Have you ever been in jail/prison?

Does a military prison count? You know, military brig?

Why? Long fucking story. Short version is: I got married, she was married to somebody else all the time, Congressman wanted me fried. I got battered. Want the details? email me and I’ll tell ya.

How long? a little over four months.

What was it like? Hmmm… hard to describe. Words don’t really do it justice. Basically, it sucked royal fucking ass. I didn’t even do anything wrong, but that was enough to convince me that even thinking about crime was a bad idea.

Expectations? I really had none. First rule of life in the USMC is to expect nothing as your expectations will always be much worse than reality. (tongue in cheek) However, in this case, it was true. Had I expected anything at all, it would have been better than the reality. If you haven’t been in the service, especially the Marine Corps, it’s difficult to explain the difference between being a very respected NCO with more than his share of “fruit salad” and a… well… bottom of the barrel scum. I will say this though. Solitary confinement is pretty freaking cool for about 6 days. (Don’t ask) After that though… well, hmmm… what you see in the movies like Lockdown, Pappilon, etc… is pretty close. You can climb the walls if you don’t like reading the bible, which is all you are allowed to have.

It wasn’t a pleasant experience, however one that I’m actually glad I had, afterward (from an “educational” standpoint). I like to think of it as a learning experience, which it definitely was :slight_smile:

never done jail time, surprisingly. I have been chased by MP’s though. Which was fun, until we reached the end of the aircraft carrier.

Turbo, I’m sure I speak for thousands when I say this definitely sounds like a story we all want to hear the long version of.

I spent one night in the Flagstaff, AZ, lockup in 1988 on a Drunk and Disorderly charge. Iwas working at the Grand Canyon at the time. I was arguing with the-then boyfriend over his infidelity and the neighbors called the cops. I was noisy, so the cops cuffed me and hauled my ass off to the Coconino County jail in Flag, 90 minutes away.

I spent the night in a general holding cell, so there were about a dozen drunk Navajos, some hard-looking criminals, a frightened-out-of-his-wits New Zealand tourist caught for speeding, and a couple of other Grand Canyon employees.

There was only one toilet for everyone and it was exposed to the whole room. The guys there weren’t sexy outlaws like on “OZ”; they looked like scummy biker bar lowlifes. Needless to say, that was the last time I got arrested.

Not too many people know this about me, but I’ll be brave and share. When I was 18, I worked at a “titty” bar. We would get commission for all drinks ordered for us. So we would ask the customers to buy us drinks, as they cost more. (Hurricanes, et al.) Apparently this is/was against the law. It’s called soliciting. I “solicited” a drink from a vice cop. I was arrested, and put in a cell with 2 sleeping women. It was around 3:00 am. I was terrified. It didn’t help that the other girls arrested with me weren’t going to a cell because they had prior records, and were being released for a fine. (The club’s lawyer would get me out in the morning.) They teased and cat-called warning me about “big Mama” types. It was awful. At 6:00 am, they woke us up and put us in a big holding cell. There was a woman there who was obviously mentally ill, who was having her period. She kept sitting everywhere, grossing us out. We finally asked the matron (?) for a pad for her and she used it for a pillow! It was disgusting. My lawyer was a sleazeball always trying to feel me up. We went to court and I got out. We went back several times where he asked for a continuance (postponement) and finally my case was dismissed, I guess because the cop didn’t show. I quit that job very quickly, and have been lucky enough (knock on wood) to never be arrested again.

I got two words for ya’ - It sucks.

I’ve been in jail eight times, I believe. The longest time I spent was 5 months, for failure to go to probation for 3 months. It’s not like being at Oz or anyting, just be cool, and don’t fuck with anyone. It’s not the best the place in the world to be, nor is it the worst. Just do your time, and move on with your life.

I’ve been in jail three times for DWIs, four times for posession of marijuana, and once for driving with a suspended license.

This was long ago, at a very different time in my life. I am now a new and improved person, still wild and crazy, but without the influence of drugs and alcohol. I’m no holy roller nor do i preach to or judge others. I just live my own life.

The five months I spent in jail was the first time I was sober in years, and it was so hard getting clean and sober, that I knew if I got out and used again, I would not stop and I would die. So here I am, five years later, looking at the world through a new pair of eyes.

You’ll never know what heaven feels like until you experience hell.

Thanks for letting me tell my story. Believe it or not, that is the short version.

