Furries Molesters and Children, Oh My!

It's Sunday afternoon. I'm in my cell with Fernando. It's getting difficult to fall asleep because I've spent so much time knocked out on my little gym mat. I'm thinking about the many interesting characters I've met while incarcerated.

The Father. He's in for a simple traffic violation and a couple warrants, much like me. He's concerned about his kids.

The Child. This kid is only 17. His record is as long as these never-ending days in jail. He's got drug charges, traffic charges, you name it. I feel a little bad for this kid.

The BAMF. For the sake of keeping this a family blog, I decided to abbreviate Bad A Mother Effer. That's what this guy thought he was. He had to have been 21 at the oldest. He walked around the common area like it was his. You would think this guy had been there the longest so he felt he deserved the most respect. He had a very confident walk and demeanor about him. Even though he tried to put up this front of "I'm a tough guy. I'm in jail." persona, I saw right thru it and saw the hurt in his eyes. To me it seemed like this guy just wanted to get out and back to his family. I wish I had talked to him a little. I could have planted a seed. The BAMF and The Child are two people I really hope I run into again. I feel like a failure as a Christian because I made no attempt whatsoever to even talk to them, let alone show them the Jesus in me.

The Molestor. I didn't catch his name. I was sitting at the metal table with three other people not really paying attention to the conversation. Just eating my disgusting hoagie. They're obviously talking about what it is that got them locked up. The official tagline of prisoners. "Say what are you in for?" Well this guy says very matter of factly with no sort of conviction or regret, "They got me for touching a kid." After I heard him say that, I waited a couple more sentences and very nonchalantly got up and went to eat my pound of bread on the floor.

The Furry. Do you watch CSI? The original. Well there's an episode about a guy who is found dead on the side of the road wearing a raccoon costume. At first glance you think he's a high school mascot. As the investigation proceeds, you discover he is a part of a subculture known as Furries. Without getting too much into the complete strangeness of this subculture, I'll just say that Furries dress up as animals and meet together and... hang out. Steven is a Furry. Him and I are talking and he mentions that he's a Furry and I make a face and then he reminds me of that particular episode of CSI. I guess I made a little bit of a face, even though I was trying not to, and he goes on the defensive saying that he's not a freak, he just really likes animals and like feeling close to someone. He tells me that Furries as a whole are very kind and gentle people who really enjoy being around other people and enjoy the closeness of another human. They just happen to dress up as animals. I'm trying my hardest not to freak out at the fact that first of all this subculture of people actually exist, but secondly that I'm actually speaking to one. I find a way to switch the subject and then bring the conversation to an end until we're told to return to our cells.

The LSD Kid. At 21 years old, this guy was spending his first time in jail. He seemed like a really good kid. He's new to the area and didn't really have too many friends. He happened to meet a group of people at a club and started hanging out with them, glad that he finally had someone to kick it with. It ends up these guys were anything but friends. They had him try LSD for the first time. He says all he did was touch a tiny pile that someone was holding and he could feel the tingle on his finger. "The rest is a blur," he says, "I don't really remember too much. I touched the powder then next thing I know it's morning and I'm on the side of the road without my shoes and all alone." I'm sitting there at the table with him and a couple other guys and he's literally starting to remember the details of the night right before our eyes. He says after he touched the powder, lights got brighter. Everything seemed more vivid. Colors are more vibrant, sounds more intense. As time went on, he started to notice his peripheral vision getting darker. Slowly, the circle of darkness around his line of sight started to grow until eventually he completly blacked out.

He wakes up on the side of the road, as I mentioned, with no shoes and no one around. "I thought I was the last person on earth. There was no one around me at all. I was so scared." He eventually sees people, but they're frozen in time. They aren't moving. They're like human statues. Once they actually do start moving, they're moving super slow and then all of the sudden super fast and finally regular speed. Even though he's around people, he says he still felt like he was the only human on earth. Eventually two cops approach him and ask him who he is and where he's from and why he doesn't have shoes.

