The Story of My DUI

Part 2: What to Expect When You Report to Jail

originally published December 12, 2007

This is for those of you that are thinking about doing something stupid. Something like, oh… drinking and driving. DON’T. Don’t do it. There are buses and cabs, and, if you are credit card-heavy, there are hotel rooms downtown. So, if you do happen to do something stupid, and you have to go spend a night/ weekend/ week/ month in jail, here is what you can expect.

I did something stupid. I was caught driving under the influence. Yep, you got it, DUI! [Editor’s note: See last week‚Äôs issue for that part of the story.] While I contend that I wasn’t really drunk, the cop that pulled me over for going seven over the limit tends to disagree with me. I pled guilty, got 40 hours of community service, a fine plus court fees and probation fees, mandatory attendance at a Victim Impact Panel and DUI school, my license was suspended for a year and I got four days of jail time.

Four days of jail time! OMG! Four days! Don’t worry, my lawyer said you get two-for-one time. Meaning I would serve 48 hours on my four-day sentence. I just had to make sure that I didn’t do anything wrong for the next year: Probation is a bitch. But that is another story…. Here is what I experienced during my 48 hours in jail.

A Weekender

At your hearing, the lawyers (yours and the DA) will work out your sentence and you can report to jail when it will least likely affect your job. I decided that since I work for the major employer in Athens, that I would go in over a weekend so that I wouldn’t have to take time off work. I asked if I could report to jail at 7 p.m. on a Friday, and that was agreed upon by all interested parties.

Now I had a week to think this over. A week’s time to completely freak myself out. You hear all sorts of urban legends… or I did, at least, and I was a bundle of nerves when it came time to take myself to jail. I didn’t have anyone take me. I didn’t want to do that to my friends or family, but you might want to do it differently if it ever happens to you. I got there early. I was hoping that they would just go ahead and take me and that I would get out that much earlier on Sunday, but nope: If you say you are to report for a “weekend” at 7 p.m., they will only take you at 7 p.m. But don’t - and I mean do not - be late. They will not take you if you come in at 7:10 and you were supposed to be there at 7 p.m. They have already got a warrant out for your ass and that is a whole other can of worms.

I sat, waiting. I was a mess. Bouncing from one emotion to another, wanting to cry (yes, I wanted to cry) and then trying to be strong, knowing I was only going to be there 48 hours. Only 48 hours, right? Like it’s a trip to Grandma’s house or something. Finally a deputy came to get me and we went in.

You are told to sit. They first ask for your shoes. I took off my shoes and the deputy checked them for weapons of mass destruction. I was asked to please remove my socks, and to turn them inside out. After doing that, I was told to show the deputy the bottoms of my feet. With that part done, I was told to place both my hands on this (very dirty) wall where I would be patted down. After being groped by the female deputy, I got my picture taken. I don’t normally photograph well as it is, but this was even better: new mug shots. (Fab! Can I get a copy for my wallet? Maybe an eight-by-10 glossy for my living room…)

In the System

They put you into the system. The system. I was now part of the system. Criminal. I am a criminal. I was asked all sorts of boring stuff, but then she asked me what color my underwear was. Um, well… white. (Why do they need to know that? Another question unanswered.) After being put into the system, I was taken to the holding cell. This cell was the same one that I was stuck in when I was arrested. It was dirty and full of graffiti, stuff done in ink and pencil. All my belongings were taken from me; where did these other people that had been in this holding cell get a pen or a pencil?

So I could only guess the time at this point as they took my watch and there are no clocks, but I stayed in there for what seemed like forever, just freezing to death. Did I forget to mention that the jail is about 60 degrees? It may be 97 degrees outside, but they have no trouble cooling the place off. Finally at 11:05 (there was a clock in the office I was taken to), a male deputy this time took me out of that cell and into a little office where they evaluate your mental and physical condition. I was one big goose pimple and he just said that it is always cold in the jail. The nurse asked me when my last cycle was and did I have any meds that I was taking, took my blood pressure and I was “evaluated.” I was “low priority,” meaning that I would go into general population with all the rest of their guests, if you will.

