While in search of a meaningful career, I have had many jobs that have left everlasting memories in my mind. I spent about two years transporting physically and mentally challenged children back and forth to school. None of these children could walk or talk, and some were blind. I have worked as a construction site laborer: mixing mud, shoveling rocks, and carrying bricks in 90 degree plus temperatures. As a police officer, I risked my life day in and day out; getting shot at, chasing stolen cars, and trying to apprehend suspected drug dealers. I was then employed as an Extradition Agent. This position would turn out to be the most life changing of them all. An Extradition Agent transports prisoners throughout the United States. This position would give me exposure to different people, places, and first hand knowledge of how the United States justice system operates.
I can recall my first trip, a three-week west coast tour. I remember departing Nashville, TN in the early hours of the morning, wondering what was in store. I would spend the next 24 days with my partner Tony, a 35-year-old Caucasian male from Birmingham, Al., whom I did not know from a can of paint. At times I wondered if Tony poss
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I am grateful for the experience and the insight that I probably could not have gained with any other position. Feeding the prisoners while in transit was also a part of our daily routine. I had the opportunity to visit just about every major city and national landmark. The rewards of the position outweigh the downside and, the experience at times could have been better. It has beautiful white stone that stretches for miles and miles across the deserts of Arizona. Queen or King size beds and cable television comforted us, while the inmates shared a cell, and slept on the floor at the local county jail. When inmates had to use the restroom we would try to stop at a secure location, such as a local county jail if available. The Grand Canyon looks nothing like the scenes I have seen so many times on television. We would ride these people (prisoners), around the country for days, sometimes weeks at a time in an oversized tin can with a cage inside. The realization has caused me to lose a tremendous amount of respect for it. If a jail was not accessible, the inmates would use a public restroom at a travel plaza, while we stood guard with 12 gauge shot guns drawn and ready to fire. essed the down south racist mentality. However, they were treated the same as those who had been found guilty. Under federal extradition law, this was the bare minimum food requirement our company had to meet, and they took full advantage of it. I learned to be tolerant of others’ feelings.
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984
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