NOTE!!! This article and the ones to follow were written during my last stint at the PCJ, and concern the time from August to the present date...so bear with me if the news seems a bit slow.
Hey America! Here we are, back at my recent home away from home, yes, I'm talking about the Polk County "Polkie" again.
Now, you would think, that after the "Sheriff", Bill McCarthy read both of my jail articles 34 or better times, that things may have improved at the Polk County Jail, wouldn't you? Well, for the most part, sadly...no. One thing managed to improve, I'll just say it, so that some portion of this can be positive (granted, only for a moment or two)...hygiene lovers, rejoice! Now, instead of the one-size-fits-all foam soap that used to be there for everything...body soap, shampoo, cleaning out your cups, etc. (I still have to wonder if this soap ever really got anything clean at all), now there's a new foam soap for hands, and a new wonderfully smelling soap gel for your shower needs. Ummmm....thank you? Of all of the things I talked about that were wrong in my recent "Polkie" articles, a couple of articles down from this one, you would probably imagine that 1000 or so better things could have improved. Also, as they say, what good is it to go one step forward, if you're going to go two steps back, eh?
Step numero uno, Even though there's only one clock (that only around 1/5 of the whole jail pod can see from their cells), and no alarm clocks, the jail has ceased waking people up in the early morning to receive their medications, given out from 9-10 a.m. Granted, most normal people in the world are up around this time...but this is a jail. Worse yet, this is the Polk County Jail, where if you don't sleep half of your time away, you'll more than likely kill someone, due to lack of anything better to do with yourself while you wait to get your sub-standard and low-key kangaroo justice; which of course could be and usually is counter-expectant to YOUR version of justice, something I haven't noticed happens in Iowa much, unless you pay some rip-off attorney tens of thousands of dollars to do things for you that you could have probably done for yourself, had you read up on the circus they call "Law." Like my buddy Theo Booker in L.A. always says, "I've seen Bigfoot more than I've seen justice in my state." Anyway, should you not be able to rouse yourself in time, the med pass people will then consider your absence a refusal to take your meds;, then the next time you DO manage to get up, your meds may not be there for you to take. Now, this would normally be no big deal for someone like me, who takes Prilosec for acid reflux once a day or something...but to those who sleep their day away because they take Seraquil, or take some kind of psychotropic drug, the results of even missing one med could be the difference between that guy getting into a simple argument, or him knocking out someone's teeth. Worse yet, now, since they've stopped your meds because of your "refusal" to take them, you now have to spend more money off of your books to see the jail doctor AGAIN, and get your med script started AGAIN, etc. Ces't la vie, s'pose, and such is life. It more than likely won't be ME getting MY teeth kicked in anyway, since I'm more on the side of the inmates, and don't hassle people or talk to them like children. No, the teeth kicking thing is more likely to happen to the more than abusive detention officers or the emergency response team. Believe me, knowing a lot of these guys, I can't really say I'd be too upset about that anyway.
Speaking of Prilosec (step back numero dos), older male sufferers of acid reflux, a truly debilitating condition for some, like myself, are no longer offered a decent medicine for this as a once a day option. When it was available, you only had to take it once, in the morning. It was prescribed you when you told the nurse during your initial FREE visit, before you were assigned a permanent holding pod. Now, it doesn't matter what you tell her to start off with, you have to now claim to be sick of this later, so that you have to see the nurse again, which, of course, incurs additional costs. Not only that, but instead of a once a day med, you are now prescribed something different...TUMS. 6 of them, during the course of the day, and over a span of 3 med calls. Let alone the fact that TUMS relieves your acid discomfort for what, like 5 whole minutes; and you now have to wait 3-4 hours for 2 more, or overnight. Nice. Reminds me of taking 1 generic aspirin to relieve a migraine, or 2 Advils to take care of broken back pain.
But I digress. How did I end up back in jail you ask? A funny story, that one (ha freekin' ha), one I'm just dyin' to tellya too.
