Part 1: How I Became an Inmate

I followed the cement sidewalk left as it led me through the dark, humid summer night towards my waiting friends. I did not wake up on the morning of June 17, 2010 thinking that I would be taking this particular walk away from this particular place. How many of us wake up thinking, "This could be the day that I experience something so life altering that my eyes are forever opened."

My day started like most others only on this day I was taking a dear friend to the airport. As we got in the car we made sure she had everything before heading out. I cannot even remember what we were discussing as I pulled away from the stop sign out of my apartment complex, turning left into the median when suddenly there was a car. He was driving well over the speed limit and there was no way to miss him so I came to a stop as his passenger side slide across my car's front bumper. After maneuvering our cars out of traffic I walked over to speak with him. He had called 911 and a police officer was on the way. I had never been in an accident before so I was feeling anxious.

A few minutes passed before the police officer arrived motioning for us to pull into the gas station that was on the corner of the intersection. Registrations and licences were handed over as the police officer asked each of us our version of what happened. Of course the guy said nothing about driving over the speed limit so ultimately the accident was my fault. After we shared our versions of what happened the police officer noticed that I had not changed the address on my licence. Apparently this is something you are supposed to do within 30 days after moving to a new location. The conversation was left at that as he went to his car to run our cards.

Meanwhile, my friend who needed to get to the airport had called another friend to come and take her. She arrived as the police officer went to his car. We spent the next few minutes putting a prepared mom's arsenal of gear in my car and moving luggage going to the airport into the other car. I noticed that the police officer was giving the guy involved in the accident his paperwork back. After saying good-byes my friends were pulling away when the officer asked them if they could stay longer to which my friend answered that she had to get to the airport so he let her go. As this conversation was happening I noticed another police car arrive and park.

I was arrested in the gas station parking lot. It all happened in slow motion it seemed. Completely surreal and unbelievable. One moment I was approaching the police officer to find out what to do next. The next thing I knew I was being told I was under arrest and to turn around with my hands behind my back. In utter bewilderment and confusion I asked why I was being arrested. I was guilty of driving on a suspended licence. "HUH? What did they mean I was driving on a suspended licence? How could that be and I not even know?"

"I don't understand" was all I could say for a few seconds as I was put in the back of the car. It really was happening. I really was being arrested for something that I knew nothing about. I was asked if there was anyone I could call to come get my car. It didn't compute at first so he had to ask again. My husband was out of town. I could think of only one person and that was Polly Boyd. He found her number in my phone and held it to my ear. I could no longer move my arms freely because they were held hostage behind my back. When I heard Polly's voice it was the first time I began to cry and all I knew were tears for some time. I had to tell her I was arrested which made the whole humiliating, confusing, hurt situation real. Polly was shocked and I could hear the anger in her voice. She was at the airport but said that she could come and get the car. The police officer said that that was too far and that the police would be responsible for anything that happened to the car. There was no one else to call so the second cop called a tow while the arresting officer backed up in a space next to my car. My car was being towed to the impound.

Little did I know about the ring of money that flows around the "justice system." Money passes through many hands and I would come to see how the justice system treats the people who keep this steady supply of cash flowing.

I kept asking when and for what reason my licence was suspended. The officer could tell me when; from February to April but he could not tell me why. There were no details only that it was suspended in South Carolina. He asked me if there was anything I could remember. There was a ticket in Chicago but that was taken care of. I had cancelled my insurance in February but that could not be it because I had given the car to a family friend first. It was no longer in my name.

So I became silent. I settled into myself and closed my eyes and just let tears run. I kept telling myself, "This is all happening for some reason." I let myself feel the humiliation and the anger. I worried about my husband who was the only person working and I didn't know how much any of this was going to cost. I thought about how I kept being a burden. First with being sick and now having an accident and being arrested. Then I just stopped thinking. I justed breathed. I heard the tow truck arrive and the officer asked me where my keys were. I could barely speak and I had to repeat myself, "Either in my purse or in the car." The keys were found in my car and we left as the tow was loading our car.