I was issued my hygiene pack. Toothbrush, toothpaste, a liquid shampoo/ body wash combo, packets of gel deodorant that look like those packets of honey you get with your take-out breakfast, and a bar of soap that you would normally see at a hotel. After I sat in the holding cell for another little while longer, I was taken out of that cell and was given my new clothes. I was made to strip down in front of yet another female deputy and put all my clothes into a plastic bag. I was given a one-piece jumpsuit (size XX; I am a medium/large, depending) with snaps up the front to wear. Remember now that I have no underwear or bra or anything.

See, when you turn yourself in, you have to give them your clothes. They have to have a full set of clothes to release you in, so that means that you are going to be without undies or a t-shirt unless you bring them with you. You are allowed to bring stuff with you, up to six pairs of white underwear/ t-shirts/ socks and, for the ladies, white bras with no underwire. Not knowing this myself, I didn’t have any, so there I sat in my used jumpsuit with nothing on underneath. While this might be okay for some, I am a Southern woman. I do not go commando in other people’s clothes, and I certainly did not want to go commando in clothes that many, many, many other women had already worn. Had to! Man, that sucked. I tried to get in touch with friends to run to Wal-Mart or K-Mart to get me some t-shirts and underwear, but no one answered the phone. Jail pay phones call collect, and most cell phones can’t or do not accept the charges. So, I spent the entire 48 hours in my jumpsuit… gross.

Settling In

Finally I was out of the holding cell and was going to be placed in the housing unit. Now, lights-out is at 11 p.m. It was well past 11 at this point. I was given my bedroll (one green, thin mattress-type thing, a washcloth that looks like the bar towels you see at every bar in town, one too-small fitted sheet, a top sheet and a wool blanket) and told to go to cell number two. I marched down the darkened hall and found my cell - not too hard - but then I had to deal with getting that bedroll situated in the dark. There are bunk beds (metal slabs that stick out of the walls) for four women, but my cell had another woman on the floor in what they would later call “the boat” (a plastic bed on the floor). One of the women in my cell helped me get my fitted sheet thing on the bed mat. I was glad to be under a blanket, because I still was freezing. All of this was taking place in the dark - well, as dark as it can be with the hall lights still on.

Sleep is impossible; forget it. Don’t bother. On our wing of the jail, there were seven cells and most of them had five women each. So about 35 women on our side plus that many on the other wing all having to go to the bathroom during the night. Let’s just say that there wasn’t a time the entire weekend when a toilet didn’t flush.

Ah, the toilets. What an adventure those things are.

It’s a sink/ toilet/ water fountain in one machine. But the reason I tell you anything about the toilet is that it is right in full view of all your cellmates or anyone that might happen by. Lucky, lucky me. For me, sans undies, I was naked, having to pee in front of these other women. We tried to give each other some privacy, but how private can it be when your bunk is two feet from the toilet? Face the wall, just face the wall.

The cell was large, as cells go. Well, from what little I know about jail cells, it seemed big. As I paced it and later compared it to my living room, the cell was about 14 by 16 feet. Now that may sound like nothing at all, but after seeing all those shows about prison, it seemed huge.

During most of the day, we jailbirds were free to walk the length of the wing or go to the day room. You have three options for entertaining yourself in the day room - watching TV, playing cards or reading. I was one of the few that read. The day room echoes and people were talking loudly to be heard over the blaring TV, so I decided to find something from the ACC jail library. There are several old magazines and a lot of books on addiction; I picked up a book called Jack and Jill by James Patterson. I had never finished a book of that size in 48 hours, but I was going to give it a shot.

Time for Breakfast, Etc.

Your day starts around 6 a.m. They really want you to get the most out of your time while staying at the Grey Bar Hotel, so you are expected to get out from underneath your covers and make your bunk. You can lie back down on your bunk but not under your covers. You can only be under the covers after lights-out (11 p.m.), but many of the women used their towels to cover up with, so that is what I did.

