By Johnny Utah
I shuffled into the Receiving Building. I was the largest building I had been inside of in weeks, and it stank of industrial disinfectant. I thought I’d have to stop and do something like fingerprints and a mugshot, but then it hit me I already had a prison ID card. I had a record here. I had no idea why I was taken from the fields into prison. Everything was going OK since we got back to the work camp. Going to pick sweet potatoes wasn’t that bad, now I was facing something else. Something unknown.
In the processing area, Sergeant Stiles was waiting for me.
“Prisoner Utah, J. 35374, you are going to be processed for entry in the Special Housing Unit, disciplinary segregation section,” he announced.
I shuffled down a hallway and turned into a big white painted room with six tall cages, each one obviously meant to hold one man. I was put in a standing cage, painted white. It was about four by four feet. There was a kind of bench to sit on. The door clanged shut and was locked.
