Behind bars, without treatment
Behind bars, without treatment
David sits cross-legged behind the bars of his jail cell, talking
nonsense and singing The Lion Sleeps Tonight. He tries to hang himself
nearly every day.
Donald yells gibberish, spits at the staff and exposes himself. "Donald, eat your food", a jail deputy tells him at lunch time. "And pull up your pants."
And there is Brian. How long has he been in jail?
"About 2,0A00 years", he says. He thinks he’s a space commander. His eyes are vacant. He talks in a whisper. But he can turn violent fast, like the time he bashed in a fellow inmate’s head with a pencil sharpener.
These three mentally disturbed men ˜ and nearly 30 more like them ˜ live in single cells at the Pinellas County Jail.
