Saturday, August 17, 2002

Cut to the jail in Washington, DC, on a June evening. The air is thick, humid, and hot; in contravention of the institution’s rules, all cells are open, soul music bounces off the sticky concrete walls and steel bars. At one end of the tier the officer in charge, Yvonne Walker, is dancing with inmates. Before long one prisoner is half-naked undulating on a table. Soon, Walker is disrobing, while another inmate performs a Bangkok sex trick with a lit cigarette. Guards and prisoners alike cheer wildly.

Christian Parenti, Lockdown America: Police and Prisons in the Age of Crisis (190)

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