6 hours. drunk tank. underage drunk and disorderly.

no big deal.

I’ve been in the same jail twice. My old man has given me some good advice in his time, but one of the best was, “boy, you ever go to jail, you’d best be polite.”

Well, that was exactly how I played it the first time. The police seemed to genuinely appreciate my jovial cooperation. I had a conversation about family genealogy with one of the officers while I was being processed.

The next time I got nabbed was on St. Patrick’s day, this time for a DWI. I got picked up a little earlier than most, but already the drunk tank was a steaming hole reeking of vomit and excrement. I had to pass it on the way to the breathalyzer, and I have to admit that I was not pleased. As I returned to the processing desk, one of the cops looked up and said, “hey! It’s the Welshman! Aren’t you here on the wrong holiday?”

They remembered me quite well. Mention was made of my past mug shot, which they all agreed was quite nice–not many people smile for the camera there. They seemed to be taking their sweet time about things, and we shot the breeze about a lot of different stuff. Finally, someone walked up and said, “Doctor’s in.”

Turned out that the Doc was doing a study on drunk drivers, and I must have somehow fit the profile for people to interview. I was as honest and complete as possible, and he really appreciated that.

After something like two hours of dorking around the station, it was finally beddie-bye time for me. One of the policemen pulled out a set of keys, looked at the wailing goons trying to ooze out of the drunk tank, and said, “Mr. King, will you please come with me?” Whereupon he led me to my own cell.

About ten minutes after that, the door opened, and it was the same guy. “Sorry, pal, I almost forgot. Real quick-- run into that cell next door and grab that mattress.” I did, and as soon as they shut me back up four officers dragged a cursing, bloody, battling drunk into the cell from which I had just scored my mattress.

Not having anything to read kind of sucked, but I was pretty gassed and sooner rather than later I went to sleep. About five a.m., one of the officers opened the door and said, “breakfast time.” Jail food ain’t exactly high cuisine, but it’s something to do, so I hopped up and went to the door…

…Where the officer handed me a nice, steaming cup of coffee and a plate of blueberry pancakes. No kidding–blueberry. And they were good! I’d barely finished 'em when the door opened again and the officer asked me if I was ready to go. As a joke I said, “well, I’d kind of like to finish my coffee.”

“That’s fine,” he said, “but you won’t be the first guy out of here if you do.”

I was out the door before he could finish the sentence. Jail, at its nicest, is still a shitty place to be.

Okay… I’ll hit the high spots of the “long version”.

Long ago, in a galaxy far away, stupid guy (me) meets girl. Decides marriage sounds good. Can’t get time away during the week, to do what’s required but it’s no problem. She says that she can take care of it herself. (What do I know, I’m just a simple jarhead in a new home state). She does, and a friend of hers who is ordained does her thing, papers are signed and Voila, married. A year and a half later, stupid guy figures out she’s a bitch from hell and kicks her back home to Pigsnuckle Iowa or some shit. She’ll handle divorce stuff as it’s cheaper there and much faster.
A couple months later, stupid guy (me) begins processing out of the service and is told by NIS (Naval Investigative Service) that “You aren’t going anywhere. You know your wife? Well, she’s married, and always has been to somebody else. And we think that YOU were in on it to get the married benefits”. Stupid guy says, “Huh”? Seems she had her friend make up some sort of marriage documents that looked valid enough for the service, but did not ever get a state marriage license. (Remember where I mentioned that she said she’d take care of it all herself)? So, since we were never married according to the state, it wasn’t a valid marriage, which makes that “Defrauding the government”. (Didn’t matter that I was sending the “extra pay” back to her and half my pay each month while she was back home, and that I was always broke while together… never could figure out where the money was going).

Fast forward 4 months… Yes, 4 months on legal hold (meanwhile the choice job I was hired for is gone) while they try to find something resembling evidence that I was involved in this from the start. What do they come up with? A statement written by her, that says that I <ahem> “Coerced her into it under threat of violence for purposes of obtaining extra allowances, and keeping her in a permanent state of fear for her safety”. (She was half illiterate… yeah, she wrote that all on her own…) Anyway, that was enough to strip me of all rank, all pay, and chunk my butt in the brig for 4 months-ish.

