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.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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

Home Detention

I didn’t have to report to Justice Services until Thursday at 3pm, so I had a whole day to myself. The unfortunate part was that I was really sick. My earache was shaping up to be a full on infection, my throat felt like I was swallowing razorblades, and my sinuses were bricked up. I went out for a few errands, then came home and rested.

Then next day I slept in then went to get my home detention equipment. Some of the women in the tents said they would rather just serve their time in the tents, that they felt the home detention was far more restrictive. I beg to differ. I still get out for work, but other than that I’m at home where all my stuff is, including my own bed, television, Xbox, my kitties, the Internet, and heat.

Home detention consists of a device that is strapped to your ankle. It’s a GPS that tracks your whereabouts. There is a little homing beacon that monitors your distance from your dwelling. Then there is The Sobrietor. Sound like a vigilante anti-hero. The Sobrietor is a contraption that monitors any alcohol intake. Technically you’re on house arrest, not vacation. No sitting around sipping smart cocktails as much as I'd like to. The one I got uses voice recognition, others actually take your picture. The results are sent back to the monitoring agency via your telephone line. I had to have a land line put in just for this. When it was set up for me, I had to repeat numerous times three words until it learned my voice. Seeing as that I had a bad cold I was worried that once the cold was gone would my voice be the same?

It took a while but the contraption finally got set up. So what happens is when the thing sounds an alarm, which sounds like a British police siren, I stick my face into this device that looks like the vision testing device at the MVD. Then I have to repeat the three words again so it recognizes my voice, then I blow into it so it can measure if I’ve been drinking. The three words are America, Eagle, and Red. I mean, what Republican asshole thought this up? It seems to go off every two and a half hours. I have to endure this for 15 more days, then it’s over.

The next day I took a vacation day to sort of wind down after the whole Tent City experience. I was so sick I could barely get up. I ended up going to urgent care and finding out I indeed had an ear infection. The doc gave me a prescription from antibiotics and steroids (anti-inflammatory). The next day I was due back at work, but ended up calling in sick, as I really really was.

Summary

So, that’s my story of what happens when you drink and drive in Arizona. Well, when you drink and drive and get caught. As I said, it’s a bit harassing, I believe the punishment way too harsh, and it’s obviously not a deterrent. I think mostly because no one really knows what the consequences are. It can happen to anyone. This is taking 18 months out of my life. 6 months were going through the courts and the jail term and the license suspension. An entire year I have to be reminded of this experience every time I drive my car, and I drive my car a lot.