Tommy Chandler went to the Denver
Detention Center two times this year for 54 and 55 days. One was a theft charge
and the other was urinating in public. He is 44 years old and 93 days sober
after using meth and marijuana for 33 years. He wrote this in jail:
The
bricks have no warmth here, nothing but the cold reality surrounding you. Caged
in like the mighty lion that got caught, his instincts slowly fading away. Your
aching back is begging for freedom again. Until then nothing but a cold metal
bunk bed with a two-inch-thick broken-down mat is all you get. The loud snoring
in both cells on each side has you sandwiched into never-ending sleepless
nights.
Once
a week, most look forward to commissary day. Some will be smiling like kids on
Christmas, others just sitting enviously like kids in the corner that Santa
forgot, wishing they would have heard their name called to go get their bag of
goodies.
Loneliness
constantly creeps into your mind and heart. But you’re never alone as you’re
constantly surrounded by other inmates and guards. Most of whom couldn’t care
whether you existed or not.
Few
inmates can remember phone numbers of contacts in their cell phones. Those that
can need their friends or family to prepay phone time to accept collect calls.
Unfortunately, most have burned everyone outside due to drugs, bad behavior and
bad decisions. So phone calls and visits are rare.
The
food is repetitive and lacks in so many ways they just call it chow. It is
served three times a day. There is a twelve-hour span between your last meal
that day and breakfast the next morning. So your options are to starve, save
and hide food for a snack later or eat commissary. Some pitch in together and
combine items to make spreads, giving them something that tastes good and fills
stomachs until the next meal. The hungry ones sit watching and wishing they
could join in, almost like that little fat kid who didn’t get picked to play
ball.
Once
a week, you get a clean uniform and linens. First you turn in your dirty ones.
Then before being given clean ones, everyone is put out into the courtyard.
Then the guards search the entire place. They rummage through everyone’s
belongings, making a mess to clean up, confiscating items not issued to you or
bought through commissary, removing anything extra that might provide comfort,
individuality, or a sense of home until your release.
This
wasn’t written to complain or condemn the system, jails or prisons in any way.
Reform and retraining grown adults is not easy to do. I commend all you
officers trying to do your best to enforce our laws and protect our rights.
What I am saying is if you have ever done drugs, domestic violence, been
abusive, or if you just plain keep making bad choices and bad decisions, then
please change or this will be your life as an inmate.
