Let Me Smell Your Fingers

At the satellite facility we house inmates who have been sentenced to a year in jail or less. Offenses varied like snowflakes. These guys were on the work crews that cleaned the streets, parks, and buildings. We even let them work at our pistol range. That one always baffled me. The only men not eligible to work off their time under this honor system were those who were charged with domestic violence, or for sales of drugs. Since all they had to do was walk off the job or even out of the front gate at the satellite, it would make us look pretty bad if one of those two groups went back out and committed the same offense.

    Because they had the freedom to be unsupervised from time to time, they had plenty of opportunities to pick up stashes of contraband while they were working the various jobs. The biggest item smuggled back into the facility was tobacco. That was due to the fact that smoking was not allowed during their incarceration.

    It was one of the most violated rules of the satellite. They were getting caught all the time. Not necessarily in the act, but through circumstantial evidence. Like finding enough smoke in the bathroom to call out the Forestry Department to put out the fire. Inmates didn't want to get caught. A rule violation would add 5 days to their sentence and he would also be sent back downtown to the real jail to finish his time.

    If an officer walked into one of the bathrooms of the pods (living quarters) and smelled smoke, they would not let anyone exit who was in the room at the time. Questions were asked, accusations made, and rule violations were written. It was pretty much cut and dry most of the time if you knew what time it was. Smokers got away with their offense more easily with inexperienced officers.

    Many a rookie officer was tutored into the fold with the following shenanigan. If, let's say, 6 or 7 inmates were corralled in the bathroom before making a hasty escape, a rookie officer would line them up for the grill. The first thing the officer would do is tell them to show their hands as he progressed down the line in the same fashion as a military drill instructor would do to look for the telltale signs of yellow staining from the nicotine. It's the next step that leads to mistake mistake mistake.

    You see, nicotine leaves a very distinct odor on the fingers, especially when the hand-rolled cigarette is burned to the very nub. Nothing but ashes are left. What does the new officer do? As he confronts each inmate, he says, "Let me smell your fingers." My my my.

    As his attention is glued to the inmate in front of him, the one on the end is promptly sticking his finger up his own butt just waiting for his turn to produce the fingers as the officer instructs...