Also let it be said that this most current arrest was most cruel, most foul, and most ridiculous, and only involved 3 little misdemeanors, all simple. Rest assured that I did, for maximum spite, and since I had to sit out the rest of my sentence anyway...probation, of course, did not pan out, as I predicted...ask for a jury trial. You'll see why soon enough, right after my story.
*Mr. Bruce gets a starry look in his eye, as he goes WAYYYY back for the story on this one...*
Once upon a time, right before I met my current wife of 7 or so years, I met a guy we'll call Gary...or as I affectionately call him now, Gary the Doctor. I call him that, mainly because he is, of course, now a doctor. Anyway, he and I were both living at the YMCA at the time, and he was studying to be a doctor, probably one of the hardest professions a next to homeless type guy could study and succeed at - and he did succeed, much to my surprise. I was, of course, duly impressed, and attempted to keep up with him as much as I was able as the years rolled on.
Anyway, after getting all of his necessary degrees, Doctor Gary moved into a rather swanky downtown location, unbeknownst to me.
Later, the wife and I moved into our own little corner of downtown hell, the Elliot Apartments, still owned by and notoriously run by one of the more slummy landlords of fame here in Des Moines, a guy named Jim Nahaus Jr., a slimeball, and the son of the more famous and much more kindly Jim Nahaus Sr. This rat bastahd conned my wife into signing us out of our apartment, then threw out all of our hard-attained belongings as well. He has a team of lawyers (you'd need those, with the kind of stuff he pulled on his tenants), deserves a special apartment of his very own in Hell, and it wouldn't surprise me if he wasn't sitting at the feet of his father on his deathbed at the time he died, wringing his hands while awaiting his fortune to pass onto him. Again...I digress.
In this home, whole we still lived there, there resided a nosy little gossipy woman named Nancy Elscott. This woman attempted to make our acquaintance a few times, chatting us up in the elevator, etc., but someone had warned us early on that this woman was notorious for ratting out residents for things that went against the building rules when she didn't like you (which was impossible to ascertain, whether she did or did not); and sometimes, even when she DID like you. We then proceeded to avoid her like the plague. We never did know until later just how smart that decision would prove to be.
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| Nancy Elscott |
Several weeks into the lease, the elevator doors opened to me the sight of my old friend, none other than Gary the Doctor, after a significant time of his being absent in our lives. After slapping each other on the back and catching up a bit, we exchanged cell numbers and Gary then chose to inform me that he was dating someone right in my building, and that it was likely that I would be seeing him more often. I was, of course, quite OK with that.
Another day or so later, more towards thanksgiving, the elevator opened for me again to Gary the Doctor. I was thrilled...until I noticed the cancer growth that was stitched to his arm. It was none other than Nancy Elscott. My mind raced to tell him to run far far away, but out of respect for his apparent happiness, I bit my tongue....HARD, and figured I'd catch him on his way up to see her someday, alone.
That never happened. The leech Nancy was attached full-time to Gary's arm. They were inseparable, which did absolutely nothing for my opinion of Gary...Could he be so blind?? It didn't take me more than 2.2 seconds to verify what I'd heard...but I chalked it up to a hard-working and very tired man who couldn't make things out so well - being an intern at 60 could do that to a guy, I reasoned. So once again, I kept my impossibly open mouth zipped tightly shut, hoping he would finger things out on his own.
I saw Gary and Nancy together a few more times, on towards Christmas. The biggest thing that I noticed was, that Gary was spending an awful lot of money on Nancy...and every time I saw this, it seemed that Nancy was less appreciative about it, was nastier to my friend on subsequent occasions, and acted a whole lot more every day like a spoiled rotten brat.
Finally, one day, Doctor Gary called me to inform me that he was breaking off the Elscott-induced engagement he'd been duped into (I hadn't been notified of this, as yet) for pretty much the exact same reasons I just put out there. I was quite relieved that I hadn't had to be the one to open his eyes to what was going on, he pretty much figured it out all on his own...thank the Good Lord, and all the heavenly hosts.
