Topic: Sheriff Joe Arpaio

AZ_Infantry · May 3rd, 2008

I am a guy from AZ that has done his time in the jail of reference (incarcerated, not as a guard).

Lest I be judged, here's a very breif summary of my story to preface my comments on the sheriff and his jail operations:

Growing up, I was the consumate "poor, white skinny kid." Literally. Thrift store clothes, I maybe weighed 100 pounds (none of it muscle), was a complete dork, and we were so poor we didn't own a car. Dad was a drunk, mom worked 2 jobs. We couldn't even afford to buy me a sack of marbles, which was the popular thing back then - so I broke open a game that had round balls and called them marbles, which is what made me a target.

This school was in South Phoenix - the middle of gang territory (back then it was the 9th Street Gang and the Garfield Gang we avoided). Once I made myself a target, there was no going back. The gangs were relentless in my beatings - always several members kicking the crap out of the poor, skinny white boy because he was... poor, skinny, and white.

I would come home 3 out of every 5 days beaten. Then my dad, a career Marine that detested weakness, would beat on me some more for being beaten. As the gangs saw the new injuries, that made them laugh and they beat me harder and more often, which made dad all the more infuriated, and the sick cycle continued.

I was 9 years old the first time I tried to cut my wrists. I was too weak to even do that right.

One day I had had enough, and I resigned myself to a life where I'd never be beaten on again - by anyone. Dad died when I was 14, I quit school and lied about my age to get full-time employment (I'd been working 2 years already, selling candy door-to-door 6 hours a night, 6 nights a week). I knew the military was my chance to get even, so that's the route I took, wanting to play hero and no longer be a victim. I got my GED and I signed at 17 and started Basic Training 17 days after my 18th birthday. Mom was very proud, as we were a military family; and ironically enough, with her career Navy and dad career Marine, I had been born at an Air Force base and enlisted Army Infantry, lol. God has a sense of humor, I kid you not.

The Army did indeed teach me everything I wanted to know, and I soaked it all up. Especially self-defense. I began taking Krav Maga and, being the smallest guy there, took more beatings until I learned the art of hurting someone BEFORE they could hurt me. My confidence swelled, and I became a well-respected squad leader. I learned to drink heavily, to work hard, and to fight honorably. I took no further beatings, though I gave plenty. Because I was lean (read: skinny), I bulked up nicely.

When I ETS'd, my wife and I divorced, I went back to AZ. And I became a hunter. Of men.

I detested all those that even looked Hispanic, though I'd met and worked (and fought) with some great guys in the Army that happened to be Hispanic. Something about returning to AZ triggered the rage I'd had buried inside since the beatings in school from the "spics" (sic). I would be polite and kind one minute, then I'd have you on the ground pummeling you the next.

It was a sad, dark world I lived in those days. The memories still ring clear. God brought me out of those days, but not before the damage had been done.

I am not excusing myself, here. There is no excuse for anger, resentment, and targeting people because of their ethnicity. None. My rage and bitterness had a stranglehold on me because that's what I allowed to happen - what I wanted, even. I was too (physically) small to induce pain without the rage, so rage is what I clung to. As my dad used to say, "There is no greater consequence then that of mistakes under the veil of anger." And my freedom was the consequence paid, just as he'd predicted through his drunken stupor, administering my beatings for being weak.

I found myself in an out of jail. DUIs. Assaults. Resisting Arrest. Assault on a Law Enforcement Officer. Probation Violation. Drunk and Disorderly.
Domestic Violence. Nothing major, mind you: No felonies or anything like that.

Just enough to meet Sheriff Joe Arpaio and his staff at the Maricopa County Jail on a dozen or more occassions.

[Ironically enough (remember that sense of humor God has?), my second wife went on to become law enforcement, for the Maricopa County Sheriff's Office, and that eventually ended our marriage.]

Perhaps I do not need to say this, perhaps I do: I am a different man now. I no longer hunt people based on their skin color, assigning them as targets based on how I was treated in my youth. Everyone is my equal, because God showed me that He created everyone as equal, and though the son will bear penance for the father's sins, my role in life was not to be the bondsman of such release and injustice (or justice). I grew very weary very quickly of being in and out of jail, of holding to hurt and anger and spite. I have finally found my freedom - literally, emotionally, and spiritually. I still get angry, but I do not hate. I still hold emotional stances, but I do not despise. I still try and succeed, while other times I try and fail.

Let everyone here know this: While my past cannot be erased, my present is the causation of my own accord - more accuarately, that of God's loving kindness over me. I do not have a bigoted bone in my body, though I do hold contempt for bullies and gangs of any ethnic group. I learn anew every day that love and kindness trumps spite and bitterness in every single instance.

All that to say this: When I speak of Joe and his policies and jails, I do so from the experience of a man who has been there and seen it other-than on paper. I lived it for a good portion of my civilian life, though, by the grace of God, I live it no longer. Release is but a tool waiting to be employed. I've lived a very hard life in my 37 years, most of which I am not proud of, most of which I do not talk about.

But if you want to know about Arpaio and his policies from a no-longer biased source that has experienced them first hand, I'm your huckleberry.

