Anti-Drug Message
Yes, it is a public service announcement. NO, it does not feature a frying pan.
I'm a supervisor at the jail in my county, and I've just finished spending three hours (out of a twelve-hour shift) with a very engaging young man who has taken drugs. When I first saw him, he was stark naked, screaming at the top of his lungs, and was convinced he was on Delta Airlines. We had removed him from the cell he'd been in (on suicide watch, hence his nudity), and he asked me when the flight left.
"It doesn't," I said. "You're in jail."
"So I'm detained?" he asked.
"Yes."
"By whose order?" he demanded.
"Mine," I replied. I left the building after he started yelling that he wanted to know what he was charged with (he was told when he was booked in, and it's public record, but I've been working here 19 years and know that he wasn't the type to let anything sink in).
So we moved him into a cell by himself, but he started kicking the door. Bad idea; the doors are steel, and his skin has far less durability. Sure enough, he got a cut on his foot. Realizing that he was being uncontrollably violent toward himself, I and the other supervisor called for the Restraint Chair.
>insert spooky music here<
Ah, the Restraint Chair, first seen in woodcut illustrations almost two hundred years ago, the modern chair is angled back so that one's own weight serves to help hold you down. There are padded straps to make certain you stay down, and a nurse in constant attendance. So we strapped him down, had him checked by the nurse, and started a log.
In a briefly coherent moment, he admitted that he took "a little speed" and a "purple pill" (I can only assume he didn't mean Nexium) that he acquired from a dealer. Meanwhile he started sweating profusely and yelling to "his Dad" (i.e., the other supervisor) to cut his hands off.
Kids, drugs are bad. Don't do drugs, mm'kay?
I'm a supervisor at the jail in my county, and I've just finished spending three hours (out of a twelve-hour shift) with a very engaging young man who has taken drugs. When I first saw him, he was stark naked, screaming at the top of his lungs, and was convinced he was on Delta Airlines. We had removed him from the cell he'd been in (on suicide watch, hence his nudity), and he asked me when the flight left.
"It doesn't," I said. "You're in jail."
"So I'm detained?" he asked.
"Yes."
"By whose order?" he demanded.
"Mine," I replied. I left the building after he started yelling that he wanted to know what he was charged with (he was told when he was booked in, and it's public record, but I've been working here 19 years and know that he wasn't the type to let anything sink in).
So we moved him into a cell by himself, but he started kicking the door. Bad idea; the doors are steel, and his skin has far less durability. Sure enough, he got a cut on his foot. Realizing that he was being uncontrollably violent toward himself, I and the other supervisor called for the Restraint Chair.
>insert spooky music here<
Ah, the Restraint Chair, first seen in woodcut illustrations almost two hundred years ago, the modern chair is angled back so that one's own weight serves to help hold you down. There are padded straps to make certain you stay down, and a nurse in constant attendance. So we strapped him down, had him checked by the nurse, and started a log.
In a briefly coherent moment, he admitted that he took "a little speed" and a "purple pill" (I can only assume he didn't mean Nexium) that he acquired from a dealer. Meanwhile he started sweating profusely and yelling to "his Dad" (i.e., the other supervisor) to cut his hands off.
Kids, drugs are bad. Don't do drugs, mm'kay?
posted by Walt at 11:18 AM
3 Comments:
Guess I've been asleep at the wheel (something one should never admit to a law enforcement officer) but I didn't know you had a blog site.
Cool!
:-D
I should have said, sorry.
No, no, no, don't be sorry. Some things just fly over my head or right through it. Anyway I think it's great, and I have you bookmarked for daily reference.
Next time you drive by Doty's think of me. When I lived in WH, I used to love to go there and see the baby chicks, ducks, rabbits or whatever baby animals they were selling at the time. The first time I was kissed by a boy was at the movie house in WH. I have lots of memories about that town.
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