At 9 p.m. Nov. 16, Deacon Randy McMahon begins stocking the RV camper at a garage in the City of Orange. He has six more hours to go.

An hour later, the 25-foot 1976 Winnebago is stationed a few steps away from the Orange County Jail (Intake and Release Center) in Santa Ana, right across the city's stadium. On the sidewalk, McMahon has set up a couple of tables with a pot of hot coffee, small foam coffee cups, cookies, donuts and candies. Welcoming chairs are also lined up. And no, nothing is for sale.

"Friends Outside. Lights On Program" reads a banner on top of the vehicle.

Lights On - the first program of its kind in California, and most likely nationwide -was founded four years ago by the Orange Diocese's detention ministry with the sponsorship of the Society of St. Vincent De Paul of Orange County in coordination with law enforcement authorities, to assist released inmates, especially women, who have no means to get to their destination or to call someone for help once they are released from jail - which usually happens late at night or early morning.

"(Lights On) is a safe haven for the released inmates; it provides safety and keeps them off the streets," says Fred La Puzza, the Orange detention ministry's coordinator of adult volunteers and facilities.

Appropriate help
It works just like that for Cherri, the first person to show up at 10:15 p.m. She was caught using drugs and was arrested in her hometown Palo Alto. Deputies later found out she had a warrant in Orange County and transferred her to the Intake and Release Center six days earlier. She is not acquainted with the area and does not have a penny in her pocket, so she approaches Deacon McMahon with great hope.

Right before being released, she learned through other inmates that at the Lights On station she would get the appropriate help.

Deacon McMahon kindly greets her and offers coffee. In exchange she only needs to sign up on a blank sheet, a way of keeping record of inmates assisted every night.

Every Monday and Friday the deacon drives to the same spot to welcome the released inmates. In addition to coffee and treats, he offers pizza, bus passes for those who do not have money or a way of transportation, and a cell phone to make calls to relatives or friends for pick up, at no cost.

"I would like to know if you could give me a bus pass?" Cherri asks. McMahon is hesitant. After four years, he has learned that many people exchange the bus passes for drugs or alcohol.

But Cherri explains she is not from the area and has no one to call for support.

She is fortunate. The president of the SVDP of Orange County, Andy Saavedra, had stopped by for a few minutes. After a short conversation with her to find out about the credibility of her story, he agrees to her request.

"This is awesome what you do here!" she exclaims, obviously relieved. Saavedra will meet her the next morning at the Greyhound station in Anaheim. The SVDP will pay her one-way ticket to Palo Alto. In the meantime, she can either wait at the jail's lobby or hang out at the Lights On station till 3:30 a.m., the time when the last inmates are released.

Broad support
The Lights On program is a response to the need identified by a coalition of nonprofits, churches of different denominations, the Orange Catholic Detention Ministry, parole and law enforcement officers, and Santa Ana College representatives. The idea was welcomed and approved by the city and the OC Sheriff's Department.

After learning of the need, Joanne Shelly, a former member of the Lights On coalition, did not hesitate in donating the first used camper van. Since then, four motor homes have been donated. Three of them were used until they stopped working.

The SVDP quickly partnered as well, and the program officially started in June 2005, operating three nights a week. In early 2008 no camper was available for two months, but Deacon McMahon, from Holy Trinity Church in Ladera Ranch, showed up as usual to assist from his own car. He was followed by other parishioners who learned about the program.

In the beginning, the plan was to offer a safe place where the released inmates could sip a cup of coffee and get basic clothing while waiting for their transportation, but then volunteers noticed most inmates did not have money to make phone calls, so they added a cell phone strictly for pick-up calls.

Soon after, some resources were used to purchase one-way bus or train tickets for inmates from out of state or other counties.

About $35,000 is invested in this program on a yearly basis, including the vehicle maintenance. An average of 9,000 inmates are assisted per year, about 40 percent of them moderate or low income white male, followed by male Hispanics (20 percent) and African American (6 percent).

'Why do you do this?'
Before 11 p.m., 18 inmates have arrived at the Lights On station, most of them yearning for coffee and a cigarette (they have a right to at least one cigarette handed directly by the volunteers). Then they make a call and wait until they are picked up.

All the inmates seem to be intrigued.

"Why do you do this?" the bolder ask McMahon. They tell how all kinds of stories are weaved by the inmates about the origins of the program. It is difficult for most of them to understand that someone can lend a helping hand for nothing in return.

The deacon just nods his head and smiles. He is a man of few words.

"I will tell my parents to send you money," says Samantha, a 19-year-old Catholic from affluent Newport Beach, while she waits for her step-dad to come pick her up. She can't be more grateful. "I was terrified in there," she says, referring to the jail.

She had stayed sober for the last 50 days, but she relapsed and got a DUI - her second. It was her first time in jail and hopefully her last. "It sucked. I never want to go back," she declares.

Ed Cote, a cab driver who has been serving the inmates for the last 14 years, has heard those comments before. Unfortunately, he ends up driving the same people back and forth. He has stopped at the station to drink a cup of coffee.

"Oh yes, this is a very good thing, people appreciate it," Cote says. On occasions he provides his transportation services for free, though he has been taken advantage of a few times.

By 1 p.m. a sudden cold breaks in. McMahon hands donated jackets to some of the women. From now until 3:30 a.m. a parade of released inmates from all walks of life greet and thank the deacon: a young man wearing an expensive gray suit and shiny shoes, a young man carrying a Bible under his arm who says he suffers from bipolarism and all he did in jail was read the Bible, the Latino business owner, the woman expecting her third child, the prostitute from Reno, the man who claims to be a missionary, the electrician, a pair of young men recently released from several years in prison who are wearing paper prison jumpsuits, and the Tonganese with swollen eyes and lips who got in a fight with a Samoan inmate ("It's a historic rivalry between both ethnic groups," he explains).

For most of them it is their second or third time in jail, and they were arrested for misdemeanors such as substance abuse, prostitution, domestic violence or traffic tickets.

In between short conversations, McMahon reads a book while keeping a watchful eye.

It is 3 a.m. - cleanup time. By now, the deacon has assisted 50 inmates. He is ready to go to sleep, but first he needs to take the camper back to the garage, where it will be picked up by another volunteer the next evening. The service is available every single weekday, including holidays.

By the end of the year they will be driving a 45-foot recreational RV, recently donated by another good Samaritan. Then the deacon will be able to read his book - or maybe watch TV - in a comfortable warm living-room setting during those minutes when no one shows up and the weather hits the low 40s.

For more information about the Lights On program, call (714) 991-9255 (days) or (714) 363-1900 (nights).