Journal

Last Thursday night I announced I was taking a long weekend away from writing. What had happened was this. The Park Avenue Summer Arts Festival was coming up, I’ve done tons of writing lately and felt I deserved a break, and I’d hit a dry well on the entry I was working on. Well to quote Bob Dylan, "The pumps not broke, it’s just the vandals stole the handle."

I touched on this topic last night, and it’s what I was originally working on last Thursday when I went dry.

Several people have asked me recently "What’s it like to visit Danger-Boy in jail?" My usual answer has been, "interesting." I suppose I could expand on that just a bit. There are two ways to take the question, "What is the procedure to visit someone in the jail", and "How do you feel when you visit someone in the jail." We’ll look at each issue in turn.

First, it’s nothing at all like what you see on TV. So throw out your mental image of going inside a barred room with glass partitions and telephones. That’s reserved for "difficult" inmates, or "difficult" visitors. Second, it’s the only jail I’ve ever visited. I understand things are different even at the "new" suburban "branch" of the jail. So your mileage may vary.

I want to start by saying that with only one exception, every deputy and staff member I’ve dealt with at the jail has been professional, courteous, smiling, and helpful. They do everything they can, within the rules, to make the visits as pleasant as possible. When they retire, they’ll all make good greeters at Wal-Mart. The one exception was a trainee at the inmate property desk who had a "holier-than-thou" attitude. I haven’t seen him since.

I’ll be mentioning some numbers in here. On my next visit, Wednesday afternoon, I’ll do my best to verify the numbers for accuracy, and make corrections (no pun intended) as needed.

There’s only so much space in the visiting room. I haven’t counted, but it looks like 25 or 30 visits can be accommodated at any given time, and only two people can visit an inmate at any given time. The inmates are entitled to receive two one-hour visits per week, there are six time slots available per day, and the visiting room is closed on Sunday and Monday.

Mathematically, it works out to 900 available visits. If each inmate receives both of their permitted visits per week, then there’s only enough visiting time and space for 450 inmates. There are more than 450 inmates at the jail, so naturally there’s plenty of competition for available appointments.

That competition is managed by a woman whose name escapes me right now, but she always remembers my face, name and Danger-Boy’s name. She schedules the appointments in an Excel worksheet running on an ancient Mac. I shudder to think of the ramifications should that thing ever crash.

Anyway, appointments can be made by phone or in person, and can only be made for seven days in advance. So if I want to visit next Friday, I can only make that appointment this Friday. Once you get your first visit's scheduled, it’s easiest to make the next one for the following week while you’re there.

Arriving early for your visit is key. If you show up late, too bad, so sad, you lose out. There’s plenty of seating in the waiting room, but I use the time to schedule the next week’s visit, add money to his commissary account, drop off new books in the property room and pick up stuff he’s read and written. Fifteen minutes before the time slot begins, a deputy comes out and checks against the list to see who has actually shown up. The list is taken back inside so the inmates who have real live on-site visitors can be brought down.

Then you queue up to a window. You must present a valid picture ID with your current address. Your name is checked against the list of people who aren’t permitted to visit. They record your name and address on the inmate’s visitor card and give you a token for the lockers located within the waiting room.

You have to leave all bags, purses, etc., remove all coats, belts, scarves, ties, jewelry, (including nose-rings for those so inclined), and empty all your pockets. You put all your stuff in a any available locker, insert your token, close the locker and take the key to the second window. There the deputy puts your key with your ID and gives you the inmate’s visitor card, (remember this for later,) and you’re passed through the first of three doors.

After that door closes, you go through the second door. There a deputy has you pull your pockets inside-out, checks inside your mouth, and checks you with a handheld metal detector, like the ones they use at the airport. Only this one is much more sensitive. The rivets in my jeans set it off.

Finally you’re let through the third door and into the visiting room. The room itself is fairly large, with a strip of windows along the ceiling. It’s not exactly cheery, but it’s far from dismal. There are several video cameras mounted on the ceiling and the deputies who supervise and monitor the visits sit behind a desk on a raised platform

There are three long U-shaped counters. Each one is separated into four or five foot wide areas by head-high, (when you’re seated) partitions. The inmates sit in a chair on the inside of the U, and there are wire-mesh seats on the outside of the U for us visitors. The benches look quite uncomfortable, but believe me, even after your hour sitting there, you don’t notice it because your attention, well mine anyway, is focused on the person you’re visiting.

Anyway, when you enter the room, you take the inmate’s visitor card to the deputies at the desk. They assign you a space, and after you’re seated, your beloved inmate enters the room after being told where to sit. You sit across the table, maybe three feet wide, and you can hug, kiss, hold hands or whatever while you talk. Babies are frequently passed across the table for their fathers, (presumably) to hold. Conversations are as private as they can be in a room full of people. You can hear surprising little from the cubies next to you.

