So I still have this incredibly intrusive and crippling device stuck in my sleek car impairing my driving. Not only is it difficult to get right as far as blowing into it to have it work properly, but it does malfunction on a daily basis and I AM BLAMED FOR IT! I received a letter from the MVD stating that due to reported tampering or missed re-test on my part they were extending the installation for yet ANOTTHER YEAR!!! I missed a re-test one day on my way to an appointment when the thing started going haywire. It wouldn't let me blow into it, it kept returning an "abrt" code on the primitive display immediately then some weird nonsensical characters and it kept beeping. I managed to pull off the freeway (yes, gentle readers, I was driving on the freeway). I called the 800 help line in a panicked frenzy and the dolt on the other end couldn't help me at all. She just told me to go to my appointment and call back when I was done and they would help me start my car if it didn't work. But then the 5 minute period I had to do the retest was over and it knocked my violation grace period from 6 to 5. After the appointment the thing seemed to have reset itself and was okay. I immediately took it to the service place and had them look at it. I guess they hooked it up to whatever it is they hook it up to and it sends data to the MVD. the MVD sees that it looked tampered with and therefore shoots out in a very cavalier way they I have to continue to use the fucking thing for an extended year!
Needless to say, I will take this to the matresses. I am not going to be shackled to this crazy contraption for another year because it malfunctioned. By the way, the name of the service place is Smart Start in Scottsdale. If you have to have one of these stupid things put in, avoid this shyster outfit, they are a rip-off and the girl working there is a total bitch.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
The Arizona DUI Tragedy
The following story is a 100% true and accurate account of an experience with the DUI gauntlet in the state of Arizona. I have changed the names of the people I encountered to protect their privacy. I have, however, included the real names of the Detention Officers, as they do not deserve protection in my humble opinion.
The Offense
In August of 2010, I was arrested on the charge of driving while intoxicated. Not just a garden variety DUI, mind you, but what is called the Extreme DUI. When I do something, I like to go big.
I had no idea what was in store for me, as nothing, and I mean nothing, like this has ever happened to me before. I can honestly say I hope nothing like this ever happens to me again. Many would say that it is within my power to prevent getting another DUI, but after hearing some of the stories from my co-offenders, I am not sure it’s entirely in my power. That is to say, if their stories can be believed. No one really wants to admit that they got a DUI because they were drunkity drunk drunk and decided to go tooling around town in their car. I understand the trepidation to admit doing something really knuckleheaded, but I fully admit and own my mistake. I should not have been driving that night, but I was. It was a bad call, bad call, Ripley. Fortunately, I didn’t hurt anyone nor damage property. Having said that, it is amazing that what I have had to go through is the punishment for a first time offender (for anything, not just DUI) and with the fact I caused no harm to person or property. You would think I killed a busload of special needs children on their way back from church camp.
My car was impounded for 30 days, costing $15 per day in city impound. Here’s how naïve I am. I thought I could go back to the scene the next day and pick up my car! Scottsdale Police are pretty relentless and they had my car scooped up and towed to impound that night. When speaking to some of my fellow DUI offenders, they had good cops who told them if they called someone to come get their car before the tow truck arrived, it wouldn’t be impounded. I wasn’t so fortunate. I actually didn’t have my cell phone with me, as I was just running to the store. Plus, everyone knows how dangerous it is to talk on a cell phone while driving.
I was at home drinking and left. Yes, I know. You can stop laughing, shaking your head, rolling your eyes or whatever else you’re doing to indicate “What a dumbass”. I was at home, didn’t have to work the next day, cracked open a bottle of wine and commenced to feeling sorry for myself for various and sundry ridiculous reasons. When I finished off that bottle I decided I wanted more. It was after midnight and I knew the grocery store I can walk to was already closed, and I would have to go to the 24 hour Wal-Mart, which is more convenient to drive to. The rest is history.
The next morning I thought I dreamed the whole thing. I mean, I don’t get into trouble with the law, plain and simple. When I looked at the papers that the police gave me from the night before I got that anxious flesh crawl you get when you know something really bad you have no control over is about to happen, is happening or in this case, has happened. I am someone who has a fairly good handle on their life. I am not one of these people who can’t get out of their own way. I’m not a control freak, but I run a pretty tight ship with my life and don’t get into trouble too often, especially of this magnitude. I immediately got on the internet and started researching. I saw in the paperwork that my first court appearance would be in about a month. I sent out e-mails to friends who were in law enforcement, who were lawyers (unfortunately not DUI attorneys), and other friends just to reach out. I made sure I contacted the right people, not some friends who would be all, “Oh, you should have known better” yadda yadda yadda. I didn’t need a judge right then, I needed support and sympathy. I was clueless as to what was happening, and as I learned what was happening I went from incredulous to angry to very sorry back to angry and back to incredulous. The laws in Arizona regarding a DUI are, to say the least, Draconian.
Next - The Law
Next - The Law
The Law
There is a saying in Arizona: Come here on Vacation, Leave on Probation.
I will now attempt to make sense of the Arizona DUI laws. First, I am not a lawyer nor play one on TV. I won’t attempt to interpret the law here, just state it as I understand it from reading online Arizona Revised Statues. I have heard through many sources that you do not have to submit to the field sobriety test that the police want to administer. However, as I read the statute, it looks like the officer can file an order to have your license suspended for a year, which will take place 15 days after the arrest. What I was told by the grapevine and have read on various and sundry DUI Attorney sites, was if you are only impaired to the slightest, and you know you don’t appear drunk nor can the officer smell the whisky, decline and make them take you to the station to draw blood. By the time they do this, your blood alcohol content (BAC) will have lowered and you might not get nailed quite as badly.
But I want to talk more about the punishment. This is where it really gets unfair, harassing, and fairly medieval. For a first offense regular DUI, the punishment can be:I will now attempt to make sense of the Arizona DUI laws. First, I am not a lawyer nor play one on TV. I won’t attempt to interpret the law here, just state it as I understand it from reading online Arizona Revised Statues. I have heard through many sources that you do not have to submit to the field sobriety test that the police want to administer. However, as I read the statute, it looks like the officer can file an order to have your license suspended for a year, which will take place 15 days after the arrest. What I was told by the grapevine and have read on various and sundry DUI Attorney sites, was if you are only impaired to the slightest, and you know you don’t appear drunk nor can the officer smell the whisky, decline and make them take you to the station to draw blood. By the time they do this, your blood alcohol content (BAC) will have lowered and you might not get nailed quite as badly.
