NIGHTMARE TRAFFIC

I drove to a small town (5500 people) down South yesterday to interview an inmate. States put prisons in these out of the way places for two reasons. First, they put them out in the country away from heavy populations in case of escape. It's easy to shoot an escapee in a rural area. Second, they put them in economically challenged geographic areas to provide work for the otherwise unemployable. Obtaining a prison for your district is a major political plun. Those prison provide good wages for people who otherwise would not be able to get even a minimum wage job.

I went the same place Friday. I always dread going to that prison because they are so disorganized and so incredibly slow about getting their work done. For example, this law has been in effect since 1999 and they have been dealing with evaluators coming to interview these men since 1999, but this prison never quite knows what to do with us. This does not happen at any of the Northern prisons.

They are informed in writing 7 days prior to our interview of the date, time of arrival and inmate to be interviewed. Yet, when you arrive with your identification badge, they stare with slack jaw at you as if they have never encountered this situation previously. To make the situation worse, they were on lockdown Friday and Monday. So, they really didn't know what to do with a female psychologist. The Correctional Officer was required to escort me to the bathroom! It's standard to go through a metal detector, be required to remove my watch, get patted down, and have the car searched. But, having a correctional officer escort me to the bathroom only happens in this one Southern prison. And, it's a bathroom way up front by the gatehouse so you have to be searched a second time.

I explained to them as courteously as I could that they do the exact same thing with me as they always do. They are supposed to clear me through the gatehouse (after a through search), send me to Master Records, then forward me to Medical Records, then stand outside the door while I interview the inmate. This procedure has taken place over 10,000 times since 1999 across the state. At the northern prisons you are searched and cleared for Master Records in about 15 minutes. I leave my purse, cell phone, cigarettes, lighters, etc. locked in the car so that they only thing that has to pass the search is my body, my watch, one pen, and the interview booklet/paper data that I need for the interview. Money, credit cards, ATM cards, cell phones, lap tops, cigarettes, matches, lighters, medicine, cosmetics are all contraband in prisons. Attempting to enter with a cell phone, beeper or laptop is a felony. So, the smart way to do things is leave everything you need locked in the car. And, sometimes they search the car.

Nearly 2 hours later, they arrived with the inmate. Then it took another 90 minutes for them to find a Lt. to take his handcuffs off so that he could sign the informed consent and replace the handcuffs. At this particular prison, they never seem to "get it" that I cannot speak at all to any inmate until the inmate has signed and dated the informed consent. The informed consent is a very comprehensive paper that serves as sort of his Miranda warning.

This informed consent is important. Without a valid signature any work I did would be thrown out of court. More important, ethically I'm not interviewing anybody anywhere without them genuinely understanding the danger that interview may pose to their liberty. In truth, that interview can help them and they have a legal right to it. But, it's a double edged sword. That interview can put their liberty (for the rest of their life) at serious risk. The results of the interview depend on what they tell me and how that integrates with the rest of the data available in the records about them.

If everything goes smoothly, these interviews can take as much as six hours. That's assuming the inmate is actually brought to me in a timely manner. The six hours starts after the informed consent is signed. So, because the staff basically wasted nearly four hours, we're talking potentially a ten hour day before I can begin to drive home. I had arrived very early because it takes two hours to drive to this place.

Fortunately, the inmate was cooperative and intelligent. So, except for his sobbing the interview went rapidly and well. This is a young man in his 30's who was frightened. He's looking at the possibility of spending the rest of his life in a treatment facility with no home passes, fourlough, etc. It's basically a life sentence that follows his prison sentence. These men are justifiably frightened. By the way, all the sobbing doesn't work with me. What matters is the information he provides and how it integrates with his record. By the time they get to me, they are beyond crying and begging.

While I'm interviewing him, it begins to sleet--heavy sleet. The correctional officers want to go home. I understand this. I want to go home. But, the bottom line is that this man has a right to that interview and he has a right to provide me with all the information he can that he believes will help his case. He has a right to speak. That speech may not help him, but he has a legal right to it. So, I'm not going to shut him up just so the correctional officer or I can go home. If worst comes to worst on those roads, I'll check myself into some hotel and spend the night even if I have to foot the bill myself.

Finally, I get out of there. The country roads down near the prison were a nightmare. But, by the time I got to the Interstate the highway crews had been out with ice trucks and scrapers. The Interstate was in good shape. At 3:30 precisely, I crossed the MLK Bridge and was back in Missouri on Highway 70. I only had 18 miles more to go. I drove into our driveway at 5:55. It took 2 hours and 25 minutes to drive 18 miles on Highway 70. I kept looking for police cars, ambulances, fire trucks---something to explain the traffic. But, I never saw anything to explain the traffic. No accidents or fires or sick people or dead people------just the back end of cars and trucks at an absolute standstill.

I felt as if I had been transported to some version of Los Angelos or Chicago traffic.