A trip to the --- Jail?

by Michelle Zeman

I was nervous - and I thought that I was the only one. I leaned back against the tall green seat and watched the scenery go by as the school bus raced along the road. A few kids were tired, like myself. They sat silently - lost in their own thoughts. The rest of the class was leaning on or over the seats, talking and laughing. This was going to be the first time any of us had ever visited a jail, except for Mr. O'Keefe, our Criminal Justice teacher. I wondered what it would be like. Was it going to be like on TV or in the movies? What were the prisoners going to be like? Our teacher had warned us that they might yell obscenities or crack personal remarks at us. Some kids said that they might even spit on us. I shuddered at the thought. What was Mr. O'Keefe getting us into? Maybe I would have been better off writing a research paper instead.

Someone in the back of the bus yelled that we were there. I looked out of the window and saw the prison come into view. "Is that the prison?" my friend Judy asked, "It looks more like a school." She echoed my own thoughts. The building was large and white and incredibly clean. Glass windows glistened in the sun. Large white steps leading up to the front reminded me of a government building in the Capital. The outside was not all what I had pictured. Movies had led me to expect a large electric barbed wire fence surrounding the area complete with guards shouldering shotguns, patrolling the outside. My first impression was that it was too - open.

We exited the bus and hurried around the front to a side entrance. It had been cold outside and it was not much warmer inside. We were in the visitor's waiting room. In the center were several rows of connected plastic seats, which we immediately occupied. In the front, an officer was sitting behind a desk, looking through some papers. There were also two bathrooms. A few kid went inside to use them but instantly came out, doing all but hold their noses. I was relieved to hear some other students admit that they were also nervous. Officer Germano, the man who would take us on the tour, came out and addressed us. WE immediately hushed at his presence, already beginning to depend on him to protect us throughout the course of our visit. He instructed the girls to put their pocketbooks in the lockers that lined the entire left wall. He also asked us for any knives, razor blades, gum and any other items that were considered prison contraband. After signing in and receiving a pass, we walked through a metal detector and into a small hallway. WE had to wait for the bars to lock behind us before the ones in front of us would open. The bars closed loudly, echoing through the walls and floor. It was at this moment that I really felt that we were in jail.

First we went to the holding area. I don't know whether it was the lighting or the peeling grey paint, but it suddenly seemed very dim. Officer Germano directed all twenty-five of us into one of the large cells to the right. While he talked to us, I looked around the cell. The ceiling was very high. Something that looked like peanut butter was smeared on one wall. A foul smell was coming from the back. Turning around, I saw a second small wall in the corner. Hanging on it was a crooked cardboard sign, "Don't use towlet - Out of order" was written in marker. Officer Germano called to the electrically closed gate open, and we gladly left. We were ordered to walk around a pole and down the hall in twos. He showed us two small adjoining rooms that were used for fingerprinting and photographs. "Does anyone here feel comfortable?" he asked. No one answered him. "Good, you're not supposed to."

Next we were led to a large but narrow room. Along both sides were numerous wooden tables with plastic orange benches on either side. We sat four at a table. The benches were so close my knees almost touched the person across from me. Officer Germano asked us what room we thought we were in. Someone answered, "Is this where they eat?" which would have been my first guess, since it did resemble a cafeteria or fast food place. But it turned out to be the visiting area. This came as a surprise. I had thought that the prisoners were not allowed to come in contact with their visitors but this area was so cramped they would have no choice but to touch. Another thing that surprised me was the writing on everything. The graffiti I had expected but each booth was numbered on the top and sides in magic marker. It seemed so - unprofessional.

Officer Germano led us down another hall. I could no longer tell where we were, it all looked like a maze. The walls were not very clean and the paint was chipping. I noticed an open closet and briefly looked inside. There were rows of toilet paper, towels, Bab-o, brown blankets and a pile of sheets on the floor. I hurried along. Further down the hall, we passed a Christmas tree and some holiday decorations along the walls. I wondered vaguely who had decorated. Now came the moment of truth. We were going to pass through an actual cell block and see real prisoners. A woman guard at the head of our group yelled ahead to the women prisoners that we were coming through. This made me more nervous than anything else. Why did she have to warn them that we were coming through? What were they going to do? We walked through in line rather quickly, and I think everyone was surprised.

The prison block was really a block. We walked around an entire corner. Large windows along the wall caused it to be very bright even though you could not see through them. A large cell ran the length of the corridor with many smaller individual cells inside. Many books were lined along the wall and floor and even between the bars. Calendars and pictures filled the walls. Clothes were hung on lines to dry. There were some Christmas decorations and hand made paper chains between the bars. About fifteen women were inside, mostly in groups of four playing cards. Some of them had on a plain smock which meant that they were sentenced. The others had on regular clothes. Most of them did not even look at or talk to us.

When we left the area I was relieved and more relaxed. They had done nothing like I had thought. I was glad but also a little mad at myself for getting so nervous in the first place. Officer Germano ordered us to go upstairs to the chapel. My fear of the prisoners somewhat diminished, I began to feel a little annoyed at the officer's domineering attitude. Then I remembered how dependent I had been on him to protect me before. This must be how the prisoners feel towards the guards throughout their stay. I realized a little bit of what my teacher had meant when he had said how dehumanizing it is to be a prisoner and how they do come to listen to the guards.

For the next hour or so, we stayed in the chapel and listened to six prisoners tell us what it is like to be in jail. Most of them were there for drug related offenses. We sat silently as they told us how bad it is in jail and for us to make sure that we stayed out. Their frequent use of profanity and poor grammar made it a little difficult to understand them. And the way they paced back and forth while they talked was rather unnerving. But the message was still clear. Prison is not only a bad place - it is scary. Not only scary because you can get killed over a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Scary because it is full of real people with real feelings and real emotions. Humans that are hurting and are afraid.

After lunch, we went to the court to see a trial. This was more like what I had envisioned. The building resembled an office building - clean, tidy, orderly, quiet, spacious and business-like. The courtroom itself was small and stuffy, however. WE couldn't see very well because a high wall divided the observation box from the rest of the room. But the proceedings were fairly interesting. A man was being tried for shooting a police officer in the face. He was pleading insanity. The defendant was on the stand and was being cross examined by the prosecution, while we were there. It was totally silent except for the prosecutor's questions and the defendant's answers. Between those, there were these long pauses as the lawyer would stop to look through his notes. These lingering pauses were unsettling and I was glad when we left.

As we bordered the bus for home, many kids discussed the defendant's contradicting replies. Most agreed that he was lying and would be found guilty. I thought that they were probably right. He would be found guilty and sent to a prison like the one we visited today. I recalled the locking of the prison bars, my initial fear, the peanut butter on the wall, the numbers written in marker, the women playing cards, the guard ordering us to walk around the pole and our class obediently following. I wondered what he would do if some inmates came up to him and asked for his shoes, like they had done to the people who talked with us in the chapel. Would he survive? Would those people put with him survive? Would anyone care? The guards had told us numerous times that no one did.

I settled back into the bus seat as we set off for home. I remembered Speedy, one of the prisoners, who had talked like a preacher or philosopher in the chapel. He had told us that we just have to learn to love ourselves to be strong enough to stay out of trouble. He had messed up and he knew it but he still opened up to us and tried to get us to care. As I looked out the window I wondered what would happen to him. Would anyone care? I had shaken hands with him before we left and thanked him for sharing with us. Even though I was scared I'm glad that I did it. I care….