1. No less than 24 hours in jail
2. Ass-load of fines
3. License suspension
4. Traffic school
5. Alcohol education
6. Car impound
7. Ignition Interlock in your car for no less than a year.
I, of course, had what is known as an Extreme DUI. For a first offense, because of my particular BAC, I got:
1. Over $4000 in fines
2. 30 days incarceration (15 Tent City, 15 Home Detention)
3. 1 year Ignition Interlock
4. 3 month license suspension
5. 30 days car impounded
6. 1 day Traffic Survival School
7. 36 hours Alcohol Education (this is where I learned to work the system)
Each and every one of the above mentioned items costs you money, too. This is where it is made pretty obvious that the whole DUI gauntlet in Arizona is a money making machine and really nothing more. It isn’t a deterrent as no one really knows the penalties until it happens to them, then it’s too late. By the way, the ignition interlock device only detects alcohol, yet those charged with a DUI on any other substance (albuterol inhalers, prescription drugs, marijuana) also have to have it installed. Don’t get me started on the MVD, they are a gaggle of retards par excellence. But, as I said, it’s a money making machine. The interlock companies have gotten so competitive they offer all kinds in incentive to go with them. Some offer free installation, coupons for referring friends etc. I have also heard that Avis and Hertz offer cars with the device installed so that they don’t lose revenue due to customers having to have the device. It’s like a medieval chastity belt. It goes with your license, not the car. So if I were to rent a car without the device and was caught, I could be in serious doo-doo.
As for hiring an attorney, that is pretty much a colossal waste of money. Unless the police did something very unorthodox and you can prove it, the punishment is statutory and there is no wiggle room on the part of the defense or the judge. I ended up with a public defender just to see what could be done, but at the end of the day, I got the minimum which is outlined above. My BAC was my scarlet letter and there isn’t anything can be done, except modify the stupid law.
Next - Alcohol Class and the MVD
Experience with Alcohol Class and the MVD
There is nothing quite so crippling than not having your personal transportation in the greater Phoenix area. It is so spread out that walking anywhere is out of the question, cab rides are astronomical as everywhere you need to go is at least 20 miles away, and the public transportation system is a myth.
My car was impounded for 30 days right after the incident. How in the blue fuck was I going to get to work? Fortunately, one of my good friends, we’ll call Danny, came to my rescue. He toted me to work and back for a few days, and to my shrink appointments. Then I got to know what is called the Valley Metro. I live in Scottsdale, where, oddly enough, busses run. After all, Mrs. Drysdale’s maid needs a way to get to work.
I mapped out the bus route from my apartment to work and it looked simple enough. I work in retail and therefore the hours are all over the place. My schedule is rarely the same day to day. The bus service is still very limited and the busses only come every 30 minutes, unlike cities with real public transport where they are along every 10 minutes. My nearest bus stop to catch the bus was about ¼ mile from my apartment. Not too bad. But the schedules either would put me at work wildly early, or 10 minutes late. Just going to work became an ordeal. Plus, I didn’t really want to let on at work what I was going through, out of embarrassment. I confided in a couple of people, the guy who did the schedules, we’ll call Ned, and one other, we’ll call Brett. Ned was very understanding and was merciful with the schedule, as getting to work was easy, getting home not so much as the busses stopped pretty early. So if I closed at say, 10pm, I would not get home till close to midnight. Then the closest the bus would come to my place was about a mile away. So I would have to hoof it at night across freeways and through dark parking lots to get home. I was almost hit by cars driven by stupid people a half dozen times. Here I was with the impounded car and these ass-clowns driving like maniacs chatting on phones or texting or just being brain-dead out and about free to drive wherever they wanted.
Don't get me started on the bus drivers. They are stupid, or mean, or both, or can't drive. I would pull the stop cord and they would whoosh past my stop! I'd stand up and ask them to please stop then they would yell at me that I should have pulled the cord. Or, once I was waiting at the stop as I was supposed to and the bus just whipped past me without stopping. I needed a special complaint line all my own to call in, which I did frequently to log complaints about their stupid incompetant drivers. Valley Metro is as bad as they are because they have no competition. They don't have to try harder, they are all there is and you really have no choice. No wonder there are so many drivers out there driving on suspended licenses, you really are forced into it. As for me, I held out and dealt with it. I did not want to temp fate and drive risking more jail time and fines.
That went on for 30 days. As soon as I got my car out of impound ($480) I got a notice from the intellectual gladiators at the MVD that my license was hereby suspended for no less than 90 days! Great. But, I can understand that. Mine was a vehicular violation and there should be consequences involving your car or license. I can accept this as it does make sense to have your driving privileges curtailed for a period of time as a punishment. The ignition interlock on a first offense, and for a YEAR!? That is harassment.
This first notice from the MVD stated I had to have alcohol treatment, so I looked up a center near work and signed up. As fate would have it, I met the receptionist for the treatment center at a bus stop one evening on the way home from work. I rather enjoyed the classes. I had to go for 36 hours, and I must say, it was great. It wasn’t punishment for me, it was a great way to socialize and learn things. I learned how to work the system to my favor, hear other people’s horror stories and get a better idea on what was in store. I signed up as soon as I got the notice, but a lot of the people in there had already been through everything, court, jail, ignition interlock and they saved the classes for last. I was glad I started them before anything else, or I would have been in the hurt locker of ignorance.
