Page 50 of Thick

“I like helping people. Always wanted to be a cop, but I can’t meet the requirements.”

“Helping people?” he chuckled. “Never heard that one before. At least not here.”

Unlike Perry, Officer Turner was calm throughout his day to day activities. What little I saw of him led me to believe he enjoyed his job.

“How about you?” I asked.

“I retired from the military. I didn’t want to be a cop. I was sick and tired of being shot at. This was the next closest thing.”

I forced a smile and gave a nod. “How long have you been here?”

“Here? A year. A Federal Corrections Officer? Sixteen years.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Care to listen to what I have to say about this?” he asked.

I wanted to talk to someone about it, I knew that much. I let out a sigh. “I’d love to hear it.”

“Do you know what Darin Wheatland was in for?”

“Meth?”

“He was in for meth charges. He was charged with rape. Him and the other three that were brought in with him dragged a bartender into the alley behind her bar and gang raped her. Then, they kidnapped her, took her to a shack in Arizona, and took turns raping her while they smoked meth. When the meth ran out, they left her to die. She wandered two miles through the desert, naked and barefoot. She stumbled onto highway 10, and was picked up by a family who was going home from their vacation in San Diego.”

“Oh my God,” I gasped. “That’s awful. How do you know all of that?”

“I ask around. There’s always what we’re told, and then there’s the truth. To get the truth, you need to talk to the arresting officer.” He shrugged. “They don’t mind.”

“So he was here for rape, but no one knew it?”

He chuckled. “That was going to be my point. It’s obvious someone knew it. He was cutting a deal with the DA to get the rape charges dropped. It’s no secret that the legal system has holes in it, but prison justice is blind to loopholes, legal restrictions, and limitations. Inside the walls, the men get no less than what they have coming to them.”

“In your opinion, he deserved to die?”

“There’s really only two forms of justice here. Being beaten damned near to death, and being killed. Considering the options, he got what he had coming.”

“Did you see who did it? What happened?”

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “I saw nothing. You?”

“Between you and me? I saw some movement. There was a group of men that--”

“You saw nothing,” he said.

“Well. I didn’t see what happened, but I saw--”

“If he cut a deal to get the charges dropped, the legal system would have failed. That poor bartender would have lived her life wondering if there was something that she did wrong that caused her to be raped. If it was the clothes she was wearing. The way she talked to them.” He pursed his lips and shook his head. He inhaled a long breath through his nose, and then looked at me as he let it out. “As far as Darin Wheatland is concerned? Justice has been served. You. Saw. Nothing.”

The warden’s door opened. Officers Stallworth and Frank walked out.

“Turner! Madden!” the warden barked. “Get in here.”

We walked into the office.

The warden was in his early sixties, bald, and wore a gray mustache that made him resemble a walrus. Dressed in navy slacks, a light blue shirt, and a navy jacket, he looked like a mustachioed used car salesman.

He waved his hand toward two empty chairs that faced his desk. “Have a seat.”