Of course I spent a fair amount of time in jail – more than 200 days – and I never reformed from my criminal ways of keeping warm and staying fed. Not a single day I spent there helped, not in any sense, social or psychological.
Most jails, La Plata County Jail included, have a well-earned reputation for neglect and abuse of inmates as well. Consider the case of former Cmdr. Ed Aber, who was accused last year of viewing strip search videos of more than 100 female inmates for his own sexual gratification during his tenure at the jail.
This dynamic between authority figures and the people in their care deserves a closer look. But much like any perverted abuse of power, it gets swept away with comments like “but he was a good man.” People are not “conditioned” to mistrust authority – we have a catalog of good reasons to expect neglect and mistreatment from a badge.
Courts and cops have a very close relationship with the word “coerce.” Cops will use phrases like “show me your ID or I’m taking you to jail for obstruction.” Courts delay hearings and offer plea deals that, if refused, send you back to jail. Both use the threat of incarceration to compel compliance – and that is true in and out of the jailhouse.
“Doing my job” is a phrase that has shielded abusers from accountability for decades. This lack of accountability is compounded by a court system that sides with officers first and forces defendants to sit in jail – overseen by corrupt and negligent people – until innocence can be proved. “Innocent until proven guilty” is not just a myth. It is the exact opposite of how our courts and jails actually operate.
As defendants sit in jail for the weeks or months it may take to prove innocence, I never learned to be OK with how I was being treated. Never became OK with the disillusionment, or the lists I was put on. Never accepted that the bar for a public servant could drop so low that I would have to redefine trauma to suit their image. As if they really were the good guys. Poppycock.
Like most, I had no intention of putting myself at odds with the law – but being homeless was, and still is, enough to get profiled. There are so many policies and laws surrounding the lives of the unhoused that existence itself has become a penalty. It becomes less about choice and more about luck. A poor choice may put someone there, but it’s not what keeps them there. It goes deeper than jail or a bridge. It’s the mindset people get stuck in when that'’ all they know – when three hots and a cot sounds like a good deal.
When you’ve been in the system so long you can recite to your social worker or public defender the ins and outs of a career you never signed up for. Confident enough to advise the judge on which punishment best fits the offense, ignoring your attorney’s hushed warnings as you argue why you shouldn’t have to perform community service for the crime of sleeping in a tent – again.
If this comes as news to any of you, I am equal parts thrilled and troubled to say it is not new. This archaic system that flaunts punitive – that is, purely punishing – measures as best practice in crime prevention simply does not work. I am firm in my position that the current model is a perfect way to create and retain criminals. Somehow we are all protected from discrimination, until the moment we become involved with the law.
Antonio Espinoza is a U.S. veteran who spent several years homeless in Durango. He writes from lived experience and is now an advocate for the unhoused.