The classes were three hour blocks, and you could go whenever your schedule permitted. I knocked out the whole thing in about three weeks. I attended two Saturday sessions that were all day and they took care of a lot of the hours. I heard so many stories, some to be believed, some not so much. Like I heard about how the police can arrest you for a DUI even if you aren’t in your car, but near it with the keys handy. For instance, you’re washing your car in your driveway on a hot Saturday afternoon, blowing the froth off a cold one as you work (having a beer). The keys are in the ignition of the car. Technically, you can get a DUI for intent. The same if you are taking a taxi home from a bar and you pop into your car to get a jacket or something before getting into the cab. You can be arrested for intent. Now, I never actually met anyone who got their DUI from something like that, so I am inclined to believe that cops can’t be bothered trawling residential neighborhoods on sunny weekend days looking for people washing their car with a beer buzz on. The circumstances I heard were that, no the guy wasn’t driving his car; he was passed out in it after driving it up on to a curb at 2am. The people who were in there on what is called public intoxication weren’t arrested while teetering outside the bar quietly awaiting their taxi, they were passed out on the street, or picked a fight with the cop who asked them what they were up to that evening. So the stories about getting a DUI while you were at home watching a ball game and having a cocktail with your car keys sitting on the counter, the cops bursting in arresting you for intent out of the blue? I don’t so much believe. The defendants were always up to truly illegal mischief. I know I was.
Next - Sentencing
My car was impounded for 30 days right after the incident. How in the blue fuck was I going to get to work? Fortunately, one of my good friends, we’ll call Danny, came to my rescue. He toted me to work and back for a few days, and to my shrink appointments. Then I got to know what is called the Valley Metro. I live in Scottsdale, where, oddly enough, busses run. After all, Mrs. Drysdale’s maid needs a way to get to work.
I mapped out the bus route from my apartment to work and it looked simple enough. I work in retail and therefore the hours are all over the place. My schedule is rarely the same day to day. The bus service is still very limited and the busses only come every 30 minutes, unlike cities with real public transport where they are along every 10 minutes. My nearest bus stop to catch the bus was about ¼ mile from my apartment. Not too bad. But the schedules either would put me at work wildly early, or 10 minutes late. Just going to work became an ordeal. Plus, I didn’t really want to let on at work what I was going through, out of embarrassment. I confided in a couple of people, the guy who did the schedules, we’ll call Ned, and one other, we’ll call Brett. Ned was very understanding and was merciful with the schedule, as getting to work was easy, getting home not so much as the busses stopped pretty early. So if I closed at say, 10pm, I would not get home till close to midnight. Then the closest the bus would come to my place was about a mile away. So I would have to hoof it at night across freeways and through dark parking lots to get home. I was almost hit by cars driven by stupid people a half dozen times. Here I was with the impounded car and these ass-clowns driving like maniacs chatting on phones or texting or just being brain-dead out and about free to drive wherever they wanted.
Don't get me started on the bus drivers. They are stupid, or mean, or both, or can't drive. I would pull the stop cord and they would whoosh past my stop! I'd stand up and ask them to please stop then they would yell at me that I should have pulled the cord. Or, once I was waiting at the stop as I was supposed to and the bus just whipped past me without stopping. I needed a special complaint line all my own to call in, which I did frequently to log complaints about their stupid incompetant drivers. Valley Metro is as bad as they are because they have no competition. They don't have to try harder, they are all there is and you really have no choice. No wonder there are so many drivers out there driving on suspended licenses, you really are forced into it. As for me, I held out and dealt with it. I did not want to temp fate and drive risking more jail time and fines.
That went on for 30 days. As soon as I got my car out of impound ($480) I got a notice from the intellectual gladiators at the MVD that my license was hereby suspended for no less than 90 days! Great. But, I can understand that. Mine was a vehicular violation and there should be consequences involving your car or license. I can accept this as it does make sense to have your driving privileges curtailed for a period of time as a punishment. The ignition interlock on a first offense, and for a YEAR!? That is harassment.
This first notice from the MVD stated I had to have alcohol treatment, so I looked up a center near work and signed up. As fate would have it, I met the receptionist for the treatment center at a bus stop one evening on the way home from work. I rather enjoyed the classes. I had to go for 36 hours, and I must say, it was great. It wasn’t punishment for me, it was a great way to socialize and learn things. I learned how to work the system to my favor, hear other people’s horror stories and get a better idea on what was in store. I signed up as soon as I got the notice, but a lot of the people in there had already been through everything, court, jail, ignition interlock and they saved the classes for last. I was glad I started them before anything else, or I would have been in the hurt locker of ignorance.
The classes were three hour blocks, and you could go whenever your schedule permitted. I knocked out the whole thing in about three weeks. I attended two Saturday sessions that were all day and they took care of a lot of the hours. I heard so many stories, some to be believed, some not so much. Like I heard about how the police can arrest you for a DUI even if you aren’t in your car, but near it with the keys handy. For instance, you’re washing your car in your driveway on a hot Saturday afternoon, blowing the froth off a cold one as you work (having a beer). The keys are in the ignition of the car. Technically, you can get a DUI for intent. The same if you are taking a taxi home from a bar and you pop into your car to get a jacket or something before getting into the cab. You can be arrested for intent. Now, I never actually met anyone who got their DUI from something like that, so I am inclined to believe that cops can’t be bothered trawling residential neighborhoods on sunny weekend days looking for people washing their car with a beer buzz on. The circumstances I heard were that, no the guy wasn’t driving his car; he was passed out in it after driving it up on to a curb at 2am. The people who were in there on what is called public intoxication weren’t arrested while teetering outside the bar quietly awaiting their taxi, they were passed out on the street, or picked a fight with the cop who asked them what they were up to that evening. So the stories about getting a DUI while you were at home watching a ball game and having a cocktail with your car keys sitting on the counter, the cops bursting in arresting you for intent out of the blue? I don’t so much believe. The defendants were always up to truly illegal mischief. I know I was.
Next - Sentencing
Sentencing
I wish I could tell you exactly what to expect if you’re ever in a situation like this, but to tell you the truth, gentle readers, from hearing others’ stories, it’s all different. I can only tell you what happened to me.
I went to court three separate times, roughly dated a month apart. The first was what was called the arraignment, where I would enter a plea. I was advised from various people, some attorneys, not to take the original offer as I might be able to get it reduced through the public defender. Well, that didn’t happen and if I would have just taken the offer in September, I would have had this mess over with by November. But, hindsight is 20/20. The last court date consisted of me going in and meeting my defender, her telling me my ass was in a sling, and to basically suck it up and take the punishment.