Nancy, on the other hand, was very hurt over losing Doctor Gary, and, looking for anyone that she could blame for it that wasn't her, of course, landed the blame squarely on MY head. This would begin a years long war between us that existed for no better reason that, because I was there...and Gary was disturbingly absent.
Fast forward to the present day, I got out of jail on July fourth, as you all know. As you also all well know, I didn't care much for Iowa probation. I had gone to sign up the following day (no one told me where to go, or who to see, by the way...I had to ask another inmate for the information to avoid an immediate violation), and spent around 5 minutes listening to the guy tell me what was required of me (besides the $300 start up costs they IMMEDIATELY hit me with the moment I hit the door...I believe the secretary's exact words were "Ah, Mr. Bruce, you're expected...would you happen to have that $300 with you to sign up for probation? We're gonna need that pretty quickly, so if you could get that to us right away please...") Aside from that, he informed me that they didn't have probation in Carroll, and wanted me to go 60 miles away...with no car...to the Ames probation office. My response in kind went to the tune of "Are you nuts; sounds like a personnel problem; and I'm not doing this"...and my walking out of the office.
Oh, and, imperative to our story, as soon as I decided NOT to do probation, I immediately submitted a letter to the judge telling him that I was staying in Des Moines, and to revoke me and put me back in jail. He then set a court date for August 18th for my revocation hearing. Then, after we had left Carroll, IA, the Ames office sent a letter to my home where I no longer lived, saying I had a probation appointment in Ames, for probation I did not sign up for and asked to be revoked from. When I didn't show for the appointment, the Ames probation office filed with the court requesting a warrant for me, for probation violation. I noticed this, and wrote the judge AGAIN, reminding him that I was in Des Moines, and due to attend a hearing for revocation, and to NOT put out a warrant. Then, without notification, the judge put out a warrant for me ANYWAY...wow.
The next step I took from there was to call my wife to tell her to get packed, because we were going to move back to Des Moines, since it was more convenient to come see me when I went back to jail for the remainder of my sentence. I didn't want to participate in wearing an Iowa collar, just so that they could yank me back into jail anytime they damn well felt like it, or if they didn't like what I was doing at the time. The judge had already informed me that my first violation would be a whopping 90 days (for normal people, that would have been 30 days), and would increase exponentially for each subsequent violation...yeah, no thank you.
After moving my wife to Des Moines, should would have to, unfortunately, until this feat was accomplished, would have to be transferred and uprooted from her cooshy job, and would have to take up residence at the local and ONLY homeless shelter - at least, the only one that doesn't force you to engage in a monkly religious program for months before you can even start working again. I, on the other hand, had been banned from the same homeless shelter for life - they had lost $300 of my belongings, and beings that had been all I had at the time, and had just recently been caused to be homeless by DHS when they STOLE my wife's only daughter, I may have jumped off of my rocker just a wee. Icing on the cake, they didn't find it...until AFTER the police trespassed me off of the property.
I, thank God, had an ace up my sleeve for the doggie and I...there was a good friend of mine that loved my little TT, and after ringing his bell, he opened his door wide to us. You remember TT, don'tcha? If not, take note...since he becomes a major star in our story, henceforth.
We had only one little problem. Much to our dismay, Nancy Elscott also resided in this same complex, and, it would be discovered later, lived one floor up from my friend Richard's apartment. True to her nature, and without my knowledge, she began calling the apartment manager's offices, which were located right next door, and ratted me and my doggy out.
Within a week, my friend received his first friendly letter from the management of NEWBERRY LIVING, telling him that he couldn't have anyone else staying with him; even though in his lease it stated that he could house someone for a 14 day limit, that wasn't on it; and I had not, by this time, even been there that long. More than this, he was also accused of housing an unapproved dog without paying an excessive $600 pet deposit.
