19 Saturday 4 August, 9.20pm.
Brian’s words have been ringing round my head ever since I came back to my cell.
Ten years.
Eligible for parole.
You might not have much choice.
This has all suddenly become normal talk. I think back to my life before that knock at the door. It was only hours ago, but it seems like an age. This world is so far removed from the home life and routine I know. Is this going to become my new normal?
I don’t know if it’s because my brain is protecting me by assuming that this is the new normal or because I’ve always had faith in the criminal justice system, but I seem to have developed an odd conformity to everything that’s going on. It’s almost as if I know I can’t change the situation, so I’m just going to have to ride it out.
My cell door opens and a polic
