"[Narrator] More than 9,000 people dwell in this waterfront property. Its impressive facade might compel or inspire those with the dough to peek in and inquire. Who wants a condo with a wonderful view right here in downtown Houston? Follow me, I'll show you. Upon closer inspection, let me lift the veil on the third largest hell in America, the Harris County Jail."
"[Alec] One thing that a lot of people don't appreciate about Harris County Jail is that it looks very beautiful from the outside. It's overlooking the bayou and the water in downtown Houston. There's all of these windows. One thing people don't understand is that these windows are fake. [Narrator] Windows without a view, a metaphor too perfectly sad to be true. [Alec] That in a nutshell, really captures the facade, the veneer of what we call justice."
"[Veteran] I'm a Navy veteran, 20 years. Started doin' 9-1-1 in the Gulf. Look, I've got some emotional problems and I've self-medicated, but it didn't ruin my life until the police stopped me just a few feet from my house that night. They charged me with possession of less than a gram of cocaine. Now I'm looking at a felony and $120,000 bail."
Harris County Jail holds more than 9,000 people in a downtown waterfront facility whose exterior appearance belies harsh realities inside. The building features false windows that symbolize an attractive veneer masking systemic problems. High cash bail leaves many people detained pretrial, including a Navy veteran charged over a tiny quantity of cocaine facing a $120,000 bail. Musical lines highlight that nine out of ten Black and Brown women there cannot afford bail. The facility is portrayed as a large, punitive institution where presumed innocence does not prevent lengthy detention when cash is required for release.
Read at The New Yorker
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