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| NEWBERRY LIVING's LOGO...make sure you look for this!! |
Being that I only required a short time to get housing before I was re-jailed, I decided on fight rather than flight. I first went to the managers and nicely plead out my friend's case, informing them that we would only be there a little while, until I got an apartment. In short, I attempted to appeal to their better natures. Little did I know that they did not have better natures, and told me that I would have to vacate the premises without fail, in short order. I then told my friend that I would be OK, and would be sneakier. He acquiesced. I took his keys, and took the doggy out the back where Nancy would not be watching; yet I suppose the managers were looking out, because when I passed their windows, they were wide open...unlike before, when they were always shut, to keep prying eyes out. They also took to spying on poor Richard...good one eh?...and myself right at the apartment door, and drove around the block a lot when their hands got full of Nancy's irritating voice telling them my every move.
I had planned to leave that very week anyway, but before I could, another knock came at my friend's door. We were pretty sure we knew who it was...and we were, of course, correct. The managers had come to deliver yet another love letter. God, I wish I had a copy of that letter, it was illegal as HELL. Instead, we'll just show you the trespass order that was given to my wife....who wasn't living there:
Richard, the apartment resident, as well as myself, were both veterans of the armed forces. To say the very least, this behavior by this complex was duly abhorrent. I did absolutely nothing wrong, wasn't being noisy or unruly, and avoided the other tenants of the complex at all times.
My friend Richard was threatened with unlawful eviction...and they handed US (my wife wasn't even staying there, by the way) trespass papers, forbidding our return to the property, just 3 days shy of our getting a place. So...Mr. Bruce (me) decided to vacate the premises, in order to save my friend from eviction...and got inventive for revenge.
I proceeded to toss a blanket out on the boardwalk wide sidewalk, next to the street out of the way of foot traffic, next to the bus bench and the parking meters. I laid out my doggy's bowls, and filled them with food and water...and made sure I was staring directly into Nancy Elscott's Apartment; and could, for effect, once the office opened, be able to turn my head sideways to stare down the managers of the apartments, when they arrived as well. The plan was to stay put until the upcoming paycheck, and of course, torture the management for putting me and my cute doggy out.
So, the next morning, I am sitting on my little protest blanky, and I wake to see the police. They're there to investigate a robbery...and don't say a word to me.
Two hours later, a K-9 unit pulls up on me, and asks if I'm OK, because someone called in, worried about li'l ol' me. Nice. I prove that I'm just fine, and ask if I'm breaking any laws. He says nope, and moves on.
In the next hour, I notice that there's a lot of movement going on with the apartment building and the management office. The maintenance guy is outside, then someone pulls up to the offices, then the management comes over, then the manager and Nancy go to the management office and back....and I know that my time is about done. They're trying to get me pissed off so I'll act out, so I'll get arrested...but of course, since I've figured it out, I just sit there, and smile...
Then a snotty little bike cop...Kyle Thies, of the Des Moines Police Department, pulls up on his bicycle, and says to me "What are you doing here?" I say..."Uhhhh,,,,pettin' my dog, minding my own business?" Then I give him the rundown on the situation honestly, and was completely amiable about it. He says I can't be there, cause I'm trespassing. I say I'm not trespassing, I'm on the public sidewalk, and not obstructing traffic in any fashion. He then changes the story, and says I'm loitering. I ask him to show me the no loitering signs, and he says there doesn't have to be any for me to be loitering...and this, of course, is new to me. Then he makes his mistake. He gets on the horn, and calls in to have the ARL get my cute little harmless dog. Keep in mind, no arrests have been made, nor have any legitimate crimes been mentioned.
I then called 911 and let them know that I was being harassed. In the middle of my complaint, they hang up. It's not an emergency, because it involves an officer, evidently.
I then gathered up my stuff, and went on down the road. I turned, and went about another half a block...and I saw the entire management team of Newberry Living, and Nancy Elscott, following along...I turned and flipped them off.