Your BAC is your scarlet letter, as mentioned before, and the punishment is statutory. They do not look at it on a case by case basis, it’s all a formula. If it’s a first offense and your BAC is between this and that, then you get this; if it’s your second offense and the BAC is whatever, then you get worse than the first time, which is pretty bad. The third offense you actually go to prison. No matter if you did any damage hurt anyone or not.
You are basically a slot in the docket and there is very little you can do about it, and Arizona is absolutely unreasonable about DUI’s.
So I had 30 days incarceration to look forward to. Luckily I was able to put it off until mid-January, as I work a retail job and having to restrict my schedule during the holidays would be out of the question. Then came the fun talk with my manager at work. Having to admit the embarrassing truth about what I was into was agonizing, because this just isn’t my “brand”. As I stated earlier, I don’t get up to shenanigans like this. Work was very cool about it and was able to set my schedule for the two weeks I would spend in Tent City.
Next - The MVD
I went to court three separate times, roughly dated a month apart. The first was what was called the arraignment, where I would enter a plea. I was advised from various people, some attorneys, not to take the original offer as I might be able to get it reduced through the public defender. Well, that didn’t happen and if I would have just taken the offer in September, I would have had this mess over with by November. But, hindsight is 20/20. The last court date consisted of me going in and meeting my defender, her telling me my ass was in a sling, and to basically suck it up and take the punishment.
Your BAC is your scarlet letter, as mentioned before, and the punishment is statutory. They do not look at it on a case by case basis, it’s all a formula. If it’s a first offense and your BAC is between this and that, then you get this; if it’s your second offense and the BAC is whatever, then you get worse than the first time, which is pretty bad. The third offense you actually go to prison. No matter if you did any damage hurt anyone or not.
You are basically a slot in the docket and there is very little you can do about it, and Arizona is absolutely unreasonable about DUI’s.
So I had 30 days incarceration to look forward to. Luckily I was able to put it off until mid-January, as I work a retail job and having to restrict my schedule during the holidays would be out of the question. Then came the fun talk with my manager at work. Having to admit the embarrassing truth about what I was into was agonizing, because this just isn’t my “brand”. As I stated earlier, I don’t get up to shenanigans like this. Work was very cool about it and was able to set my schedule for the two weeks I would spend in Tent City.
Next - The MVD
The MVD
My license was suspended for three months. It doesn’t sound so bad when it’s in writing, but living it was hell. The first 30 days you cannot drive at all. I was one of the few who actually adhered to the restriction and took the bus to work and bummed rides from people when I could. I got a restricted license for the remainder and was at least able to drive to work and back without fear. It did curtail my social life tremendously. I did what I could, but it was challenging. They MVD informed me that before I could get my license reinstated I had to attend 8 hours of Traffic Survival School and get the ever-loving ignition interlock installed in my sleek precious car. When I went to the ignition interlock people, they said they technically couldn’t install the device until I had my license reinstated. But the MVD said I couldn’t have my license back until I had the device installed. This is known as a catch-22. This is also the type of retard logic I have had to deal with in all this. The ignition people went ahead and installed the stupid thing, and so I was able to get my license back. That made it easier for me to drive to JAIL and back!
The ignition interlock device (IID) is a contraption that attaches to your car battery and feeds a curly wire up under your dashboard and attaches to a block like device with a detachable mouthpiece. This device looks like an old school cell phone from 1985. The particular one I have you have to blow into for 4 seconds then hum into until it beeps at you to stop. It then measures the alcohol content in your breath and either lets you start the car or not. Mind you it ONLY measures alcohol, but people with a DUI from prescription drugs, marijuana, or just being tired still have to have the device installed. You pay the agency renting the device, tax is charged and payed back to the local government. See how that works? Once again, it's all a revenue stream.
In order to start the car, you blow. Then 5 minutes into your journey, you blow again while driving. Then it goes off demanding a blow randomly, but I have clocked it at 20 minutes tops. So about every 20 minutes of driving, you have to blow into it again. Makes for a very distracting and monotonous trip. Most everyone with the device agrees that it is an impairment in and of itself.
Next - Lower Buckeye Jail
The ignition interlock device (IID) is a contraption that attaches to your car battery and feeds a curly wire up under your dashboard and attaches to a block like device with a detachable mouthpiece. This device looks like an old school cell phone from 1985. The particular one I have you have to blow into for 4 seconds then hum into until it beeps at you to stop. It then measures the alcohol content in your breath and either lets you start the car or not. Mind you it ONLY measures alcohol, but people with a DUI from prescription drugs, marijuana, or just being tired still have to have the device installed. You pay the agency renting the device, tax is charged and payed back to the local government. See how that works? Once again, it's all a revenue stream.
In order to start the car, you blow. Then 5 minutes into your journey, you blow again while driving. Then it goes off demanding a blow randomly, but I have clocked it at 20 minutes tops. So about every 20 minutes of driving, you have to blow into it again. Makes for a very distracting and monotonous trip. Most everyone with the device agrees that it is an impairment in and of itself.
Next - Lower Buckeye Jail
Lower Buckeye Jail, aka “LBJ”
I made it through the first 48 hours marginally free from harm. It was a horrible experience; I am not going to mince words. I thought the punishment was a little brutal before, but now I am certain that our legislature, Governor, and Sheriff Joe should all die in a fire. Actually, that might be too good for them. Let them be processed through Tent City and see what it’s like.
Now, not meaning to be too judgmental, there were some rough characters in there that deserve the harsh treatment. The attitude and behavior from some of the real crack-head psycho criminally insane chuds going through processing deserved retaliation from the Detention Officers, as I would treat those inmates the same way if I were in the DO’s huge ugly shoes. All my cell mates agreed. So there’s that, but they also treated us pretty much the same even though we were all polite to them. They could tell the difference between us (stumble bum DUI idiots) and the crack head crazies. I have never had anyone look at me with such hatred and disgust and it really hit me hard. I mean, I didn’t expect to be treated like the High Roller at the Wynn in the penthouse suite, but there is no call to go out of your way to treat me like some monster who steals from aged blind people and kills puppies.
