A Visit to the Jail

A friend of mine is in jail. He is the only person I have ever been friends with who has spent more than a night or two behind bars. I will call him Hal.

I met Hal quite a few years ago at a golf club where we both used to play. He was a much better player than I, and was kind enough to help a neophyte conquer the initially frustrating techniques a beginning golfer must learn, so he can move along to the next set of frustrating techniques.

Hal was a salesman and did a lot of business on the golf course. He was a natural comic, fast with a bawdy joke told with a big smile, which revealed bright white teeth framed by a deep golden golfer’s tan. The kind of guy who women gravitate toward at a party. He was engaged twice, but slipped the rope both times. He was also a drunk. His favorite line was “I always stop drinking for a month every year. February, the shortest month.” This was his attempt to manage his alcoholism.

It didn’t work. Hal was stopped for DUI a couple of years ago. Then he was stopped again, and his license was suspended. And then it happened. Police spotted his car late at night as he headed home from a bar. They ran the plates and discovered the suspended license. Bottom line…. he was driving drunk for the third time and with a suspended license. The judge gave him fourteen months in jail.

Guys like Hal have a lot of buddies, and his close ones show up with regularity for jail visits. But after a few months, and with better weather warming golf courses, his closer buds started calling his less close buds. That’s when my phone rang.

Hal’s close friend: “Bob you don’t know me but I’m a friend of Hal’s.”
Me: Right.
Friend: ”Hal, as you know, is a guest of the state and could really use some new company. Several of us trade off seeing him on the weekends, but to be honest, we’ve got this traveling game that in two weekends is at Myrtle Beach, and to make a long story short, can we count on you to go see Hal?”
Me: Sure.

Can we count on you? Very clever. What kind of guy wants to be known as a man who can’t be counted on? What kind of guy would turn his back on some poor schlub who was in a miserable cell with God know who in the next bunk.  I had not seen Hal in several years, but off I went for a weekend in another city, in another state, for my first visit inside a jail.

I found the place without any trouble.  It was just on the outskirts of town. Visiting hours were one to three, and I sat in the parking lot for about an hour thinking about how a guy I used to ride in a golf cart with could find himself here. Golf course restaurants generally have pretty mediocre food, but I’ll bet Hal would give about anything for a ham and cheese sandwich, fries and an Arnold Palmer Lemonade. I also thought about what to say to him. “How are you?” seemed ridiculous. He might be too embarrassed to talk about what he is going through.  Maybe I’ll tell him about my life. My girlfriend, and my trip to Maine coming up. Get his mind off of where is. No! That is stupid! Why would I talk about women and travel to a guy living behind bars with other men!! As I walked toward the entrance to the jail I had no idea how I was going to fill the next two hours.

From my car in the lot the facility looked no more threatening than a middle school. But as I got nearer, the razor wire above the metal fencing became more obvious and serious. The quiet of the countryside was broken now and then by a shout, or a metal door slamming shut. I admit, I was a little uneasy.

I opened the double door to the office area and walked into a surprisingly small room that again had a middle school feel to it. In the right corner of the room was a large window with a sheriff’s deputy leaning against the counter. Not that big a guy. About 28 or so. His face wore a mask that said “I’ve seen and heard enough B.S. for a life time. I don’t care what you brought, what you forgot, or how you feel. Here, we go by the book.” He gave me a form to fill out.

“You can sit over there,” he said, motioning toward a bank of gray plastic chairs set against a beige cement block wall. On the opposite wall was a rudimentary mural that covered the entire wall. It was done in gaudy, almost psychedelic colors, and depicted several people walking up a golden hill. Each of the people was either Hispanic or African-American. Along the sides of the golden road was a school, smiling family members, a church and for some reason bikes and birds. The only white face was a middle-age man giving a diploma to a Hispanic appearing male. Political correctness had not made much of an impression here.

I filled out the form which basically explained who I was, and sat down on the gray plastic chair. In a couple of minutes an older guard poked his head from behind the counter and growled at me, “You need to wait outside.” I shot up and went out to lean against the brick wall. In a few minutes other visitors started to arrive. They were closer to the actual time we would be let in. First, an African-American family. I guessed a brother, mother and grandmother.  Then a very pretty brunette woman about twenty-five and a little blond girl I thought to be her daughter. After that around ten to fifteen other people showed up representing a cross section of today’s America.

