What visits were like Pre-Covid
visits at county jail
***This post was originally published on 09/2022 as part of my previous blog. I'm sharing it here as I restart my journey to give you insight into where it all began. I’ll be sharing a new post from my archives every other week as I bring this blog back to life.***
the last time
I think I mentioned that this is his second time doing time, so knock on wood that it stays at two. The last time he was locked up, it was pre-COVID-19, and everything was different.
Back then, he was in county jail. Visits were pretty simple to schedule. All I had to do was look him up, register online, and pick an available time slot. The whole process was handled on the county website, making it straightforward. On the day of the visit, I had to show up an hour early to check in. Once I was checked in, I’d get a printout with all the visit details, and a worker would tell me to come back to the lobby 15 minutes before the visit started.
While I waited, I’d usually sit in my car, clear out my emails, or watch YouTube until it was time.
the check-in process
Once check-in time rolled around, everyone with a visit scheduled for that time would line up in the lobby. A sheriff would check my ID against the printout, and then I’d have to put my keys on the counter and walk through a metal detector. No personal belongings were allowed—just my ID and keys—so everything else stayed in the car. But I wasn’t worried. There were always several sheriffs sitting in their patrol cars outside in the parking lot.
The worker at check-in would indicate which line to follow based on where the inmate was housed. After the metal detector, I’d head upstairs to the second floor, where a long, empty concrete hallway stretched ahead.
follow the road to the visit
The hallway had six different colored lines running along the floor, each leading to a different section. Without those lines, it would have felt like navigating a maze.
The first time around, I always followed the green line. The halls were long and empty and had no windows—just the occasional door leading to who-knows-where. My kids and I used to joke that it would’ve been fun to have Heelys to roll through those long, smooth concrete hallways.
At the end of my green line, I’d reach the visiting room.
the setup: thick windows and recorded calls
The visiting room had five stations on each side, each with a phone. My son would come in through the other side of the room and sit at whichever station I was at. To talk, he’d dial a number, giving me access to a recorded call.
Even though we could see each other through a thick window, we had to talk on the phone. Visits were usually scheduled for 45 minutes to an hour, but if you got lucky, they’d let it run overtime.
visits: a mix of happy and real
For an inmate, visiting time was a glimpse of the outside world. It was a chance to see reactions to stories already told over the phone, to hear about what was happening beyond those walls.
Visits were always a mix of happiness and raw emotions. I made sure to bring stories—entertaining ones—to keep things light. I’ve never actually asked him if he found my stories interesting, but let’s be real: I’m a great storyteller. You just have to be quick to follow my train of thought because I’ll jump from one story to another, leave one unfinished, and then circle back before you even realize what happened.
an unexpected encounter
During one of those visits, I ran into a supervisor from my job. I didn’t approach her because, let’s be honest, that would have been awkward. I’m sure she would have been surprised to see me there, and I wasn’t about to make it a whole thing. If she did see me, she pretended not to. And honestly? That was fine with me.
I don’t know who she was there to visit, and it wasn’t my business to ask. Everyone in that waiting room had their own story, and this isn’t exactly something you casually bring up in conversation—Oh, by the way, I visited my inmate over the weekend.
I continued seeing her at work after that. And because I knew a little about her personal life, I could empathize. At the end of the day, we were both just people, dealing with our situations the best way we knew how.