Life Lessons

I Visited My Incarcerated Boyfriend Exactly One Time

Once was enough to break my spirit

“Prison is a second-by-second assault on the soul, a day-to-day degradation of the self, an oppressive steel and brick umbrella that transforms seconds into hours and hours into days.” — Mumia Abu-Jamal

Bumping Into an Old Friend

I recently saw a man I was infatuated with when I was eighteen years old. He is still one of the handsomest men I have ever met, but he looked exhausted and worn out. I was in Chicago to meet my siblings, not a reunion, but several of us were just happy to have survived the pandemic… so far. A small celebration was in order.

I was at the grocery store picking up food for the cook-out when I saw him. He came over and spoke. He was married, with grown children and three grandchildren. Although he wanted to travel when we were young, he never left Chicago, still living within five blocks of our old neighborhoods. He congratulated me on getting out of Chicago and ‘going places’. I congratulated him on being alive and not in jail. We agreed to keep in touch, but we won’t. Our time had passed.

We broke up because he went to the Cook County jail; I don’t even remember why now. Somehow, he caught 60 days. I went to visit him precisely one time.

Cook County Jailhouse Vibe

I came to the jail an hour early but was still more than halfway down the entrance line attempting to get in to see their loved ones. The mood coming from the jail was almost visible. Desperation, despair, fear, and unhappiness were floating all around us. The energy was bad.

When I arrived at screening, the jailers made you take everything out of your purse and pockets. You waited while they touched, fondled, and felt up all your things, including taking your lipstick and wiping it back and forth on tissue. If you could not get through the old-fashioned metal detectors, you required a pat-down. Female visitors could linger until a female guard was available or get patted down immediately by a male guard. I needed a pat-down and wanted a female matron. I lingered until a female guard come on duty.

The pat-down was ugly. You get the full Monty. Breasts squeezed, hands slide high enough to touch your inner thigh and panties, the bottom curve of your butt checked, and you have to lift your breasts to prove there is nothing under them. As my boyfriend instructed me, I did not wear an underwire bra. I had twenty-five dollars rolled up and tucked on the side of my big breasts.

After you were through the metal detectors, then and only then did they ask you for your ID. They also checked if there were warrants for your arrest. If there were, the guards detained you. Why would you come down to the jail when there are warrants for your arrest? I do not know. Perhaps you were not the tire with the most air in it.

A guard then asked potential visitors a series of questions to which the only plausible answer was “No.”

No, I do not have marijuana on me.

No, I do not have hard drugs on me.

No, I do not have a knife.

No, I do not have a gun.

No, I have nothing that could be used as a weapon.

They asked these questions as if you were the scum of the earth, lying to them the entire time, while trying to sneak something into the jail. Since I was sneaking money into the prison, I guess I was a scum-class woman.

After you make it through ID, check-in, and pat down, it is time to wait your turn to get in. There are only so many seats in the spacious room where non-violent offenders have visitors. The air conditioning was barely cooling the room. It cooled the room only enough to prevent visitors from passing out from the heat.

The room had reverse feng shui.

What Is Feng Shui?

The philosophy of feng shui is a practice of arranging the pieces in living spaces in order to create balance with the natural world. The goal is to harness energy forces and establish harmony between an individual and their environment. — The Spruce, The Basic Principles of Feng Shui

There was no way that such bad feng shui was unintentional. The placement of the tables and chairs were designed to make those sitting in them weak and uncomfortable. The guards were arranged to make anyone in the room feel powerless. There was no escape from the hopelessness that permeated the air. I did not want to be there soaking that vibe into my spirit.

When I finally saw my boyfriend, he looked puffed up. All the men in the jail were trying to convey they were still in charge of their visitors even though they oversaw nothing. When incarcerated, you are in charge of nothing.

There was no way that such bad feng shui was unintentional. The placement of the tables and chairs were designed to make those sitting in them weak and uncomfortable. The guards were arranged to make anyone in the room feel powerless. There was no escape from the hopelessness that permeated the air. I did not want to be there soaking that vibe into my spirit.

As soon as he sat down, he started the “sneak me the money” conversation. No, hello. No, I missed you. Just: you got the money, give it to me. Watching the guards, I reached my hand under my blouse and extracted the money. Sliding the cash into my hand, I tossed it on the floor beside his chair. We could not touch, so I could not hand it to him. Carlo acted as if he had dropped something, reached down, palmed the money, and picked it up. He had a folded piece of paper in his hand in case a guard asked to see what he picked up.

He Had Needs

The next topic of discussion was he wanted better clothing for his court date. I needed to go shopping and get him a fresh shirt and pants, then deliver those items to his lawyer. We discussed what clothing he needed, what colors, and what style. I agreed to get them to his lawyer a week before his court date to guarantee the clothing would make it to him in time.

The next subject was his trust fund account: I needed to make sure his trust fund account had at least $50 at all times. There are items that an inmate can purchase using the funds in their trust fund account. Trust fund items such as potato chips and chewing gum are valuable in jail. Inmates are not allowed to have cash. Trust funds goods were the inmate-to-inmate currency for anything of value.

What Can You Buy In Prison?

Well, a wide variety of items, actually. Federal prisoners can get various types of meat (e.g., tuna, mackerel, chili), beverages (e.g., sodas, tea, coffee, drink mixes), snacks (e.g., Little Debbie’s snacks, trail mix, chips), and a plethora of personal items (e.g., clothing, shoes, hygienic items, radios, MP3 players, postage stamps, copy cards).” — Zoukis Consulting Group, What Can You Buy In Prison

Lastly, there were a series of messages I needed to deliver to people who had not come to see him. His mom , siblings, and best friend were not at the jail and had not been to the jail. I didn't know it then but he had been in jail a few times before.

Too Much Drama

During our visit, my life and well-being never came up. Not one sentence. Not a word. I was not in any sentence, the entire conversation until our time was up all about him and what he needed.

After I left the jail, I completed all the tasks I had been assigned. Finding the clothing he wanted was easy. I found them, brought them, and gave them to his lawyer. I called the people he instructed me to call and passed on his conversations. I put $200 in his account. Then I told him goodbye. Quick, fast, and in a hurry. The situation held too much drama for me. Goodbye.

I was not the right woman to wait for him while he was in jail. I decided that Cook County Jail was not where I wanted to spend my weekends and evenings.

Our relationship did not survive the stress of one visit. I would not and did not dip my spirit into that jail environment again.

Toni Crowe retired as the Vice President of Operations to pursue her dream of being a writer. Toni has written six books, two of which won the 2019 Reader’s Choice Gold Awards. Her bestselling business book, “Bullets and Bosses Don’t Have Friends: How Do You Manage A Man Sitting With His Dick in His Hand?” was one of the winners. Her first book, “Never a $7 Whore” was the other.

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