Corrections_Today_Winter_2025-2026_Vol.87_No.4

The scars of experience in managing a complex jail M anaging a jail is more than a job — it’s a crucible that leaves lasting marks. The weight of responsibility, the unpredictabil ity of daily operations, and the constant demand for accountability create scars that only those who’ve lived it can truly understand. Every decision carries consequences. Staffing short ages, mental health crises, use-of-force incidents, compliance audits and federal oversight — each challenge tests leadership, resilience and the capacity to adapt under relentless pressure. But within those scars are hard-won lessons. Lessons in leadership, crisis response, conflict resolution and above all, the responsibility of ensuring safety while pre serving human dignity. These experiences have shaped my approach to reform and consulting — because I’ve seen firsthand what works, what fails and what truly makes a difference. The reality behind the walls From the outside, jail operations might look like routine administration — schedules, procedures, re ports. But inside, it’s something entirely different. It’s a constant state of controlled chaos. Every hour brings the possibility of crisis: a medical emergency, a staff walkout, a fight in a housing unit, a system failure. And no matter what hits, leadership has to respond — calmly, decisively and with the weight of responsibility on their shoulders. Resources are always tight. You’re working with too few staff, too many people in custody and limited infra structure — sometimes outdated by decades. Mental health support is never enough. Programs get canceled because of security concerns. One decision meant to solve a problem can spark three new ones. Oversight doesn’t pause for these realities. Federal monitors, auditors and advocacy groups want answers, often with little context for the day-to-day struggles. And still, the expectation is to perform — to keep the jail safe, compliant and accountable. I remember one morning, we held our first ever de tainee graduation. Twelve men — charged with various offenses — stood proudly in caps and gowns, ready to

receive their GEDs. For many, this was the first achieve ment of their lives. Their families were in the audience, some seeing their loved ones for the first time in years. The moment was beautiful, powerful. Even the local news came to cover it. Then came the call: a detainee had been stabbed. EMS was on scene. Officers began rushing from the ceremony to respond to the critical incident. And there I was, still on stage with the guest speaker, trying to block out the reality unraveling just beyond the walls of the room — trying to hold space for the twelve men who had worked so hard to earn this moment. That’s what leadership inside a jail looks like. You learn how to compartmentalize triumph and tragedy in real time. To hold celebration in one hand and crisis in the other. And to carry the emotional weight of both. Leadership leads from the front, especially in dangerous moments. That’s how you shift a culture — not just through memos or mandates, but by walking the walk. The leadership pressure cooker Leadership in a complex jail isn’t about titles or rank — it’s about endurance. You don’t get to shut down, even when everything around you is breaking down. The people you lead — both staff and those in custody — are watching how you show up. Every word, every action, every silence communicates something. There’s no guidebook for what it feels like to hold that responsibility. You’re asked to lead with compas sion, but also to enforce policy. To earn trust from your team, but also to discipline when things go wrong. You’re navigating racial tensions, gang dynamics, staff fatigue and the trauma that builds up in every corner of the facility — and you’re expected to carry it all with composure. →

Opposite page: Adobe Stock/kowbasnik

Winter 2025-2026 | Corrections Today

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