April 30: Beth and Melanie experiment with the inexplicable bracelets
Beth and I waited for the third presentation of the evening. We were getting tired. And Beth was still cold. And the wall paint was still bleak.
I unwrapped the rubber bracelets and put them on.
Beth: “You know, after a few drinks, you could bang the bracelets together and pretend you’re Wonder Woman.”
I tried it. I did not turn into Wonder Woman, no matter how many times I banged my wrists together. Getting drunk might have helped, but there was no open bar at the Justice Center.
Me: “I want a look at that picture up there by the sink. I’m still trying to figure out what it is.”
In fact, it is a drawing of a mother wolf and cub. The art style could be described as “precious.” Sadly, there are no half-dolphins. I took a picture anyway.
And then, we were introduced to guys who “do all the magic” of making pieces fit and making sure that things at the jail run smoothly.
Sergeant Bohnn and Sergeant Karcher. Whose names I am certain I am not spelling correctly. I should have written that down…
Sergeant Karcher has been working for the jail since 2008, and in 2016 he started working in Classifications. He was promoted in 2023 to Supervisor of Classifications. He invited us to ask questions at any time during the presentation. Some people say that and you think, “Yeah, right. What you really mean is, ‘Save your questions for the end.’” But Sergeant Karcher would not be discombobulated by a few civilian questions, not with what he sees on a daily basis.
Although Tangentia tries her best.
Sergeant Bohnn works opposite schedules with Sergeant Karcher. He’s been working at the jail for twenty-one years and moved to Classification in 2015. He was also promoted to a supervisory role last year.
Sergeant Bohnn and Sergeant Karcher were rectangular. Tall, broad-shouldered, stern faced, grizzled human walls. If these guys told you to knock it off, you’d knock it off. They weren’t mean—in fact, they were soft-voiced and weary. You just looked at them and thought, “I could stand behind you when the hurricane hits.”
Sergeant Bohnn: “So this is what we have to deal with every day.”
Classification is a small unit—only four staff members (in addition to the Sergeants.)
Duties for Classification:
- Housing (the biggest issue they deal with)
- Booking for new intakes
- Detox
- Administrative Segregations (more on that in a bit)
- Suicide Watch
- Tap-outs and fights
- The Jail Work Center (aka the Justice Center. These were call-it-what-it-is kinds of dudes.)
Booking:
Sergeant Karcher: “Everybody who comes in the back door is interviewed by a “Class Officer.” (Sergeant Karcher was not using the phrase “back door” flippantly, as in “Happy Jack’s Tomato Ranch.” He meant the literal back door of the building, which we would see during the jail tour.)
Even before the interview, however, they run the person’s criminal history. Firstly, so they have some idea what to expect (although in many cases, the person’s behavior speaks for itself.) Secondly, because it helps the interviewer assess whether the person is lying to them. Sergeant Karcher gave this example: a person might have gang issues, but they tell you they have no gang affiliation. A criminal history check would reveal this to be a lie.
The two biggest problems for Classification are gangs and mental health issues.
Sergeant Karcher: “Gangs are a lot different than they were when I first started. They kind of got along. And now the younger gang members, especially the Nortenos and Surenos, are fight on sight. So they could be going into medical, and they see that somebody has a tattoo and they’re a Norteno and he’s a Sureno, they won’t beef (you know, chatter, talking back and forth.) They’ll just fight.”
[Beth was very taken with this gang practice of verbing a noun. People “beef” with each other. They are “beefing.” She may attempt to use “beefing” in conversation at some point in the future.]
Sergeant Bohnn began the discussion with an explanation of jail operations.
A big part of Classification’s duty is to identify people who might fight on sight and keep them separated from one another, while at the same time ensuring they are properly housed. The first time someone is arrested they are given an FBI number. All criminal history is associated with that number. Running a criminal history report is checking the information attached to that number. (Charges filed are part of this report, whether the person is found guilty or not.)
The jail is set up in a series of pods, each containing three areas:
Minimum Security, where inmates are housed in dorms (misdemeanor charges, DUIs, non-violent, Assault 4 (domestic violence) drugs
Medium Security goes by a sheet called the Persistent Offender Accountability Act, which lists charges such as prostitution, assault 2, etc. People in this area live in what are called “clickers”—jail cells with electronic locks. The guards can remotely unlock the doors, and the inmates can then open doors and let themselves out of their cells if they want to.
Note: There are sometimes problems with “penning the lock,” wherein inmates jam something in the lock so that the door doesn’t close properly and they can leave their cells whenever they want to. On the computer, the door registers as locked. (Often this is where inmates get into fights. They will supposedly be on lockdown, but they’ll have their doors rigged so they can sneak out and fight.)
Maximum Security: Class A felons (Class A offenses are the most serious: murder, rape, aggravated kidnapping, etc. Offenses which could even be serious enough to warrant the death penalty.) These inmates have an Institutional Behavior Plan. (They’ve been infracted—meaning, they’ve been written up for not following jail rules—nine or more times in seven years.)
Sergeant Bohnn: “These are the guys that. . . they just can’t follow the rules.”
The guys in Maximum Security are in “sliders.” The guards have complete control of the door. (Think of the doors on the Starship Enterprise. The guards hit a button and the door slides open or shut. But without the shoop sound effect.)
Board Hearings: The Board looks at any major or minor infractions.
Minor infraction: Anything from saving food, vulgar language or minor disturbance. Doesn’t require a hearing, it just gets you written up. It can lead to up to 48 hours in lockdown. They can come out of their rooms for meals, but they aren’t allowed free time in the day area. They lose their commissary privileges for two weeks and may lose visiting privileges for two weeks.
Note: “Commissary” is basically the jail version of a convenience store. If somebody is on work detail and earns a bit of money, they can put it into an account and use it for things like drinks and snacks and comfort items. Because it’s jail, there are also often problems with racketeering.
Major infractions: Things like fights, and calling officers away from other assignments (“a major diversion of staff.”) For this, they need to conduct a Board hearing, to ensure that punishments are meted out in accordance with due process.
An officer writes a report, and Classification reviews the footage. They are expected to make fair and impartial decisions about proceedings.
Bit of irony: Classification staff are instructed to stay out of fights. If they go in and help subdue people, they are instructed to testify at Board hearings, which could be considered a conflict of interest. If you were involved in the incident, how could you be fair and impartial? This rule does not apply in the case of officer assault. If there’s an officer down, Classification staff need to be in there providing assistance.
If someone is found guilty, it could extend their jail time anywhere from three to thirty additional days.
Next up: Sergeant Karcher and the mysterious world of street gangs!
