Having been born and raised in Quincy, I grew up without expectations of anonymity. Whenever I go shopping, or to the movies or anywhere in town I expect to run into at least a handful of people I know.
My wife, Amy, has gotten to dread grocery shopping with me and makes fun of how long it takes me. Last week I ran to the store to buy a head of lettuce and some cheese for dinner, and eventually returned home an hour later. I find it hard to see people I know and not engage in some sort of conversation with them.
One year ago, criminal justice leaders admitted the county was facing a mess. Just a few months into the Assembly Bill 109 inmate realignment, they were grasping for answers to deal with a problem they weren’t prepared for: How could Plumas County possibly deal with all the felons who would be staying here instead of going to state prisons where they should be?
The county didn’t have adequate alcohol, drug and mental health services and the jail was quickly filling to capacity.