Pamela Clare, intrepid author of some of my favorite romantic suspense, including the soon to be released and amazingly good Unlawful Contact (Berkley, 1 Apr 08), shares a post with us describing the day she spent in jail…
Why? Why? WHY? That’s the question I hear most often when people find out that I went to jail as a felony arrest for the sake of journalism.
The easy answer is that I’m an investigative journalist and have focused a substantial portion of my journalistic work on prison issues. It made sense for me to explore the situation from the inside so that I could understand it better. There’s nothing like firsthand experience, after all.
The not-so-easy answer is this: Journalists, particularly investigative journalists, do a lot of things that sound completely crazy and yet which serve the greater public good. And, yes, any statement as grandiose as that deserves an explanation. So here goes…
Journalism is the only constitutionally protected profession in the United States. The Founders felt that a free press was essential to the survival of democracy 
because government was not to be trusted and someone needed to do the dirty work of keeping an eye on power. Thomas Jefferson said that if he were made to choose between a country that had a government but no free press or one with a free press and no government, he would choose the latter.
At their best, reporters are supposed to spend their careers acting as a voice for the voiceless, shining a light into the darkness, and holding public officials and others to account for their actions. We’re supposed to be the people’s eyes and ears, working to reveal corruption and abuses of power.
I’m one of those weird journalists who takes that notion very seriously. I’ve been an investigative reporter for 15 years… (Checking math…) OK, almost 16 years. Sheesh. During that time, I’ve done some pretty crazy things in order to get closer to understanding the truth. Not all of them have been entirely legal, and some of them have been flat-out TSTL. But none of them have been journalistically unethical.
For example, I’ve gone behind the razor wire and passed “No Trespassing” signs to photograph violations of federal pollution laws. That’s felony trespass — if you’re caught and if the judge decides to prosecute. If not, you just might save lives.
I once drove my car — yes, my car — into a coal mine while the dragline was operating in order to document violations of federal Indian law. That’s also a felony. But worse, it’s pretty risky, both because of the dragline and, perhaps more importantly, the armed guards. This was probably the outright craziest thing I’d ever done, and I wouldn’t have done it had there been other options.
I’ve met whistleblowers in parking lots, had conversations with anonymous whisperers, and accepted stolen documents (perfectly legal) in order to carry out my investigations. But the thing that people seem most surprised by is the time I arranged with the county sheriff to be arrested on bogus felony charges — murder, anyone? — and locked behind bars for 24 hours. My experiences there, part of my continuing coverage of women’s prison issues, underpin my latest romantic suspense novel, Unlawful Contact.
It’s not that I wanted to go to jail so much as I felt I should go. OK, I admit I was curious — who doesn’t want to know what that world is like? But the biggest motivation on my part was a desire to understand.
It started when the county kept issuing reports about overcrowding at the county jail. Although there are women at the jail, the reports focused on male inmates only; women were never mentioned. There’s a reason for that. Men outnumber women in the criminal-justice system by an absolutely huge margin. (When I went in, there were almost 400 male inmates and — counting me — 24 women.)
I called the county jail and asked whether the women were also facing overcrowded conditions. I was told that, yes, they were. And then it came to me: Stay in jail.
Yes! Brilliant idea, right? Well… When I presented my grand plan to the county and to the jail captain, I received a resounding and definite, “No!”
That seemed workable, so I rephrased the question: “What would I have to do to arrange to stay in your jail for 24 hours as an inmate — besides commit a real crime?”
After about a month of back-and-forth negotiating, I was told that they would allow me to go into the jail provided I signed a bunch of legal documents that protected them from a lawsuit in case anything happened to me while I was behind bars.
Their concern was obvious and understandable. There are criminals in jail who sometimes kick the crap out of other inmates, even in the women’s unit.
“If you’re attacked, we might not be able to intervene in time to prevent you from being hurt or even killed,” the jail captain told me.
Perhaps that should have deterred me, but it didn’t. At the time, I was actually excited. Yes, I was stoked. I was about to become the first journalist to stay at the jail as a journalist. It was only when I was being processed — fingerprinted, photographed and strip searched — that it finally hit me and I started to feel afraid, as my mug shot shows. But no way was I going to back out.
And although those 24 hours in the women’s unit proved to be the scariest 24 hours of my journalistic career, they were also incredibly educational. I came away with a much greater understanding of the problems facing our judicial system — and of the life struggles facing female inmates. What I learned helped guide me through years of prison reporting, during which time I unveiled some terrible abuses, winning several state journalism awards along the way.
In other words, going to jail might have been TSTL, but it helped me to be that voice for the voiceless. It helped me to shine that light into the darkness, in this case the average cell block. It helped me do my job.
I will be sharing my experiences as an inmate all month long on my blog, in preparation for the April 1 release of Unlawful Contact, which focuses on prison issues. I hope you’ll pop over and say hello!
