Skirting the Issue of Drugs

I have to intersperse my serious blogs with the more amusing aspects of my day to keep your attention, I suspect. I wouldn’t know for sure, as I’ve gotten no comments or responses *hint hint*

Today one of my guys came in to see me. I’d run into him in the cage the day before. This is the pre-segregation or pre-in-the-hole section of prisoner containment at the Control Center. You’re not generally there for a good reason. He had been busted smoking pot, he told me. I rolled my eyes at him and said, “For God’s sake, Mr. A.” and walked away. An immediate and thoughtless response.

He came to call-out (his appointment) the next day. There were bigger fish to fry in Seg, with Dangerous Contraband offenders, and Assault offenders. Some sad little guy without the impulse control not to hit an offered splief was not of interest and he had been returned to the general population.

As we were talking about his offense, and he had an understandable if not smart explanation, I mused about how the drugs got in. We all know that the visitors are carefully searched, and something as bulky as marijuana does not wander in easily this way. Instead, it is probably brought in by staff. I’ve had it explained that there is a complicated way of paying for the contraband, which involves the prisoner’s outside contacts paying off the staff.

Again, thoughtlessly, I reflected about how much I could smuggle in under my skirt.

AS SOON as the words were out of my mouth, I recognized the import and glanced at this young, baby-faced boy. His mouth was agape and a look of profound amazement was on his face. Holy Crap, this could be interpreted as a proposal of sorts, and I frantically backpedaled, blushing. He was greatly relieved to know that I wasn’t trying to bring him into some staff/inmate drug ring. I flatter myself to believe, in part, he was relieved to know I hadn’t gone to the dark side.