Anyway, I got there at 8 in the morning and there were two other women with me. One was a young nursing mom with a 10 month old at home, and Andie, another young woman who was a hair stylist. Luckily they let the nursing mom (Jen) bring in her breast pump! How nice of them. Anyway the three of us were brought in and the DO that morning was quite decent. He was a young guy and treated us with respect, so I was thinking it wouldn’t be that bad. Then they did our pictures and put us in a little cell with a toilet right out there in front of everyone. You can kiss privacy good bye. We all agreed to respect each other and if someone had to go, the others would stand in front of the little windows on the door and make sure anyone walking by could not see in. They would walk the striped pajama guys past us all the time and they would look in and gawk. That was creepy.
After a while they let in two more ladies. One a lady from Norway we’ll call Anna and a young bartender we’ll call Kate. Anna was fairly hilarious and had us all laughing most of the day. We all shared our stories and talked about all kinds of things. Then they brought in Marilyn, who was in the striped pajamas because she was pregnant and would not be going out to the tents. She thought if she told them she was pregnant she would get better treatment, but it was the other way around. Though she only had a DUI (which was a year ago before the pregnancy) she was still thrown in with the crack heads because she was in stripes!
After a while we could hear some guys in the next cell. One was ranting very loudly that his bail was set at $2 million because they stuck him with yet two more murders as well as the kidnappings. Of course his vernacular was somewhat different and I’ll spare you the four letter words. I thought, nice, this is exactly where people like us belong. I am one wall away from someone literally capable of killing me. Then the door opened and in came Caryn, another DUI, who was from the Navajo rez. She and I were the only two doing 15 days, everyone else was on 24hrs. A little later, they brought in Jane, a pharmacist, who was booked in on a DUI charge because she had used an albuterol inhaler while driving. She was the designated driver and therefore not drinking, but has severe asthma. When she was stopped, because the others in her car had been drinking, she was under suspicion and given a field sobriety test (not knowing she could say no) and came up positive for ETOH. She has to have all the accoutrements for a DUI (ignition interlock etc) just because she has asthma. The cop wrote in his report that she was slurring her words and couldn’t stand up. She quit fighting it because it became too exhausting because the police know exactly what they are doing and how to make things stick. Anna had only had a little wine and was coming home from a wedding. She admitted to being a little tipsy but said the police report looked like she was falling down drunk. I have such little respect for the police now; I just want them to stay away from me for my own safety and well being. Some of the girls had decent enough cops, but most were Nazis. Andie’s cop was really nice, she said. He told her to get someone to come get her car before the tow truck got there and it wouldn’t get impounded! The same thing with Kate. Me and Anna, not so much.
Then they opened the door and these two striped uniform crack heads rolled in. They looked like they had just been picked up off the street. They looked at us and said, “Are you all leaving?” and I thought, I hope so!! Then the guard looked at us, then at them and said, Um, I think you’re going to go to the cell next door. *Whew*. After they closed the door there was a collective sigh of relief. I thought if they left Itchy and Scatchy in there with us that they would kill us all.
They opened the door and said it was time for fingerprints, and I thought, thank God, an activity at last! The fingerprint DO’s were total douchebags. Wait, I’m insulting douchebags by calling those cretins that! Anna remarked that to be a detention officer, you had to have the brain of a pea. In her high-pitched Norwegian accent it was hilarious. She really was a hoot. She would go to the door and crouch down to the closed slit where I think they would pass food through if they gave us food, and said “Hello! Hello! I would like to order a foot-long hot dog please…”. The book she brought was a murder-mystery all in Norwegian and she picked it up and said, “I will be the entertainment and read to you all..” and proceeded to read to us in Norwegian out of the book.
So, it came time to head on out to Tent City! This was all in the Lower Buckeye Jail (LBJ for short). It was now about 11:30pm. Yes, this started at 8 in the morning.
They lined us up against the wall and proceeded to cuff and shackle us. Since we had all self-surrendered that morning we were a huge flight risk. Well, maybe at this point we were as we were all at the end of our collective ropes. Jen started to lose it and I was next to her trying to keep her chin up. The blind leading the blind as I was pretty well freaking out by then. Even the handcuffs are pink, Sheriff Joe is such a Nancy-Boy. I told Jen that it would all be over soon, and I kept thinking of that scene in Titanic when the ship was about to go down and one lady says to Leonardo Di Caprio and Kate Winslet, “It’ll all be over soon” just as the ship disappears into the freezing black water.
When they put us in the van, everyone started freaking out. Oddly enough I was the voice of reason, if you can believe that and was trying to get everyone to take deep breaths and concentrate on just breathing. Didn’t work, but I tried.
Then we get to yet more holding cells. The female guard there looked like Olive Oil from Popeye, so that was her nickname. One of the crack head inmates that came with us (there were several in the van with us, but in another cage, fortunately) was a black girl with hair like Kid n Play, but really messy. Anna started calling her Don King. When they were relieving us of our shackles, Don King starts coming on to one of the DO’s. Admittedly he was beefy and handsome, but there is a time and place for everything and trying to get a date with the DO in a situation like that just isn’t appropriate. Andie was next to them and said Don King was telling the DO that he could be a male stripper with a bod like that etc etc. When were were all laughing about it in the cell I said we should make up some “Tent City Romance” stories. Anna didn’t miss a beat and started in on narrating about how “The DO and I had a moment when he looked in my eyes, then moved his hands to my legs to take off the shackles, and I said, oh, officer, that’s not my ankle…”. Again, we were in a heap laughing. We must have been pissing the guards off because it looked like we were having too much fun.
By 1am we were in the last holding cell and those of us going to the tents were there by 2am.
Next - Tent City Blues
Next - Tent City Blues
Tent City Blues
So by the wee morning hours of Thursday, Jan 20, we were in the holding cells at what I later learned was Estrella Jail. We could hear Don King speaking very loudly that they were going to send her to Australia, but that was how she was interpreting Estrella. Well it would be fitting as Australia was once a penal colony.
