Time Served

By Alexander Coull

Alexander Coull writes when he always heard the veteran officers state they should have wrote a book, and it didnt take long before he understood what these officers were talking about and why. It wasnt long before all the family and friends wanted to know the storiesthe real stories. He believes he cant tell the story without being real. Nothing in this book is created, made up, or enhanced to keep you turning the page. He will take you through his twenty-five years of service from beginning until the endfrom high profile inmates to incidents that will keep you reading. Some incidents may seem off the wall, some hard to handle, some hard to read, some brash language, but he adds a touch of humor to lighten up these stories. This is a nasty world full of disease, filth, inmates with addictions, inmate rights, and if it dont get any worse, its politics. There is harsh language, but its the world of jails and prisons that youre entering when you open this book. This book is not the television show we turn to; its the real deal, and let him bring you behind the walls and understand how this will change you as a person.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514489925

Alexander Coull

Alexander Coull chooses to leave a career as a chef and enters this world of corrections behind the secured walls. He had no experience in the law enforcement field and spent the next twenty-five years living the life as a professional and inmate. He writes, “This job will change you as a person.” He entered this career in his late twenties and never knew what he was getting into or witness behind these secured gates. Will he survive, and did it really change him as a husband, father, or person?

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Copyright © 2016 by Alexander Coull.

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Rev. date: 08/19/2016

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CONTENTS

Introduction

Definitions

Chapter 1 Let’s Begin

Chapter 2 Classification

Chapter 3 Politics

Chapter 4 War Stories

Chapter 5 Election Year Sit Back and Watch

Chapter 6 Inmate Rights

Chapter 7 Day in the Pod

Chapter 8 Confiscated Art and Design

Chapter 9 Interesting Talk with the Inmates

Chapter 10 Hitting My Goal

Conclusion

Introduction

I became inspired to write this book due to the years of listening to fellow deputies and employees, procrastinating that someday they would write a book and tell the untold story behind the bars. It seems that everyone, who I encounter, knows of my career and wants to know what happens behind closed doors. It makes me remember the first time I told my parents at age twenty-eight that I was going to work in the county jail. I don’t know what they thought. I pictured them thinking of some jailhouse movie in the past, starring Sylvester Stallone with fights, fires, killings, and out of control behaviors. What did I know?

It all started with me becoming frustrated with my new salary choices in my new state of Florida. I searched for weeks and decided to try law enforcement—that’ll work. The next thing I knew, I was entered into the Corrections Academy—all paid.

Throughout the next twenty years, I became a different man. I mean different than the average man walking the streets, working an eight-to-five job with weekends off and maybe wearing a tie, trying to find a parking spot late for work. I never, in my wildest dreams, have projected what I was heading for. This is a real world behind locks and bars that is so controlled by inmates with deputies watching and letting it happen, but the law controlling it all to some degree if they let us, if you can understand that. I hope by the end of this book you will understand, and maybe I will be able to place you there with me and to somewhat understand this hidden life, good or bad.

Throughout this book, I will need to hide names of inmates and also law enforcement staff to protect their actions or legal actions that could arise due to this book. Believe it or not, there is corruption on both sides of the bars—not everybody gets caught. I will unfold things that will peak your interest and also make you wonder if it really is a Stallone movie. I can ensure you that it’s not a movie; it’s the untold story never told but is now—from the worst of the worst death-row inmates to the psych inmates and then to the reality that occurs within the world of the county jail.

If you or your siblings ever thought of entering this field, it’s a world they might want to research first, read the book. It’s not just one jail, but the inmates run them all. It just matters where you’re looking or where you live.

Definitions

Certified Deputy - Member that has completed the state requirements and academy

Civilian - Member that works within the jail but has no direct contact with inmates

Detainee - Person being held awaiting due process

10-15 - Person being arrested and in custody

Inmate - Person held with probable cause in regards to their charges, sentenced or not

Red Dot - Inmate which is classified as high risk, wears a red jumpsuit for identification (death-row inmate, high risk, dangerous towards staff, high profile)

Jit - Juvenile inmate

Punk - Inmate who is weak and used for sexual needs

Snitch - Inmate who is tagged as an informant to the police

Trusty - an inmate that meets the criteria to work in or outside the facility for gain time

Gain Time - Inmate working hours become credited hours towards their release date.

Single Cell - houses only one inmate

Double Cell - houses up to two inmates

Lockdown Cell - holds one inmate for disciplinary reasons

Housing Area - Area that holds inmates after admission into the facility

Dormitory - Holds more than two inmates and has a dayroom area

Direct Supervision - Managed by one deputy twenty-four hours a day

Protective Custody - PC, housed alone due to fear, charge or administratively

Administrative Segregation - Housed alone, placed by staff member due to interactions with staff or other inmates; constant disciplinary actions

Prop Authorization - Inmates states harm to himself will be removed from population and moved to single cell. Inmate will remove all issued clothing and personal belongings. A quilted gown and blanket will be issued to prevent harm or hanging. Only harmless items will be issued as needed.

