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Here is the story I labeled "Jeff"
copyright 2005 by William Ellis

In another story, I talked about catching smokers at the satellite facility of our jail system. This one involves a man named Jeff. He was sentenced to a year in jail for a DUI charge. He was sent to the satellite to finish his time.
He was a nice guy... he just screwed up. He was always polite and respectful. He was also just a plain ole country boy without the life experience to cope with the predatory nature of the typical repeat offender normally found in our jail. Other inmates always took advantage of him because of his simplistic behavior and innocence. He was also extremely addicted to cigarettes.
I was forever catching him in the act of smoking or finding a large stash of tobacco hidden in his belongings. Many times he would pay other inmates almost half of his tobacco to keep it hidden from me, knowing I would find it if he had it. I only ever gave him one rule violation because the situation wouldn't allow an alternate discipline. Instead of rule violations, I had him on some form of extra work detail or another. He even broke down and cried once when I was lecturing him and said that I was disappointed in him. That really bothered me.
Towards the end of his stay at the satellite, he was also caught several times by other officers. This was a testament to his inability to keep from getting busted because most officers didn't try all that hard to keep the facility free from tobacco. As a result, he was given enough rule violations to earn a trip back to the main jail to finish out his time.
Before finishing this story, I must explain one of the methods for hiding things from officers. Inmates would use several layers of sandwich wrap from their lunches to form a tightly packed 5 inch long torpedo-shaped object called a clavo for whatever they wanted to hide. It was usually about the diameter of a normal bowl movement. They would conceal it up their butt. When they wanted to retrieve it, they went into the bathroom, expunged it, and unwrapped the contents. I never really looked for clavos during searches. I figured that if they wanted a cigarette that bad, they could have it.
The night that Jeff was to be transported back to the main jail, he was escorted to the search room of the satellite jail. The searching officer also knew of Jeff's gullibility. After having him strip down to his birthday suit, the officer said, "OK, Jeff, what do have up your butt?" Jeff tried to feign innocence by saying that he didn't know what the officer was talking about. You could just see "lie" written all over Jeff's face.
The officer promptly started putting on rubber gloves, and using a very serious look carried by a gigantic bluff, he said, "If you don't give it to me now, we're going to hold you down and I'll get it out myself!". (There's no way we would be allowed by law to do this.)
Jeff's eyes got really big and said, "OK, OK!" He squatted down, reached around from the backside and generated a clavo that would stay put in a horse's butt. After producing the first one and handing it to officer Miles, he said, "Wait... I have one more." (Way to go, Jeff. Give yourself up.) He had two clavos. Each one was, not just the contents, but an entire pouch of Bugler tobacco wrapped in three layers of sandwich wrap. How he ever stored that much of anything up his butt, we will never know. It had to be a real... pain in the ass.
I hope Jeff is doing well and staying out of trouble these days. He really was one of those guys who didn't belong in jail.


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