Everyone is to remain seated until the deputies tell you your time is up, or you get up to leave early.

Now, remember the visitor card I told you to keep in mind? Every visit is recorded on the card, along with the name and address of the visitor. Last week, a woman with an infant got pretty pissed at the guy she was visiting. She apparently discovered by reading the card, that his other woman had been visiting him too. This little domestic squabble erupted into a full blown argument with lots of yelling and screaming by the visitor who then stood up with the baby. The deputies had already told Danger-Boy and I to end our visit so we were standing and hugging across the table when all the ruckus broke out.

As the deputies came by, they had everyone who was up, including us, sit down again, and they escorted the visitor and the inmate out of the room PDQ. While I feel sorry for the couple and the child, Danger-Boy and I got a few extra minutes of visiting time.

On your way out, you pass through the same three doors and retrieve your locker key and ID at the window where you left them. That way they make sure the right people get their own stuff.

So that’s the procedure. Now, how does it feel?

My first time into the waiting room I was nervous because I didn’t know any of the procedures. I know they want everything to go by-the-book, it’s just I didn’t know what all of the rules and procedures were. I asked at the various windows and got the idea of things, and the list of permitted inmate property and visiting schedule. I couldn’t make an appointment that day because Danger-Boy was still in Central Booking and not in general population.

I never feel embarrassed or ashamed to be there, even that first time when I was so nervous. (I’m nervous the first time I go anywhere, so it’s really not a big deal.) Everyone in the waiting room is there for the same reason, to visit a friend or loved one, so there’s really nothing to be embarrassed over or ashamed by. Some people, generally suburban middle-class types, seem to pull it off though. Usually by the second or third time they’re there, they realize we’re all in the same boat together.

It’s hard NOT to joke and exchange pleasantries with the deputies and other personnel. They’re truly engaging. I’ve not had many conversations with folks, except when we’re in a queue together. The black folks seem to avoid me because I’m white, and the white folks seem to avoid everyone. I make it point to sit away from the other white folk, who are the clear minority.

In the waiting room, I’m usually filled with anticipation, and trying to commit to memory what I’ve wanted to discuss, because you’re not even allowed to take notes in. This is the hardest part for me because of the damage I did to my memory by smoking pot for 20 years. I’m always worried I’ll forget something, and I usually do. And that’s because once inside, we’re just so darned happy to see each other, that not much else matters.

We talk about how we’ve been doing, and how we’ve been feeling. He regales me with "Tales From the Inside", and we laugh, and joke and talk about darned near everything. I usually receive some instruction for things he needs done outside, and report back on the things I’ve done. The hour’s gone before we know it.

Parting is the proverbial sweet sorrow, and we usually back our way out to out respective doors. When I leave, I’ve got a big smile on my face and am so happy, nothing can bother me. Even the time I came out an found a $15 parking ticket on the car because the meter had expired. I popped two more quarters in the meter, and went back and paid the fine right then and there. Talk about convenient!

In the entry I made on Sunday night, I explained how we were weighing the relative merits of Danger-Boy remaining in custody at the jail after his sentences are complete, or posting bail on any outstanding issues. In that discussion, I said, "The Public Defender's office is absolutely useless in the discussion of strategic issues, as their only motivation is to clear their caseload."

I stand by that statement as it pertains to the Assistant Public Defender handling Danger-Boy’s outstanding matter in city court. That APD, would not return my phone calls. When I reached her, I barely had my name out of my mouth when she said "I cannot have any discussion of this matter with you as that is privileged information."

I explained I was not asking to receive information at that time. Having worked for an attorney for seven years, I am fully cognizant of, and agree with, the moral, ethical and legal issues surrounding Attorney-Client privilege.

Then I explained I wanted to provide information on the matter which would help her in understanding all sides of the issue, and which may be of use to her when she met with Danger-Boy and had discussion on whether or not I should post his bail. Further, I explained, since I would be the one posting bail, I felt that I should have some input into the decision she and Danger-Boy would make. She refused further conversation.

Having said that …

We have had completely the opposite experience with Seana Wurth, Assistant Public Defender who is handling his matter one of the town courts. We each had multiple conversations yesterday with Ms. Wurth. She listened, asked questions, and did a bit of research. Then she offered council (after all, attorneys are also called councilors).

She outlined several possibilities, explained the pros and cons of each, and began work right away on one of the options, (which has a long lead-time) even before we had reached any decisions. And she did all this without violating Attorney-Client privilege.

Thanks to her, we have reached, not so much a decision, as a decision tree, which takes into account the needs of the law, the needs of the community, and the needs of Danger-Boy and I.

Things are finally looking up!

