Chapter 20 -- The Second Visit

    

    The 500-mile trip is not an easy one. This time Joe and I made the trek through Atlanta. We left early on a Friday morning so we could travel at our leisure, eat lunch somewhere below the Florida line, and make it to our hotel just after suppertime. That way we would be fresh for our visit on Saturday morning. I do not like to read while I travel but I had become interested in The Hunger Games so the time passed rather quickly for me. 

     We showered, dressed, ate breakfast and packed for our trip to the prison. I carried my clean clothes packed in plastic bags, just like the guard had suggested. When we reached the parking lot, I slipped into the outfit I had washed and packed in Alabama.

     We were confident we had followed the correct procedure should we be tested again by the scanner.  Since we had been told that those visitors selected for a scan were randomly chosen, Joe and I felt sure the odds were in our favor that neither of us would be scanned on this day. After all, there were guests there who had never been scanned.

     After my first experience with the metal detector, I knew not to wear an underwire bra, so we both passed the first hurdle with no problems. As I moved along the line, I felt a strange sense of discomfort come over me. I thought I was nervous from my first encounter with the ion scanner, but it felt like more than just nerves.  Sure enough, the guard instructed me to uncover my hip pocket. WHAT? Was I being tested again? This cannot be random. They really think I am guilty! They have picked me out to do a scan because they think I produce ecstasy?!?

    Wait! What am I nervous about I have followed the procedure to the letter? I have clean clothes that I put on in the parking lot. Just as all these thoughts passed through my head, I heard the sound of the Ion Scan 500 DT and I knew there would be trouble.

     I was asked, once again, to take my place. Joe was not a Happy Camper. Although he had not been with me during my ordeal during the first visit, he was frustrated with the actions of the guards just the same. And now it appeared to be happening again. Needless to say, his temper was beginning to show.

     When the guard told us we would have to meet behind the glass again, Joe became irate. I will not repeat what he said but it was not pleasant. He let it be known that we had done all that was asked of us on the first positive charge. When he was met with a lack of concern, he asked to see someone higher up in the administrative chain. As we waited, he became angrier just thinking about the situation.  Waiting is not productive when tempers are already agitated.

     When the warden arrived, he acted as if he was aggravated at even being bothered by our request.  He was not very friendly nor accommodating. Joe explained our dilemma and asked what we needed to do to correct this mistake to which he responded, “Well, your wife just doesn’t need to test positive.” WRONG ANSWER!  That was not the reply Joe needed to hear.  Frustration from the first visit combined with the condescending attitudes of the workers at this second visit sent Joe into orbit. HE LOST IT! I watched helplessly as Joe proceeded to spew words directly in the face of the warden. The only thing I heard was “LET ME TELL YOU ONE THING….”

     Here we were at a maximum-security prison and Joe was reading the Riot Act to the Warden, no less. I tried to remain cool and asked him to calm down, but anyone who has ever tried to quiet a redheaded, hot-tempered Hobby would understand. He was going to say his piece even if we ended up at FCI Coleman, too. The other guards and I watched in disbelief as Joe continued to make his grievance known. All I could do was pray and believe me, that is just what I was doing.

     After what seemed like an hour but was really more like 10 minutes, Joe retreated. I don’t know if his common sense took over or he just got worn out, but I knew he did not give up his stance. He would carry this complaint onward and upward if need be.

     Later Joe would investigate the ion scanner and its use in the prison system.  We found out that we were not the only people with complaints about false positive drug tests. Joe considered carrying his complaint even further, like to a Senator or even the Department of Justice, but we both decided that the repercussions might be detrimental to Matt, so he decided to drop his case. We both found it ironic that the guards were never checked upon entry even though Matt had said there was plenty of drugs available in the Yard.

     We continued to visit FCI Coleman without another scan. Either I was just lucky or maybe they had my name in the system with a label “DO NOT SCAN!”, but I was grateful never to face the Ion Scan 500 DT again.  I did, however, face countless body scans and searches.

Chapter 19 - The First Visit

                                                           

    Five hundred thirty miles is a long way to travel for a visit, but if I wanted to see my firstborn that’s just what I had to do. So, Joe and I made plans to travel to Ocala, Florida to see Matt. Ocala is only about 30 miles from Orlando, but we did not ever visit Disneyworld on our trips down. We usually left on a Friday morning and traveled all day. We would visit early on Saturday morning. Leave after lunch and return on Sunday morning before we left to return to Alabama.

