The Killer Parade

Every Thursday (like today), for some bizarre reason that has never been explained to me, the "administrative staff" of this prison (the heads and directors of the various departments, from the warden's office down to unit staff) come walking through the unit, up and down all the ranges (halls of cells) looking in each and every window one after another. It is a parade of all the people here who are actively engaged in an open conspiracy to kill the prisoners who the System has given them permission (or "orders") to kill. So, I call it "the Parade of Killers", while they still call it simply the "administrative walk-through". It is supposed to give the prisoners a chance to address any concerns or grievances directly with the "person in charge", but the few (very few) times I have ever attempted to talk to any of them as they paraded past my cell in their fancy suits, they just kept on walking and pretending not to hear my request for address. I've seen them do the same thing with other prisoners, so I know it isn't personal. They simply loathe doing their job, and want to get it over with as quickly as possible. If I happen to be asleep, or just lying on the bunk with my eyes closed, then several of them will make it their job to demand I sit up and acknowledge their presence at the cell door window. Literally, that's all they do! They say, "Duncan! Are you okay?" and then before I even have a chance to collect my thoughts, much less answer them, they are gone. So much for addressing any grievances. If all looks good on camera and on paper though. They can officially say that they personally "spoke to" each and every prisoner, and made sure they were "okay". 

It is indeed nothing more than a parade, and no less than a parade of the worst sort of "cold-blooded" killers of all! The ones who "the people" (taxpayers) pay to kill for them.

So, in the time it took me to write the last few sentences above, they all have just walked past my cell, each peering in at me in turn, but because I was up and "alert" (sitting on my bunk, writing), not one bothered to say anything to me. So much for the parade today.

[J.D. Sept. 17, 2020]