Warden Craig

     Warden Craig





By bad luck and stupidity I have been in a jail twice.  There was also this time when I was in lockup by friendship. The first times I was encarcerated through a naivete that telling a judge the truth would absolve me of responsibility for breaking a foolish law. Both times I was held it was for warrants for failing to pay fines on victimless crimes. In Torrance it was because I did not pay a fine or failed to register a motorcycle I had not driven for a year. The other time was in WLA over a needed car repair. In both cases the whole scene happened so fast I was rather stunned and expected to be released at any moment. I discussed my bad fortune with an irritated Judge Higgins who was unmoved. In WLA I was bailed out by dear Emily.  In truth I should have been jailed and forced to spend time behind bars for the many foolish times I drove drunk or recklessly by reason of testosterone overdoses. This story is about the time Greg put me in a cell and let me know the terror of hearing the doors of confinement slam behind me. There was a time in Greg's career where he worked on designs of jails and prisons around the state of California. He travelled a lot at this time and ended up spending a considerable amount of time with "jail guys." Not prisoners but architects and builders of a complex facility. At this particular time he had access to a new criminal justice facility the Century Regional Detention Facility  that would be housing around a thousand prisoners.  It was not set to open for a couple of months but it was operational in the electrical doors, supervisory stations and layouts of floors. We walked around with a feeling of dread and then Greg suggested I get in a cell and experience the feel of the confined space. I walked in, sat down and he pressed a button that made the metal door close and lock me in. The feeling was terrible, especially for a guy with claustrophobia. Instant panic attack! I immediately bleated like a wounded sheep and he popped the door open as I darted into freedom. I did not even need to see any prisoners to know I would not survive in jail. Just a week before some dumb Compton kids stole a car and sped off down the street outside the jail. Without headlights or seat-belts they plowed into a traffic divider they never saw that did not have much give. The bloodstains and gauze packets were still on the ground as we drove toward lunch.



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