The Root published its “Criminal Justice Wins of 2017,” a good list that focuses on state and local reforms. Think this isn’t connected to criminal justice? Guess again. Seriously.Ī huge study from the University of Chicago found that one in ten people aged 18-25 have experienced homelessness in the previous year. Google me and see how spoofing helped me get to jail. Someone needs to outlaw this technology pronto. One player “SWATTED” another player by spoofing a call from the victim’s house, claiming that a hostage situation was unfolding, and police shot an innocent man. In Kansas, a man was killed as a result of a prank over an online gaming dispute. THREE IDEAS IN JUSTICE REFORM FROM DECEMBER 25 – 31, 2017 I smiled and pulled on the tier door so he knew I wanted to head back to where I woke up alone. Most times they don’t know – it’s why they think I’m smart but crazy. I have no idea if he knows it’s a line from the song. “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end,” I continued, doing my usual cryptic schtick, as I walked upstairs to my tier. But the recidivism of an inmate a C/O hooks up with at home is one of his worst fears she’s back to tell everyone what they did. I’m sure I’ll be back,” I said and I’m not entirely sure that’s wrong. Today’s the last January first you’ll get up in jail,” he offered, underscoring that all-important wake-up. Saying “and a wake up” is supposed to make your sentence seem shorter but it only shaves off a few hours. Most women leave on the court run, so they don’t count the six hours they spend here that day as a full day. That’s how inmates describe their departure: a period of time with a wake-up chaser. Seventy-six days and a wake-up,” I how I answered the C/O. The chorus of “ I know who I want to take me home” is easier to sing when you have nowhere to wake up. I’ve heard it happens a lot and it always reminds me of the Semisonic song “Closing Time” – Closing time/ Time for you to go back to the places you will be from/Closing Time/ You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here. The fact that a C/O might let them stay for a night when he fucks her holds an appealing safety. They’re leaving, sure, but they have nowhere to go and the ones who have a landing spot know it’s tenuous. Using an inmate’s release records like they’re eHarmony is actually far more insidious than it seems. Because so many women here are homeless they aren’t going home. She’s very pretty and she figured it out that the release-date question was a form of foreplay because it was lobbed at her so often. One woman in Food Prep who did have sex with a C/O gets that all the time. That was before I caught on to game and I naively assumed that they’d been following my appeals, through my file, the one with the lady in the records room. From 2008 to 2011, my delusion that I was leaving any day led me to answer: “Soon!” when they would ask. The old guards already knew how long I’d be here. “When are you going home?” one of the newjacks invariably asks me after he starts a new rotation in my building. But women here do it, so the staff keeps trying anyway. If I’ve been lonely for years, waiting three more days until I can get laid isn’t that much of a challenge. If I know I have sure exit in a few days, then I’ll be far less tempted to risk going to the hole in exchange for a short ride in the janitorial closet. In my experience, talking about when an inmate is going home the standard broach for sex from a C/O, which never made sense to me. “You leave this year,” he answered, and handed my time sheet over the console, one that should’ve been delivered to me before the holiday. I’d never seen him before and six years here taught me there’s one file for you that never leaves the records room. “What file?” I wasn’t sure who this dude was trying to play. I would worry about people seeing the years of hair growth on my legs but I’m sure I’ve been dogged by the female staff who strip search me and my legs have been described in lurid detail as looking exactly like the industrial doormat they were standing on. If flashing a C/O – even inadvertently – didn’t land you in seg, I wouldn’t have cared if any of my privates were on display for a guard any sense of modesty’s been distilled right out of me. “Bozelko, while you were sleeping, I saw your thing,” the C/O told me as I dragged my feet over the black brillo of the mat at the unit’s door, back from a walk to breakfast.
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