I sat in the back of the hot cramped car with my hands behind me as the car drove for some time. I stayed to myself with my eyes closed unable to wipe away tears and snot. I could say only one prayer, "Ya Baha 'u'l- Abha" (O Thou Glory of the Most Glorious). I opened my eyes as the car began to slow to stop and I found we were at a gas depot. The police man got out and put gas in the car. We sat here for some time as he did my paperwork on the car's computer. He told me I was going to be handed over to another officer and that we were waiting. He asked me if I had ever been arrested before and I told him no. I didn't know why I was being arrested now either. Ah, the big mystery!!!

After pulling away and waiting behind a building for awhile longer a police officer came out. He would be the one to take me to jail. I was handed over to another officer and a female officer patted me down then put me in another hot, cramped back seat. This one even more cramped than the first. The arresting officer drove away and the two new officers got in the car. I never said a word. The tears had not stopped and I found it easier to concentrate on nothing with my eyes closed. So once again another car was moving. I began to get really uncomfortable in this car. The handcuffs were biting into my wrists and I could not find a comfortable position. It was hotter in the car too.

The car ride seemed to take ages and then I felt the car slow down. I opened my eyes to find I was not at jail but at a garage for county vehicles. The woman officer was dropped off at her car and we were off again. Just me and the second officer. He asked me if I had ever been arrested before and I said no. By this point no more tears were coming and I was just quiet. Watching people and objects as we passed by, this helped take my mind off of the increasingly uncomfortable position of my arms and pain from the handcuffs.

When we arrived at the jail I could not believe how relieved I was just to be able to stretch my arms and legs. I was led into a receiving area where the handcuffs were removed. I was asked by a female guard to spread my legs and arms wide as she began to pat me down. I removed all of my jewelery and was asked list of medical related questions at break neck speed. I was given a prison issue top to put on over my tank top. Satisfied that I wasn't going to die on their watch from some unknown cause and that I was not carrying a weapon, the officer led me inside to a holding area. We stood in front of a window where I would stand for an hour as my paperwork was completed. He did not stay for the hour. He allowed me to get numbers out of my phone. I had to choose well because these were the only people I would have any contact with for the duration of my time in jail. They failed to tell me that only local calls could be made.

The woman who did my intake paperwork was new and was being trained. As a result, she was kind and I am grateful I stood at her window. She let me know that I was lucky because they rarely let anyone stand at the window as the paperwork was being done. This meant I would get the amount for my bond right away. Another small favor, the arresting officer did a lot of the paperwork in the car so my intake went faster than usual. I began to wonder when I would be able to call someone. My stomach growled and I wondered about food. I wondered where the bathrooms were and when I asked the woman doing my paperwork, explained that the toilets were in the holding cells behind a 'privacy wall'.

While I waited I took in my surroundings. I had no idea how long I would be there. There were rooms behind large plate glass windows. These were not the holding cells that I had expected to see. In these rooms long steel benches ran along the wall and what looked like pay phones were attached to the wall above them. There were separate rooms for men and women and the rooms were different sizes. The room that caught my attention was #12, WOMEN ONLY. It was a small room and from the voices I could hear, it was full. I would see women look out the window every so often. Beside room 12 was 13 which was much larger, had a number of phones and was empty. When my paperwork was finished I was told to go to room #13. As I walked towards it guards were passing out dinner from a large steel box on wheels.

"You want to eat? It's dinner time," a female guard asks me loudly.

"Yes."

"Go to room 12," she said as she handed me a Styrofoam box.

M first emotion stepping into the packed room was not fear. I was not afraid. I was numb. I had been numb most of the ride in the car and felt nothing as I found a place on the bench and sat. The air was filled with "waiting". Waiting and regret. I didn't feel in any immediate danger and it seemed that the ladies were looking at me with curiosity. It was not quiet. One woman was on the one of two phones on the wall. Conversations were going on all around me. Nervous, moving energy. There were black and white women, young and old. The girl next to me asked me if I was going to eat my dinner. I was hungry but could not eat because I was faced with my first real dilemma and had to start thinking as an inmate and it regarded my first phone call. I told her I couldn't eat at the moment but was going to because I didn't know when I was going to be able to eat again.

Food was the last thing on my mind as panic began to push out hunger. No one knew where I was. I had no idea when the bond office closed. I tried making sense of what the intake lady said. Something about 12% of the bond going to the bonds man. Something about signing out my possessions to someone else who could pay the bond on my behalf. I had written down three numbers from the electronic list that changed before I could finish writing them. Now I was sitting with 7 other women in a cramped holding cell, with papers in my hand - one with the dollar amount for my release - and I had a dilemma.