After about thirty minutes we were one by one called inside. I was asked to pull out the pockets of my pants and walk through a metal detector. Then I walked into a small space where I was sealed, as the sliding metal door closed behind me. A second door opened where another young sheriff’s deputy with the same “I don’t need to hear it” face greeted me. He searched me and directed me to a room about the size of a company lunchroom. More gray plastic chairs ringed it. I sat and waited for my friend. First to the room was a white guy who I guess was the husband of the pretty brunette. Then it was Hal. Another deputy walked him in. I must say this was handled with as much respect as one could hope for, given the situation. Hal was wearing street clothes, jeans and a light blue short-sleeved shirt. He waved and smiled when he saw me.

“How ya doin?” Hal asked, in a relaxed surprisingly happy tone.
“I’m great, thanks,” I said.
“Thanks for coming, I know this sucks, blowing a weekend.”
“No, it’s fine, I found a great little mom and pop place for breakfast.”

We talked non-stop for two hours, and he did most of the talking. He told me about the second week when a new cellmate went nuts and started screaming at him at three am. The guy took off all his clothes and for no reason kept throwing a small chair at Hal. Then he grabbed Hal’s small radio and shoved it up his own butt. It was three days before they moved the guy. And the other prisoners thought Hal snitched, so when he would walk down a hallway the occasional fist would meet his face or shoulder. He spoke of working hour after hour in the kitchen. This business of lying around a cell all day and reading was not a part of Hal’s life. I won’t disclose anymore of our time together other than to say he told me this….

“I will never, ever allow myself to be in this situation again. Most of these people are drug addicts. They have never held a job for more than a few weeks at a time. They have no life-skills. I volunteer to help them understand how to fill out a tax form and a job application. It is impossible to sleep at night. I have a hearing problem and no one cares. The noise is unreal and I am worried about my other ear.”

I listened for two hours. When I was ready to leave we stood up and I hugged him. He seemed resolved to his situation and to turn his life around. I also think he put on his best upbeat face for me.

“You see that hot looking girl there” referring to the brunette with the child. “That’s her husband, not a bad guy. We go to the AA meetings together. He’s a cokehead.”

I looked at the brunette. Her eyes had a distant anger; her face revealed resentment that life landed her here with a child, at her age, with her beauty. Her husband wore a wide smile as he tickled his daughter’s chin. She stared through the window looking for some life that didn’t exist.

I told Hal I would return in a few weeks, and I will. His jailer led him away for more work in the kitchen. He smiled and waved at the exit of the room. At nine tonight his day will end and he will fall asleep on the hard bed with a blanket for a pillow. Screams and shouts will ring throughout the night. The prison soundtrack.

Be careful, Paris. Be careful Lindsay, Britney, and Nicole. You are but a party or two away from the same fate. In an equal America.

Comments

[ann]

....you told that story very well Bob. How sad. I hope he can stay sober when he gets out of jail. I wish I could agree that justice was equal here, it is not.:( So much does depend on skin color, fame and wealth. I'm glad your friend got a wake up call before someone was hurt. I'll truly will keep him in my thoughts. peace,ann

[Sue]

My ex-husband is locked up. He became addicted to meth and everything went downhill from there. Jail is not a fun place to be, and try explaining to a child why their daddy is in jail.....not fun.

[Maclean White]

BOB!! YOU DID IT!! Your own personal blog...MAX said it would never happen, but you proved him wrong.....HAHA MAX!! Hal NEEDED this hard kick in the ass. I am glad its just a prison term and not prison plus knowing you killed someone while drunk driving. It could be much worse for Hal...thank GOD it isn't.

[Allan]

Well written. About 1 year ago a friend asked me to assist with a new program that allows alcoholics out of jail on a 24 hour/day ankle monitoring bracelet. For several months I went to several county jails and installed ankle bracelets. Each bracelet is monitored and reported over the internet. As I quickly discovered two things in the process most alcoholics are liars or deniers. And getting into jail is easier than getting out! Dah, you say. I have stopped assisting my friend. I once hear someone say, “Just because you do something with a big heart, doesn’t mean you’re suited for the job.” Good luck, Bob with your visits and your blog.