    Our first visit turned into a memorable visit for all of us.  My middle son, Jeffrey, decided to make the trip with us, so the three of us set out around 8:00 on a Friday morning on what we thought would be a 9-hour road trip. We thought we would save time by avoiding Atlanta which proved to be a big mistake. We pulled into our hotel around 9:00 pm exhausted from the long ride in the backroads of south Alabama. Atlanta might have traffic but at least there were places to stop for restroom breaks and snacks along the way.

     There was little time to rest in the morning because we had a new adventure ahead of us with numerous unanswered questions. Our hotel was about 20 miles from the prison which was quite a way out in the country. I would not have expected any less considering the acreage the FCC covered. We ate the complimentary breakfast, grabbed a few snacks for later and headed out on our journey to visit Matt.

     The GPS on the phone directed us most of the way until we were so far out from civilization that we lost cell service. I would assume there was a reason there was only spotty cell service on the prison grounds, since the prisoners were forbidden to have cell phones. The lack of coverage assured there would be no calls made from within even if bootleg cell phones managed to find their way into the facility. Inside, the concrete walls and metal fences guaranteed no calls would ever penetrate the airways.

     I must say that the awesome expanse of the complex was most impressive. As we drove the long drive past the first gate, I felt a small twinge of xenophobia that actually lasted until the experience of the first visit was complete. That feeling would return slightly each time we made the turn into the facility. It is a feeling associated with the uncertainty of not knowing the rules or what to expect. After all, there is no operations manual that goes along with prison visits for inmates. No matter how many times I visited the website and read the rules for visitation, there was something I missed on each visit.

     Visiting hours began at 8 so we arrived early, but so did every other visitor. The waiting room was large enough to hold about 50 people and the guards were accommodating. We were let in one by one and signed a registration roster with the date and time. Prior to our visit, Matt was required to make a list of possible visitors. We were told that immediate family members were automatically placed on the list but we would learn later that that was not true for everyone. Brad, Matt’s younger brother and my youngest son, was denied admission after a long drive down for a planned visit.

     We were called up one by one to check identification and have a picture taken for the BOP files. We then returned to the room to wait for our turn to be called. Visitors were taken back in groups which usually contained all family members of prisoners but never more than about 7 at a time. Which meant, if there was a large group waiting to visit it could be hours before we got in to see our person.  In a maximum-security prison or United States Penitentiary (USP), visitors were issued a locker with a key. Any items could be locked in the locker before entering the gates to the prison. That meant, we could bring reading material or something to pass the time while we waited.  The only thing we could take back was money for vending machines and the key to our locker. Which may have been what caused my snag on the first visitation.

     We would find out the hard way that money in south central Florida is not always clean and free of drug residue. So much money trades hands with the illegal drug trade that money can often contain traces of drugs that show up on sensitive scanners that detect drugs and drug substances. I know firsthand that this can happen.

     On a normal visit, Joe and I would sign in, wait to be called, go through the metal detector and proceed through the process of gate checks and on to the prisoner visiting room, but not on this visit.

     Since this was our first visit, everything we did was a new experience. We were learning the process so we took careful mental notes of how things worked. This day after registering and having our picture taken, we, Joe, Jeff and me, returned to the room to wait for our call. We were fortunate because our wait was not as long as expected. The registration had lasted a bit longer since we needed to know the tag number of our automobile and Joe had to walk outside to retrieve it. We had waited maybe 20 minutes when “Hobby family visitors” was announced on the loudspeaker.

      All three of us slowly made our way to the metal detector. We took off our shoes and any jewelry and placed them in the plastic tub that ran along the conveyor belt beside us. Joe passed through first because he was quicker getting things off, then Jeff. I was last to go and, of course, the alarm went off when I passed through the bars. I stepped back and tried again. Another alarm! I could feel my anxiety level beginning to rise. The guard asked me to step aside.

     Joe and Jeff had passed the clearing and were waiting to be sent with the guards to the visit, but I was not with them. The guard check all my pockets and patted me down and I tried a third time. Still, I set off the alarm.

     After a quick review with the guard, he decided it must be the underwire in my bra setting off the alarm. Easy fix, I thought, just give me some scissors. I was quickly informed that there were no scissors in a maximum-security prison…. DUH! well, I can just take off my bra, right?  Once again that was not an option because women had to be fully clothed for a visit. (Like they could tell a 57-year-old plus size woman was not wearing a bra!)  Well, what did he want me to do? Chew them out of my bra? His response was a classic, “well, women have been known to do that!”  What! I had to chew the wires out of my bra if I want to see my son. I hesitated about 5 seconds then asked for the restroom key. There was also no key, and no locks, on the restroom facility at FCI Coleman II.

