One afternoon in May 2017 as I sat in the prison dayroom, I noticed my coworker Sylvia being pushed in her wheelchair by her roommate. Sylvia’s hands trembled as she struggled to recall where she was. Her eyes looked lost and confused, searching the room for something...
“Upper A, upper A, come down for linen exchange,” the PA squawked. In my room, I watched TV and waited for my wing to be called. My linens – bed sheets and towels – sat folded at the end of my bed. Sometimes we received fluffy soft towels and new sheets. Usually, we...