[Diane]

Great Blog Bob, hey that sounds funny. LOL

Honestly, very well written. Have you ever considered writing a book?

Keep the Blogs coming
Diane

[Cynthia]

very nicely written. A cautionary tale if one ever existed.

[Laura Ray]

As a substitute teacher I had many special education assignments. One was at the Juvenile Detention Center - kids' jail. I was informed that I would have about five students. When I was buzzed into the classroom, I had about 30 pairs of eyes looking at me with that "I have heard it all before and don't want to hear anymore look - especially from you [expletive]." Still, after taking a deep breath, I taught just as I would teach any other student. We were entertained. This conversation reminds me of presentation about rehabilitating prisoners I gave my sociology professor 23 years ago. He had such a fit and said I was basically wrong. With these kids, I would hate to find out I am.

[sasha]

Hey Bob! I am very impressed. You told a great story...I even teared up towards the end. Thanks for sharing, Sasha

[vicki]

Bob, you have a great talent for writing. I am a morning show fan and love to listen to you spin tales. It seems you are a natural. Of course I do not have any expertise in the genre, but I like what I hear and read from you. Keep up the good work!

[Pat]

Bob - you're a great story teller. I enjoyed your writing very much, but it is a sad tale. Keep up the great job!!

[Joe]

This is Chris the Cuban's brother. Fascinating story and well told.

[JoAnne]

Nice story. I really have a question. Were you Lacey Listens years ago. I am now (I'm not saying) but when I was very young, I listened to you every night when I went to bed. Enjoyed you then and still do. Thanks

[Annie]

Nicely written, Bob. Thanks for sharing.

[Tina]

Bob,
I love your blog. Please keep them coming. I have listen to you and Sherri every day for 7 years. I mostly agree with Sherri but you are great.

[Jen]

Fantastic job Bob! You create a very vivid picture with your words. Hope to see lots more!

[Cecil]

Great Blog! You really nailed that whole mood and left me with the thought, that wherever you are, its certainly better than that place. I give you a ton of credit; most people would never have gotten out of the car in the parking lot.

[cso]

I must say I'm very pleasantly surprised... wasn't expecting such heart from your story. You cover it very well on air... It's nice to meet you, Blog Bob!

[Amy]

Bob- It sounds as if Hal has it pretty easy in his confinement. My husband works at our county jail, and they "the guests" don't get that kind of respect very often, nor do they get 2 hour visits. I hope Hal can take his time as a lesson learned and walk out a better person.

[Angela]

Hi Bob!
I enjoyed reading your story, it brought tears to my eyes. I hope you continue sharing. I love, love, love your show!

[Kate]

Bob-
and we always thought Sheri was the writer. Hats off to you, this is great. Hope to read more blogs in the future!

[AndreaDetroit]

I've been listening to the show for about 18 months now, ever since I moved to Ohio. I really enjoy you and Sheri every morning and now I can enjoy your blog too! I thought your post was very well written and will be looking forward to more!

[Xochitl]

I cannot wait to read the next one...well done.

[Charlotte]

Bob,
Your blog is great!!! You did it ... and Max didn't think it would happen :)
Your story was great and I agree w/Cecil above I'm proud of you. Most people wouldn't have taken the time much less gotten out of the car. Your a great person! I'm a long time listener since the day Sheri joined the show!! You guys are great together. Keep the blogs coming.... I'm waiting on the next one.

[Anne]

Bob that was a really great story. I am so impressed with your way with words.

This is the kind of real life situation that we can all relate to. I bet this will affect a lot of drivers. Did you talk about it on air?

I am a journalism student at St Thomas University in Fredericton, New Brunswick. We listen to you from Maine, and Love you here in Canada.

Anne

[Susan]

I have been visiting my husband in jail for that exact same reason for the past two years. We have nine more months to go, and I say we because that incarceration affects every member of a family. The one thing that has surprised me is the number of inmates that are there for the 2nd, 3rd and 4th time. I don't know what the answer is, just know addiction is a horrible thing.