After success in making purchases for personal use, an inmate approached him to mule some pot through the facility. Troy's refusal was not well received. Prisoners cornered him in the yard earlier to prove to him his safety was an illusion. Keeping his head on a swivel, he was waiting for their follow-up.
It didn't take him long to identify the cliques. White supremacists, Asian gangs, Latino gangs, Black and Mexican gangs were divided around the room. The guards did a decent job preventing interactions and dust-ups unless it suited them.
Troy put his spork down as two other inmates joined him. In moderate security, inmates had a little flexibility in movement. Troy's neck tingled as a heavyset white man in his fifties sat close beside him.
"Hey, Fish, you refused my offer? I figure you might not know better." The other prevented him from opening up space.
"Who the hell are you?" Troy grunted.
"Your new best friend or worst enemy. Name's Brogan."
"Well, Brogan, I'm here to do my time. I'll pay for my necessities. Don't want trouble."
"Well, that may not be a choice." Brogan walked away, tossing Troy's orange from hand to hand.
Troy walked to his cell. He sat on his bunk and grabbed the paperback he borrowed from the prison library, a dog-eared version ofOf Mice and Men. The theme of trying to understand men was appropriate for the prison setting. The 2100 buzzer rang, and the call for lockdown went out. Troy's shoulders relaxed, and he let out the breath constricting his chest. His peace was short-lived. A sergeant and two corrections officers loomed in the now unlocked doorway.
"Mills, where are the drugs?" Sergeant Keene Jensen's tone was bored.
"I don't do drugs, CO."
"Not what we hear. On the yellow line. Grab the bar," Jensen sneered.
Troy raised his hands, walked out, placed his feet on the yellow line, and gripped the bar atop the wall overlooking the tiers and the day room below. The Sergeant and CO Lonnie Cowan began the cell search.
The second CO, Len "Buck" Rodgers, working undercover as Chip Carlson, performed a pat-down search. "We picked up three kites naming you for possession.” A kite was an illegal correspondence between prisoners. "Don't move." Len rested the bottom of his flashlight against Troy's back for show.
"You're going to the hole," Cowan said. In his hand was a small bag containing white powder.
Troy swallowed hard at the sound of handcuffs heading toward him. "You planted that. I'm clean. I don't do drugs."
His legs were pulled out from behind, and he was dropped to the floor. Len placed a knee against the side of his head, pinning him in place. Handcuffs constricted his wrists, then he was dragged to his feet. "Don't resist. It won't help your cause," Len's voice echoed behind him.
The three officers dragged Troy down the tiers to the basement where the administrative segregation cells were. "You picked a bad night to break the rules. The x-ray machine is broken. We’ll have to search you the old-fashioned way," Cowan snickered.
"Prisoner 14237, you have violated Silverton Jail's rule for possession of contraband. You will be held in administrative segregation until your disciplinary hearing within forty-eight hours. In the presence of Sergeant Keene Jensen, Officer Chip Carlson, and Officer Lonnie Cowan, Doctor Hailey Ullman will provide a full body search including a cavity search," Jensen read off his clipboard.
"Mmmhmm. Does your momma know what you do for a living, sweetheart?" Troy's tone was lascivious as Dr. Hailey Ullman walked into his sightline.
His question was greeted with a hard elbow to his gut. "Shut your pie hole," Cowan said.
Len barked, "Mills, strip."
Troy managed a quick flash of a positive sign to his team member.
Hailey pulled on a pair of gloves and squirted K-Y jelly on her fingers. Troy took a breath and submitted to the search. "Mr. Mills, do you realize placing drugs in your body could be very dangerous?" She waved a small glycine envelope.
"Not a good start, Mills." Len's worried expression defied the punishing tone of his voice. The guards tossed him into the cell with a thin blanket to cover his naked body.
Chapter Sixteen
Ian found Martin asleep with Lola curled on his chest using the GPS tracker all Chase employees had in their phones. The nurse whispered how he was magical with Lola. Ian leaned against the wall, observing the man his friend became, remembering.
"Lieutenant Chase, Petty Officer 2nd class Martin Bailey reporting for duty." Though only five years younger than himself, Martin—known at the time as Iowa—had the boyish look of a teenager.
Ian was responsible for integrating him into a platoon that was six months into a tour after losing a teammate. "Welcome to hell. Smooth will show you to your bunk."
Julian mumbled, "He's a baby."