"I don't know who I am. I from the future. I came from the past." That's what he tells them, and they very quickly start laughing at him. They arrest him and next thing you know, he's sitting at the table with us telling us the story.

I talked to him more than I talked to anyone else. I felt an instant connection with Armando, almost as if I was there to meet him. I tried my hardest to plant a seed. That's all I did though. I could have done so much more. I knew I was there to talk to him. To tell him about Jesus. To get his number and get him to church. I knew that was the whole reason for me being in there. I didn't though. I told him, "Hey if we're both out of here by Wednesday, you should come to church with me." But that's pretty much it. I didn't get his number or his email or even his myspace. Meeting Armando and not telling him more of Jesus is one of my life's greatest regrets. I constantly pray for him any time I think of him. I pray God sends someone else in his life to water the tiny little seed I planted. Pray for him. God must have something great in store for him, and I have faith that I'll see him one day soon and eventually in Heaven.

It's Monday now. I've finally adjusted to the intercom coming on and interupting my sleep to tell us it's time for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. At some point, The Child tried to scratch a checker board into one of the metal picnic tables but it didn't really work out too well. When Fernando and I got back to our cell, he took his mat off the bed and discovered a very unevenly scratched checkerboard on the metal frame. He spends a minute or two staring at it and I can practically hear his wheels turning. Finally he goes to the sink and grabs the tiny bar of soap and breaks in to as many pieces as he can. I sit up off the floor and start arranging my "checkers" on my side of the board and we start playing. The game must have lasted a good 45 minutes, and sadly I lost. I put up a good fight though. I spent most of the game with a really good lead. Towards the end though, I lost my groove and he totally dominated.

Monday is actually the day that I talked to Armando. It's also the day that The Furry is surprised to find out that someone bailed him out. Apparently he had already tried to call some of his out of state friends to bail him out and they called the jailhouse in an attempt to wire his bail. Sadly you must be there in person to bail someone out and Steven the Furry didn't know anyone well enough in the area to do that for him. I guess I'll never know how he ended up getting out four days early.

Tuesday morning is shower time again. I'm hoping against hope that Armando hasn't been bailed out or released yet. He's not up for the shower, since it's not mandatory, so my hopes are a little down. I wanted to get his number so I could keep in touch with him. So I could get him to church.

Sometime between breakfast and lunch, Intercom Voice comes on and tells me to go downstairs to sign some paperwork. I go down there and walk out of the cell block and ask what it is I'm signing and they tell me it's the bondman's paperwork. I make the assumption that my family found out where I was and called Floyd to bond me out. I return to my room and lay down for about 20 mins. Fernando wants to play soap checkers again so we start another game. Just as I'm about to lose again, Intercom Voice tells me to grab my mat and blanket and tells me where to put them. I'm going home.

I tell Fernando it was nice meeting him, shake his hand, and tell him God bless. I think it was Monday night after dinner that I heard him whispering prayers in Spanish. A few mins after that he asked me if I was Christian and I said yes. As I'm walking out, he tells me happy birthday and I smile and say thank you. I had a wrist band on that had my first name and last name (misspelled after spelling it three times for the cop) and birthday written on it.

After grabbing my belongings and sitting down to put my laces back on my shoes, I walk outside for the first time in almost four days and take a deep breath and put my hands in the air and say, "Thank you Jesus!"

It's a seven mile walk to the impound lot to get my car. The little paper the cop gave me didn't seem nearly that far. I start walking. I'm calling people, my mom, Rick, Pastor Danny. I'm texting people. I have over 100 text messages, twentysomething missed calls, and 6 voicemails. I wasn't able to read and listen to them all because my battery was on it's last leg. It starts raining twice while I'm walking. I had to stand in a driveway and under the lid of a dumpster to avoid getting completly soaked. Finally after one Snapple, one Lipton Brisk Iced Tea, and at least two hours, I arrive at the impound lot and get my car. $200.

I drive home and run upstairs to my dog and give her some loving. Then I run straight to the bathroom and release five hoagie sandwiches. It felt awesome. So did the proper shower. So did the freedom.

