Prison No Place For A Cell Phone
Prison guards laughed when reporters covering Don Paradis’ commutation hearing griped about the poor cellular phone reception in the building.
The hearing was at Idaho’s Maximum Security Institution, where the thick concrete walls are interlaced with tons of heavy steel reinforcing.
Just say no to breakfast
Terry Wayne “Moose” Jones provided some of the most colorful testimony of the hearing. The reformed biker first told the Commission of Pardons and Parole why he gave up drugs and alcohol: “Jack Daniels and crystal methamphetamine is not the breakfast of champions, but for 30 years I swore it was.”
His story was that he was the president of the Gypsy Jokers motorcycle gang’s Spokane chapter back in 1980, and that he got a call the night of the murders saying, “You need to get over to Red Rider’s, there’s trouble.”
“I went out and started up my Harley Davidson and shot over,” Jones told the commission. “I went through the door and what I seen stopped me, and I’ve seen a lot in my life.”
Jones said he saw two dead bodies, and a house full of drugged-up people panicking about what to do with them.
Attorneys asked Jones how he knew the bodies were dead, and he said, “I’ve been in the business for 30 years.”
“They were dead and these people were trying to figure out what they were going to do with the bodies,” he said. “I asked them one question: ‘Well, why’d you call me here?’ Then I left.”
Prosecutors contend there’s no proof Jones was even in the state at the time of the murders. He didn’t come forward with his story until 1994.
After several questions about what time it was when Jones visited the house (“about daylight”), Jones was asked if he wore a watch.
He answered, “For what?”
We’re here, I mean, there
Lawyers and witnesses, perhaps unnerved by the gravity of the life-and-death hearing, frequently mixed up names and places. Some said “Idaho” when they meant “Washington” - in a case where a key issue is in which state the murders occurred. The crime’s victim was mistakenly referred to at one point as “Kimberly Clark,” and at another point Paradis’ original lawyer was said to be “Charlie Brown.”
Eating on the inside
Kootenai County jail cooks can be proud: Their food’s better than the fare served at the state’s maximum security prison, at least according to this reporter’s comparison.
I recall a few years ago dining on a hearty lunch of meat, vegetables, bread and butter, juice and cake at the county lockup, along with a Leadership Coeur d’Alene class that was taking a tour. Although the lunch was rumored to contain road-killed meat, it was delicious.
The menu at the prison for lunch Wednesday was two thin, dry slices of bread, a scoop of tuna salad, a cup of bean soup, a couple of carrot and celery sticks and an apple. The next day, it was two polish sausages on buns, some runny potato salad, and a couple of sliced, canned peaches.
But the cup of broccoli soup that accompanied the second day’s lunch was quite good. Prison workers are high on the food, and say the soup is always good. The cons doing the baking also turn out some mean chocolate-chip cookies.
Prison employees also like the price: $1 a meal. But back before budget cutbacks, their meals were free.
, DataTimes MEMO: North-South Notes runs every other Saturday. To reach Betsy Z. Russell, call 336- 2854, fax to 336-0021 or e-mail to bzrussell@rmci.net.