During a quarter of a century on the bench, I have pronounced jail sentences for perhaps hundreds of people. (I try not to say that “I sent him to jail.” He committed the act that required the jail sentence. I simply made it official.)
A lot of people who have never been in jail wonder what it
is like. I can tell you, sort of…
The Sibley County Jail was expanded in 1995. Once the construction was complete, the staff
hired and procedures established, all that was necessary for them to open for
business was a test run.
Thus it was, on a summer night, I went to the Sibley County
Jail to join with several other citizens who volunteered to be “prisoners” for
the jail staff to practice their procedures and work out any kinks in the system.
I was first placed in a holding cell, while the men who had
arrived before me were processed. The
cell is small, with only a concrete bench.
I was there for about a half hour before being brought into the booking
room.
I was photographed – the standard front and side mug
shots. My fingerprints were taken –
using ink on paper instead of the electronic scanners we use now. I was then given an orange jump suit and
shown to a cell. Actually, there were
four cells off of one day room. The
furniture was poly covered iron. The bed
was metal, with a thin mattress and a plastic pillow – quite uncomfortable.
I was in the cell for maybe an hour when the door opened,
and a local officer said, “Judge? We
need a warrant signed. Don’t worry – I
put the suspect in the holding cell so he wouldn’t see a prisoner signing the
warrant!”
We watched television from the uncomfortable benches until
lights out at 10:30. Then onto the cots
for the night. Procedure calls for bed
checks throughout the night. The doors,
of course, were heavy metal and every time the key went into the lock, it woke
me up.
At 7:00 a.m., the test run was over. We were given orange juice, coffee and
donuts. The mug shots and fingerprint
cards were given to us as souvenirs. Our
civic duty was performed and soon the jail would be open for business.
And I knew that if I never spent another hour in a locked
jail cell, it would be too soon.
* * *
* *
Next week: War on
Terror