The Continuing Saga of Those Locked Up

"Chow Time."

Huh?

"Chow Time."

Where am I?

"If you wanna eat some breakfast, stand at your door so I can let you out."

Oh yeah. I'm in jail. Who's saying that? Hmmm there must be an intercom in here somewhere. Oh there it is, right above the bed. Ok let me put my shoes back on, which is really easy since they took my laces. Man it's hard to walk in Chucks with no laces. Ugh I'm so freakin thirsty. That sandwich they gave me last night was awful. And those chips were salty. I'm so thirsty. How come they didn't give me something to drink with that? Well at least I'm not around that Mexican who couldn't stop coughing. And I have a blanket and this lopsided gym mat. Lord, you're still worthy.

Those were my first thoughts when I woke up early Sunday morning. As I hobbled out of my cell, I glanced back at the tiny rectangular window and noticed it was still dark. That means he had to be about 5AM, maybe earlier. I knocked out pretty quick once I got in cell B13. Fernando, my cell mate, introduced himself to me. He doesn't know English. He had an extra blanket and mat on the metal bed inside the cell. Since I had no choice but to sleep on the floor, he offered me both. I declined the mat but accepted the blanket to use as a pillow. I suppose I slept pretty good. As good as I could. Like I said, I completly knocked out.

Hobble hobble hobble stumble down the stairs and grab a seat on one of the metal picnic tables. I was still pretty tired and my eyes weren't fully awake yet. When the guard and his little inmate helpers showed up outside the cell block, the 30 some odd other prisoners got up and moved to the back wall. I really had no choice but to do the same. They all came in and we filed passed them and were handed a blueberry muffin. "Well that's cool I guess. Blueberry muffins are my fave." They also gave us a small 8oz plastic cup and put four two liter pitchers of water on the tables, one on each. We weren't allowed to move from the back wall until the door to the cell block closed, and once it did, everyone made a mad dash for the tables so they could sit and eat. I poured my self some water and tried my hardest not to just chug it all. Still a little hungry from the night before, I very nearly inhaled my muffin then chugged the rest of the water. My celly, which I soon discovered is the proper jail terminolgy for cellmate, handed me his cup which was still half full. I gratefully accepted and gave him a nod of thanks.

Back to the cell. A little bit of laborious small talk with the limited english speaking celly. Fall back asleep.

"Shower time. Stand by your door if you wanna take a shower."

The guard on the intercom interrupted my sleep again. Without even realizing it, I was back downstairs waiting against the wall with a clean orange jumpsuit, a towel, and a tiny bar of soap waiting for the guard and trustees to walk out. Thankfully this wasn't one of the jails with community showers. (However I have still recieved one too many drop the soap jokes from people after I got out.)

I waited a few minutes before I put my stuff on the floor by the shower to indicate that I had it next. When it was my turn, I showered quicker than I ever had. I didn't wash my hair though. I know how my hair is when I didn't have anything in it and I wasn't happy about most likely spending who knows how many days with a huge mexican afro.

Back to the cell. More laborious small talk. Back to sleep.

"Esparza."
"Yessir?"
"Stand by your door. You have court."

Again the voice interuppted my sleep. This was getting annoying. My shoes are back on and I'm going downstairs. About 7 other inmates are walking out of their cells waiting for the impromptu court. We're herded out of the cell block and back into the freezing cold holding cell from the night before. By this time it's anywhere from 8 and 10 AM. The guard explains to us that we aren't allowed to talk or use the restroom. The judge will be in shortly to read us our charges and hear our plea. We can either plead guilty, not guilty, or no contest. We are not to ask questions or talk back or smart off. Since a judge is there, it is a court setting and he has the power to find us in contempt of court and we would get three days in jail for that, in addition to any other time that we elect to sit out.

Sitting across from me is a tall Mexican who I'm guessing had some strong Native American blood in him. He reminded me of a lighter version of the Indian from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

In spite of our warning, the other people in the cell began talking to each other. The obligatory "What are you in for?" was tossed around and the room was divided between traffic violations and drug related incidents.

