T-R PHOTO BY ROBERT MAHARRY A few of the members of the team at the Marshall County Jail posed for a photo Thursday afternoon to mark National Correctional Officers Week 2023. Pictured in the front row, left to right, are Administrative Lt. Shannon Wildman, Jailer Kaitlyn Randall and Jailer Logan Millizer. In the middle row are nurse Stacey Freiberg and Chief Jailer Pat White, and in the back row are Administrative Lt. Wendell Millizer and Jailer Sean Maday.

Like many of the professionals who have chosen the same line of work, Marshall County Jail Administrator Patrick White had no idea he’d be closing in on 25 years in the field when he first applied for a job here. Regardless, the Traer native, who has held his post as chief jailer since former Sheriff Steve Hoffman appointed him in 2017, is glad he stuck with it.

“Law enforcement in general, even the corrections side, is a paramilitary group, so there’s rank structures. There’s camaraderie, and so coming out of the military, that’s kind of what I was looking for was a job that had that,” he said.

The tasks of a jailer can be described in relatively simple terms, but that doesn’t mean it’s an easy job by any stretch of the imagination. They are responsible for keeping inmates safe and busy, handling their medical needs with two full-time nurses on staff, coordinating visits with their attorneys and ensuring they arrive at their court hearings on time.

The Marshall County Jail, with 182 beds in all, is “our own little city,” as White put it, and in addition to housing people accused of crimes within the county, they also hold inmates for neighboring counties like Tama if they are full, for federal agencies and for counties further away like Polk and Scott. Readers might be surprised to learn that by taking in about $1 million annually, the jail is actually a major revenue generator.

“We oversee every aspect to make sure that they’re getting food, clothing, hygiene items, making sure they’re going to court on time, having visits with their attorneys and just day-to-day operations,” White said. “Just making sure that they’re doing their time, not getting into trouble and then just moving them on, getting them through the process basically as safe and as quickly.”

Besides White and his two administrative lieutenants, Wendell Millizer and Shannon Wildman, there are 26 line officers along with the aforementioned nurses. Millizer said he was drawn to the field through a job shadowing opportunity, and he’s now racked up almost 20 years of experience. His son Logan has even followed in his footsteps and recently joined the office as a jailer.

“I really wasn’t sure what it involved when I learned about the position,” he said. “I thought it was something I could do, and then it kind of grows on you. It’s something different every day, new experiences. Some things, you can’t imagine that. It’s different.”

Wildman obtained a bachelor’s degree in criminology and applied with Marshall County shortly thereafter, seeing the job as a “starting point” to get her foot in the door. Like Millizer, she’s now closing in on 20 years as she started about six months after him.

“I like it because you see every aspect of the criminal justice system. You don’t just see inmates and the corrections part of it. You see the probation. You deal with probation. You deal with courts,” she said. “From beginning to end, you see the whole picture.”

And, as White noted, while arresting law enforcement officers usually spend a few minutes or a few hours with the people they send to the jail, correctional officers are charged with supervising them for days, weeks, months and even years.

“It can be very mentally taxing,” he said.

Anyone who enters this line of work is probably already well aware of the dangers associated with it, but White and his team are still committed to ensuring safety both for the officers and the inmates. Unlike peace officers, jailers do not carry firearms, but they do have handcuffs and pepper spray — and tasers for the supervisors — at their disposal.

“That’s all they carry with them, but their greatest weapon that they have is their mouth — being able to speak to someone, de-escalate a situation, that’s our greatest weapon we have,” White said. “Our opinion doesn’t matter. We’ll let the courts and the juries decide (the inmates’) fate. We’re not here to judge them. We’re here to take care of them.”

To ensure safety, jailers undergo at least 20 hours of inservice training per year on topics ranging from defensive tactics to suicide prevention to first aid and CPR to food service and laundry. A prime example of why it can be so important occurred last November when jailers saved an inmate who was suffering from a heart attack by performing CPR and got him to the hospital.

Looking for mental health signs and doing everything possible to stop self-harm and/or suicide are especially important, and even though they can’t constantly have an eye on every last person in the facility, they do their best nonetheless.

“It is tough. You take every precaution you can to try to prevent it, and it’s an unfortunate part of (the correctional system),” White said.

If there is one major misconception that White, Millizer and Wildman hope to clear up, it’s the notion that jailers aren’t law enforcement professionals just because they aren’t certified peace officers.

“They go through a lot of training, and they’re absolute professionals. They’re no different than the men and women that work on the streets, and they work hard,” White said. “I think it’s just because people don’t see them in the public and you don’t hear a lot about them. There’s just kind of that misperception that they don’t do a whole lot.”

One person who is well aware of their efforts and their sacrifice is White’s boss, Marshall County Sheriff Joel Phillips, who couldn’t say enough good things about his jail team.

“I cannot thank our Marshall County Sheriff’s Office Jail staff enough for the personal sacrifices they make to do what they are tasked with 24 hours a day, 365 days a year — the long hours, sometimes double shifts, weekends, holidays, missed family events to put themselves in harm’s way to advance our mission of protecting the public, staff, and inmates, while at the same time helping offenders to change their behavior to become better citizens,” Phillps said.

Wildman offered an observation that correctional officers only tend to make headlines after something bad happens, so flying under the radar must mean they’re doing their jobs. When asked what they would like to see change in the future with regard to the correctional field, White, Wildman and Millizer were all in agreement: something must be done on mental health.

White estimated that over 50 percent of the inmates at any given time have some sort of mental health issue, and he worries that for some, there’s simply no place for them to go — or, conversely, nowhere willing to accept them. The situation has only gotten worse with delays and wait times of six to eight months just to secure an evaluation at Oakdale.

He provided the example of an inmate who was found incompetent to stand trial and has been stuck in jail for over two years.

“For 15 months they’ve tried to find placement for him, and no place will accept him in Iowa. Partially, some of it was because of his previous behavior. He had some violent behavior, but there’s places that just say ‘No, we’re not gonna take him,'” White said. “And county jails are the dumping ground. We’re not long-term facilities because you can only be sentenced to a county jail for up to a year. Anything beyond that, you go to prison. Now you can sit here for a year or two waiting to go to trial, but county facilities are not made, not built for long-term care.”

In White’s estimation, if elected officials spent a few days working at a jail, their perspectives on fixing the mental health system might change overnight. National Correctional Officers Week 2023 runs from May 7-13.

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Contact Robert Maharry at 641-753-6611 ext. 255

or rmaharry@timesrepublican.com.