This is in response to the December 15 article by Jennette Barnes and Michael Bonner, "Crime and Nourishment: An inside look at jail food in Bristol County," and the accompanying video of Barnes' interview with the sheriff. As a person who was incarcerated at the Bristol County House of Correction when Tom Hodgson was first appointed sheriff, and then again a few years later, I have personally experienced the deterioration in conditions at the Bristol County House of Corrections.

During my first incarceration there were programs that helped individuals deal with alcoholism and addiction, classes in anger management, and programs on parenting. These programs were beneficial to people who, for one reason or another, couldn't take advantage of similar programs on the outside. From my experience, these programs don't really exist now except on paper and in the feverish imagination of the sheriff, but life happens. A single bad choice or a chain of circumstances can unravel your life. Believe it or not — most people who run afoul of the law are not hardened criminals — and jail should try to help people get back on their feet, not tear them down and cast them away like rubbish.

In my own case I was in human services and did outreach on the streets of New Bedford. I loved it. I talked to teenagers about going back to school or getting their GED. I would refer those who had graduated to a career center or drive them to sign up. I was young and had a direction in life, but then life threw me a curve. I was in and out of jail, lost my job in human services, had child support and bills I couldn't pay. I lost my license because I couldn't pay support, was arrested for driving unlicensed and uninsured, and eventually lost both my job and my freedom. Bad choices and bad luck — this story is not just mine but that of a thousand other men. People just like you, too, fellow citizen.

So when Tom Hodgson says that people who complain about his jail's bad food and lack of programs have no idea what they're talking about because they've never been there — well, I have been there, and there are many of us eager to share our experiences with anyone who will listen.

To the woman who commented "I bet you they have better conditions than my husband who is deployed," I say thank your husband for his service, but not everyone in jail is there because they set out to commit a crime — but often simply because of the circumstances they found themselves in. So stay clear of judgments like this because your own circumstances may change in the blink of an eye. And when someone from the sheriff's office posts on Twitter, "don’t break the law and you can have whatever breakfast you want, every morning" — well, that's not exactly true either. The majority of people in county jails have never been convicted of a crime. They're simply awaiting trial.

But, most hypocritically, when Hodgson says, "we're not going to have the taxpayers pay extra for food beyond what they're already paying for the cost of care here," I want to scream, WHAT CARE? And how many wrongful deaths, abuse, and corruption lawsuits is Hodgson now facing? And how many dollars have taxpayers already shelled out for the scofflaw sheriff's legal fees?

Jennette Barnes' article asks wisely, "if the purpose of jail is to stop crime and deter it, should the food make inmates angry?" Besides trying to sleep on an empty stomach, imagine how an incarcerated person feels about eating meals that cost less than a horse's hay for a month. Imagine how your neighbors, sons, and husbands feel about being served second-class food when corrections officers receive a decent meal prepared in the same kitchen.

If society's goal is to send the message that we don't care about incarcerated peoples' welfare, that we don't care about their human dignity, and that we hate them — well, we shouldn't be surprised when they eventually return the favor.

Eli Barrett lives in New Bedford.