|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
County corrections officer: ‘We watch each other’s back’
Editor’s Note: This is the first of a two-part story on the Pinellas County Jail’s intake area where prisoners begin the arrest process. The second part will be published next week.
By THOMAS MICHALSKI
Article published on Tuesday, Aug. 19, 2008 |
 |
![[Image]](/content_images/081908_pco-01.jpg) |
| Photo by THOMAS MICHALSKI |
| Cpl. Christie Grissinger, a 10-year veteran of the Pinellas County Jail, helps process new arrestees. |
|
LARGO – The Pinellas County Jail is home to an average of 3,300 prisoners.
On the day this story was written there were exactly 3,350 men and women behind bars on charges ranging from open container violations to murder.
Incarceration begins in the intake center where arrestees are brought in and processed.
Cpl. Christie Grissinger does not fit the mold of the typical prison guard of movies and television.
She is tall, slim, blonde, attractive and has been dealing with prisoners for about 10 years. For awhile she was a drill instructor in the sheriff’s boot camp for boys ages 14 to 18.
Born in Albany, N.Y., she has lived most of her life in Florida. A graduate of Seminole High School, she joined the Pinellas County Sheriff’s Office at age 21. Her husband, Mitchell, and her brother-in-law, Kevin, are deputies. An aunt investigates child abuse.
“Working in a jail makes you view people and life differently,” Grissinger said. “You get to meet so many different types here.”
The job also is stressful and usually charged with emotions.
“I’m not afraid to be in here because we work as a team,” Grissinger said. “We watch each other’s back.”
Only nine deputies were on duty that day, split unevenly between the intake and processing areas where prisoners are questioned, evaluated by registered nurses and issued name tags. They then wait, sometimes for up to 24 hours, for bail bondsmen.
The intake area is a large room with holding cells and other equipment of the jailhouse trade. Most people arrive quietly. Many ask questions. A few get violent. And they come from all walks of life. One man was more than 100 years old.
The second shift processes an average of 80 inmates each night. Charges range from local ordinance violations to the big stuff like murder and armed robbery. Sometimes celebrities are housed there. Nick Bollea, the son of wrestler Hulk Hogan, went through the process.
“People are in various stages of emotion,” Grissinger said. “They show up drunk, on drugs, depressed and even suicidal.”
A few are incarcerated under the so-called Marchman Act which took the place of the Baker Act. It allows authorities to incarcerate people who may harm themselves or others.
One arrestee a while back was so happy that he was actually doing cartwheels in the reception area. Another showed absolutely no remorse as he was being booked for DUI manslaughter in the death of a young girl.
Jail deputies are human like everyone else. They have opinions, but don’t express them. They cannot pre-judge, for example, a child predator.
The young lady’s name was Lakena and she was brought in by a St. Petersburg police officer. Her charge was felony theft. She had a gizmo that removes security devices from store merchandise.
Donald was another prisoner. The county jail serves all municipal, county and even federal agencies. Second shift is notoriously the busiest time of the day. And Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday are the busiest days, not weekends as most believe.
The first step of the arrest process is getting through Betty Hoggatt, the intake control deputy, who logs in officers while prisoners stay locked in patrol cars. Prisoners are marched before the “image capture” camera for mug shots. The camera actually reads the prisoner’s eyes for later identification.
Prisoners surrender personal belongings. One man had only 20 cents to his name. A woman had a lot more.
People arrested for public drunkenness generally are allowed to leave after they sober up and undergo a medical evaluation. Footwear such as boots or high heeled shoes are replaced with prison-issued flip-flops.
“We don’t want shoes being used as weapons against us or other prisoners,” Grissinger said.
Prisoners wait in hard-backed chairs for the next step of the process. Some are put in holding cells. They sit with dazed looks on their faces. A few cry.
|
Article published on Tuesday, Aug. 19, 2008
Copyright © Tampa Bay Newspapers: All rights reserved. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
Tampa Bay Newspapers
9911 Seminole Blvd.
Seminole, FL 33772
(727) 397-5563
Open Monday-Friday 8 a.m. to 5 p.m.
|
|
