The Prison Diaries: Inside the Idaho State Penitentiary

I’ve been arrested for driving without proof of a license. I’ve got to go to jail because it’s the second time I’ve done it. These two cops have me gather my belongings in a backpack and tell me to go to the courthouse before a certain date. I drive down there in my old Cutlass Ciera and sit in the parking lot for a moment, talking to my dad on the cell phone. I don’t want to tell him where I am or why, so after a while I don’t say anything at all, and eventually hang up without an explanation. I leave the keys in the car while I go to “check in.” Security seems pretty lax for a prison. I’m actually going to be staying in the women’s correctional facility, which scares the hell out of me, but from the looks of things, the atmosphere is more like a dentist’s office than a jail. I go to the reception desk and the two ladies there help me fill out my paperwork. I’ve got a lot of questions for them, since I’ve never spent any time in prison for. They answer my questions, but I can tell they’re getting a little impatient with me, since these are things I should apparently already know. I’m a little unclear as to when my sentence actually starts…when I actually enter a cell and stay there. They say no one’s available to show me to my cell for another 3 hours, so I wait around and chat with other prisoners coming to check in. Finally someone shows me to my room. Not my cell, my room. There are two beds, three bathrooms, several closets, and carpet and furnishings. My cell-mate isn’t there yet, so I feel uncomfortable “moving in” until I know which spaces are hers and how much re-arranging I can do. I explore the place a little bit, while my sister and a few friends wait in the cell with me for my prison-mate to arrive again. The room is really messy…lots of clothes in the closet, lots of stuffed animals lying around, and tons of knick-knacks. Somehow I know that they’re not all hers, but things that have been left behind by generations of prisoners. I decided I’d like to take the “downstairs bathroom” for my own, which isn’t really downstairs, but is down a few steps into a separate bedroom, with a bathroom off to the side. It’s a small space, but there’s a nice vanity and shelves, with Betty Boop collector items and jewelry all over them.

I go back into the room, and there are more people there…some of them I know, some of them friends of the people I know, and some of them I don’t know at all. I start to think that this prison stint won’t be so bad, but I’m really ashamed to be there, and worry about what everyone else will think when they find out that Liz is in the state pen.

Finally my cell-mate comes back from the library, where we was checking out an armful of great classic books. I notice for the first time the dance posters on the walls near her bed, and I find out that she’s a dancer. She’s short, and not terribly pretty, wears no make-up and slightly out-of-date clothes. She seems a little immature for her age, but a nice girl. I had been told that she was in jail for killing her cousin William. I’m still a little unsure about how we’ll get along, but a lot of my fears subside when I actually meet her.

I sit down on the bed and think about all of the other things I could have Beckah bring me from home…I hadn’t realized I would have this much room for my belongings, or that I would be allowed to bring all of them. I ask a guard if I can use my cell phone, and he says I just have to ask permission first by pressing a button by my door, but no one’s there right now, so I have to wait a few hours. I think again about how this place is nice but doesn’t seem very well organized. Well-funded and well-staffed, but lazy.

I sit down on the bed among all the people who are still there…it’s like this party or something. I realize that this place isn’t so bad at all. A nice room, no rent, free meals, and no responsibilities all day. There’s a library and a yard for recess. I worry for a moment about whether I’ll be required to play sports and if I’ll be beaten up or stabbed when the other prisoners find out I’m really bad at them. I decide I’ll choose to dance instead of play sports. I worry that I might go crazy being in this building all day, but I realize I can have my computer and my phone and a lot of my stuff. It’s not so different from just any old apartment, except you don’t have to go anywhere or do anything, one wall is made of glass, and you’ll get electrocuted if you try to open the glass doors. I decide that it might be hard sometimes, and I’m still pretty ashamed, but since its not a felony I won’t have to put my jail-time on any job applications, so I can make this arrangement work for me.

But then I realize that I have no idea how long I’m supposed to be staying here, and I can’t find anyone who will look at my records and find out or tell me. I look back at all the people in my room and realize that I don’t know ANY of them, and wish they would leave because I didn’t feel like hanging out with strangers on my first night of who knows how many in the state penitentiary. I have the feeling that if I could get out of my room, I could easily leave, but I don’t want to add time to my unknown sentence, or additional shame to my reputation. So I sit crowded into a corner of what’s supposed to be MY room, waiting for people to leave so that I can unpack and get organized. I’m still waiting when I wake up.