They marched two more women in who were dressed up like they were just coming from work, and I mean work like in an office or something. They had just come from court where they were sent directly to jail for owing back child support. They were both wearing high heeled shoes and looked almost as tired as we were. They both had lost custody of one child to their ex-husbands and had to pay child support. They had both been laid off from their jobs and lacked the income to maintain the payments. At least that was the story. They seemed sincere enough. They had to stay in jail with work release (only one actually had a new job as a bartender, the other had a job interview later on Thursday) until they caught up with their child support.
They marched two more women in who were dressed up like they were just coming from work, and I mean work like in an office or something. They had just come from court where they were sent directly to jail for owing back child support. They were both wearing high heeled shoes and looked almost as tired as we were. They both had lost custody of one child to their ex-husbands and had to pay child support. They had both been laid off from their jobs and lacked the income to maintain the payments. At least that was the story. They seemed sincere enough. They had to stay in jail with work release (only one actually had a new job as a bartender, the other had a job interview later on Thursday) until they caught up with their child support.
We were herded into yet another cell, this one divided by a mesh fence and a bunch of stripes were in the mirror cell. I don't know what their status was; I think they were on their way out. Again, we waited and waited, this time the jocularity had been exhausted and we just wanted to lie down and get some sleep. Finally the guard came and told us when we hear our name to step out. All of us except Andie and Kate were called. We were told to line up behind the men two by two and were led out to the tents, at last! Funny, they shackled us when we were being led from the building right into a parked van, yet let us walk freely out in the wide open spaces. I still can't really figure that one out except the shackles are a dog and pony show to titillate Sheriff Joe. He probably plays with himself thinking about women in shackles. Men in shackles as well, I'm sure.
They led us into a fenced area, told us to strip to one layer and take off our shoes for a frisk session. This would be the drill every night as I came in from work. Then we went into Tent City proper to get our tent and bunk assignments. The officer came out and briefed us on the rules, then told us to hang out and she would come back with our ID cards and assignments. We were hoping that we would be in the same tent, but that didn't happen. I went with Jody and Dana, the two in for child custody troubles, and I think Pharmacist Jane went to another tent, then Jen, Anna, and Caryn went to a third tent. They gave us blankets, one threadbare sheet and a Pepto-Bismal pink towel. The blankets are heavy cotton blankets that do not keep you warm, if anything, they get cold as they are cotton. Jody, Dana, and I went to our tent and felt our way around until one other girl woke up and helped us find our beds with her flashlight. I was told that you weren't allowed a flashlight or alarm clock until your first 48 hours were done, but that is yet another inconsistent rule as others had this equipment. Of course Dana and Jody did not as they had come just from court.
I tried to settle in as best I could in pitch dark, I didn't even take off my shoes and did not really sleep at all as it was just too cold. The "mattress" is a thin plastic thing a little less comfortable than sleeping on dirt. I understand it isn't supposed to be the Four Seasons, but come on. My Thermarest is better. I often wonder if I will ever want to go camping again. The thought of a tent gives me PTSD.
During the night there were several bursts from the loudspeaker so it is impossible to sleep. This went on every night. I heard them call for Anna and Jane saying they were kicked out and to come back another time. I thought they were being let go on some technicality and they would have to come back and do it all over again. I wouldn't be surprised as the system is so horribly mean and cruel. Again, I know there needs to be consequences for a DUI, but we all had victimless crimes. I think the penalties for a first time offender on assault gets away with leaner punishment, I really do. I need to look it up.
Anyway, "Kicked Out" = good. It means release. The "Come back another time" was a sarcastic addition by the comedian detention officer.
I lay there waiting for the sun to come out so I could get up and go sit in it and maybe get some sleep. The place cleared out by mid-morning and there were only a few of us there. They rolled up the sides of the tent as is required so they can see what we're up to. I got up and went to freshen up at the spa. The spa being the open room toilets. Fortunately everyone in there is people like me and respectful so no one looks. The soap is like mini lava-soap, remember that? It's like its got pumice in it and that's all you have to wash your face with. They also provide maxi-pads (that have fiberglass in them), razors, toothpaste and toothbrush.
By the time I got out of the spa, it was "breakfast". The same thing they eventually gave us in the holding cells. Two bread rolls, a tub of peanut butter, two grapefruit (the ones that fall on the side of the highway along I-17, I'm sure) and a squished oatmeal cookie. Also, a couple of cartons of skim milk. I asked if the guard wouldn't mind fetching me a Starbucks, I don't think she really appreciated that. Tough shit, I need to be sarcastic. I invented sarcastic and those guards have no idea who they would be dealing with if I let lose. But, I don't want to be "rolled up". Rolled-up = bad. It means loss of work release, stripes and in with the Sodomites. No thanks. I learned to shut up and forgive them.
We got a preview of breakfast in the holding cells the day before when Marilyn, the pregnant girl, started feeling and looking very peckish. We hadn't been fed since induction (8am) and it was around 4 in the afternoon. We pounded on the door and pleaded with the Romans to give her something to eat, that she was pregnant and ready to keel over. So they tossed in a sack with the afore mentioned grub. She ate what she wanted and we cleaned up the rest. They gave us each a bag around 6:30 or 7pm, I can't remember.
I don't know what became of Marilyn. Anna and Jane were long gone, lucky them. I loafed around in the morning, walking the grounds and sitting in the sun as much as possible. I started talking to Dana who was in tears about her situation. She was getting out at 2pm to go to work. She said her ex wanted her to sign over full custody of their daughter so he could keep her from seeing her. I decided I had nothing to lose by doling out sage advice and I said, give him what he wants. It isn't doing her any good to keep getting harassed by him and thrown in jail. Her daughter was 13 and they would find a way to see each other. In the meantime, he would be off her back and she could work, earn money and spend it on her three other children. She wasn't being a bad mother by doing so. I told her that she wouldn't be any good to anyone until she started taking care of herself and stop letting her ass hole ex dominate her life. Now I don't really know the whole story of her, but I told her what I thought sounded wise from where I was standing. Anyway, she went off to work at 2pm and never came back. I don't know where she went or what happened. Jody, the other child custody case, disappeared earlier in the day when they called her for some medical thing and never came back.