One woman was on a phone. There was one other phone an angry woman was leaning on. I had seen her earlier at another window and there was some mix up regarding her status. She was angry then and she was angry now. She never spoke above a whisper and I can only remember her speaking maybe twice during my entire time in jail. This was my first encounter with her and she was leaning on the only other phone in the room.

It turned out the second phone was not working. I found out when I asked if she was waiting and other women answered saying the phone did not work. I held panic at bay as I contemplated how to get on a phone while also not causing any problems for myself later. I had no idea how long I would be with these women. I had no idea what the dynamics were and I knew that it would be an even worse experience if I found myself the object of bullying.

I thought, "Maybe I can ask the lady on the phone when she will be finished. No, that could anger her and the woman waiting. Okay, there is an empty room next door with lots of phones. Maybe when the guard comes by next I can ask to go next door and use a phone. Hmmmm, the guard may just tell one person to get off the phone so I can use it. This could anger both women. I can't take that chance. I will just wait."

Patience saved me possible retribution. It was a chance I could not take.

Luckily I did not have to wait long. Once I got on the phone I called my husband only to find that the phone did not allow long distance calls. I called Polly. We waited through an automated message before we were connected. She told me she had already been to the jail and was told I was not there. She was on her way to another jail when I called. As I began to tell her about the bond amount I started to cry. We didn't have that kind of money. Her voice was very calm and she told me she and her son were turning around. I gave her the numbers I was able to write down for some professional bonds men. The guard interrupted my call to tell me I needed to be finger printed. During my brief break down I had felt sympathy from the women in the holding cell and though it was not seen as weakness, I did not cry again.

I wiped away tears as I walked in the direction the guard's finger pointed.

While being finger printed the woman guard came in. She joked about how she was putting all the women in room 12 and how cramped it was. She laughed about the one working phone. She laughingly talked about how she moved everyone to number 13 when the women complained about feeling claustrophobic.

I realized in that moment that this was how the guards displayed their power. This was how people were dis-empowered. This was how people who found themselves arrested made choices in a situation where the threat of dis-empowered people turning on one another was a real concern. Inefficiency was bred in this environment, not because there weren't the tools available to be efficient but because making arrested people wait without reason is another method of dis-empowering. This was how the guards created an atmosphere of distrust and confusion. There was no comfort. Everything was cold and stark. Even the food.

I knew all was going to be okay when I walked into room 13 and my food was there. One of the other women had brought it over for me. This was a display of kindness that I never saw any assumption of repayment for. For anyone walking into a room full of arrested individuals the question in their mind is, "Am I safe with these people? Can I trust them? Is this really kindness or am I going to be raped later?" Yes, even women rape one another and there always was that question in the back of my mind. I quickly realized I had little to worry about with this particular group of women.

As I sat down saying thank you I opened the top of the Styrofoam box. All I can describe as food was glop. I think it was meant to be a chicken and pasta meal. There was a very small "salad" of lettuce, two pieces of bread and cake that looked like corn bread. I was given a cup and there was a packet of flavored powder for mixing with water. I ate what I could and gave the drink packet away. I guess you could say it was better than what I expected but it was far from healthy or filling.

After eating I really sat and took in the ladies around me. I am very sensitive to energy and I felt there was no harm to worry about from these women. The room was full of conversations all happening at once and it could get loud at times. I smiled for the first time in that room. Eventually people began to talk about what got them arrested in the first place. Three women were arrested on simple assault charges. Sad stories of physical violence by their partners and attempts to protect themselves leading to their arrests. One woman was there for writing a bad check. A young woman, probably the youngest there, was arrested for loitering, trespassing and possession under half a gram. Then the conversation turned to me,

"You don't look like you could do anything wrong. You don't look like a criminal. What did you do to get put in here?"

"I was driving on a suspended licence."

Laughter erupted all around the holding cell. After hearing all of their stories I had to laugh too.

"What is your job?"

"I am a teacher."

"I knew it. You look like a teacher."

The ice was completely broken at this point. I knew they had been looking at me with curiosity. The first time I was on the phone in room 12 it had gone from buzzing conversations to quiet. Now, conversation was easy and I began to relax. I trusted my intuition and not one woman in the room had tried to assert power at any point. I knew I was going to be okay.