On the morning of the 25th, I was in the day room, drinking coffee and checking stock charts. Just another day until the Sergeant walked in with his officers, their hands covered in blue gloves. That was never a good sign.
A few minutes later, my cell door buzzed open. I was told to bring my ID. I asked if I needed shoes. “You’re fine as you are,” the Sergeant said. That was when I knew something was really wrong.
Back at the desk, they told me, “You’re under investigation.” Then the cuffs went on. I asked what for. “We don’t know,” they said. That was all I got.
They took me straight to segregation, stripped me of everything. Socks, underwear, watch, even my lunch. They made me take a drug test, though it felt pointless. Then I sat in a cold holding cell, waiting.
After a while, they moved me to a cell with another guy. We gave each other a quick look and the usual “You good?” “Yeah, you?” and that was it. Just two guys stuck in the same mess.
Then, out of nowhere, they moved me again. Now I was in a different cell, alone. No explanation. In prison, moves like that mean something, and not knowing why can mess with your head.
I had nothing but time to think. Was it a mistake? A setup? A random accusation? In prison, rumors spread fast, and a move like this could wreck a reputation before the truth even had a chance.
Days passed. I kept busy. Working out, reading, writing, marking the days on the wall, trying not to lose my mind. Would it be two weeks? A month? Longer?
Then, on day 21, an officer banged on my window.
“Norm. Roll up. You’re out of here.”
Just like that, it was over. No explanation. No apology. Just back to my cell like nothing happened.
Except it did.
– Norm, currently incarcerated
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