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Subject: Re: eRecent Al Qaeda comments coinciding with their US Soldier abduction claim and coincidi Posted on: Mon, 14 May 2007 15:04:08 +0000 (UTC)


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April 29, 2007
By JENNIFER STEINHAUER
Associated Press

SANTA ANA, Calif., April 25 - Anyone convicted of a crime knows a debt
to society often must be paid in jail. But a slice of Californians
willing to supplement that debt with cash (no personal checks, please)
are finding that the time can be almost bearable.

For offenders whose crimes are usually relatively minor (carjackers
should not bother) and whose bank accounts remain lofty, a dozen or so
city jails across the state offer pay-to-stay upgrades. Theirs are a
clean, quiet, if not exactly recherch=E9 alternative to the standard
county jails, where the walls are bars, the fellow inmates are
hardened and privileges are few.

Many of the self-pay jails operate like secret velvet-roped nightclubs
of the corrections world. You have to be in the know to even apply for
entry, and even if the court approves your sentence there, jail
administrators can operate like bouncers, rejecting anyone they wish.

"I am aware that this is considered to be a five-star Hilton," said
Nicole Brockett, 22, who was recently booked into one of the jails,
here in Orange County about 30 miles southeast of Los Angeles, and
paid $82 a day to complete a 21-day sentence for a drunken driving
conviction.

Ms. Brockett, who in her oversize orange T-shirt and flip-flops looked
more like a contestant on "The Real World" than an inmate, shopped
around for the best accommodations, travelocity.com-style.

"It's clean here," she said, perched in a jail day room on the sort of
couch found in a hospital emergency room. "It's safe and everyone here
is really nice. I haven't had a problem with any of the other girls.
They give me shampoo."

For roughly $75 to $127 a day, these convicts - who are known in the
self-pay parlance as "clients" - get a small cell behind a regular
door, distance of some amplitude from violent offenders and, in some
cases, the right to bring an iPod or computer on which to compose a
novel, or perhaps a song.

Many of the overnighters are granted work furlough, enabling them to
do most of their time on the job, returning to the jail simply to go
to bed (often following a strip search, which granted is not so five-
star).

The clients usually share a cell, but otherwise mix little with the
ordinary nonpaying inmates, who tend to be people arrested and
awaiting arraignment, or federal prisoners on trial or awaiting
deportation and simply passing through.

The pay-to-stay programs have existed for years, but recently
attracted some attention when prosecutors balked at a jail in
Fullerton that they said would offer computer and cellphone use to
George Jaramillo, a former Orange County assistant sheriff who pleaded
no contest to perjury and misuse of public funds, including the
unauthorized use of a county helicopter. Mr. Jaramillo was booked into
the self-pay program in Montebello, near Los Angeles, instead.

"We certainly didn't envision a jail with cellphone and laptop
capabilities where his family could bring him three hot meals," said
Susan Kang Schroeder, the public affairs counsel for the Orange County
district attorney. "We felt that the use of the computer was part of
the instrumentality of his crime, and that is another reason we
objected to that."

A spokesman for the Fullerton jail said cellphones but not laptops
were allowed.

While jails in other states may offer pay-to-stay programs, numerous
jail experts said they did not know of any.

"I have never run into this," said Ken Kerle, managing editor of the
publication American Jail Association and author of two books on
jails. "But the rest of the country doesn't have Hollywood either.
Most of the people who go to jail are economically disadvantaged,
often mentally ill, with alcohol and drug problems and are
functionally illiterate. They don't have $80 a day for jail."

The California prison system, severely overcrowded, teeming with
violence and infectious diseases and so dysfunctional that much of it
is under court supervision, is one that anyone with the slightest
means would most likely pay to avoid.

"The benefits are that you are isolated and you don't have to expose
yourself to the traditional county system," said Christine Parker, a
spokeswoman for CSI, a national provider of jails that runs three in
Orange County with pay-to-stay programs. "You can avoid gang issues.
You are restricted in terms of the number of people you are
encountering and they are a similar persuasion such as you."

Most of the programs - which offer 10 to 30 beds - stay full enough
that marketing is not necessary, though that was not always the case.
The Pasadena jail, for instance, tried to create a little buzz for its
program when it was started in the early 1990s.

"Our sales pitch at the time was, 'Bad things happen to good people,'
" said Janet Givens, a spokeswoman for the Pasadena Police Department.
Jail representatives used Rotary Clubs and other such venues as their
potential marketplace for "fee-paying inmate workers" who are charged
$127 a day (payment upfront required).

"People might have brothers, sisters, cousins, etc., who might have
had a lapse in judgment and do not want to go to county jail," Ms.
Givens said.

The typical pay-to-stay client, jail representatives agreed, is a man
in his late 30s who has been convicted of driving while intoxicated
and sentenced to a month or two in jail.

But there are single-night guests, and those who linger well over a
year.

"One individual wanted to do four years here," said Christina Holland,
a correctional manager of the Santa Ana jail.

Inmates in Santa Ana who have been approved for pay to stay by the
courts and have coughed up a hefty deposit for their stay, enter the
jail through a lobby and not the driveway reserved for the arrival of
other prisoners. They are strip searched when they return from work
each day because the biggest problem they pose is the smuggling of
contraband, generally cigarettes, for nonpaying inmates.

Most of the jailers require the inmates to do chores around the jails,
even if they work elsewhere during the day.

"I try real hard to keep them in custody for 12 hours," Ms. Holland
said. "Because I think that's fair."

Critics argue that the systems create inherent injustices, offering
cleaner, safer alternatives to those who can pay.

"It seems to be to be a little unfair," said Mike Jackson, the
training manager of the National Sheriff's Association. "Two people
come in, have the same offense, and the guy who has money gets to pay
to stay and the other doesn't. The system is supposed to be
equitable."

But cities argue that the paying inmates generate cash, often hundreds
of thousands of dollars a year - enabling them to better afford their
other taxpayer-financed operations - and are generally easy to deal
with.

"We never had a problem with self pay," said Steve Lechuga, the
operations manager for CSI. "I haven't seen any fights in years. We
had a really good success rate with them."

Stanley Goldman, a professor of criminal law at Loyola Law School in
Los Angeles, has recommended the program to former clients.

"The prisoners who are charged with nonviolent crimes and typically
have no record are not in the best position to handle themselves in
the general county facility," Professor Goldman said.

Still, no doubt about it, the self-pay jails are not to be confused
with Canyon Ranch.

The cells at Santa Ana are roughly the size of a custodial closet, and
share its smell and ambience. Most have little more than a pink bottle
of jail-issue moisturizer and a book borrowed from the day room.
Lockdown can occur for hours at a time, and just feet away other
prisoners sit with their faces pressed against cell windows, looking
menacing.

Ms. Brockett, who normally works as a bartender in Los Angeles, said
the experience was one she never cared to repeat.

"It does look decent," she said, "but you still feel exactly where you
are."