University of Virginia Library

A Night To Remember

When we watched television, we barely
concentrated. Everyone had seen and heard
enough of that stuff about right and wrong,
good and bad, justice and injustice. All we
cared for now was a little sex or some good
country music – something to keep our
minds off the ever-present realities which in
the form of steel bars and concrete faced us
on all sides.

Those four drab colorless walls were the
limits of our lives, and they were mental
constraints as well as physical ones. The
longer we waited, the less we were able to
concentrate on anything but jail. So we
slouched listlessly on the bunk beds or paced
back and forth, frustrated, confused and
often simply entranced by the dullness of our
lives.

When the lights were turned out at 10:30
most of the inmates went to bed, since it was
a good excuse to relieve themselves from the
boredom which must be encountered all day.
There were nine usable bunks for 18 inmates
since the top bunks had been declared unsafe
by jail guards. The older inmates smoothly
handled this impasse, securing mattresses and
blankets for those of us who would have to
sleep on the floor. In the midst of drug
peddlers, gun thieves, kidnappers and a
goodly number of drunks, I managed to fall
promptly asleep.

Before falling asleep, though, I reviewed
my impressions of the day.

Slowly, but surely, the myths with which I
had entered jail had crumbled. I was not
raped, stabbed, molested, threatened or even
taunted by the guards or inmates. In fact,
there was no hostility distrust or even vicious
jealousy at all within this bullpen. At times I
was almost able to forget that I was in there
as a newspaper reporter and not as another
inmate. No one seemed to suspect me, and I
soon learned not to be suspicious of them.

Lights came back on at 6 a.m. I was unable
to sleep any longer, but I continued to lie on
my mattress for another hour. There was no
reason to get up until breakfast, since all I
could do was read the same Johnny Ringo
comic book.

Coffee came about 7 a.m. and breakfast
about 15 minutes later. I didn't even bother
to look for the roaches this time and even
managed to consume my scrambled eggs and
bacon, toast and oatmeal much faster than
some of the other inmates.

After breakfast, most of the inmates went
back to bed, but I stayed up, since I knew
that I would be leaving soon. At 8 a.m. the
guards informed four of us that we were
scheduled for court that morning. Somehow I
felt guilty, though, that after only 15 hours I
would be released when a number of the
inmates had already spent six months just
awaiting trial.

I was abandoning them. I knew where I
was going and was determined to never come
back. They, however, would make the same
mistakes and commit the same crimes again
and again. They knew this, and I knew this,
but no one treated me any differently for it.

We joked for the next hour or so about my
long last name and about the high school girls
who walked past the jail on their way to
school in the mornings. Finally around 9 a.m.
I was taken out of the bullpen,
handcuffed to another inmate and loaded
with three others into the back seat of a
squad car.

As the car passed in front of the jail I
waved to my friends left behind in the
bullpen ... and they waved back.

An hour or so later at the police court I
was released when the police could find no
warrant for my arrest. When I walked out the
courtroom door I never felt so free, but I also
never felt so saddened. My plight was a sham,
but theirs was for real.

Little did I realize that while I lay
peacefully in bed that night, knowing that I
would leave the next morning, an inmate
upstairs was attempting to commit suicide. He
failed in his attempt. What a desperate, sordid
situation when a person can neither live nor
die.