Celebration in Moundsville led me to meeting ‘a lady of the night’

The year was 2003 and I made up my mind to leave corrections in July after 34 years of service. As my going away announcement, I took my daughter’s boom box to my staff meeting in March with my department heads and played BB King’s blues hit "The Thrill is Gone."

I explained to my staff that just like BB King, my "thrill" in corrections was gone and my adventures in prison were done. I was retiring.

But as I prepared to retire, my tactical unit commander, Tom Mellott, reminded me that I promised to accompany them one year on a training exercise to Moundsville, W.Va.

Never one to renege on a promise, I made arrangements to attend the three-day training program with members of my tactical unit in May.

As I watched my staff train, I was proud of them and prouder yet to be a member of the Maryland Correctional Institution-Hagerstown, which I considered the very best institution in the entire Division of Corrections at the time.

For sure I was going to miss my staff and facility.

On the last day of training at Moundsville, myself and Tom decided to celebrate our team, the three-day training exercise and my retirement, and take in the town to relax a bit.

At about 7 p.m., we proceeded down to a local hangout for a snack, libation and a few games of pool. A friendly patron there enjoyed putting quarters in the jukebox, so we were entertained with music from genres spanning from Buck Owens to the Rolling Stones.

Midnight arrived quickly and the place was closing, so we walked up the street a few steps and entered another friendly public house. We were conversing with some other local night owls and enjoyed a few more relaxing moments and stories of my days at the Big House.

I was going to miss my staff, but not so much those bureaucrats at headquarters.

Somewhere around 3 in the morning, I stepped out from this friendly place to head back to the hotel while Tom got the tab.

A "lady of the night" was walking down the street outside, touched my arm and asked me if I wanted to have a good time.

“Madame, I am already having a good time,” I said, but I thanked her for her generosity.

Tom then came out from the public house and asked what was going on. I explained to him the kind offer from the passing stranger.

The woman was not dressed very well, was rather thin, and had that hallowed look in her face of one who might be struggling with drug addiction. Whether she was a local’s daughter, granddaughter or mother of children left unattended was not determined. But I suspected she had a most difficult life, as demonstrated by her appearance on the streets alone at 3 in the morning, looking for companionship.

I wanted to engage her a bit in conversation about her life and circumstances, but it did not seem the place nor time to do so. I also wanted to give her a few dollars as I believed her to be destitute, not eating very well, and in a troubled place.

Tom suggested that was not a good idea, so I put my $20 back in my pocket and we bid the woman a good evening. She said goodbye and continued her walk down the street.

Tom and I had seen plenty of addicts in our many years at the prison, and we heard far too many stories about the tremendous tug on a person’s body by those drugs such as fentanyl, cocaine, heroin and others.

Drug addiction is a formidable foe once you get trapped by its physical demands on the body and soul. We had seen its destructive force on too many inmates over the years, including actual overdoses and deaths at the prison.

It is estimated that some 65-70% of all inmates incarcerated have some dependence on either alcohol or drug-related substances.

There are far too many stories where addiction has created much misery and hardship, and not only for those inmates who have embraced criminal behavior to feed an insatiable habit.

There's also the youth of our society who make the unfortunate decision to experiment with something that goes beyond an innocent mistake, and which most likely will result in devastating consequences.

I will always remember my trip to Moundsville in 2003.

And I still regret not giving that woman my $20 for, maybe, some food.

A lesson learned.

Pete Waters is a Sharpsburg resident who writes for The Herald-Mail.

This article originally appeared on The Herald-Mail: Drug addiction likely the foundation for encounter with woman