We had been having a pretty good night. We had a good crew and things were getting done quickly and even faster than normal.
For having a utility officer on the floor and another one in the bubble, we weren't doing bad at all.
I should have known something was going to happen.
Chucky and I were in D-wing just fixing to pull out a round for rec when the call came over the radio: "10-49! 10-49! A-yard in front of medical!"
We couldn't get out of the wing because the bubble officer was watching out the other side and by the time we got out Mr Coffee had already run out the door to the fight.
So we put the cuffs away and get out two blank files and wait for the call to come. They finally get us the info and we get the files ready and wait for them to come down. We're all standing out front waiting for the fighters. We know it's a use of force so all we are supposed to do is hand off our keys and let the escorting officers put them into the cell. We aren't supposed to get involved.
So here comes the first guy being escorted by one officer. Snap! It takes two people to put one up. I say "Somebody is going to have to go with him to put this guy up."
And everybody looks at me.
Okay, I get it. I'm the fastest at the paperwork anyway. I'll do it.
So I go into the cell. The guy is just covered with blood. I get all of his clothes and put them in a biohazard bag to be cleaned and we get the door shut. Three minutes, no big deal.
Then a yard dog shows up with the camera to take pictures. And in we go again into the cell. Take the pictures and we are out in under two minutes. Still no big deal.
Then here comes the second guy, escorted by one officer. Crap! Here I go again. Same deal. Gather his bloody clothes and strip him out and get out of the cell. Three more minutes.
I write down all of the timetables for being in and out and taking pictures and the like. Nobody else ever remembers to do that.
No sooner do I get back in the office and Sgt LB is on the phone saying "Yes, he's on his way up there right now. Should be there any minute." After he hangs up he says "They want you up there for the paperwork. Right now."
Man! Who do I look like? Jesse Owens? Give me a break!
I get up there with my pockets loaded with cigarettes, a bottle of water and a package of PopTarts. I figure this is going to be an all night sucker. I'm prepared for a siege.
The Cap says he just wants an IOC (Inter-Office Communication, like a memo) from me about my part. Then he revises that. He wants three separate IOC's. One for the first guy, one for the pictures on the first guy, and one for the second guy.
Okay, I can do that. I basically used the same IOC and just changed the names and times and the wording a little and print them out. Give mine to the Cap. He looks them over and says "Okay! Thanks! That works for me!"
Fifteen minutes, tops.
Man, that has never flown before. I feel like I have stepped into Wonderland or something.
I have this sneaky feeling that I am going to get caught when I come back in tomorrow and have to do it all over again the long way.
And from what the Boss man told me today, we are going to have a busy busy day tomorrow. It seems that they are transferring in more inmates than we actually have beds for. I have another sneaky feeling that tomorrow is going to be bad and busy.
But at least tomorrow is Friday.
Always plenty to eat - *Cliff and I were both poor, growing up. We stayed pretty poor most of our married life, too, although I was always sure not to call us "poor", even in my...
1 day ago