Joel, the aformention Mexican, is listening intently and fidgeting a little. He says quietly, "Man you guys got it lucky. I'm in here for murder."

Immedietly the cell goes quiet and Joel tells the story of him, his girl, his buddy, and his girl hanging out at another friend's house. I didn't catch the full story but it's something to the affect of Joel and his friend found out that some random dude was hitting his girlfriend and the two of them felt like they needed to give him a talking to. They go to "talk" to him and he pulls out a bat and just starts swinging. This is after the two girlfriends get in his face and say things like, "You wanna hit a girl? well hit f---ing me! Hit f---ing me!" You get the idea.

Bat-dude is swinging his bat and Raul, Joel's friend, pulls out a knife and stabs him. Joel and Raul leave and somehow or another are brought in. Bat-dude died from the stab wound and both guys are charged with his murder. As icing on the cake, their respective girlfriends are charged as accessories to the crime.

Joel didn't tell this whole story. Somewhere in the middle of the story, Raul comes in and fills in all the gaps with more cussing than I care to censor. Raul looks like an extra from Blood In Blood Out, covered in tats with a bald head and the typical Mexican Thug Accent.

Joel is concerned for his two daughters. He didn't know Candace, his GF, was arrested also, and wants to know what happened to his girls. Raul keeps talking about how it was self defense and how he was telling the cop that bat-dude was swinging and what would the cop f---ing do if some f---ing dude was coming at him with a bat. Joel is asking about his daughters. Raul says, "I got this dude. You didn't have nuthin to do with it. I'll take it all." How noble.

We stand before the judge. He reads us our rights and I realize Officer Culbreath never Miranda-ed me when he arrested me. One by one he calls us to take a step forward and he informs us of our charges and asks for our plea. For an old white guy who looked like he was interrupted from his Sunday golf game, the guy spoke excellent Spanish. I chalked it up to him saying pretty much the same Spanish phrases on a daily basis.

As soon as I saw the lights flashing behind me I decided that I was going to sit out my warrants. I almost knew I was going to get arrested and I resolved to suck it up and sit it out. Much to the chagrin of nearly everyone who cares about me, I denied my one phone call during the booking process. It was late on a Saturday night. I didn't want and of my family dealing with the stress of trying to get me out as soon as possible. I didn't want them to be running around all over the place calling this lawyer and that bond's men trying to figure out how I could make it home the same night. I figured the less they knew the better.

That's why when the judge called my name (pronounced it Esparaza) I pleaded guilty. He handed me my paperwork, which I signed, then I returned to the holding cell.

Eventually Joel and Raul came back in. Joel is still obviously concerned about his daughters and the 1million dollar bail hanging over his head. Raul comes in practically boasting. He raises his hands half way up and says, "A million dollars foo! They got us for a million dollars." It was as if he was proud that his bond was definetly higher than any other in the jail house.

Once everyone had stood before the judge, we were all told to return to our cell if we had one. So back I go. Remove the Chucks. Walk up the stairs. Lay down. More laborious small talk with Fernando. Within minutes I'm out like a light again.

"Chow Time. If you want lunch stand at your door so I can let you out."

Geez that's really starting to get annoying.

To be continued...

The Grand Prairie Jail Trilogy Part 1

My registration has been out since April. Texas was kind enough to send me the paperwork I needed to re-register my car at least a month before, but in true procrastinator fashion, I failed to fill it out and mail it in with the money order. I've since been pulled over twice for it being expired and given tickets.

My inspection expired with the month of August. I didn't want to take any risk of getting in anymore trouble so I went Saturday afternoon to go get my inspection. It failed with flying colors and I stopped by Auto Zone on my way home to get a few things to help it pass.

I was invited to a birthday party for Saturday night and I wanted to stop by somewhere to get a gift before hand, so as soon as my brother got home from running a couple errands, I grabbed my keys and left. I stopped to get a gift then headed out to the party. The girl the party was for gave me an address and I used Google maps on my blackberry to find the place. When I got there I noticed there was only one car outside and called her to make sure I was at the right place. Ends up the party was moved to another house on the other side of Grand Prairie. I got that address and typed it into good ol Google and started my journey over there.