Oh. How did this all come about you ask? Well, so the story goes, it seems she was soaking her REAL husband for money (unknown to me) while she was separated from him for this three year period. (Why weren’t they divorced by this time? How the hell do I know). He found out that she had gotten married to a serviceman, and when he asked her what the hell he was sending money to her for, she said that I made her do it, again, under threat of violence, etc… (again, so the story goes) So he wrote a nice letter to a friend of the family explaining all of this and asking for some advice on what he should do about this crazy Marine. The friend happened to be a Congressman. He in turn wrote a lovely letter to one of HIS friends, who happened to be my base Commander explaining the situation and how he would consider it a personal favor if the little bastard (that would be me at the time) found his way to the highest court-martial possible and given the maximum punishment allowable. (I found this out later from a friend who had access to legal files at the time). They held it as a special courtmartial and they did at least give me an Honorable Discharge.

Military court of appeals did not overturn the decision, (big surprise). I inquired about recourse I might have against her. Answer is: None. See, since we were never LEGALLY married, she did nothing wrong. Her friend? Died of a heart attack a year after “helping”.

Only bad part is I still owe the government the married pay from that period, plus penalties and interest, to the tune of slightly over 20K. I’m working to try and get pardoned from that. (Fucking Clinton wouldn’t do it for me… I could only offer him 5 bucks to do it) :smiley: And if anything ever happens to her, I’m sure I know who will be the first person questioned, with my “violent behavior” and all. But, had none of this happened, I never would have met Tequila. In case you are wondering, feel free to ask her about my terribly violent character in the 11 years we’ve been together :slight_smile:

And now you know, The Rest of the Story… well, the non-personal parts at least. :slight_smile:

For those who may be wondering, I found out a year after all of this happened, that those two were happily “back together”. Imagine that. I always found it funny that the letter written to the Congressman was dated two weeks before I was supposed to get out of the service.

Twice. Once, while MUCH younger, I got drunk with a friend and for some reason picked up a chunk of concrete and broke a car window in a parking lot. The owner was walking towards his car at the time. :eek:

Second time. Daughter #1’s 12th birthday…I was in the process of a divorce and the ex just up and left without even saying Happy Birthday or goodbye or anything to my daughter. Having an idea where she went, I drove over there. Then found out that her Cousin had moved out about a month before.

On the way back, I was so pissed off that I didn’t stop for THREE lights in a row :eek:

I got pulled over and told the cop straight up, “I’ve been drinking and this is what’s going on.” No probs. The cop is VERY nice to me and even let’s me sit there smoking a couple of cigarettes until the cop with the breathalyzer showed up.

Spent the night in the tank, girlfriend’s (current Mrs X) car gets towed. Cost me a LOT of time and money and is NOT worth it…anymore, if I’m gonna drink, I let Mrs X drive.

xploder, I’m reading your story with interest, and then I reach this part:

You completely lost me there…

Not jail. Like a lot of other people in this thread I was in holding. But since it was NYC, I can be more dramatic and call it The Tombs. For three days. Well ok, from Wednesday evening to Friday afternoon. 38 hours, 24 minutes and 47 seconds, not that I was counting. (If your arrested in NY, and the cop says you’ll be processed and see a judge in a cople hour, he’s lying through his teeth, so you won’t panic on him. 36-72 hours is pretty standard.) About the same time Jesus spent in The Tomb ;).

(It was for buying $5 worth of coke when I was in college, if you must know).

Points of interest:

-There was a young blonde girl brought in with me, who did not take to being arrested. The cops handcuffed her to the bars of the cell in the squad room with her hands behind her back. When a cop walked she tried to kick him and he punched her in the face. She bled all over my shoes. Later it turned out the cops “lost” her fingerprints, so she was still there when I got out.
-I spent the next 36 hours trying to sleep as much as possible, watching TV, and listening to a knot of five or six prosititutes talk about which bones of theirs their “boyfriends” had broken recently and how funny it was. It was about the most heartbreaking conversation I ever eveasdropped on.
-About the nicest thing that happened to me was when this one girl (also in for drugs. Basically all of the two dozen people in the cell were there for drugs or prostitution) let me sleep on half of her down parka. This after 20 hours lying on concrete. I’ve never been so grateful for a small favor. Well, in fact, it wasn’t small at the time.
Things I learned:

-Cells in holding are painted an even ugly color than most high school classrooms.
-Everybody, even crack whores, likes The Simpsons.
-There is nothing better in the world than being able to walk where you want to walk and bath when you want to bath.
-If you do anything illegal in NYC, remember to bring a book.
-Oh yeah. And drugs are bad.