     I entered the restroom just off the lobby and quickly disrobed from the top down. Since I knew it would be a while and there was a possibility of exposure from the unlocked door, I slipped my top back over my head. I sat down on the toilet and began my gnawing and twisting. It was easier than I thought since my adrenalin was surging from the excitement. I snapped the threads with my teeth and broke the wire with my hands. I managed to get a sharp point of the stave through a small hole I had chewed and both sides of the wire came free. I repeated the process on the other cup. Success!!! I quickly dressed and returned to my spot in line, but I would face a second obstacle on my quest to visit my son.  

      As I approached the counter one of the guards asked to see my front pocket. What? My front pocket? What could be in my front pocket? He pulled up a small device that I would later learn was an ion scanner. He touched my pocket with something that looked like the receiver of an old dial-up telephone and I had a strange feeling that things were not going according to my plans. The machine the scanner was attached to began making a strange typing sound and a long piece of paper that resembled an adding machine tape fell from the printing device. The guard tore the paper from the machine like a clerk pulls the receipt from the cash register.  The guard examined the printed paper and asked me to take a seat.  He signaled for me to sit away from the others who were ready to make the move across the grounds to the prison entrance so I knew I was in some sort of trouble.  

      As one guard escorted the group to the proper channels for entering the prison, I sat quietly by myself pondering my fate as I watched the others leave the building. The first thing the guard did was to stamp each visitor with imperceptible ink that showed the code for the day. A machine with a an ultra violet light read the stamp at certain points. They held up the stamped hand and the photo ID and were given the go ahead to proceed to the next point. I watched as the group waited for the first set of doors to open and they entered the chamber as the metal doors closed behind them. Now I was all alone. 

      My turn finally came to be addressed and that was where I was told that a substance was found on my clothing that was used in the production of the drug ecstasy. Ecstasy! Really? Why could they not catch the real drug pushers? I was just an old school teacher who wanted to visit her son. How could I test positive for ecstasy? Surely this was a mistake.

     Mistake or not, I could not visit in the normal manner, which meant I had to visit behind glass like I did in the county jails. I was fortunate that I could visit because the medium facilities did not even have a glass room for visitation. If I tested positive at a medium, I would simply be denied entrance all together. But WAIT! Joe and Jeffrey had already gone back. Could they continue with their visit? Did my positive test affect them who were already inside the walls of the prison? The answer to my question was yes and no. Yes, it affected them and no, they could not visit with prisoner contact. In the visiting room, Joe and Jeff were quickly separated from Matt even before they were able to hug. They were separated and ushered into the visiting room with glass windows. Neither one had a clue what was happening to me in the lobby.

     The device that detected my “drugs” was an Ion Scanner, probably and Ion Scan 500 DT. It’s a machine that uses ion spectrometry analysis or some sort of scientific method I can’t even pronounce much less understand to detect even the smallest amount of drugs or explosives.  I read in an internet article in the Prison Legal News that Ion scanners are able to detect trace amounts of illegal substances as low as 0.01 nanograms, or 1/100 billionth of a gram – an amount smaller than a single grain of refined sugar, and completely invisible to the naked eye.  The extreme sensitivity of the scanner has led to many false positives of the people that were tested.  Those affected have taken legal action against the manufacturer.  The lawsuits also argued the machines could not distinguish whether a trace amount of a substance was used in a legal product or an illegal drug.

     While they moved Joe and Jeffrey to a special visiting room with Matt, I was instructed to wait in the lobby waiting room. So, I took my place back where I started in a room filled with about 25 other anxious guests. While there, all I could do was wait. Joe had the keys to the locker and anything I had brought was locked in there. The guard had told me that only two visitors at a time were allowed back in the special room, so Joe and Jeffrey could visit for a bit. Then, Jeffrey would come out and I could go in and visit with Matt and Joe. Meanwhile, no one other than me had a clue what had happened. They had only been told that I had encountered a problem in the lobby.

      I sat quietly for what seemed like an hour just waiting. As Jeffrey made his return, he could see me through the long glass window. He had a puzzling look on his face that seemed to say, “What in the world happened?” He communicated through his eyes and his facial expression. I held my angst as long as I could and when he entered the room, I burst out” I TESTED POSITIVE FOR ECSTACY!”  He snickered, I cried, and the entire waiting room began to laugh out loud.

     I finally made it back to see Matt and we even had a normal visit the next day. We hugged until the guards told us to take a seat. As we exited on Sunday, we asked what we needed to do to prevent this occurrence from happening again. We were told to wash our clothes at home and place them in plastic bags, shower before the visit and change into the clothes right before entering the facility. We were also told not touch any money before we enter the building.  We followed their suggestions, but would find out on the second visit that even that was not enough to prevent a positive detection by the Ion Scan 500 DT.