During a bed check in the night a guard came in and said that the blankets in the top last bunk were up for grabs as the inmate that had that bunk (Jody) would not be coming back. My top bunk neighbor, Penny, asked the guard a couple of questions about whether they always turn the light on for a bed check and the guard answered her by telling her she would do best by keeping her eyes closed and her mouth shut. I thought that was rather rude and uncalled for, but that is what tiny little people these DO's are. I was told that the ones at Tent City were the lowest of the low as far as Maricopa County Detention Officers go. They aren't even allowed to have a gun. They are the dregs that couldn't make it anywhere else.
In the afternoon they called for "commissary" where you could go and buy snacks out of the vending machines. The vending machines are owned by Sheriff Joe's brother who makes a small fortune from them. Once again, incentive to have guests at the Dude Ranch. The machines are on the male side and the men have access to them whenever they want. They only allow women over there two times a day. The men are made to stay in their bunks while the women are there, or you know, a huge orgy might break out.
They don't serve lunch, so this was it, and why you need 5's, one's, or quarters. I had about $5 in quarters, and two tens. Caryn had one $20 and that wasn't going to do it. I thought she could break a ten easier so I gave her my two tens and she gave me the $20. That was the last Good Samaritan act I do. It was Lord of the Flies from there on out! I got a couple of things from the machines, which I loathed to do in that Sheriff Bozo probably shares the wealth the machines profit for his brother. But, you're between a rock and hard place at this point. I had to just think of myself and what I wanted.
They don't serve lunch, so this was it, and why you need 5's, one's, or quarters. I had about $5 in quarters, and two tens. Caryn had one $20 and that wasn't going to do it. I thought she could break a ten easier so I gave her my two tens and she gave me the $20. That was the last Good Samaritan act I do. It was Lord of the Flies from there on out! I got a couple of things from the machines, which I loathed to do in that Sheriff Bozo probably shares the wealth the machines profit for his brother. But, you're between a rock and hard place at this point. I had to just think of myself and what I wanted.
When I came back from the vending machines I was walking by the picnic tables (in full sun, no shade anywhere) and spied 4 quarters on the ground! I scooped them up and they went right into my pocket. Yes, it's kill or be killed from here on out, I thought.
Friday morning I was waiting for with baited breath. I was going to get out for the day! A friend was coming to fetch me at the tents to drive me back to my car where I self-surrendered at the "LBJ" Lower Buckeye Jail. I got out right at 8 and didn't really know where to wait so I asked some others that were waiting there and they said, right there. When my friend didn't show up by 5 after I started getting worried that she couldn't find the place. I really wanted to get the hell out of there as I was going on day three in the same underwear. Yes, too much info, but I am being brutally honest about what this experience is like. I asked where someone would be coming from if they were coming down Gibson, and I was directed to Gibson lane. So I started walking thinking if something happened and she couldn't make it, at least I'd be walking to my car. I could do it; after all I am a hiker.
So there I was walking out of the jails amid the high chain link fences and razor wire, surrounded by ugliness. I had just been released on work release from Tent City where I would be spending the next 13 nights. I started mulling over where my life was at the moment and I though, I cannot possibly get any lower than this. I know things could be worse, but in relative perspective, for me, this is rock bottom. I started crying. When my friend finally did get there she apologized up and down, she had hit traffic everywhere, and I understood. I wasn't crying about that I was just crying over stress and horrible experience over the last couple of days. She brought me coffee, a banana, and an orange. She took me back to my car and we talked for a bit. I told her everything that happened up until then. I drove home, showered and went out to run a few errands, get gas, try to feel like normal again, at least for a little while. I remembered I told Caryn that I would call her brother to tell him that she needed fetching at TC rather than LBJ, so I did that. Then I lay down and slept in my own bed.
7pm came all too soon and I had to get headed out to make sure I was back in time. I wasn't sure how long it would take, so I left early. I got there about 8pm, waited until 8:15 and they let us in at 8:45. So I figured I had wiggle room. But as inconsistent as they are, who knows? I just didn't want to get "rolled up".
Next - Life on Work Release
Next - Life on Work Release
Life on Work Release
So it went for the next two weeks. I would get out of there at 8am and return by 9pm. The drill for release is that you have to bring your ID card up to the guard office one and a half hours before you need to go. Then they start calling out the 7am’s, the 8am’s etc. I never waited for them to call, I was usually up there by 7:30 ready to get out like a dog. Sometimes they would make the 7am releases clean up the bathrooms, or take out the trash. They would usually have a bed check between the 7am release and 8 am release. There was a certain amount of hazing encouraged, like a code red in the military. They guards would announce that there were people (usually men) missing from bed check and if they were accounted for it would only hold up the work release inmates. They would make sure to mention that it was the fault of fellow inmates and not the guards.
After release I would then hustle to my car, get home as fast as I could to clean up and maybe get 40 winks before going in to work. The nights were brutal cold and as stated before, not a lot to keep you warm. Many of the women were getting sick and I was so hoping I wouldn’t get sick.
After release I would then hustle to my car, get home as fast as I could to clean up and maybe get 40 winks before going in to work. The nights were brutal cold and as stated before, not a lot to keep you warm. Many of the women were getting sick and I was so hoping I wouldn’t get sick.
When I would return between 8:30 and 9:00 pm I would have to wait outside the gates until the guards were good and ready to let us back in. It was very inconsistent and you never really knew how long you would have to stand out there. I made friends with a couple of the women on my schedule.
Wednesday and Thursdays were my two days in. I decided to sample the actual hot meal they served in the evening just so I could say I tried it. It was described as looking like diarrhea and vomit, but that was not really accurate. My first Thursday evening in there was refried beans that looked like refried beans, a roll, diced carrots, pineapple, and what looked like chicken pot pie without the crust. To me, and I don’t know if the same can be said for everyone, the best part of chicken pot pie is the crust. It all looked okay for prison food, and it was edible. The only thing I can really criticize about it was that it could have used a little garlic. I would eat as much as I could, then feed the rest to the two stray cats that hung around. They didn’t seem to mind the lack of seasonings.