I had thought that she was going to her cousin’s house. I rarely had any contact with her because she’s a whore and a crackhead. Literally.

It sounds to me like you have a case. Didn’t she defraud you (by claiming to have arranged the marriage paperwork) for the purposes of getting money from you? Of course, I can see where you may just want to drop the whole issue.

Actually, holding is jail. If you haven’t been sentenced (or have a short sentence) you’re in a jail. Prison is where you go after the judge gives you a sentence.

Not really in jail, although I did spend a couple of hours handcuffed to a bench in the Police station in Troy, NY after rolling my (driverless) car down a hill into a gas station.
I got a bench appearance ticket for morning court for No Insurance, No Registration, No Inspection and Aggravated Unlicensed Operation.

It didn’t suck too much as everyone in the station was laughing too hard to be a prick about anything!

Naww…I haven´t yet been thrown in the clink.

Well once when I was six, me and my friend were helping ourselves to some strawberries from this old lady’s garden. Nope, she didn´t seem to like that and called the police. She must’ve said that we were raping her rasberry bushes or something, because the police actually showed up in a large station wagon they use to haul drunks in, during the weekends. Or maybe they were just bored, this happened in a town of 1.600 people or so.

“Hey you there STOP” they screamed and one ran towards us. We naturally fled into another garden and since I was new in town, I just followed my friend who knew where all the good hiding place were. We hid under some canvas used to cover cabbages and thus escaped…ooh, fugitives. :smiley:

The guy who followed us ran past us and after a while we made a stealthy trek back home. Of course, I was petrified and didn´t dare go out of the house for a week, thinking I must be wanted or sumthin’.

I also spent a fair amount of time in interview and holding. I never spend much time in actual jail. It’s a damn good thing pot was decriminalized in Colorado, and the cops don’t bother to bust you for it usually, or I’d have way too many stories.

  1. Drunk and Disorderly. Had pot on me spent about 3 hours in Holding area while they tried the scare the hell out of you approach. I was sober enough to seem scared, so they let me go with a warning.

  2. Urinating in Public, at least he let me finish. about half hour in jail before I got bailed.

  3. Assaulting a Police officer. He was at least 150 ft away. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell that I could actually hit him with a snowball. Probably could have run away if I hadn’t been literally roling on the ground laughing. Got bailed before I got out of holding(every cop in the place wanted to hear about it the interviews took about 3 hours.), so I never really went into the jail.

  4. D and D, got in a bar fight with some friends and got hauled to jail. The cops finally decided that keeping all the guys from a bar fight in jail together was a bad idea, and since all the witnesses said the other guys started it, they decided to let us go after about an hour.

  5. DUI(actaully DWAI). Going to jail was actually a cool thing. I met some guys who told me of a good cheap DUI lawyer, and a place where I could pay a guy a buck an hour to have him write off the Community service.

Hmmm…I’m not sure. You can be in jail while awaiting trial and/or sentencing but I think there is distinction made between before you first get up in front of a judge (plead one way or the other, have bail set etc.) and after. And before is considered holding not jail. Technically.

But, whatever. It felt like jail.

i was 20 and had a 16 year old (College Freshman FWIW) girlfriend, we were hanging out in a city park one night eating fruit and drinking wine. 11:45… the park had an 11 o’clock curfew. Cop saw my car and stopped and got out to look for us, instead of running i figured if we just walked out and laughed and apoloogized we would walk. Nope… luckily 16 year old girlfriend lied about having a drivers license and showed her college ID instead, so i didn’t end up with a contributing to delinquency ticket, but i did get an $18 park curfew violaton ticket.
Flash forward to a year later. I get read ended pulling into my driveway during a deepfreeze. Having completely forgotten about the ticket, I call the cops to report the thing. They come out, rule the accident as “no fault” because of the waether and send the girl who hit me on her merry way. Then… they turn to me and ask “do you have any warrants that you are aware of?”
ME: “um… no, why?” (like i would have reported the accident if I knew I had a warrant out for my arrest)
GPD: “we have a warrant for you arrest.”