Breakfast isn’t far behind, and what a fine thing that is… really wrong. I was amazed that anyone actually could eat it. People swapped stuff, and others (like me) went hungry. Oh, and be warned that if you turn yourself in for a weekend stay, they do not serve lunch to the weekenders. Only the “regulars” get lunch. You get your very own deputy to watch over the meal sessions and she isn’t very nice. I realize that they take their jobs very seriously, but while some let you talk quietly, others were very harsh, threatening to take away my gourmet meal of OMG-too-salty chili with cardboard-flavored rice and sweet corn on the side because one crazy woman wouldn’t shut the hell up. One of my cellmates said that most of the women look pregnant because the food makes you swell up, bloat. I did notice that there were a lot of carbohydrates and fats but not a lot of protein. There were a few pregnant women there; they got milk with every meal. I don’t normally drink a lot of milk, but I would have substituted it for something on that tray had I been given the chance.

My Cell

After each meal, you are expected to clean up your cell. You are locked down and the trustees are free to walk around. It is their job to clean the hallway of the wing. You wait for them to get to your cell and they will pass you a broom and dustpan, then the mop. So our cell was cleaned three times each day I was there. Remember, even though you don’t get lunch, the regulars still do and you still have to clean up after a meal that you didn’t get. Susan (not her real name) did most of the cleaning. I should have helped, but I sat on my bunk and watched.

My cellmates and others in the block… some white, mostly black. Not a single Hispanic or Asian woman there. Susan, late 40s, was in jail for driving on a suspended license. She had her license suspended because she hadn’t been paying child support. She went to court and could have done a couple days and probation, but she took the 40 days in jail so that she wouldn’t have to do probation. What? Who does that? No one I knew until that weekend.

Next was Tricia (also not her real name; in fact the names of all my cellmates have been changed here). Tricia was somewhere around 18 to 25 - I’m not sure of her age - and pregnant. She didn’t really talk about why she was there, but she did say that she had taken time over probation and had another 60 days to go. Several members of her family were in jail; two of her sisters were also in the ACC jail.

Then there was Rhonda who, Susan and Tricia said, was arrested for prostitution and possession of crack cocaine… yes, boys and girls, I met a real live crack whore. She didn’t know what day it was and kept saying that she had only been there since the night before (Thursday), but according to Susan, she had been there two weeks. Wonder if she is still there. She’d been there seven times in nine weeks. I wondered how long it would be before she went back again, after getting out.

The final lady was another DUI weekender. She only had 24 hours to serve. I was jealous when she got to leave on Saturday. She works here in town and planned on driving to and from work on a suspended license. There were five of us in that cell. It was crowded. The whole place was crowded.

They were all nice enough, but their lives are so different from mine. I grew up very differently. I live very differently. I’m boring and pay my bills on time and they, well, they took time over probation.

Getting Out

As the time got closer for me to leave, two of my cellmates asked me to phone people when I got out and relay some messages for them. (I said I would, thinking that I could just blow it off. I would never see these women again, but I decided that I would call because they needed me to, and I was out. I even got a phone call from one’s mother thanking me for calling, saying she didn’t know that her child needed help/ money/ visitation.)

I got antsy when time got closer for me to leave. I stood in the hall waiting for the deputy to call my name. Some of the girls were walking the halls and a couple stopped to talk to me. Normally I wouldn’t want to talk to them, but hey, why not?

They asked why I hadn’t come out of my cell all weekend and I explained that I had 48 hours to do. They blew me off, though one made a comment that I still had mascara on. No make-up in jail, along with many other rules. Lots of do’s and don’ts, but I was a weekender, I didn’t care too much. Though, no matter how long you are there, you are an inmate and you are expected to follow the rules. My cellmates helped me out with the routine. Thanks a lot, ladies.

So I waited for them to call my name to tell me it was time to go. When they call your name and tell you to pack up and go, they rush you. They take their sweet time getting you in there, but they rush you out! I was happy to get the hell out. I was taken to another deputy who discharged me and gave me my clothes back. After signing a few things, you are free to leave. However, make sure that if you had any money when you got there, you show them the county deposit slip you got when you were booked in, to get your money back. I left $2.55. Don’t care. They can have it. I am not going back. Ever! You can count on that.

I did finish that book.

I was released on a rainy Sunday. It was the most beautiful day I had ever seen.

Anonymous