Think of the possibilities: a restaurant with a unique atmosphere. Or, how about low-cost housing? Certainly that role has some precedence.
The county doesn’t care. If you want it, you can have it for a (pardon the inference) steal.
It was built in the 1930s, designed for an average population of eight.
It was remodeled in 1979 but abandoned a decade later when a jail commission decided it didn’t meet the modern standards for square feet, number of inmates, the amount of light...not to mentioned the temperature.
Today, its bottom floor is used for storage — old computer CRT monitors, outdated computer printers, boxes of files, an office chair that has seen better days; the cells upstairs are deteriorating. The paint is peeling and the windows are so dirty the sunlight that manages to find its way inside turns the light a deep orange.
In some cells, the sun reveals graffiti where prisoners carved their names in the brick walls.
All for sale, first come, first sold.
And, Boho and Kay — you have a prior claim.