Jail Cells

By Tim Kuss, LMFT, LADC

I’ve had several experiences with arrest and incarceration. With two of them I showed manic behavior. The first of these happened when I was about 21 years old. I had been using hallucinogens like LSD and mescaline experiencing hallucinations and delusions when high. I also had a series of what I considered to be “flashbacks” in which I experienced mostly pleasant delusions when not using. I understand now that my chemical use had triggered my bipolar disorder, serving as “kindling” contributing to increased symptoms.

I had been thinking that billboards and other signs were sending me personal messages and was ”following” these messages to a special place. I believed that my “true love” and good friends would be waiting for me at the end of the message trail, where we would be together. I began thinking that they had arranged a surprise party for me.

At one point my delusions led me to being hospitalized in a psychiatric ward. Later, I was following yet another “sign trail” which included barging through the back yards of some expensive homes on Summit avenue in St Paul. I imagine someone must have called the police. When they caught up with me, I had taken my shirt off and discarded it because I believed that I was supposed to do that. The police arrested me on Vagrancy charges, and put me in a jail cell.

They had taken my belt and shoes, asked me where I lived and my phone number. I began to think of myself as an oppressed man suffering from discrimination. I had been an anti-war protester in college and had spent a month marching with Father Grappi’s people in Milwaukee. i started singing the songs we had sung while marching:

“Oh Freedom, oh freedom over me...and before I’ll be a slave, I’ll be buried in my grave...and go home to my lord and be free” then on with several verses, including a few that I made up to go with the situation.

Then “We shall overcome” and several other songs. I had attended Buddhist temples while out in California, I went next to chanting “Nam myoho rengae kyo” and “Om” for my second hour of vocal renditions. The police did not attempt to put others in my cell. I spent some time attempting to lie on the spring on the lower bunk, as they had not provided a mattress. I think I was into my third hour of singing and chanting when my father showed up. He had gathered the few belongings taken from me and had paid my bail. We drove home quietly.

A similar occurrence happened about 19 years later. I had 15 years of sobriety and had been functioning as a chemical dependency counselor for 11 of those years. I was working the evening shift at a halfway house and went over the center line while making a left turn. It was a difficult turn and I imagine that I was tired. It was July 2nd, just before a three day weekend. One officer followed me into the parking lot behind my apartment building. For some reason, I commented that he had taken quite a risk by following me into this dark, isolated spot. He ran my driver’s license and found that I had a warrant, which turned out to be for a parking ticket I had forgotten about.

I wound up cuffed and put in the back of a squad car, despite protesting that my two daughters, ages 1fourteen and ten, were waiting for me to come home. In the jail cell, I had a deja vu experience of thinking that I had been discriminated against and began my routine of singing freedom songs alternating with chanting. This time I heard fellow prisoners yelling at me to shut up. It was a long 2 hours before my girlfriend arrived to pay the parking ticket and court fees.