So to add to the degredation a little bit, we wait on the street infornt of my house for a second unit, the police car that had originally responded lacked a cage and therfore wasn’t allowed to transport “prisoners”. When back up arrives, its a grizzled vet and a literally first day rookie and the vat decides to allow me to be the rookies first frisk. I get into the cage and listen to the vet critiquing the rookies technique for the ride to the jail.
We get to the jail building and- thank god- i have enough cash on me to make my own bail (though I have no idea why). So i get processed for about 6 hours in a cell with mostly drunk migrant workers.
It wasn’t that bad. It was sort of a zen excercize in a way. No shoes belt glasses, or anything to read, or anyway to keep track of the passage of time. When I got out I was amazed to learn it had been as long as it was, I thought a couple of hours at most.
The wierd thing was i got back my belt and glasses and wallet and everything, but instead of the cash i had on me I got a check from the city in that amount. Which meant no money for a phone call or a cab to get home, so i walked the 2 miles to my apartment in the snow, out of embarrasment as much as anything. I was the first to get arrested in college. But subsequently became the guy all my fridns called to bail thier asses out. it was a monthly occurence really. Got very friendly with all the bondsmen in town and spend a lot of time in the all nite taco bell across from the jailhouse waioting for freinds to emerge. I usually had food and a mountain dew wating for them when they emerged.
ahhhh college…

I knew that I should not have even opened this thread, let alone read it.

Now I’m going to have nightmares.

Been in jail once, in 1988.

I was in for 3 days: 1 1/2 days waiting for the courts to reopen on Monday, and another 1 1/2 days waiting for my idiot “friends” to come up with – get this – $60 whole dollars in bail money. [sub]grumble, grumble, stupid poor unemployed college students, none of whom had ever dealt with the courts before[/sub]

I was arrested for shoplifting. Here’s the kicker: I didn’t steal a damn thing. The person I was with at the store stole one bottle of hair dye.

At that time, in Austin, Texas, if someone you were with stole something, you were also liable. Kinda like if you’re with somebody who robs a bank, you’re guilty of robbing the bank too. I don’t know if this is still the case, or whether it applies everywhere.

Jail was one of the worst experiences of my life. Since I never thought I’d be in jail, I never really imagined what it would be like. Time just dragged and dragged. I would sleep for what I thought was hours, and then I’d wake up to discover that I was only out for 20 minutes.

I had 4 different roommates over that 3 days. All of them had horror stories, and one was in for a weapons crime. Scared me silly. And none of the cops would listen to my questions or explain anything. (I should have expected that? Why? I was never in contact with the police, jails, or courts in any way before this episode. And it’s not like they teach Jail Practices 101 in school.)

The first night I didn’t even have a mattress. When the cops brought one in the next day, they acted surprised that I hadn’t been given one before. Whatever.

The jail staff would provide no reading material but a bible. I was so desperate to read that I gave it a shot. But that didn’t last. Reading that was worse than just lying there in misery.

The person I was with (I will NOT call him a friend, now or ever) was underage. The cops called his mom, and she flew out and took him home in less than 12 hours. He was not even charged. I still have his picture. If I ever run into him, I’m going to punch him a new nose.

I was charged with misdemeanor shoplifting. At the time, being the ignorant young’un that I was, I had no idea that “No contest” equals “Why, yes, government, I agree that I committed the crime you say I did”. So I pled “No contest”. That meant a fine. Which I did not have cash to pay for. So I had to stay in jail until my friends came with cash to get me out.

Moral of the story? There ain’t no moral here. That was a phenomenal waste of my time, the court’s time, and a lots of cops’ time. It made me more afraid of cops than ever before, because I saw how much power they have and how jaded they are to using it. Before, I was just afraid of monetary penalties, like speeding tickets. After, I was afraid just being around a cop, just in case he decided to bust me for some law I didn’t know about.

I have become (unwillingly) a police assistant: Nobody, and I mean nobody, shoplifts when they’re with me. Those friends who might think about it have been warned. (I can have a properly threatening demeanor when I want to.) And the other friends wouldn’t even think about it.

I’m pissed that I’m doing this sort of thing – I’m very big on personal freedoms, even the freedom to do wrong – but I’m more scared of getting arrested and jailed.

Yeah, it’s been a long time, but I’m still wounded and angry. I don’t know if that will ever stop. This experience in no way helped me to view the court system or the cops with a sympathetic eye.

And no, writing it down did not help.

::Off to have a beer and not do anything even remotely illegal::