There was 2 revealing article in this morning's paper, about the Cobb Co. fugitive unit. Standing in front of the jail, the 15 members of this elite team glower at the camera, sending a message to those who flee from justice: we will sniff you out and run you down like dogs.
Noone smiles in the picture. Their faces are grim, determined. These brave men and women mean business, and their business is hunting down the filth who elude the law.
Looking at them is like looking at another species. It's inconceivable to me that I breathe the same air as these people. I can't imagine having a drink with them in a bar, or even making small talk in a line at an event. There is a partisan divide between us.
To me, these investigators are cartoonish. They project that righteous zeal that dogmatic believers always have burning inside. How can they lose? God is on their side. They are Good Guys. They are Heroes.They are caricatures.
The article highlights some of the fugitive squad's notable cases of 2011. Naturally, these involved the apprehension of absolute trash, including a child pornographer and a man accused of murdering his own brother. What could be more admirable than bringing riffraff like this to justice?
I think it's laughable how one-sided and dishonest this journalist is in glorifying these investigators as valiant dragon slayers. What a bad joke.
This article would have the public believe that an average day in the life of a fugitive squad deputy involves relentlessly pursuing sexual predators. If only that were true. How about detailing a much more likely average day, which finds these courageous deputies kicking in a misdemeanor offender's door with their guns drawn, body-slamming him in front of his wife and children, then carting him away like an animal? How about some pictures of these lawmen giving each other high-fives as they pull off with their quarry, while his family looks on tearfully?Tell it like it really is.
I had a friend named Matt. We grew up skateboarding together. Like many of my childhood friends, Matt eventually got into drugs, ran afoul of the law (in a minor, non-violent way), and went to prison. Released on parole, he started using again, failed to report at the beginning of the month, and while visiting his parents over the holidays, was apprehended by dozens of parole officers in tactical gear. It was decided that, in light of his violation, he needed to spend the last 6 months of his life incarcerated in the revocation center. The day he was released, Matt OD'ed on heroin and died.God bless the dead.
Although the parole officers who tracked him to his parent's house and arrested him there were not the sheriff's deputies lionized in the article. I use Matt's sad story to emphasize the fallacy of describing these fugitive squad investigators as heroic bloodhounds on the trail of murderers. Much more plausable, they are searching for someone like Matt. They're trying to put someone suffering from a substance abuse problem in jail or prison.
I wonder if Matt's parole officer thought he was a dangerous madman who needed to be removed from society. I knew him for years. He was a gentle guy, very laid back, a threat to noone but himself. I wonder if his arrest was considered a perfect apprehension, a textbook collaring of a felon on the lame. Were the streets safer with Matt in custody? It's noone's fault that he OD'ed and died, but I'm curious if his death was a victory or a defeat for Cobb Co. parole. Dying from drugs can't be considered successful reintegration into society, but at the same time, his parole officer had one less potential threat to keep up with, right? Case closed.RIP Matt.
Law enforcement and corrections apply inhumane solutions to human problems. These systems are inherently cold-blooded. The men and women who work for these systems (cops, probation and parole officers, jailers, DAs) so often treat people badly. I can't count how many times correctional officers have taken advantage of my delicate position in these penal institutions, abusing their power again and again. Whatever the motive, their petty snubs and disrespectful slights always conveyed the message that I was beneath them. I grew accustomed to being treated like a third-class citizen. It always felt bad, being mistreated in this way.
Today is my mom's birthday. Yesterday, she had scheduled a visit for 4-o-clock. Around 3, the officer let my dorm out on the yard. I went out to get some sunshine on my face. The yards here are like being in a drained swimming pool, but at least there is fresh air and we can look up at the sky. After a while, I went to the intercom and hit the button; I had no way of knowing what time it was, and didn't want to be late for my visit. The officer in the control booth rudely dismissed me, said it wasn't anywhere near 4-o-clock, then looked at me with an exasperated expression before doing a trashy white girl snap check, kicking her head back and forth a few times, full of attitude. I walked off, muttering to another inmate that this guard sure was a bitch. Apparently the intercom was still on, because, she screeched that I would be written up for my comment. I didn't get a write-up, but they wouldn't let me see my mom, either.
Technically, they have no right to arbitrarily cancel a visit, ten minutes before it is scheduled to begin, but what recourse do I have in this situation? Over the years I've discovered how dangerous it is to challenge the correctional staff in a jail or prison. They're not above doing all kinds of fucked up, unjust bullshit.
Once more, in a small, temporary way, the corrections system came between me and my family. Just the most recent slap in the face. One of many.
Who am I to judge? That officer may endure hardships beyond anything I've ever faced. I showed her no disrespect, only asked a question, and she was discourteous in the extreme; was, in fact, an uncivil bitch. Maybe a loved one in her family recently passed away. Perhaps she suffers from a medical condition, something vile and uncomfortable, like an untreated STD. There must be a reason for her ill-mannered behavior, for all that venom.
I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, although I admit to being furious when they cancelled my visit. I couldn't even speak. Call it the rage of helpless.
After all the years of unfairness, after all the injustice I've seen and endured, I still give these hateful bastards a chance to show just a sliver of humanity, and every now and then, one of them suprises me. However, I keep my guard up. For every time I've been disrespected by a guard, for every summer I've spent behind the fences, for every special occasion I've missed, my general rule is to say fuck the police and everything they stand for. In spite of my transgressions, I haven't deserved a fraction of the abuse that they have so eagerly dealt me.
Happy birthday Mom. Sorry I couldn't see you yesterday. You make all the difference in my life
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