Sally Port - Secured area for all incoming and outgoing detainees during transport

Contraband - Anything that is not issued or allowed

Pat Down - Body search over the clothing for contraband

Strip Search - All clothing removed and checked for contraband, inmate to squat and cough.

Cavity Search - Conducted by the medical staff and all cavity areas checked (anal or vaginal)

Shakedown - Complete area search to include personal items. Law Enforcement Officer

Buck - Homemade alcohol, consisting of yeast, fruit, and sugars

Boot a Roo - Mixture of urine and feces to be thrown at staff or other inmates

Fee Fee – Homemade or fabricated devise used as a simulated vagina used for self-satisfaction

Fire in the Hole - Caution, the deputies is coming

Kite - A note passed from inmate to inmate used with string or thread

Flood - To intentionally clog the toilet and flood out the cells or pod areas

Up the Road - going to state prison

Chapter 1

Let’s Begin

This journey started in mid-June of 1989 as I relocated to Florida from New Jersey. I was clueless on what my new life and career had ahead for me. The first couple of months, I was in paradise, sun, beach, and easy living. I began looking for a job with a future—something to grow old with and money to support myself later in life. I had just left a good simple job of eleven years and realized that there was nothing gained. This time, I’ll make the right choice by not jumping in on the first good wave. After several weeks of offers with no benefits and low pay, I started to worry. Most of these jobs didn’t even want to give you a forty-hour-a-week job. This way, they didn’t have to offer health insurance due to you not working full time, just thirty-two hours a week will do it.

The job search became frustrating, and I decided, What the hell? Law enforcement might be the avenue of choice. I planned on applying for the sheriff’s office and trying out patrol. I met with the human resource directors, and they began my application process. This process was like applying to work at the White House, with all the secret bullshit to go along with it. It started with a thorough background search to include all acquaintances throughout high school to present. It also needed references from previous employers, friends, and family. I can’t forget the written test needed to start the process and even a follow-up psychological written test that made you crazy just taking it. The same questions over and over, just different ways to ask the question—did I ever see aliens?

What would you rather be doing right now? Thinking back now, I wonder how a lot of the employees were hired. That’s scary! Well, after passing this package of tests, it was time for my drug and lie detector test. Oh, boy, here we go. You would think that if you were applying for this type of employment these tests would apply, but let’s pee in the cup, and then you can wire me up. That’s just how it happened. In the morning, I had to go to a private lab that worked with the agency. You pee, and they watch. Have to make sure you’re not tampering with your own piss. Then a day or so later, one of the directors call you and give you good news that, yes, you did pass the urinalysis testing and now scheduled you for the lie detector test. Upon your arrival, you’re given a several-paged packet for you to fill out. These are the upcoming questions for the test itself. They say that if you know the question that you’re nervous about, the machine will go into a crisis. Have you ever stolen anything in your life? Have you experimented with drugs? Have you ever committed a crime? After you complete the packet, you wait until the qualified person, giving the test, verbally questions you as he goes over your answers. He asks, So you answered that you experimented with marijuana in high school, can you explain? By the time this was over, I was wondering what I was getting myself into.

Academy

October 1, 1990—here we go. I started with my half-hour drive to the academy with nerves of sweat. I arrived to find about thirty other cadets walking on edge. We mingled among ourselves until the start of the first day of my unforeseen future. A man entered the classroom wearing civilian attire and introduced himself as the director of this part of the college and police academy. He spoke of all expectations and rules for next three months ahead. We were handed out packet after packet of needed information, schedules, rules, projects, uniform information, academy agenda, and instructors’ names with their specialty area. These specialty areas included legal, firing range, and deputy survival. The class had to pick out a president, vice president, and treasurer. I don’t even know these people! The next reality check was when they explained to us that we will learn to march over and over until we get it right. Every morning, we will march as a group and raise the flag, and at the end of the day, we will march again and bring the flag down while folding it with all due respect. It seemed a little much for the first day.

I was like three days in when I really started thinking, what the hell am I doing here. I’ll never make it. We were in the legal stages, a bunch of mumbo jumbo crap that I couldn’t understand if someone drew me a picture with a test at the end. It was like another language. I looked around and felt that I was reading minds. We needed to take clean organized notes throughout the academy because this would be another grade process. Thank God for making friends because that was the only way we would survive this. I can truly say that one of the most uncomfortable times through this academy for me was we had psyche training. We would perform role-playing in front of the class. We would be handed instructions on paper and then, with no words, act them out. This training was to prepare us for the public that doesn’t respond to commands. We needed to learn how to get the job done without words.

Every class started by placing our chairs in a circle and always standing up when spoken to or answering. This was extremely hard for me due to my fear of speaking in front of people—sounds funny especially getting in this field. I sometimes would sit back and wonder how some of these people in this class could perform some of the role-playing they presented. We were placed in groups and had to come up with a scenario and had to perform it in front of the class as the class nitpicked it. Some of these scenarios were nasty and raw to the point of embarrassing for the people involved.

