It was a fairly normal Friday afternoon at the Hunt County Crossbar Hotel when the phone rang in the Transport department office. Of course it would be almost quitting time when we got the call. The decision had been made to transport a prisoner to the mental facility in Dallas. It was now our job to deal with the inmate... Did I mention it was quitting time on a Friday?
Bobby was a frequent flyer with us and it came as no real shock, really, that he needed some professional help. He often got off his meds and ended up in our care. So, after counting heads of those still around, I was chosen to assist my Sargent in transporting Bobby on the 60 mile (one way) trip. I should mention that Bobby was really "out there" this time. He was talking quite a bit of trash and threatening staff.
We cuffed, shackled, and belly-chained our guest and off we went in the Sherrif's van. I was driving so I needed the prisoner to sit and cooperate with us. He was thinking a little differently. He constantly got up and came to the front of the vehicle where a cage wall separated the back of the van from the officer's area. After telling him and warning him he better sit back on the seat and stop getting up, I hit my brakes sending him forward into the cage. I then hit the gas and he was jerked backward toward the afore mentioned seat. No more getting up after that. I might need to add here that the whole trip Bobby had been threatening to "kill" me! Practically every other sentence out of his mouth was "I'm gonna kill you Meeks! I'm gonna kill you!" I simply replied, "Whatever Bobby." Bobby and I normally got along great when he came to jail, but this time he was different. He was far more aggressive. He called my partner in the van every derogatory name he could think of. We quickly grew tired of the bull and decided to speed up the trip. I stood on it, to borrow a term from NASCAR. When I looked down we were doing 95 across the Lake Ray Hubbard bridge! We still had a ways to go before we could unload the lovely and talented Mr. Bobby, so I was glad we were in a marked vehicle.
When we finally arrived at the mental facility we walked Bobby into the waiting area. Too many people were in the outter area so we made our way into a seperated room.
The constant barrage of threats continued with the new addition of "Are ya scared Meeks? Are ya scared?" until I had had enough. I turned to our prisoner and calmly said, "Bobby! You are chained down at the waist and feet! You can not free yourself! I have a gun, a taser, and a rather big partner who you have been insulting since we left Greenville! Why in the name of all thing holy would I be scared of you?!" No real effect on his thinking but I felt better.
Before long the hospital staff arrived and took him from us. I am sure he received a "cocktail shot" within minutes of that. I needed a drink... a strong drink. Coca Cola. Full strength. None of that caffine free crap. I was burned out for the night and it was already three hours after quitting time!
The trip home was much easier than the trip over. I left the jail and put all the mess behind me.
Monday came and as I entered the jail I saw Bobby sitting in an observation cell. I walked straight past him without a word. That is until I heard him call my name. I went around to the front of the cell and Bobby calmly appologized for the trouble he had caused and the way he had treated me and my prtner. I was glad to see he was back on his meds. I assured him there were no hard feelings and he sat down and drifted off to wherever it is he would go when he was like this. He was a perfect inmate for the duration.
I've not seen Bobby since he left. It's been about 10 years. I hope he is OK.