I'm pulling up to a red light and I see a cop car. I'm thikning, "I can't pull up next to this cop cuz he's gonna see my expired registration and might pull me over." There was a curve to the right that I could have taken but I didn't react in time to take that turn so I slowly came to a stop next to him. Right when I did the light turned green and I took my foot off the brake and put it on the gas.

If I had half a brain I would have let the cop pull ahead of me. Unfortunately I only have about 33% of a brain and he ended up behind me. Needless to say he flashed his lights and pulled me over.

After the long wait for him to approach my car, he did the usual license/insurance thing and asked if I was aware my registration was up. He went back to his car for an eternity and I'm sitting in my car panicking like a mad man. From my rear view mirror I can see another cop car pull up and my stomach dropped down to my toes while my heart jumped up to my chest. I knew I was about to be taken in.

Both cops came to either side of my car and asked me to step out. Cop A (Officer Culbreath) asked if I knew that I had warrants in Dallas to which I replied yes and he responded by placing me under arrest.

The long wait for Culbreath to join me in the squad car was pretty bad. I'm not ashamed to say I nearly cried. However I resolved to worship the Lord instead. I whispered prayers to Him and told Him that no matter what the situation, He is and always will be worthy of my praise.

Finally Culbreath joined me in the car and we made our way to the jail house. Trying to makee the best of the situation, I small talked with Culbreath and even invited him to church as we drove past the corner of 303 and Carrier. He was polite enough to me the whole time, saying that he was only doing his job and that he hated having to take me in and he even asked what time church was in the morning.

When we got to the jailhouse, there was the long ardous process of booking me and taking my mug shot and all that wonderful junk. I was placed in a holding cell with two other Mexicans and an African American. The cell was devoid of anything but a toilet and a small sitting area made of concrete that was less than a foot off the ground. I sat down and contemplated what was happening to me. At this point it still had not registered in my mind that I was in jail.

Hours went by. Two episodes of Fresh Prince of Bel Air and one episode of Family Matters played in the background from the second story of the holding cell where I later found out the trustees were kept. I tried to enjoy the television that was playing, but I could not see the tv at all and anytime there was a punchline, one of the Mexicans let out a huge dramatic drunken cough that drowned out what Will or Urkel were saying. At some point they brought us a ham and cheese hoagie sandwich and a bag of chips, no drink. I hadn' eaten all day so I gobbled down as much of the bread-wich that I could. The thing was about 80% bread, 10% meat and cheese, and 10% preservatives. The chips were exteremly salty, which only emphasized the absence of a beverage.

Holding cell A1 was extremly cold. I pulled my arms into my shirt and curled in a ball and tried to fall asleep. I figured I was going to stay the whole night in there so I might as well try to sleep as much as I can in order to pass the time.

I dozed off and woke to one of the guards calling out three names, including Espinoza. I figured that was one of the Mexicans so I put my head back down. "Espinoza you comin or what?" the guard said towards me.

"Esparza?" I asked, and he said, "Yeah whatever. Get up let's go."

He told me and the other two to grab a mat and then walked us into another room with four metal picnic tables and told us to sit by the plastic bag with our name on it. Inside the bag was an orange jumpsuit and a blue blanket not unlike Linus's from Peanuts. My bag also had B13 written on it.

The guard told us to go into the one of the doors that said SH1 or SH2 and change into the jump suit. We were allowed to keep our shoes, socks, and underwear. After that, we were to go to the cell that was written on the plastic bag.

I followed his instructions to the letter and trudged my way up the flight of metal stairs and pushed open the heavy metal door to Cell B13 and walked into my shared 6 by 12 cell where I met my cell mate Fernando.

The door closed with a mentallly exagerated slam and I laid down and curled up on my mat with my blanket and settled in for my first night in jail.


To be continued...