May 3rd, 2008
AZ_Infantry Centurion Gear	I am a guy from AZ that has done his time in the jail of reference (incarcerated, not as a guard). Lest I be judged, here's a very breif summary of my story to preface my comments on the sheriff and his jail operations: Growing up, I was the consumate "poor, white skinny kid." Literally. Thrift store clothes, I maybe weighed 100 pounds (none of it muscle), was a complete dork, and we were so poor we didn't own a car. Dad was a drunk, mom worked 2 jobs. We couldn't even afford to buy me a sack of marbles, which was the popular thing back then - so I broke open a game that had round balls and called them marbles, which is what made me a target. This school was in South Phoenix - the middle of gang territory (back then it was the 9th Street Gang and the Garfield Gang we avoided). Once I made myself a target, there was no going back. The gangs were relentless in my beatings - always several members kicking the crap out of the poor, skinny white boy because he was... poor, skinny, and white. I would come home 3 out of every 5 days beaten. Then my dad, a career Marine that detested weakness, would beat on me some more for being beaten. As the gangs saw the new injuries, that made them laugh and they beat me harder and more often, which made dad all the more infuriated, and the sick cycle continued. I was 9 years old the first time I tried to cut my wrists. I was too weak to even do that right. One day I had had enough, and I resigned myself to a life where I'd never be beaten on again - by anyone. Dad died when I was 14, I quit school and lied about my age to get full-time employment (I'd been working 2 years already, selling candy door-to-door 6 hours a night, 6 nights a week). I knew the military was my chance to get even, so that's the route I took, wanting to play hero and no longer be a victim. I got my GED and I signed at 17 and started Basic Training 17 days after my 18th birthday. Mom was very proud, as we were a military family; and ironically enough, with her career Navy and dad career Marine, I had been born at an Air Force base and enlisted Army Infantry, lol. God has a sense of humor, I kid you not. The Army did indeed teach me everything I wanted to know, and I soaked it all up. Especially self-defense. I began taking Krav Maga and, being the smallest guy there, took more beatings until I learned the art of hurting someone BEFORE they could hurt me. My confidence swelled, and I became a well-respected squad leader. I learned to drink heavily, to work hard, and to fight honorably. I took no further beatings, though I gave plenty. Because I was lean (read: skinny), I bulked up nicely. When I ETS'd, my wife and I divorced, I went back to AZ. And I became a hunter. Of men. I detested all those that even looked Hispanic, though I'd met and worked (and fought) with some great guys in the Army that happened to be Hispanic. Something about returning to AZ triggered the rage I'd had buried inside since the beatings in school from the "spics" (sic). I would be polite and kind one minute, then I'd have you on the ground pummeling you the next. It was a sad, dark world I lived in those days. The memories still ring clear. God brought me out of those days, but not before the damage had been done. I am not excusing myself, here. There is no excuse for anger, resentment, and targeting people because of their ethnicity. None. My rage and bitterness had a stranglehold on me because that's what I allowed to happen - what I wanted, even. I was too (physically) small to induce pain without the rage, so rage is what I clung to. As my dad used to say, "There is no greater consequence then that of mistakes under the veil of anger." And my freedom was the consequence paid, just as he'd predicted through his drunken stupor, administering my beatings for being weak. I found myself in an out of jail. DUIs. Assaults. Resisting Arrest. Assault on a Law Enforcement Officer. Probation Violation. Drunk and Disorderly. Domestic Violence. Nothing major, mind you: No felonies or anything like that. Just enough to meet Sheriff Joe Arpaio and his staff at the Maricopa County Jail on a dozen or more occassions. [Ironically enough (remember that sense of humor God has?), my second wife went on to become law enforcement, for the Maricopa County Sheriff's Office, and that eventually ended our marriage.] Perhaps I do not need to say this, perhaps I do: I am a different man now. I no longer hunt people based on their skin color, assigning them as targets based on how I was treated in my youth. Everyone is my equal, because God showed me that He created everyone as equal, and though the son will bear penance for the father's sins, my role in life was not to be the bondsman of such release and injustice (or justice). I grew very weary very quickly of being in and out of jail, of holding to hurt and anger and spite. I have finally found my freedom - literally, emotionally, and spiritually. I still get angry, but I do not hate. I still hold emotional stances, but I do not despise. I still try and succeed, while other times I try and fail. Let everyone here know this: While my past cannot be erased, my present is the causation of my own accord - more accuarately, that of God's loving kindness over me. I do not have a bigoted bone in my body, though I do hold contempt for bullies and gangs of any ethnic group. I learn anew every day that love and kindness trumps spite and bitterness in every single instance. All that to say this: When I speak of Joe and his policies and jails, I do so from the experience of a man who has been there and seen it other-than on paper. I lived it for a good portion of my civilian life, though, by the grace of God, I live it no longer. Release is but a tool waiting to be employed. I've lived a very hard life in my 37 years, most of which I am not proud of, most of which I do not talk about. But if you want to know about Arpaio and his policies from a no-longer biased source that has experienced them first hand, I'm your huckleberry.