Stuck in the System

So I’m lying on the lower bunk of cell #14 just after returning from my arraignment. I clearly told the judge I could easily pay my $100 bail after my personal possessions were returned; however I was still in jail. For further detail on exactly how this situation came to be, I would suggest reading my Vague Clarity post. For those already caught up on the story, I’ll continue the saga…

As I said, it’s somewhere around 3:00pm – probably a quarter after or so by now – and the only thing that I am pretty sure of is that we (the inmates) are supposed to be getting served dinner sometime around 4:30. I decided to lie down on my bunk and, as has become the norm this day, wait for whatever happens next to come ‘round. I had no idea what it would be although I was under the impression that it might just be dinner…

A short period of time passes and this rather large guy enters my cell. I assume it’s my cellmate as I vaguely remember the same guy stopping by to take a piss earlier … although I did not have any words with him on that earlier occasion. He inquires whether the very large bruise I have on the underside of my left upper arm has something to do with why I was there. I was lying on my back with my hands clasped under my head which made the bruise very pronounced to anyone that saw me. My response to him was that I had absolutely no idea. I explained how the last memory I had of the night before was sitting at a bar talking with my friend and how the next one was waking up in a prison cell. I distinctly remember his response to this: “That’s fucked up.”

I couldn’t agree more… I basically told him what had occurred and how I was waiting to pay my small bail and hopefully get out. It was then that I asked how long he had been there and was floored by the response – he said eight months!! Being the usual upstanding, free citizen that I am, I couldn’t even begin to fathom this … eight months living in this little cell. I guess that explained all the books I noticed when I first entered cell #14… Now my curiosity was getting seriously tweaked so I inquired as to how long his sentence was. “16 years,” is what he told me!!!

Holy shit! 16 years?! Apparently he was currently awaiting trial for second degree assault (or something like that, I’m not really much of an expert on crime designations) and, at least in his mind, was destined to be doing at least 16 years at the end of his trial. This was far too much for me to even comprehend and I told him I have no idea what I would do if I were in his shoes – I mentioned that I would probably kill myself. He told me that he had considered that…

One of the guards entered our cell at the end of our conversation and informed me that I was getting moved to a different cell. Oh well, whatever … it’s not like I had any control over anything going on to begin with. I basically got up, grabbed my sheets and blankets (still neatly folded), picked up my plastic coffee mug of goodies and walked out to the catwalk with the guard. I figured this would be a great opportunity to inquire, once again, about what I needed to do about paying my bail and getting out of there…

The guard explained to me something about my needing to fill out some sort of forms (where I got these, I had no clue) if I wanted to pay the bail with a credit card or that it might be quicker if I just called somebody to come down and pay my bail for me. Okay, but I needed my phone – currently being held by the jail – in order to get the necessary phone numbers. It’s not like anybody actually remembers numbers these days – we have cell phones for that… I also needed access to a usable telephone.

I explained this to the guard. He was kind enough to take down a couple names (I gave him Matt and Doug) and would see what he could do. I was then asked if I wanted to be put in a cell with a cellmate or alone. I said I really didn’t care either way … whatever was easiest…

He put me in cell #13 – right next to where I was – alone. The door was closed with the clunk of the locks engaging; I dropped my “possessions” on the lone table and plopped down on the lower bunk bed. I didn’t know what time it was although I was thinking that it shouldn’t be too much longer before we were let out for dinner. It was just before dinner (actually closer to 4:40 than 4:30) when the guard returned to my cell. It was then that I noticed a clock visible from my cell…

He informed me that he had done a “solid” for me and gave me a sheet of paper from his little notebook. It had three phone numbers for Doug, two numbers for Matt (although I really had no idea which numbers were for which phones) and two of my credit card numbers complete with expiration dates and security code numbers. He said that I needed to get my “prisoner identification number” in order to use the phones in the commons area (there were two) but that I would need to learn how to use the phones from somebody else as he would be too busy to help me. He also said that he would get my prisoner identification number to me after he completed serving the dinner trays. The cell doors were then unlocked and the inmates headed out to the commons area for dinner.

I climbed down the stairs as well and sat down on a random seat. I had no plan on eating and one of the other inmates must have picked up on this as he asked if he could have my meal. Fine with me … I hopped in line, grabbed my dinner tray and a small box of milk, headed over to the guy that requested it and gave away my dinner. (Now just in case anybody’s thinking it, NO, this was not me being “forced” to give up my meal – I was not going to eat it and figured I’d help another guy out … you quickly learn compassion for these guys when you’re forced to spend time in their world for a bit…) My only goal at the time was to make a phone call to somebody (Doug or Matt) to get me out of there as my requests to pay my own way out appeared to be falling on deaf ears…

As I handed my dinner tray to the inmate that requested it, I made a general plea to the entire table on whether one of them could help me with making a phone call. All of them seemed almost eager to help and one even said that he would set me up with his code so that I could quickly make a call even before getting my PIN. That was awfully nice of the guy; unfortunately there was a bit of a problem with this.

You see, after he had set the phone with his code, handed me the handset and told me to dial out, the little SNAFU of the plan quickly reared its head. The problem was this: The only phone calls inmates are allowed to make out of the jail are collect calls. This being the case, the party being called is given a standard message that can be broken down as follows:

“Hello. You are receiving a collect call from {inmate’s name in inmate’s own voice} who is currently in the Boulder County Jail. To authorize this call, please press 5. If you do not accept this call, please hang up. To block all future calls from this facility, please press 9.”

I attempted to call Doug on the first of the three numbers I had listed for him. As soon as I heard the message that was being sent to him, I was pretty sure that the call was not going to be answered as I was 100% sure that he did not know anybody by the name being said. I was correct and, after hearing the message repeated a few times, got another message that plainly said the call was not answered.

So I guess I’m going to need to get my own PIN before I’ll be able to get anybody I know to actually answer the phone…

Be sure to come back soon for the rest of this story. I should have plenty of time to write during this Labor Day weekend… For now however, I bid you adieu.

bis später,

Coriolis