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I
said alcohol & drugs don’t mix then I did it
By
Carol Main
of the Desert Journal
On
Thursday, Oct. 4, when I woke up I took my pituitary gland medicine like I
do every morning of my life. Then at 12 noon I took my next dose and at 6
p.m. I took my last dose of the day.
During
that evening I spent several hours on the telephone taking the temperature
of my city and my county concerning the near bankrupt nature of the city
and the up coming election for county sheriff.
At
10 p.m., realizing I could not reach Freddie Torres because he would be at
his Pine Knot Tavern for Carioca Night, I went there.
Torres
was candid in his answers to my questions, taking time from duties to pay
me attention. To repay him (a little) for this and because the show was
good and because I wanted them I drank three bottles of beer over a
three-hour period.
On
my way home I stopped at Circle K and bought two hot dogs that I ate in
the truck before leaving there.
On
Jones Street I was pulled over by the city police. I was happy to take
their Breathalyzer test because I knew that I was not drunk.
The
machine said that I was LEGALLY drunk.
Normal
medicine before six, three beers after ten, on my way to jail.
…Sierra
County Transfer
For
one reason or another females arrested in Sierra County are housed in the
Socorro County jail at exorbitant cost to Sierra County. Depending on who
you ask, the figures range from $90 to $350 per night per prisoner.
Early
Friday morning the city turned me over to the county for transport to
Socorro.
The
Sierra County deputies locked a chain around my waist, cuffed my hands and
locked the cuffs to that chain, cuffed my ankles with a chain between
those cuffs and placed me in the back seat of a squad car and buckled a
seat belt around me between the wrist cuffs and the waist chain.
On
the 75-mile ride to Socorro in a freezing car I scrunched down as best I
could against the tall seat back to get warm.
“Sit
up, sit up, sit up,” bellowed the driver like a bull elk in heat. When I
did not do it he bellowed louder. That did not do it so he turned the
radio on high.
That
was better, I dozed off. Made him mad. He turned the radio off and
bellowed, “I’ll put more charges on you if you don’t sit up.
Resisting an officer, refusing to obey. You had better sit up.” I dozed
back off… Resisting? Belted in, in cuffs and chains?
…Soccoro
County Jail
The
cuffs and chains are removed, I am told to undress and handed a set of
black and white prison striped trousers and tunic. Thank God I did not
remove my underwear.
I
was escorted to a two-person cell that already held two people (lesbians,
I soon found out), thrown an exercise mat and a thin blanket and told,
“No talking!”
Excuse
me. ‘They’ see new meat. I see, sleep on this concrete floor and keep
‘them’ off me.
I
was raised on a farm with six brothers who taught me to go on the
offensive when threatened. I did. I slept on that concrete floor for five
nights unmolested.
My
primary problem was getting my medication. Because it is my lifeline to
survival I always carry a seven-day supply in my purse and my purse was
with me on my arrest. But I had to convince the top dog that I needed it.
That
accomplished, get the guards to bring it to me. There are no clocks on
cell block.
When
my back hurts to the point that I can barely stand up I know it has been
at least two hours past medication time so I press the intercom button and
ask for it.
Depending
on who is on duty, I am told, “I’ll be right there, I’ll get there
when I have time,” or, most often, “There is no medicine here for
you.”
Okay,
so now I am up shit creek. Their shift changes and suddenly my medicine
appears. In the meantime, for about 10 hours I am flat on my back on the
floor at the mercy of?… Thanks to my brothers’ teaching, no way.
Even
through the night of the flood, when the men on the tier above us turned
on their sprinklers, giving us women below two inches of water, floor
wide.
On
the other hand, Socorro County jail runs a tight ship. Only one exercise
pad, one blanket and one pillow per inmate. No towels, no wash cloths, and
the only shower for the cell block is directly across from the two-way
mirror control station manned by males.
But
they do feed you, although there is no coffee. On my last day there I
received a tuna fish sandwich and a cup of vegetable soup broth at 10:30
a.m., followed by a tray containing cold red beans, cold corn and canned
peaches at 4:30 p.m.
Normal
jail house meals. The kitchen is always ‘down’ due to a long ago
health inspection that found too many rats and roaches. At 7 a.m. of the
morning I left there we were all rousted out of bed for a cell search.
There went breakfast. No loss.
…No
Country Club Here
For
all you readers who think jailhouse inmates are molly-coddled, I have this
to say… don’t drink even one beer after you have taken your heart,
lung, or thyroid medicine.
You
may find out that jail is so far from the country club image in your mind
that you will have a stroke.
And
be that the case, Socorro County jail is not authorized to call a doctor
for you.
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