FOR SNAKRE (RICK ZAYAS AND RUBEN CORTEZ), A CAPTIVE AUDIENCE OF 1,400

By Juan Montoya

The first thing you notice when you get booked into the Cameron County Jail at Rucker-Carrizales in Olmito is how cold it is.

In fact, if you're lucky and spend only a few days in a 12' x 12' cell with as many as 12 other inmates while you await classification, the only thing you'll have to fend off the cold will be the orange jumpsuit. It is not unusual for inmates to be huddled together in the small cells at night with only a thin woolen blanket to weather the chilly night on the bare concrete.

While at booking, the perfunctory photo is taken, your personal data is stored, your belongings and every stitch of personal clothing (socks and underwear included) is stored in the property room. No outside clothing is allowed in the jail, and families of inmates cannot bring or edible items or anything else except for emergency medical prescriptions.     

Once you get a cell assignment, it only gets worse. The air conditioning seems to be turned on to prevent permafrost from melting. If you are the last inmate in the cell, you'll probably draw the bunk directly the air conditioning vent. Some inmates prefer to take their thin plastic mattress and find a corner on the floor furthest away from the AC vent until a bunk further from the air flow becomes available when someone gets transferred or freed.
Most guards wear long-sleeve sweats under their uniform, and the old timers in the cells wear thermal tops and bottoms under their jumpsuits and crew socks. It is not unusual for inmates to spend the day with their blankets wrapped around them as they watch the lone television set or await the three daily meals by which inmates mark their days.
Guards are adamant about making sure that inmates get their one blanket and one jumpsuit. There are no socks or underwear issued by the county. The only way to get those is to buy them from the commissary during one of the two weekly visits by commissary workers who visit the cells and pick up orders.
Possession of currency is considered contraband inside. The only way that an inmate can purchase items on the commissary list is by having the store charge their inmate account. Relatives and friends can mail money orders to the inmates' accounts.
It's when you look at the prices that you realize that the 1,400-odd inmates held in Cameron County are literally a captive audience when it comes to making purchases from Snakre Vending LLC, the vendor that operates the commissary services.
A pair of white (the only color sold or allowed) boxer shorts will cost $4.50. A set of three shorts at Wal-Mart will cost about the same. And at wholesale, those same shorts probably cost less than $1.
A thermal top, a critical item inside, is listed at $8.30, more than twice or three times the cost at a store on the outside. A woman's plain sport bra (no metal parts) will cost a female inmate $9.00. Panties are $2.70 each. A travel pack of Femtex Tampons cost $3.00
And a serving of Ramen or Maruchan noodles you can buy at HEB or Wal-Mart for 10 for $1 go for 65 cents apiece. A small bar of Baby Ruth or Snickers candy is $1. A bag of off-brand tortilla chips that would cost less than $2 sells for $3.25.
There are a large number of Mexican nationals awaiting trial in Cameron County. Many can't have relatives deposit money in their accounts. Unable to buy, they trade services or tasks with other inmates to procure items from the commissary.

Doing the daily cleaning chores (la talacha) for someone else will fetch a bag of soup (65 cents). Handicrafts such as handkerchiefs($1.25) with hand-made colored drawings (the Virgin of Guadalupe, Mickey Mouse, or chicano babes in skimpy bikinis are hot items) will bring the equivalent of $5.50 in commissary orders from a buyer. Over time, by working the black market, inmates without money will be able to get a pair of socks (white) for $1.25, a plain white polyester T-shirt ($3.30). Flip-flops are $1.50.

And once your sample-size toothpaste is gone, the commissary has Pepsodent (it still exists) for $2.90 or Ultra Brite, also $2.90. A 4-oz bar of Irish Spring costs $1.40.

By now you must think that over the space of a year, the vendor, Snakre Vending, must make a mint. You're right. The Cameron County Auditor's Office reports that based on gross sales of $876,974.64 in fiscal 2010, the county's share came to $254,364.03 and Snakre netted $665,098.55 that includes sales tax in the amount of $42,487.94.

By law, the Sheriff's Department must bid the vending contract every five years. Since Sheriff Omar Lucio has been in office, Snakre, owned by Brownsville attorney Rick Zayas and his partner Ruben Cortez has been awarded the contract. Both are former Brownsville Independent School District trustees.

A former sheriff says that before the contract was let out he used to operate it with jail personnel and kept the profits for the county.

"Lucio could very well hire people to run the commissary with a part of the county's share and make a half-million for the county without gouging the poor prisoners," he said. "Many of them are there because they can't post bail and they need things like underwear and basic items of hygiene. They are already paying for violating the law. Making them pay these prices on top of that is cruel. Something needs to be done about this."