The Journey Begins:

Reflections from Fr.  Louie Vitale

Crisp County Detention Center, Cordele, Georgia

On Monday, January 25, Pace e Bene staff member Fr. Louis Vitale, 77, began serving a six-month prison sentence for nonviolent, prayerful protest calling for closure of the School of the Americas at Ft. Benning, Georgia. Pace e Bene has just received the following letter from Louie (written February 7), in which he describes the first days of his sentence. You are invited to write Louie at: Louis Vitale #15875, Crisp County Jail, 197 Hwy. 300 S, Cordele, Georgia 31015.

To see all updates from Louie, click here.

1. Surrendering My Freedom

My experience has been that the first days in jail seem the hardest.  There is the shock of giving up your freedom – a shock that does not go away, in circumstances over which you have no control. 

The marshals were fairly relaxed about taking me into custody in the courtroom after my sentencing.  Some of my supporters were able to come forth, take some of my personal things (wallet, etc.) and say goodbye.  There was no “order in the court!” while I was leaving.  I left feeling support and love.  I was even able to call out a farewell to my nephew Wayne Fielding and his wife Grace, who represented my sister Marie and who assured the judge and the court that my family was behind me.

There is the shock of giving up your freedom – a shock that does not go away

I was taken into the holding cell area.  Marshal Stevens was genial as were the others, not only to me but to the other two defendants as they came in somewhat later to confer on their future reporting process.

A couple members of the legal team had slipped me some trail bars, so I had my lunch as I got into the cell. 

Then came the process of fingerprinting, photos, and a few hours later we were off to Muscogee County Jail.  I had been there before but it is still an experience to surrender your freedom.

There were several hours in a holding cell after changing into jumpsuits.  Muscogee does not allow men to wear underwear.  I scored the quieter senior cell, which I had lived in for three months in 2005-2006 with my Franciscan Friar brother Jerry Zawada.

There were about 38 senior inmates, 50 years and older – I pushed the top at 77.   The bunks were filled.  I found a spot on the floor with my mattress in a floor bunk called a “boat.”

I soon fell asleep.  I awoke very early, very disoriented.  After my recent travels to Palestine/Israel and Egypt to join the Gaza Freedom March, and now prep time in Columbus, Georgia for the trial and now in another stressful environment, I did not know the time or place as we were awakened for coffee at 4 a.m. 

Not much later I was taken to the clinic to see the doctor.  He remembered me and was eager to chat as I got my medications.  He called for assurance that I was not about to be moved and so ordered blood tests and medicines. 

As I left the clinic I was directed back to the property room and told to put on my street clothes.  I was then escorted to a van by federal marshals.  The van said Crisp County Sheriff’s Department, as did drivers’ badges.  We stopped back at the courthouse, picked up four more inmates, and headed for Crisp County Detention Center.

2. Transfer to Crisp County Detention Center

 The move was not a total surprise.  Transfer of federal prisoners are not announced.  Even as you move the feds fear someone might attack a fed vehicle to free or kill a prisoner.

In the courthouse I saw a Georgia map in the hall.  The head marshal was discussing with me that although I had remained in county jails the last time, it was because after the last trial in Muscogee I only had three months left.  Now I have six months to serve – enough  time to find a bed in a federal facility.  There is a great shortage of federal prisons and they contract out prisoners – usually to cash-strapped county jails, even though they are already over-crowded.

I saw Cordele on the map and mentioned my former jail time there.  He mentioned that it was a main access to transportation centers.  He also seemed to indicate that there would be a transfer soon.

The building looked familiar as we arrived, and I felt somewhat “at home.”  Once again we were put in a holding cell for some hours.  Eventually we were given the customary bologna and cheese sandwiches.  Sine I’m a vegetarian I was able to trade off the meat. 

The anxiety among my fellow travelers was higher than mine, as their sentences were either undecided or very long.  I am seen as a short-timer.  The wait was long but the processing was rushed (it was already past quitting time).  A few questions were asked, then I was told to sign four papers. 

I was not given time to read them.  As I was signing I noticed that one document said that I had received the manual of rules and procedures, which I hadn’t.  When I asked about this, I was told they would be in the cell – which they were not.  I wondered what else I had signed.  I could have objected to signing but I did not want to alienate the deputies who were to determine my placement.

People have asked me if I have ever been physically frightened in jail. In response, I have told the story of the first time I was processed at Crisp County.  I had asked if they had as senior section, as at Muscogee.  I was told “No” but he would find a place for me (hopefully quieter).  As we went down a row of loud young males (16 to a cell), they came to the cell door and chanted, “Don’t put that old man in here!” 

I know we can be a nuisance.  But I did have a moment of terror: “They’ll eat me up!”  The friendliness I experienced later in the yard belied the “posturing” of those in the hallway. 

I was taken to a smaller cell with three other inmates.  It was late (11 p.m.) and they were not gracious, but unobtrusive.  Two of them preferred to be in the common room (mats on the floor, and TV), and gave me one of the two small cells, for which I was very grateful.

The result this time around was similar.  After a quick shower, we dressed in the usual orange suits.  But thanks be to God, we were able to keep our underwear and shoes and even coat.  (Those belongings could be added to from my commissary and from the outside.)  We then went down the hall but stopped at the first cell past solitary and the holding cells.  It was identical to my previous cell there, except the cellmates were immediately cordial.  Again there was an open sub-cell with bunk, sink, toilet, small table and even a window where you could see trees. 

It brought back the monastic, contemplative experience of my last stay in Crisp County – the answer to many prayers supporting me here.

Click here to see updates from Louie Vitale.