the burning paris track seven is my subject, mood, and music
my internship has been intersting. basically the goal of the FTA program of the NYC criminal justice agency is to get in contact with defendants who have been issued warrants for failing to appear in court on their appointed dates, and to convince them to voluntarily appear in court... so that they don't get arrested. the CJA sends letters to these people, but my job is to contact them by phone. it's always different. sometimes the numbers are wrong or out of service, sometimes i leave regular messages. sometimes mothers and fathers tell me they have no idea where their children are. sometimes wives don't know where their husbands are. sometimes people answer and inform me that the defendant is incarcerated already, or in the hospital comatose from a gunshot wound, or in a psychiatric unit. sometimes i try to contact denendants who are 5 years younger than me. sometimes i get in touch directly with the defendant. each morning when i check people in the system, it makes me smile to see the ones that have returned to court and gotten ther warrants vacated.
the other day, i ended up calling the home of a man who has been all over the local news lately for a serious crime (i was unaware of this at the time, since he missed court for a much earlier offense) and listening to his distraught sister talk and talk and talk. i talk to people who have been convicted of felonies, and some of them are so normal and nice on the phone. sometimes i have to speak in spanish. sometimes i call numbers and overhear familial fighting on the background. sometimes i call a number and find out that it's no longer in service, and i can't help but wonder why, and where that person is, hoping they're ok.
today lynette took me to the (brooklyn) courthouse. flashing our criminal justice agency (CJA) IDs... we saw the warrant room (the room i send FTA defendants to when i contact them) , a courtroom, etc etc, and then we went down to the dingy, dungeon of a basement, to central booking (for the males). scary stairs and "restricted admittance" signs and metal bars and locked doors and more locked doors and prison guards and dozens of men being held in these holding pens... two big cells or "holding pens" with like one bench each, way too crowded... each one filthy with one not-at-all-private toilet. foul odor emanating... one man shirtless, others trying to sleep in cramped quarters, others drunk or high, others seemingly careless, others standing right against the bars with their arms dangling out... being individually interviewed by CJA ROR interviewers. some of those defendants stay there for two days. they're fed mini cereal boxes, barely fresh milk containers, and limp sandwiches, presumably peanut butter and jelly. to me, i thought there were a whole lot of men in each of the two holding areas, but apparently there are often many more. when lynette was an interviewer, she had to get regular shots, and one time caught pneumonia. apparently these two "large" holding cells are a breeding ground for all kinds of things. i got to ask the interviewers some intersting questions, about what t's like, how to deal with uncooperative prisoners, etc etc. these interviewers make like less than $27.000/year, which is extremely low for a metropolis liek new york city.
upon returning to the office, i learned that any defendant with SUM written on their file has been in one of these holding areas below the courthouse. this included one guy, R.R., who i talked to yesterday and today, who was so so so nice sounding, and who is going to voluntarily return to court tomorrow (i hope he does, i hope he does). after talking to him, i felt so happy, i don't know... then i looked back at his file and saw the SUM written there in clearly typed capital letters. i had awful visions of this total stranger, a normal, kind-hearted guy with a couple of vehicular infractions, trapped behind those filthy grimy bars with those other felons... i didn't want to find out he'd actally been down there.
maybe the fact that i feel bad picturing this total stranger locked up in that place serves as an example of how hard it would be for me to be professional in this field, how i romanticize the whole prison thing. now i'm wondering if writing to a prisoner is a bad idea (in terms of what future employers might ask me).
i talked to verd about some of this, and tons of other stuff.
she came over and we had a lovely dinner (ordered from saigon grill), two bottles of falanghina (from naples), good conversation, and good music.
now i'm off to turn on another cd and continue packing for memphis. I LEAVE TOMORROW MORNING!!!!!!
the other day, i ended up calling the home of a man who has been all over the local news lately for a serious crime (i was unaware of this at the time, since he missed court for a much earlier offense) and listening to his distraught sister talk and talk and talk. i talk to people who have been convicted of felonies, and some of them are so normal and nice on the phone. sometimes i have to speak in spanish. sometimes i call numbers and overhear familial fighting on the background. sometimes i call a number and find out that it's no longer in service, and i can't help but wonder why, and where that person is, hoping they're ok.
today lynette took me to the (brooklyn) courthouse. flashing our criminal justice agency (CJA) IDs... we saw the warrant room (the room i send FTA defendants to when i contact them) , a courtroom, etc etc, and then we went down to the dingy, dungeon of a basement, to central booking (for the males). scary stairs and "restricted admittance" signs and metal bars and locked doors and more locked doors and prison guards and dozens of men being held in these holding pens... two big cells or "holding pens" with like one bench each, way too crowded... each one filthy with one not-at-all-private toilet. foul odor emanating... one man shirtless, others trying to sleep in cramped quarters, others drunk or high, others seemingly careless, others standing right against the bars with their arms dangling out... being individually interviewed by CJA ROR interviewers. some of those defendants stay there for two days. they're fed mini cereal boxes, barely fresh milk containers, and limp sandwiches, presumably peanut butter and jelly. to me, i thought there were a whole lot of men in each of the two holding areas, but apparently there are often many more. when lynette was an interviewer, she had to get regular shots, and one time caught pneumonia. apparently these two "large" holding cells are a breeding ground for all kinds of things. i got to ask the interviewers some intersting questions, about what t's like, how to deal with uncooperative prisoners, etc etc. these interviewers make like less than $27.000/year, which is extremely low for a metropolis liek new york city.
upon returning to the office, i learned that any defendant with SUM written on their file has been in one of these holding areas below the courthouse. this included one guy, R.R., who i talked to yesterday and today, who was so so so nice sounding, and who is going to voluntarily return to court tomorrow (i hope he does, i hope he does). after talking to him, i felt so happy, i don't know... then i looked back at his file and saw the SUM written there in clearly typed capital letters. i had awful visions of this total stranger, a normal, kind-hearted guy with a couple of vehicular infractions, trapped behind those filthy grimy bars with those other felons... i didn't want to find out he'd actally been down there.
maybe the fact that i feel bad picturing this total stranger locked up in that place serves as an example of how hard it would be for me to be professional in this field, how i romanticize the whole prison thing. now i'm wondering if writing to a prisoner is a bad idea (in terms of what future employers might ask me).
i talked to verd about some of this, and tons of other stuff.
she came over and we had a lovely dinner (ordered from saigon grill), two bottles of falanghina (from naples), good conversation, and good music.
now i'm off to turn on another cd and continue packing for memphis. I LEAVE TOMORROW MORNING!!!!!!