I honestly don’t think there is ANY good answer to how to deal with prisoners. We are much better today than we were, say, 100 years ago, 200 years ago, etc. The US is even better than, for example, Indonesia (in some cases, if your family doesn’t feed you or clothe you while behind bars, you don’t eat or dress).
I think perhaps one of the primary things that should be done is get the non-violent offenders away from the violent ones, hire them out with ankle monitors as a cheap labor force. I have a feeling that a lot of prisoners would rather work in a mailorder fulfillment center than sit staring at concrete walls all day. At least, I know I would.
I wonder how many states have this kind of non-violent offender status?
Wow. Thought provoking post.
Thanks Pamela for being a Nellie Bly for a new generation. 🙂
Hi, Gwen,
You know that’s a problem for women — getting work while behind bars. There are a lot of reasons why this is true, but the sad fact is that women are more likely to spend their days 24/7 staring at concrete or hanging with other inmates in the day room, while male inmates often find work programs that enable them to earn money for their commissary accounts (in-prison accounts used to buy stuff like candy, magazines, etc.). A lot of programs that exist to help men in prison don’t exist for women.
And you’re right — there are no easy answers. But I think there are things we can do to keep inmates safer, like keeping violent once segregated, getting nonviolent offenders out on work-release programs, and protecting female inmates from abuse from guards, or not neglecting medical care.
The photo of the woman feeding her baby is in my research collection and deals with the shackling of women in labor. It’s also the image that fed my mental picture of my hero Marc’s little sister, Megan. There’s a a description of Megan in the beginning of the story that almost fits this photo to a T.
Hi, Little Lamb Lost —
Thanks! I hope you found it interesting. I’m going to talk about being booked and strip searched next. Fun!
Hi, Lawson,
Thanks so much! 🙂
Wow – very interesting post and story. I don’t think I’d be willing to go to jail – and plan to stay out of trouble. Haha – I got a little confused at first when you said you went to prison – my thoughts were “what?! immediately? no jail? before sentencing? what?” (but then I got it worked out.)
I’ve only been to “real jail” once with my school’s legal clinic (another time I didn’t see the inside or meet any prisoners) – and while I didn’t have a breakdown immediately afterwards, it wasn’t the most fun experience ever. It was a little unnerving to meet with people who had been convicted of multiple felonies. I’ve been trying to do some research about pricing of commissaries and phone calls for inmates… I’ll definitely try to remember to pop over and read your blog.
Hi, limecello —
Are you a law student? I found the whole commissary thing to be fascinating. I didn’t know before my jail stay that women, for example, must buy tampons from the commissary in order to have that. Otherwise they use these horrid maxi pads that must date back to the Middle Ages. Also anything like shampoo or lip balm or toothpaste — they had to buy that as well. So inmates who had people on the outside willing to put money into their accounts had things we all take for granted. (In Colorado, lip balm is pretty much a necessity.) If not, they went without. Postage stamps to write letters to their kids — that’s another commissary item.
Of course, jail isn’t supposed to be fun or easy, but there are some aspects to it that feel just a bit harsh. And, yes, I went 24 hours without lip balm. Oh, the sacrifices!
I can’t imagine going to jail. I watched too much Oz, it scared me straight.
While I do think prison should be tough, it’s fascinating to find out what really goes on. I look forward to reading about it.
What really struck my heart string was the photo of the inmate feeding her baby while shackled to the bed. She can’t even get up to walk the baby around. I am really looking forward to the next few blogs. Thank you for sharing this experience with us.
Hi, Devon,
Thanks for sharing your thoughts. I hope you find the details interesting. I’ve got my notes still, so I just sat here and wrote up the next entry, which deals with being book and strip searched. Fun stuff!
Hi, Sue,
That photo is gut-wrenching. It actually played a role in inspiring the character of Megan, the hero’s troubled younger sister. Right now one of the topics I’m looking into is the shackling of inmates in labor. It’s illegal in some states, but not here in Colorado. And you’re so welcome! Thanks for your interest!
Hi Pamela,
Yes indeed, I’m a 2L. This post inspired me to go back to my commissary and phone call research topic. That, and one of my bosses will probably eat my heart if I don’t type up a memo soon. (I got bogged down with other projects -I’ve done some pretty insane research.)
Jail does not seem to be fun at all, you’re right. I can’t even imagine what prison is like. While at jail, we met with male and female inmates- and one of the women was a deaf mute. That was an experience. (We were all like – what is she in here for?!)
Hi, Limecello,
Cool that you’re doing research on that. I’ve heard some “phone call” stories I’d be happy to share. They might point you in an interesting direction — of phone privileges being arbitrarily suspended or numbers being blocked that shouldn’t be blocked in an effort to harass inmates. I can’t think of any commissary stories, except this: why, oh, why do they deliver commissary goods at 5 in the morning when that means waking everyone up?
Good luck with law school! You must be at the halfway point now.