As time went on, it did begin to get clear and inviting. It seemed that every instructor worked at the jail already, and they were thrown into teaching all of us and priming us for the expansion of the county jail. Some of these instructors didn’t even know what they were talking about, let alone answering questions from the upcoming prospects. There were a few that would pick a cadet to remind them every half hour for a smoke break, just interrupt them on the half-hour mark. I’ll never forget one instructor that, to this day, we still reminisce that no matter what the class was about, we could take him right out of his thought process to tell one of his war stories. I thought I was listening to Patton or some Rambo movie. It was great. We all found a way to breaking out of that military learning environment and getting some air. War stories were fun and interesting; we couldn’t wait to get our feet wet. Some stories were funny, but some made you scared of being there if it happened to you.

The class had approximately three weeks of firearms training, which we couldn’t wait for until it came. Thousands of rounds. Every morning, your weapon would be inspected for any gunpowder, dirt, grease, or anything else they could come up with. They always found something. Along with the firearm training came learning the respect of CS gas used to empty a house by the SWAT team. We were all lined up after night shooting and were instructed to hold hands and walk through the fog or smoke. The instructions also included, Do not stop, and do not rub your eyes! I started to walk and realized the power of this freaking gas. I dropped to my knees as the instructor was yelling at me to get up and walk. I replied that I couldn’t see as he replied, You’re still in the fog! I powered myself to a stand and then a run. I was falling over the people ahead of me throwing up or just falling to their knees. It was horrible. Your sinus cavity just unloaded as your eyes burned with fire and gave you an uncontrollable sneeze. The other effect that bothered me most was that this gas affected your lungs. It gave the effect that your lungs were being constricted, and you couldn’t take in needed air. We all survived this brutal training, and other cadets that had trouble with the firing range were given intense training to get them through the qualifying process. It was a bonding time within the academy class.

The academy included officer survival training to include handcuffing techniques, ground fighting, verbal judo, weapon uses and takeaways, pressure points, etc. This was a challenging time for all. They kicked our asses, beat up and bruised for weeks. Some of the women gained much respect from instructors and also fellow cadets. When you were given a partner, it could be either gender. We’re all deputies and don’t get a choice when you’re put in a situation. We needed to perform the given task full speed and power to make it work, and the instructors made sure. Over and over, we would train until it was right. I enjoyed it. It was all real hard and fun until one day it was devastating.

We were conducting a three-minute survival drill where you, the deputy, have to fight off three bad guys dressed in what they call the red man suit made of rubber to protect all thrown blows. We all had to complete this to learn officer survival and how long three minutes really is when you’re in a fight. The main bad guy was the instructor, and usually, one or two of us were the other bad guys. No holding back! Three minutes! The time came for me, excited and cocky, bring it on. I survived and took a few blows but gave a few blows. After approximately ten minutes, I was almost recovered when I noticed a fellow cadet just ending his drill. He was probably in his mid-forties and a bit overweight, great guy. He was very sweaty and pale faced, pacing around, and he said to me that he needed to stop smoking. I agreed with him and continued to watch the drills. I then looked back over at him and saw him lying on the floor and seemed to be shaking. At this time, the whole class stopped in its tracks, and the instructors rushed to give immediate care. I think I was in shock along with most of the class. How can anybody be ready to see this happen right before your eyes? CPR was given as EMS arrived; they took over without delay. We all knew he was dead but unspoken. Within minutes, every person in the agency that wore gold was there, the sheriff on down. It was devastating to all. The whole class had to meet with the agency’s victims advocate prior to leaving for the day. The class won’t be the same, at least not for me. I was still in shock. Talking to your friend, going through this drill, and then seeing him die right before your eyes—you could never prepare for that.

It’s so crazy that all of this could happen in the real world and go on without delay; this atmosphere still goes on without delay with devastation among us doesn’t count. Life just goes on. No matter what occurs. The next day arrives, and it’s back to normal at the rate of the academy. How are we to survive and go on after this? Well, we go on with the enthusiasm that it’s the right thing to do. It’s what he would have wanted of his classmates, to survive and conquer. The next several weeks, the class regrouped and did move forward with his memory in mind. It was a moral blessing.

Academy Graduation

Over the next several weeks of torture, the class grew stronger with much to gain, survival of the three and a half months to become the correctional officers we started out to be. Every cadet was determined, at this point, to survive this course and graduate to become the person this group of instructors imagined us to be. On December 21 of 1990, we graduated the academy class number five of the upcoming correctional officers for this new county jail. On top of the glory of graduating this academy class, we were given off the next week, after the holidays. This was a true reward that the certified officers on duty didn’t appreciate at all. The new cocks have the holidays off, and here we stand, with seniority, and we’re working. The new cocks will start after the holidays. All kidding aside, we felt it upon arrival.

Welcome to Jail

The day finally arrived. Here we were the new cops waiting for the bees to sting. These inmates, who were waiting at the bars, were fully aware that the rookies were coming and were ready. The next thing we knew, they were all yelling and calling for us on demand—just trying the new cocks. They were finding out what they could get or get away with from the new cops. We were gullible to almost everything. The seasoned officers almost got off on all the bullshit. It was funny to them, especially when they gave you the tour and then threw you the keys and said, If you need something or there’s a problem, call me. This was a true joke and also a test of