Doug Clark: Hair care improvisation a necessity in jail

As long as we’re all sitting around waiting for the reports to come on police shootings and scandalous behavior, I have an idea.

(Ah, remember those kinder, gentler days – when cops were electrocuting livestock?)

Let’s take a stroll to the other end of the justice system. Yes, it’s time for our second installment of Jillian the Jailhouse Journalist.

That’s Jillian Wenger, my incarcerated correspondent.

Jillian, 23, made her debut appearance last month. She is an inmate at Pine Lodge Corrections Center for Women, a minimum-security facility in Medical Lake. She is doing time for a controlled substance charge and jumping bail.

Our relationship began with a collect telephone call. She told me she wanted to say adios to crime and become a columnist just like me.

How odd. Most readers consider what I do for a living to be criminal behavior.

But I believe in helping the youth of America – even wayward ones. I told her to mail me some observations about life in the can, and I would occasionally publish edited excerpts.

Jillian is a natural storyteller. She has made every deadline. If my former reporters were this conscientious, I would have remained in management.

In her first column, she painted a picture of prison life that involved crafts, karaoke, card games and a pampered cat named Charlie.

Summer camps have less entertainment.

We do have a correction to make because of a transcription error. A sentence should have read: “Here comes Sgt. Castillo.” (I inadvertently added an “a” to the end of the good sergeant’s name.)

Inmates can be pretty pushy. So I knew it was only a matter of time before Jillian started making demands.

“My mom would like me to request that you print my articles only on Sundays. She only subscribes to Sunday’s paper.”

Well, we certainly don’t want to disappoint Mom. So here is Jillian’s second effort along with my italicized mentoring commentary.

“I woke up at noon the day my first column was printed to go read it. But when I finally found the newspaper, the whole front page of the Northwest section was missing.

“Someone stole it!”

First thought: You woke up at noon? Perhaps you do have what it takes to be columnist. Second thought: Someone stole your column? Might I remind you, Jillian, that YOU’RE IN JAIL.

“We tend to have one or two fire drills per week. In the past 14 hours, though, we have had five. I happen to have a friend here who has fire alarm-induced seizures. (Flashing lights, buzzing noises.) When the alarm goes off, it is absolutely necessary to throw something over her head and guide her to the nearest exit.”

Five fire drills in one day? Not even Iraqi prisoners are subjected to that kind of torture.

“Well, we get bored around here a lot. We came up with some (red) Kool-Aid, and in the midst of dying her reddish-blonde hair, the fire alarm went off.”

Kool-Aid as a hair dye? Martha Stewart has nothing on this kid.

“I threw the white towel over her wet, blood-red head and escorted her through the unit. We got outside and realized her towel was no longer white. It looked like she had a head wound.

“The odd thing is no one – no cops, no inmates – mentioned it.”

Officer 1: There’s something you don’t see every day. Officer 2: Yeah. Looks like a cherry snow cone with legs.

“I woke up this afternoon to an institutional lockdown. It’s been going on since mid-morning. Since there was some sort of intense fight over in the violators’ tank, the whole place has to be in their rooms.”

Girl fights. I knew we’d eventually get back to girl fights.

“When I was in jail awaiting the beginning of my prison term, all I could think was, ‘God, I can’t wait to get out and get high.’

“I even wrote my dealers in hopes they would stay in touch so I would know where to find them two years down the road. They never did write back, though. They were probably paranoid that I was trying to set them up.

“Somewhere around 10 months ago I decided I didn’t want to live that life anymore.

“I’m three months shy of turning 24, and this is by far the longest I’ve been clean since I was 13…

“I’ve learned a lot about myself and, most importantly, I have found reasons why I want to stay clean.”

Stay strong, Jillian. You can do it.

Will the fire alarms stop terrorizing the inmates? Will Jillian discover even more miracle uses for Kool-Aid?

And, for crying out loud, will her Ma get with the program and buy a seven-day-a-week subscription?

Stay tuned for more of the true life soap opera: Jillian the Jailhouse Journalist.