I am repeating my life, back as a public defender and living at home. Just like ten years ago. Aagh. Second time's a charm?
I was on the in custody calendar today for the first time. The jail is sparkling clean and the inmates are as far from that as possible. I don't know what they do to them there, but to a person, they are exhausted, filthy, and smell like fried food. At best. Sores are also prevalent. Many sores.
As I came into the holding area, a woman spotted a ring my brother made me. The female inmates gathered around to examine it. I would like to suggest to my brother that he consider this market, but I'm not sure indigent people have much to spend on rings. Two stuck around after. I had a coffee stain on my blouse. It wasn't particularly near my breasts, but a woman swept grandly over that area and advised I use Windex to eliminate it while gazing at me soulfully, as did her companion.
I hardly noticed, since I was gazing soulfully at an insanely hot corrections officer who was probably young enough to be my son. Love was in the air.
My first client was locked in a cell alone with the window covered. He had apparently seen the judge yesterday but was removed before he could be sentenced for shrieking. We had a nice chat. Minimal shrieking. Appeared. Sentencing completed. Small victory.
Back in my car, I wanted to burst into tears, but I had to laugh instead.
If at all possible ... stay out of jail, my friends. Stay out of jail.
