...and goes....

Let me preface this with a little explanation about William. He was initially from England and had several first names to go with his illustrious sir-name, but he was simply “William” to all of us. He had been in the States since he was quite young but never lost his British accent, and as far as I could gather he had worked for the Yavapai County jail for almost ever. He was one of those unforgettable folks who fall into the “Character” category.

William was pompous, temperamental, stubborn, opinionated and completely loveable. He had fire engine red hair, right down to his walrus moustache and freckles. He loved jokes about the Queen Mum and had a wicked sense of British humor. I recall one night quite well when the newly elected Governor of our state came to the door of the jail looking to speak with our Sheriff and William happened to be the one in the control cage, and thus in charge of who came in and went out.

Ordinarily the Governor would not be entering the building by way of the jail but it was after hours and the rest of the building was locked up. There was no way to reach the inner sanctum of the Sheriff’s Office but through locked doors. So when William heard the buzz he answered the intercom in his usual, properly British way:

“May I help you?”

The woman’s voice replied, “I’m here to see the Sheriff.”

“And who are you, Madam?”

“This is the Governor.”

William should have recognized her voice, perhaps, but through a speaker that’s very difficult. Plus, who knew what our new Governor sounded like? And there were no cameras at the rear door back then. William remained polite and calm, “Is the Sheriff expecting you, Madam?”

“I have an appointment.”

“And you are...?”

A quick sigh, “This is Governor Miller! The Sheriff is expecting me!”

“I’ll have to check with him, Madam. Do you have any identification?”

Apparently Governor Miller was not used to being told she must identify herself, especially at night, in back of a jail, by some English voice over an intercom. “I told you, I am Governor Miller! Now will you please let me in?”

“I’m sorry, madam, but I cannot allow you in without proper identification. If you’ll just be seated on the bench there, I’ll have a deputy come out and check your identification.”

Things went downhill fast at that point and our esteemed Governor began to let William know just how she felt about her situation and our lack if response to her authority. It was at that point that William, in his calm, lilting, British accent said to her: “Now, now, Ducks, don’t get your knickers in a twist!”

The Governor was instantly quiet. I suppose she had no clue what to say. Certainly she had never been told to keep her knickers untwisted before and it is doubtful she ever was told again. You had to know William to appreciate the scenario.

And thus, when I went to William to inquire about the Ghost, I expected a droll barrage of British sarcasm or humor. I was fairly sure I was being duped and that William would jovially tell me just that. Instead, I got a wide-eyed, completely serious expression of sincerity.
“Oh, yes! He’s been carousing about the jail for some time now. Ever since that boy hung himself in the holding cell.”

I kept waiting for the twinkle in William’s eye to appear, letting me know he was in on the joke, but twinkle it did not. I probably offered him a frown, I sure felt like frowning, “So, you’re telling me that you’ve seen him?”

“I have, indeed,” William nodded. “Twice, actually!”

“Where?”

“Back in Dorm One.”

My apprehension was dwindling a bit, “Does he moan or drag chains or what?”

William chuckled at that, in only the way William is able; sort of a pompous, British chuckle that makes everyone else want to chuckle along with him. “No, no. He just sort of floats along, looking into the cells, you know. He’s a curious sort, I suppose.”

Casper the Curious Ghost.

It’s hard to keep William on any one subject for very long because he always has a plethora of things to tell you, and it was no different with the subject of our resident ghost. I wanted more information but William had much more important things on his mind, all of which escape me at this point. I went no further with the paranormal investigation that night.
It was about a week, maybe two weeks later that I experienced “Casper” myself. I had casually interrogated a couple of the inmates in Dorm One just to see if any of them would squeal about their privacy being invaded by a ghost, but no one did. They did tell me they had heard about him and then one of the guys mentioned that his pal Larry could fill me in. Larry had seen the ghost (and Larry had been moved out of Dorm One into a different area at his own request.)

I found the enigmatic Larry in Dorm Three and after we chit-chatted a while about the quality of jail food and the available TV programming, I brought up the subject of Casper the Curious Ghost. That was when Larry’s face went kind of ashen.

“Yeah, I seen it!” Larry replied with a stiffness that suggested he was either suddenly frightened or had to use the bathroom. “It was like this fog, y’know? I seen it twice, it kinda come glidin’ along the back by my cell, and it got real cold when it went by.”
Very Gothic, I thought to myself.

“Was it an actual figure? I mean, a boy or a girl or something like that?”

“It was a guy.”

“How did you tell?”

Larry shrugged, “I dunno. It just seemed like a guy. It was a blue, foggy-like blob thing and it moved by and it stopped and sorta looked into my cell. Gave me the creeps, y’know? And I ain’t a scared of anythin’!”

“Did it make any sound?”

“Naah.” Larry shook his head and then hesitated as his brows knitted in thought, “But it knocked the stuff off my cell window.”

There is a walkway around each cellblock dorm and each cell has a barred window through which officers can look in and keep track of the inhabitant’s activities. The inmates often store little things along these cell windowsills, such as toothpaste or combs or the little soapboxes they use to keep their pencils and other small tidbits. It would not be difficult to knock something from that sill but it would have to be done purposefully. There is not enough air movement back in the dorms to cause anything to fall without human assistance.

“And you’re pretty sure it was the ghost, huh?” I inquired with suspicion.

Larry gave me a wide-eyed stare, “I damn-well know it was him! I don’t care what anybody else says, I seen it and I felt it get cold, and I ain’t goin’ back in there either! No sir, ma’am! You ain’t gettin’ me back in that damned place!”