4 seconds later, bike boy comes streaking around the corner and says I'm under arrest for disorderly conduct. I tell him he's nuts, and called 911 again. Again, they hung up on me. He enlists the help of the police officer guarding the construction zone next door, Cole Johnson, and puts me under arrest, pushes me on the ground, then ties my dog up.
Meanwhile, the wife is coming down the hill. I tell her to grab our dog before the ARL comes to get him. Officer Thies then threatens her with arrest if she even reaches for our dog. She's there to take him, and they won't give him up.
By the way, the dog was taken by the ARL. They gave him shots that he didn't need, and registered him to be in Des Moines. He was already registered in Carroll. They charged us $100, and, after only 2 days, had him ready to go into foster care. What is it about the people I love (my dog and my daughter) that everyone wants to take them and put them in foster care??? Here's the ARL paper for that:
My wife then asks if its OK to gather up my things, and he gives her permission to do so. Then, he asks me for my name...I tell him to get bent. He's taking me dog, arresting me on bull spit, and threatening my wife. FUCK HIM!! KNOW WHAT HAPPENS? He rips my computer bag out of my wife's hands and starts going through it to find papers that have my name on them. He finds one...and calls it in. Naturally, THIS is when I find out there's a warrant for my arrest for probation violation. 'Magine that.
The charges on this one? Disorderly Conduct...making a loud or raucous noise (I swore at someone, in the vicinity of a residence). Calling 911 with no emergency. And Harassment of a public official. Let's have some fun with these, OK?
First of all, disorderly conduct, making a loud and raucous noise. Now, Webster's Collegiate defines raucous as loud and hoarse, or boisterous. Are you forreal? This is a crime now??? If that's the case friends, we can be arrested just about anywhere. At the bar, at concerts...as the Band at the concerts, at the state fair...just about anywhere we might get loud or raucous. How about construction areas, don't they tend to make loud raucous noises, as they put things up and tear them down again? Let's not even go to driving trucks and semis, or car racing, or demolition derbies, lots of raucousness going on there...Airplanes...police and ambulance sirens, anyone there get arrested? Comedians...now THERE's a loud and raucous bunch. Gimme a break. As for swearing at someone in the vicinity of a residence...where exactly is there NOT a residence (the only possible exception being a business or an office park); and for that matter, he had best get busy, because there are approximately 322,000,000 other Americans he had best arrest as well. Why bother with speeding tickets, arresting people for swearing at others has got to be a whole lot easier, and more lucrative, doesn't it?
Let's move on to calling 911 without an emergency. Now first off, I called 911 twice, more than likely because I didn't have to have the non-emergency number emblazoned on my palm, or handy in my wallet. Everyone knows that the number for the police is 911. But, I'm guessing, it's not an emergency if a police officer is the one committing the crimes, right? If anyone else were stalking and harassing me, stealing my dog (when another owner was there to take him home), and threatening my wife, they'd be arrested on the spot. Oh, and after the first call, did either the operator or the officer straighten me out on what number to call? Nope. And how about the management office people, did they get arrested for calling 911 on ME, for the crime of laying on a blanket in front of their building, for not having an emergency? Hell no.
Last but certainly not least, there's my favorite, harassment of a public official, a crime I would have normally been really proud of, mostly because cops who bully lower classed citizens deserve harassment; but this bike king was nothing better than a piece of smelly doggy-doo that I wouldn't ask my puppy to poop out, nor would I consider this moron cop worthy of of hanging off of my summer foot thong, should'st I be fortunate enough to step in him. Let alone, I got charged with this for not giving him my name, because he knew...that I KNEW that I had a warrant for my arrest....whatever dood. So this cop is a mind-reader then...Robocop.
Folks, there will be payback for this...no, no, I don't wish to spoil it. Let's just say, before I move far far away from Des Moines (IN 10 Days), I will have that revenge...and it will be served COLD...well, mostly because it IS cold..will it be against the law? Hardly. Will it be a happy time for all involved? Of Course Not. :D
