You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
The new sheriff.
He’s a nice man. He’s a church man. He speaks with a soft voice and has a quick smile.
But he’s new to the job and there are some growing pains.
I’ve had a few incidents with the sheriff now that make me wonder if he is green or something else.
Tonight I left his jail thinking; did he lie? Did he purposely mislead me? Or was it just a strange set of circumstances that left me sunburned, sweaty and holding the bag outside his jail.
I tell all my new law enforcement officers, be transparent, be truthful, and uphold the law.
The problem with local sheriff’s is they often promise friends and neighbors the world to get elected.
And when they win, they often feel compelled to look after those friends and neighbors who helped put the badge on their chests.
The law is the law. It should be simple.
Someone gets arrested, the law decides what happens next. The process is the process. It’s not an Easy Bake oven and we’re making it up as we go.
If a stranger is arrested or a friend is arrested it should be the same.
But is it?
If the badge has a relationship with the suspect, does that muddy the waters?
Does the sheriff give the perp special privileges because they went to grade school together?
So I’m waiting outside the county jail. The sun is blazing, filling my eyes. I am standing by the Constantine wire, with its razor-sharp circles and barbs above the sally port.
The suspect I’m waiting on is nobody special, but his mother is a state representative. The man is charged with giving alcohol to minors.
It’s probably a story because of who his mom is .Maybe it’s a story because the kids all go to a prestigious private school.
Perhaps as many as 20 kids were suspended who attended a party where the alcohol ended up.
So I’m waiting outside a door by the sally port. I am the only TV station. I am poised to get an exclusive walk down with the suspect once he leaves the jail.
I am standing at the door where prisoners exit the jail.
How do I know this?
This is where the sheriff himself tells me and my camera man to wait.
“that’s where prisoners exit the jail,” he says.
We wait in blistering sunshine and 85 degree temps for 90 minutes.
A bail bonds woman comes and goes out of a door nearby several times.
“is this where prisoners exit the jail?” I ask.
“For 20 years they have,” she answers.
For 20 years!
Sounds like we are in the right place.
We wait and wait and wait.
“he’ll be out in 15 minutes,” the sheriff tells me through a text.
Cool.
I check email and texts. I post to Facebook and Twitter.
What the hell is taking so long, I think to myself.
Suddenly a jail employee walks by.
“He’s all ready gone,” he says almost smirking.
“Almost gone?”
“Yeah, they took him out another door,” he says.
“Another door?”
I’m flabbergasted.
Huh?
But the sheriff said….
My mind is racing. I was so excited, poised for the walk down. Now I’m deflated, flat as a popped balloon.
“This smells bad, dude” my camera man says.
I look around. I check my wallet to see if I’ve been robbed.
This is a total scam, I think to myself.
Nothing happens at this new sheriff’s department without the new sheriff’s approval.
Did the suspect leave the building from another door without his knowledge?
Or did he authorize the movement of the prisoner, his friend, knowing he put in a position where we would miss the walk down?
My camera man is fuming.
We got hosed dude.
A reporter for the local paper is angry.
“this is a lead story,” he blurts out.
We all feel like we’ve been sand bagged.
I see the sheriff in the parking lot.
I call out to him. “Is he gone?”
The sheriff cups his ear as if he cannot hear me.
He walks to the jail carrying something.
“He should be coming out,” he says nesciently.
“He’s gone according to one of your employees,” I shout back.
His face is blank. He goes in the jail and checks.
He comes back out and says.
“He knew you were all out here. So he asked if he could leave from another door, and they let him.”
“Is that normal?” I ask.
The sheriff stammers and says “Well he asked to go out that way.”
Then he changes the subject. “You all have a mug shot, right?”
“Yes,” I say hanging my head.
I feel like I’ve been played. I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck of good ole boy justice.
We wait outside the jail for another 15 minutes. Even though the sheriff has told us the perp has gone, we don’t trust him. We wonder if this is part of the ruse. Maybe he’s still inside and he wants us to leave so the guy can leave through the door that every prisoner leaves from.
We wait 15 minutes, and then we give up.
We hang our heads. We are angry .We feel soiled.
Trust is gone like a fleeting thought.
The sheriff will call later and explain that he didn’t purposely mean to mislead us. He hopes we understand.
I accept his explanation, but I am skeptical. Actions speak louder than words, and I’m looking hard at this new administration and I am hoping this is just a aberration of policy and not something more nefarious.
The system needs to be pure, free of allegiances and preferential treatment.
As my long time cameraman once said “battle lines are drawn. Only time will tell.”
Life’s Crazy™