A southern sheriff's jail: Epilogue

I am just catching up on these threads. I appreciate you sharing @maumann and I agree with others that you could turn this into a compelling memoir. It's certainly the most interesting story I have read around here in a long time. I also agree with your own concern about waiting until your probation is finished and the case discharged before you publish anything further.

 

Thanks, @franticscribe. August 5 was three years into the four-year probation. So I'm still 362 days of looking over my shoulder and peeking around walls. And that doesn't count the additional 10 years before I'm cleared to enter most foreign countries without a letter of consent, Canada and the United Kingdom included.

It's a weird lifestyle, always trying to avoid crazy people, excessive interactions with law enforcement or any kind of circumstance that would require a background check, all going on while attempting to lead a "normal" life. It's better than the uncertainly before the sentencing, the time in the detention center and the supervised probation. But it's not normal, and may never be. If you lined up 100 people and were told to pick out the felon, I'd probably be one of the last ones selected. But that doesn't matter to random Sgt. Cuppa Joe Donuthole when he pulls up my rap sheet.

Plus, do not blame me for any election results held after Aug. 6, 2016. I have no voting rights, thus can't take credit or blame for anything currently happening in Washington or Atlanta! I also can't "officially" meet for a beer, since that's part of the sentencing as well. Ironic, since the old drunk who whacked me was sloshed to the gills.

 

I cannot, and hopefully will not be able to, relate to anything you have described so (unfortunately) well throughout these threads, @maumann, but there is one thing that did come to mind with your last comment and the magnitude of it all.

About eight years ago, I picked up a pair of speeding tickets in consecutive weeks. Though I forget the specifics, I was told by the officer upon receiving the second one that if I picked up a third within two years of the first one, I was either going to or likely would lose my driver's license. For the next two years (and still for the most part today) I was incredibly careful with my driving, recognizing that the sanctions did not outweigh my need to get to my destination three minutes sooner. But I tell you, when I needed to get somewhere urgently, I'd count down the weeks until that two-year period passed.

I cannot imagine having such a thought attached to my freedom of movement and/or activity. I praise your resilience.

 

Even last night, three sheriff's deputies were parked in the supermarket lot where I was pumping gas, and I watched them all the time I was there. Just like bail bondsmen, I paid no attention to those types of things five years ago.

For the most part, @drexler, I'm the same way. I drive the speed limit, don't take stupid chances, don't do anything to arouse suspicion and generally stay around the house unless I'm going on errands, to church or with my wife somewhere. That way I have less of a chance of getting stopped.

But there's always the random situation that is completely out of your control. We planned a 70-day trip to the west coast to celebrate Gwen's retirement once I was allowed to leave the state (although in hindsight, it was a pretty stupid idea). Imagine being in Anacortes, Wash., and trying to explain to a police officer why a routine traffic stop shows you're a felon from Georgia. And would that ever be one long extradition!

The only thing that went wrong was when I centerpunched a deer just outside of Oxford, Miss., on the next-to-last day of the journey. Obviously, I needed help from the Mississippi State Patrol, and the two guys were incredibly helpful. But all the time, I'm wondering if they're going to run my license.

If you don't look like a troublemaker, chances are slim you'll be branded one. But all you need is one routine DUI checkpoint to screw up things.

The other thing that's happened is that I no longer worry about the clock and the calendar. Gwen is frustrated because I don't care about trying to schedule my day, other than specific appointments for doctors and dentists. Part of that is being retired, but the other is knowing it doesn't really matter when you go to the store, or have dinner, or know six months in advance if Christmas is at somebody's house.

Things happen according to their own time. And you cannot change that. The best-laid plans ...

 

Thanks for sharing that. I hope you do continue to write. Lighting a candle for you and Gwen this weekend.

 

Worth a watch.

@maumann hopefully the early parts won't cause bad memories because the ending is funny and hopefully put a smile on your face.

 

That's outstanding. Love that the sheriff with the "tell your kids about drugs" PSA is actually awaiting trial for embezzlement. The worst inmate is a child molester, but ex-law enforcement puts you right behind them on the "expect to get beat with a bag of soap bars while you sleep" list.

Every day is one step closer to getting some sense of normalcy. Plus, the local sheriff is retiring this year. I'm guessing one of his lackeys will win, so things really won't change much but you never know. Gotta keep that dentention center full. And I may actually get my Fourth Amendment rights back in time for the election!

Appreciate you thinking kind thoughts, @Driftwood.