Yeah, there’ll be a bit of a mess left over to clean up, but the downhill run is over and we’re headin’ back up! Everything has snapped into place, like Lego blocks, over the past couple of days.

First, Danger-Boy:

Thanks to Danger-Boy’s previous experience with the court system, Public Defender Wurth, and Alternatives To Incarceration (ATI), we have a workable strategy. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, he’ll be home by noon on Thursday. Our schedule for next weekend goes something like this:

Thursday: 9:30 city court, noon released from jail, 1:00 stop by his lawyer’s office on a non-criminal matter, 2:30 Admissions and Financial Aid offices at Monroe Community College (MCC). Spend the night with Debbie.

Saturday: AM visit his three boys, PM visit his mother. Spend the night with Daphne and Eleanor (the elderly ladies I took to the Park Ave Festival last weekend.)

Sunday: Fine-tune any tactics for Monday, then hang out and rest. Spend the night with Debbie.

Monday: AM DSS (welfare) for Tuition Financial Aid and "Pending Letter" for the rehab program at Main Quest, late AM or early PM drop by Main Quest and get an entry date for rehab. 3:30PM town court, (hoping the college, rehab and ATI works to his favor.) Spend the night with me. J

Now, a lot is riding on MCC, Main Quest, ATI and my standing in the community. If things go swimmingly, he has 8 days "credit" at the jail, and will get time-served in city court. Otherwise, I’ll post pre-sentencing bail on that one. Either way, I’ll post bail with the town court on Thursday so we can make a "pre-emptive strike," using MCC, Main Quest and ATI in sentencing negotiations at his appearance in town court a week from Monday.

Here’s what I meant on Monday when I said, "we have reached, not so much a decision, as a decision tree, which takes into account the needs of the law, the needs of the community, and the needs of Danger-Boy and I."

Worst case, he may have to go back to jail for some more time before the fall semester starts, or even worse, until the winter semester. Either way, he’ll start school ASAP after jail, and we’ll find him a job too.

Ideally, the two courts will settle on some combination of time-served, rehab and community service. And we’ll have to find him a job. The theory is that if we keep him busy enough between school, work, rehab and community service, he won’t have time to think about drugging, and he’ll be hanging with a better group of people.

Then in a few months, as his community service is done, he’ll have the experience at living sober that he needs. Next, we can phase out rehab a few months after that once we feel he can structure his life and free time appropriately. And by then, he’ll have hit enough bumps along the way to know he can deal with life’s little insults, and the occasional big one, without having to escape through drugging.

The goal of the whole exercise is to redirect Danger-Boy so that he can become a positive, contributing member of society, and never has to clash with the law again. Nothing would make me happier, and judging from recent visits, phone calls and letters, nothing would make him happier either. We’ve working on all the details now, and we realize it will be a tough few months with plenty of potential for setbacks.

No matter how it goes, he’ll be a very busy Danger-Boy for the next nine to twelve months. By then, I’ll have enough time in with the new job, that they’ll relocate us to Phoenix. Oh, what new job is that? Well, that brings us to …

Second, me:

From an e-mail I sent out to a dozen of my closest friends:

When you're good, you're good, lemme tell ya!  Confirmation comes Monday, but ...

You know that job interview this morning?  I nailed it.  One of four positions.  It looks like a perfect fit both ways.  If I had to write my ideal job description, I could use the notes I made at the interview.  I got out of the interview at 11:00, went to see Danger-Boy in jail at 12:45 and Call-ID said they called at 1:18!

[If you back out an hour for lunch, it took roughly an hour and twenty minutes for the client to make the decision, call my new employer, and for them to call me. Pretty impressive, eh?]

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The job site is at the University of Rochester Medical Center, (Strong Memorial Hospital.)  Forty percent "level one" help desk, 20% "level two" help desk, 20% installs and user account maintenance, and 20% project management.  Perfect for me, and I'm perfect for them!

And, it's NOT a contract.  I'll be a permanent direct-hire employee of Ajilon Services, Inc., a multi-national consulting firm.  I’ll be part of the team integrating the IS departments of Strong, and two other local hospitals they've recently purchased.

Now get this:  $[**]K/yr, 9 paid holidays, 10 days vacation, full medical (including vision and dental) WITH domestic partner benefits, tuition reimbursement for job seminars and degree programs, 50% matching (up to 6%) contributions to the 401(k) plan, profit sharing, $2,500 every 2 years for personal computer equipment and software, life insurance, disability insurance, full relocation benefits, (and an office in Phoenix, AZ), $2,000 employee referral bonus, AND sexual orientation is written right in their non-discrimination policy on the recruiting brochure!

</dance>

It took multiple interviews (like three!), plus supervisor and peer reference checks, just to be considered for a position with Ajilon, and then they had me interview with the client even before I signed any paperwork!