CLEVELAND — The aisles of defendants, seated five to a row, staring blankly at the front of the courtroom.

The parade of orange and blue jumpsuits marching through arraignment nine floors below.

The succession of charges read from a sheet of paper at a dizzying speed.

The rows of metal bunk beds at the Bedford Heights City Jail, garnished with tan-colored blankets and thin slabs of green plastic mattresses.

The heroin addict seated next to him, detailing a 30-year battle with a disease that has stolen his life.

All of it felt familiar to Kendall Lamm.

“The man that sat beside me — the drug addict. That hits home for me big time,” the Cleveland Browns’ new offensive tackle told Yahoo Sports during a quiet moment at the jail. “Because that’s what my mother’s gone through.”

On Friday, seven Browns players — Lamm, cornerback T.J. Carrie, tight end Seth DeValve, defensive tackle Devaroe Lawrence, wide receivers Derrick Willies and Damon Sheehy-Guiseppi, and offensive tackle Brad Seaton — and members of the organization took part in a “Listen & Learn” tour to get an inside look at the Ohio criminal justice system. The six-hour event — which began with observing bail hearings at the Cleveland Municipal Court downtown before visiting inmates at Bedford, roughly 40 minutes away — was the brainchild of the Players Coalition, a task force comprised of 12 NFL players that aims to impact social justice and racial-equality reform at federal, state and local levels of government.

The tour was designed to educate and encourage players to use their respective platforms to affect bail and policy reform. But for some attendees, conversations with public defenders, inmates and members of non-profit organizations reaffirmed only what they’ve already witnessed first-hand.

A never-ending cycle designed to penalize the poor. Public defenders who are either too overworked or completely disengaged. Racial disparities in jail sentencing. Unjust bail policies that disproportionately affect people of color and keep them incarcerated because they can’t afford bail. A scarcity in resources for non-violent offenders who are eager to succeed post-release.

“I watched my mom go through this and I watched her try to get back into society,” Lamm said of his mother, Candace. “She has a great support system in our family and I will do anything I can for my mother. But from a mental standpoint, it’s about building her up and showing that she can stand on her own two feet and be a different person.

“But in my opinion, the cycle is completely f---ed up. Once you get in here, it’s built for you not to succeed. … I’m new to Cleveland. I don’t know s--- about Cleveland. But I know this system is the same everywhere. Unfortunately.”

View photos Kendall Lamm spoke candidly of his mother's struggles and his frustration with the American legal system. (Getty Images) More

A troubled system

The stillness in the Cleveland Municipal Courtroom is disrupted by a cacophony of bustling activity near the judge’s bench. The intermittent squeak of a pressed hole-puncher and the low humming of printers and photo copy machines serve as the backdrop to bail decisions that are doled out in rapid succession.

With each swiftly presented case, the irritation within Lamm builds.

His leg shakes feverishly from his second-to-last row seat in the courtroom known as 3-D. And when the Cuyahoga County judge issues a $40,000 standard bail bond — which requires the individual facing charges to pay the court a deposit of 10 percent of the stated amount — Lamm shakes his head and mutters under his breath: “Terrible.”

“They’re making decisions like that,” Carrie would later say, snapping his fingers for emphasis. “And that’s eye-opening.”

A black man wearing an orange jumpsuit is followed by another black man, and then another. One is an older gentleman in a wheelchair. Another is a young man who is deaf. The assistant Cuyahoga County prosecutor insists a sign-language interpreter will arrive soon, but the judge eventually decides to call a recess around 9:21 a.m.

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