to be efficient. 

The area was crowded and by this time it was 4am.  Most of us had laid out our blankets to sleep for a while.  Sleep is all I wanted to do, hoping it was all a dream.  As I laid down, I noticed my blanket had a big hole right in the center.  I was cold that night and the next few nights.  This was in November, one week before Thanksgiving day.  At around 8am, my name was called and I was taken to "el Pozo", the hole.  I thought it was something I did or somehow my lying accuser paid to have me placed in solitary.  Nope, I was put there because of overflow.  If the jails are overflowing, does that mean the police are getting better at catching law breakers, more people are breaking laws, or that we are being over policed? 

I woke many times that first day/night.  It felt as though I was there a week.  I had no television, no radio, no watch.  I didn't know how much time had passed.   I could hear other inmates shouting across the halls.  I was handed my meals through a slot in the door.  It seems everything in "county" has to be made with mustard. I was hungry, so I ate. 

I served a week's worth of time in that first night.  I was already feeling crazy.  The following day, I asked a guard how I could shower and get soap.  My shower wouldn't turn on.  I had nothing to bathe with either.  He turned on the shower from the "picket" and told me I would have to buy soap and deodorant from the commissary.  He checked my trust fund and told me I had money in my account but they only run commissary once a week so I would have to wait until the next day to make any purchases. 

I rinsed off in the shower.  This time the water ran hot.  I passed the time by doing push ups.  The next day, a guard passed by a commissary slip and a list of items available for sale.  I was ecstatic when I noticed stamps, paper, envelopes and pens were available.  Pens, I didn't have one to fill out the list.  I told the guard of my conundrum and he begrudgingly found a pencil for me to borrow. 

That evening, I received my items.  I immediately began writing to my wife.  I thanked her for putting the money in my account.  She is strong and I wrote telling her to remain so.  I missed her terribly, her and my daughters.

Soon after, my cell door opened.  I didn't know what was happening so I stayed sitting down staring at the open door.  After a bit, a guard yelled at me to hurry up and pack.  They found a dorm for me to go to.  I hurriedly packed my meager belongings into my sheet.  I later learned of the holes in my sheet.  My stamps must have slipped out.  I had to wait a bit longer to mail my letter.