I will admit, “Commissary” time was a treat. Even though I loathed giving money to Sherriff Joe and his retarded family you had to have something to tide you over until dinner. Many of the women would only eat out of the vending machines. Okay, so here’s the thing: tell me if this makes sense. You could buy a master combination padlock out of the machines where you could put it in a sock and beat someone to death, but you couldn’t bring in chapstick. Why? Well, because they sold chapstick in the vending machines. It’s all about the money, all the time.
Then there was a psych ward that looked down on the women’s yard. I would hear what sounded like drumming and I asked what it was. I was told it was the men in the towers. When they saw a woman walking by, they would start drumming on the windows. Whatever you do, don’t look up there! One day when I was granted the privilege to go out to the dirt parking lot and pick up trash, I asked the two male guards about who was housed in the towers? They couldn’t give me a definite answer; it was either psychiatric inmates, or just general evil men.
About the guards. It seemed that the male guards were far more human like than the females. There were some male guards who were total tools, but for the most part they were far nicer than the females. There was only one female guard who was pleasant, the rest were nasty, mean, bitter, harpies from hell. Most were fat, and ugly. I can’t imagine what kind of life they had that would cause them to feel like they had to wield power over others who cannot retaliate. How sad for them. All I could do was feel sorry for them and try to forgive them.
Next - Kicked Out
Next - Kicked Out
Kicked Out
Another Tuesday night rolled around and I knew it was my last two days in. I thought I was going to be released early Thursday morning. The weather had turned very cold and I was not looking forward to being in the tents for that. I had already started to get really sick.
In anticipation of release, I parked my car at Lower Buckeye Jail where I would be released. I had a friend meet me and drive me to Tent City. Lots of people do that so that they can just get in their car and take off when the final boot out occurs.
I had a sore throat and what felt like the beginning of an earache. As fate would have it, the guards left us standing out there in the biting wind for the better part of an hour before they let us in. I thought if whatever bitch from hell we got to frisk us tries to make us take off our shoes AND socks, I was going to protest. The night before, Robles, a particularly nasty, ugly short fat bitch, made us take off our shoes and sock so we would freeze more.
In anticipation of release, I parked my car at Lower Buckeye Jail where I would be released. I had a friend meet me and drive me to Tent City. Lots of people do that so that they can just get in their car and take off when the final boot out occurs.
I had a sore throat and what felt like the beginning of an earache. As fate would have it, the guards left us standing out there in the biting wind for the better part of an hour before they let us in. I thought if whatever bitch from hell we got to frisk us tries to make us take off our shoes AND socks, I was going to protest. The night before, Robles, a particularly nasty, ugly short fat bitch, made us take off our shoes and sock so we would freeze more.
To my surprise I had only lay down for about a half hour after getting in and they called my name to be “kicked out”! I was so excited because I was not looking forward to spending the night and the next day and part of the night out there in the horrible cold.
They called my name about 10:30 right after I got myself all piled in under the covers trying to keep warm. Then they made us stand outside in the wind for about an hour before taking us to Estrella jail. The wind was so biting cold I felt like we were at the Gulag on Rura Penthe from Star Trek: The Undiscovered Country. I fished one of my blankets back out of the sack I had put them in and wrapped up like an Afghani woman in a burqua. I was with three others from the tents. We stood out there for nearly an hour before the foot safari over to Estrella jail. I never thought I would be happy to see the inside of that cesspool again, but I was. To get out of that biting wind and into some warmth was a little slice of heaven. We stayed in the same cell we were all in when coming into the jail and I was so sluggish from the four Tylenol PM’s I took before checking in that I lay on the floor and fell asleep. We were there for about an hour when they came to get us. Then they shackled us (in case we finally decided to make our big break for it…) and bussed us to Lower Buckeye. Then we were put in with a bunch of rough characters in stripes that had been brought there right after arrest. They were all being processed out as well. I didn’t ask what their charges were, I didn’t really want to know but of course now I do! I know two of them were undocumented aliens being deported back to Mexico. One had been here for 14 years, lived in California, worked, came to Nazi-Occupied Arizona and whammo, back to Old Mexico.
We were in there for a good 6 hours. These women live on an entirely different planet from me. I mostly listened to their banter and stories. After a few hours they were given the clothes that they came in there with and they all changed. That looked promising for getting out soon. The women were all talking about how they were going to get home, most of them did not have rides, or money, or cars, or very warm clothes. There was one woman not too much older than me who looked like she was pushing 80. I’ll call her “B”. She had long straggly hair, no teeth, was skinny and illiterate. She lived a very rough life and was in for domestic violence. She fought with her “old man” and she punched him in the face and drew blood. The neighbors called the police and I guess the rule is whoever caused the other to bleed goes to jail. She had a lot of bruises on her arm from him grabbing her, but she punched him, he bled and therefore she got to go to jail. She didn’t have money for the bus to get to her mother’s house near downtown so I gave her $1.75 and my Columbia Sportswear fleece jacket as she was only in a t shirt and pajama pants and flip flops (what she was wearing at arrest). I was in a heavy undershirt and sweatshirt, had gloves, socks, fur lined shoes, two layers of sweats and a warm car to drive home so I thought she needed it more than me. I had an extra pair of Ugg sheepskin slippers in the trunk of the car I thought about offering, but thought she might feel like a charity case.
I felt kind of privileged as I knew most of them were making their way back to some ghetto, and would most likely be returning to jail at some point and I was going to my luxury North Scottsdale apartment in my own car to snuggle in to a queen size bed with 700 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and down comforter. I have lots to be grateful for.
They let us go around 5:30am and I eagerly bolted the scene. B asked me if I could drop her at a bus stop but I ended up taking her all the way to her mother’s place. It wasn’t far and it was about 33 degrees out. So a little side trip and I headed home!
Next - Home Detention
Next - Home Detention
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