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BLOOD ON ARPAIO'S HANDS

Forty-year-old Brian Crenshaw was  serving a short sentence for shoplifting.  Although Crenshaw had been in and out of jail for years and had a drug problem, he had never been accused of a violent crime.  He was also legally blind.  After an altercation with officers, Crenshaw reported injuries to jail medical personnel. His eye and nose were sutured, and his vitals were taken. Crenshaw stated that he was pushed to the wall, punched and kicked by officers.  Apparently, the struggle ensued when Crenshaw refused to show his ID in a lunch line. Due to the altercation, Crenshaw was placed in lockdown.

For the next six days, nobody entered or left his cell. On March 14, Crenshaw was found unconscious next to his bunk.  He had a broken neck, several broken toes, and extensive internal injuries.  He was comatose, his intestines had ruptured, and his vertebrae needed to be straightened with a halo. Doctors told Crenshaw's mother that his internal injuries were so severe they had to surgically open his stomach to relieve swelling. The sheriff's office asserts that Crenshaw's struggle with guards did not cause the injuries that led to his death.  Despite the severity of Crenshaw's injuries, the sheriff's office maintains that these injuries were incurred when he fell from his bunk. 

On a CBS 5 program after the incident, interviewer Chris Hayes asks Arpaio, "Is it possible your guards beat Brian Crenshaw to death?

"Is it possible?" Arpaio sneers. After an uncomfortable pause, he continues, "No, they did not, they did not, and if that's what your critics, or that you're insinuating we went into that cell block and beat him up and threw him to the floor is ridiculous. We did a thorough investigation on that. The man fell off a bunk."

Crenshaw's bunk was 4'2" high, about a foot shorter than a child's bunk bed , or as Chris Hayes pointed out in his investigation, a little taller than a desk. 

You don't have to be a softy or an advocate of prisoners' rights to become outraged at reports like these. We all want a sheriff who is tough on crime—and we don't want our tax dollars to be spent on luxurious accommodations for inmates. Rest assured, the conditions in Maricopa County's jails aren't lavish, comfortable, or even tolerable. The temperatures inside Tent City often reach 120 degrees in the summer, and with only four guards for every thousand prisoners, Arpaio is cutting dangerous corners and endangering both inmates and detention officers. The sheriff brags that he spends more money feeding police dogs than he does inmates. The dogs, he argues, deserve better, since they haven't done anything illegal. What's important to remember is that Tent City doesn't just house hardened criminals—it also houses people who are awaiting trial; people who haven't been convicted or even accused of any crime. One young man spent four years in Arpaio's jails before being released—and acquitted on all charges.  Arpaio boasts that he's saving money by keeping inmates in these conditions, but the cost of humiliating inmates is beginning to skyrocket.

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